Raven Just has more practice

Raven’s head is bobbing with haste and allure. Her lips expertly wrap around a biker’s cock. His “O” face tells you Raven has won. She tilts her head back and spits into her mug, comfortably filling it. Son of a bitch. You groan as the crowd cheers. As soon as Melodia relieves her current patron, the two slaves are allowed down. Jacque puts a firm hand on your soldier and says “Do not feel bad mademoiselle. Raven has had many, many hours of practice. I’m sure if it was a competition to see who was the superior muff diver, your **** would have emerged triumphant.”

With his accent, you can’t tell if he's being smug or consoling. Raven and Melodia arrive at the same time as Jacque’s bookie. Jacque directs him to hand his winnings to the two slaves. “Go buy yourselves a nice drink. You have both earned it.” Raven has a triumphant smile on her face. Quite an accomplishment given that she is covered in the semen of a dozen species. Melodia is quite surprised by the kind gesture. You stare daggers at her as she walks back to the bar, arm in arm with Raven.

“Now, now. There is no need to be like that.” Jacque chastises.

You sigh. For a moment, you consider backing out. A quick stun rod to the nuts and you could be out of here. You decide against it. You have a reputation to think of. It’s one thing to betray established organizations, but betraying a fellow merc? Okay, you’d do it in a second if you thought it was a good idea. The actions of the bouncers make you think it's not. You’ve seen three people beaten to a pulp for welching bets and then dragged off. The pretty woman and effeminate men will most likely be sold as slaves. Distant screams make you assume the rest have been thrown into the canyon.

“So, I suppose I don’t even get a consolatory tip about my target?” You try and sound sultry, but the sound of defeat is there in spite of yourself.”

“Non, my petite. That would not be, how you say, in the spirit of the event. I’m afraid it is time for you to pay le piper.”

“At least let me get drunk first.”

He takes a moment to stroke his mustache. “Very well but first I require that you strip.”

You sigh and begin to unzip your flight suit. “Ah, ah, ah. Mademoiselle, I did not tell you take off your clothes, I told you to strip. I trust you know the difference, oui?” He takes a seat to enjoy the show.

When this night is up… Fine. You'll give him a bit of a show. Slowly, you unclip your bandolier and utility belt and let them fall to the floor. You strut towards your temporary master with exaggerated hip sways as you draw your zipper down. You are wearing your characteristic skin tight black flight suit. It zips down to your waist revealing a delicious V of skin with the point just above your shaved mound.

Once you get within arms reach you turn. Keeping your legs straight and crossed at the ankles you bend forward, presenting Jacque your ass and allowing you to unlace your boots. As you unlace them, you feel a firm smack on your behind. In spite of yourself, a smile crosses your lips.

After unlacing your boots, you spin and put one heeled boot on the edge of his chair, right in between his legs. You tap his groin with your foot gently and are amazed that you can feel his swelled manhood through the leather. Leaning forward so that your cleavage is less than a foot from his now smiling face you ask, “Care to help me with these?” He laughs and graciously tugs off your first boot and then the second.

You swing one leg over each side of his lap so that your groins are touching. He immediately gets grabby. One hand digs into your ass while another cups your breast. Typical. While he’s distracted you slide your arms out of your flight suit. You’re topless now with your flight suit in a jumble around your waist, but you still wear your bra. While you un clapse it, you grind your hips against his groin. It’s not unpleasant; he is quite impressive. Tossing aside your lingerie, you run your fingers through his hair. His mouth finds your nipples. Okay, not bad. You giggle as his moustache tickles you.

Jacque increases the frequency of his pelvic thrusts and you can feel his dick rubbing against your cooch. It is not an unwelcome touch and it leaves you excited for what the night may bring. After a few reciprocal rubs from your crotch, you stand up. Once again presenting your ass, you slide your jumpsuit down long, toned legs. Slipping out of them, you give your newly nude body a spin for Jacque’s sake.

“Like what you see?” You cock your hip at a pleasant angle and rest a hand on it. He does; you love that look in his eye. It gives you the feeling that you have a modicum of control.

He stands up and circles you. A hand reaches up from behind you and gives your breast a full fingered grope. You gasp as he tweaks your nipples. “Oui, mademoiselle. I think we are ready to begin.” You are so busy focusing on his fingers that you don’t notice what the other hand is doing. Click. The collar snaps shut with a finality that takes your breath away. So much for feelings of control.

You raise your hand to your neck. Smooth black leather encases your neck. It’s not so tight that it constricts your breathing, but the constant pressure is an ever-present reminder that you are someone else's sub. Your fingers feel a smooth D-ring that will no doubt host a leash at some point in the evening. “Aaah!” you squeal when you slide your hands to the back of the leash. A sharp pain shoots through your fingers and your neck when you find the lock at the back of collar.

“Tut, tut, tut.” Jacque wags one finger at you. “Naughty mademoiselle. You have you’re own ****. Surely you are aware that it a grave faux passe for a **** to attempt to tamper with her collar.”

“Is this really necessary?” you ask.

“Perhaps non, but, it is most entertaining for moi. Now, I believe you requested a drink. Garcon.” He claps and then looks down at the waitress, still tied to the table with a beer bottle sticking out of her ass. You get a bad feeling about this. “Ahh, how silly of me to forget, we have detained this hard working women. Fortunately she seems to already have your beverage.

