Your both exhausted

You slowly came back to consciousness. The first thing you noticed was that your warm blanket was missing. Opening your eyes, you could hear the shower going as light spilled into the room from through the blinds on the windows. Sitting up on the side of the bed, you check your phone; it was shortly after 9am.

Unlocking it, you bring up your text messenger. There were several texts from Krystal, saying that she missed you and that her pussy wasn't the same without you there to fill it. You had one from Katenya letting you know her mother was home. Then the last one was from Beth Anne saying that her flow had stopped and she was hoping for some time this week.

Clicking on Jenniffer, you type.

JC: Coming by this afternoon with a friend.

Several seconds later a reply pops up.

JM: Oooohhhhhh, bringing Krystal over to play Daddy?

JC: Nope, a new member of the harem. I just finished breaking her in.

JM: Mnnnnnnn, hunting on your own now. I like it! Can't wait to meet your new slut, Daddy.

Closing the phone, you heard the water turn off in the bathroom. 10 seconds later a nude Bailey sauntered into the room, drying off with a towel.

Seeing you up, she broke into a leer. "Nice to see you're finally up, Daddy," she preened. Dropping the towel, she came over and leaned down, kissing you. You felt her hand settle on your crotch, and other than a momentary twitch, you find yourself sadly staying soft.

Breaking the kiss, she pouted, "I was hoping you could get it up again. I guess round four was too much to hope for."

Throwing back your head, you laugh. "Bailey, even when I was a teen, going four times was not a thing."

She flashes you an impish grin. "A slut can always hope." Turning, she headed over to where her bag was, not before you gave her a playful swat on the ass. She lets out a squeal as she dashes over to her bag.

Picking up the bag, she pulled out panties, a pair of jeans, and a band shirt in what looked to be Norwegian. Bending over, she drew the panties up her long legs, asking, "So what are we doing today, Daddy?"

You smile, saying, "First we're getting some breakfast, then we're stopping at a tattoo parlor nearby."

Grabbing the shirt, she glances at you. "You're getting a tat, Daddy?"

With relish you reply, "I'm not getting it; you are."

Bailey stills for a moment before asking, "Do I get a say in this?"

Cocking your head, you reply, "Do you want one?"

Bailey thinks about it for a moment before purring, "As long as it makes the other sluts wet with envy. I don't fucking care."

Inwardly, you cheer at how easy it was to corrupt her. "After that, we're heading by the mall to get you some more appropriate clothes."

"What about these that aren't appropriate?" she asked, dragging the jeans up her legs.

Standing up, you walk over to the door, retrieving your pants and boxers. Putting them on, you tell her, "I want my sluts wearing skirts for easy access." Dragging on your shirt, you continue, "Also, I want you showing more skin to flaunt to the boys at school what I own and they can't have."

Bailey throws the skirt and heels into her bag while retrieving some socks and sneakers. Looking around other than the shredded shirt, you make sure you have everything. Exiting the room, you're surprised to see two police cruisers in the parking lot.

In the back on one you saw the same Black woman from last night sitting in the back holding a towel to her right eye. In the back of the other cruiser you saw a white dude who had to be pushing 500 pounds wearing a wife beater and boxers. Four officers milled around, with one catching your eye. She was a hot little Latina who looked fresh out of high school. Even in the uniforms, you could tell she was stacked. You saw her name tag; it read Reyez.

She glanced at you before her eyes shifted to Bailey. You saw the questions flood her as she studied the teen walking next to you. You thought she might cross over and question the two of you when an older man next to her with corporal stripes asked her something. The moment broken you and