“You wouldn’t,” you take a step back. A shock makes you jump and scream. Taking advantage of the situation, Jacque pounces on you. Seemingly from out of nowhere, he produces a ring gag which is inserted into your mouth before you can close it. Next, a set handcuffs secure your wrists in front of you.

“I would,” he says with a smile. You moan and thrash in an attempt to escape, but he holds your cuffs in a firm grip. “And so, I think, would you.” Just because that’s true doesn’t mean I’m going along with this. He shocks you again to punish you for your resistance and for fun.

He spins you around and grabs you by the arm and your hair. An unyielding grip forces you to kneel behind the Bantam. You stare at her sex. Bantams all have purple skin with leopard like spots. They are famous for the way these spots shift and pulse when they feel strong emotions, such as the arousal this one is currently feeling. Hypnotically her spots shift and flicker in a way that forces your eyes to stare at her vulva. Her labia glisten with moisture and a single drip of lady jizz hangs from her left lip.

Or maybe its beer. A your eyes follow a slow dribble of beer back up to the bottle you stuck into the poor waitress’s heiny. Her rectum tightly clenches the neck, but there is still a small trickle that escapes. Jacque slowly starts to tug at the bottle and you panic. “Ngrhh! NHHH!” He doesn’t give you an inch of give. As he slowly starts to pull the bottle out, he inches your face closer. Finally, he gives the bottle a tug and shoves your mouth over the newly exposed hole. You have just enough time to see the spots tremble with relief as a torrent of beer is **** into your wide open mouth.

“UGUHKLLHHUHGMNG!” There is no way you can swallow it all. It’s all you can do not to **** as fluid sprays out of her sphincter. The only good aspect is that you don’t really have time to focus on the taste. Jacque pushes your head deeper into the **** girls ass. Sensing an opportunity to get some ****, the Bantam wraps her tail around your neck and pulls you in as well.

After what seemed like an hour but in reality was only a few seconds the flow stops. Jacque let’s go and laughs when he sees your face. Beer leaks out your forcibly opened mouth onto your bust. The **** glare you send him between sputtering coughs only adds to his amusement. “Well done Madam. I tip my hat to you.” He unties the waitress and returns her serving tray to its rightful position. “Two beers if you would be so kind.” Great, more beer.

You kneel beside Jacque while he takes a seat. He idly gropes you. To distract yourself you take a look around the bar. It looks different from the perspective of a nude, collared and cuffed prisoners. You still notice the various slaves, but they don’t stand out as much as before. Instead, your eyes are drawn to the patrons. Dangerous men, women, and aliens. All armed with a lifetime of deviance and struggle you are intimately familiar with. Up until five minutes ago, you were one of them. You know exactly what they would do to someone your position because you’ve done it. The thought of it makes you quiver with fear, anticipation, and lust. Maybe it's the drinks, or maybe your humiliation is bringing out your inner sub slut. Regardless, your mind is filled with delicous thoughts of the rough fucking some of the more attractive clientele would give you.

The Bantam returns with two beers on her servers tray, which she passes to Jacque. She turns to leave but Jacque detains her. “Wait, mademoiselle, would you not like a tip?”

She turns cautiously. **** waitresses must be very careful about what kind of tips they recieve. Not that they can refuse them of course. Jacque waives her back and gestures to you.

Your eyes meet the Bantam’s as you both catch Jacque’s meaning at the same time. Resigning yourself, you tilt your head back as the smiling waitress straddles your face. Her lady musk fills your nostrils. Good lords, she is still wet from that beer enema. As much as you can, you reach your tongue out through your gag, searching for her purple clit. You know you find it when that delicious salty taste covers the tip of your tongue.

The ring gag keeps you from using your lips, so you circle her love button with your tongue. All you can see is her belly and the bottoms of her breasts, but based on the way her spots are moving, you think your doing a good job. You increase the intensity. To encourage and guide you, her tail once again takes control of your neck. She starts to grind against your face, making it difficult to breathe. All you can smell is her but you do not relent. Feeling adventurous, you reach inside her with your tongue.

It proves to be a mistake. It’s not that she doesn’t like it. On the contrary, she loves it. Too much in fact. Her tail tightens around your neck and forces you in deeper. The tail is really constricting your breathing, but that doesn’t matter. Your face is buried so far in her groin, you are completely smothered. You wiggle and squirm, but that just seems to excite her all the more. Her grinding reaches a violent intensity that is just smashing your face. Your tongue keeps slipping in and out of her slit, only to find itself pressed against her clit. Moans of protest from you are overridden by cries of bliss from the Bantam. As you begin to see spots of your own, the Bantam screams her release as you are covered for the second time in her fluids.

Heavy breaths finally fill your lungs with air as her shuddering tail goes slack. Hesitantly, she takes a step back, her breaths almost as deep as your own. “Merci, Mademoiselle.” He sends her off with a smack on her butt and holds out a beer. Expecting it, you hold your hands out expectantly. Instead of passing you your drink, he takes your hand cuffs and clips them to a hook on his chair. This leaves you with your hands attached to the base of the seat, forcing you to kneel facing Jacque's groin. You know, the prime blow job position. Based on your experience in these locations, you know it’s there to restrain slaves. You do not have a good feeling about what's to come.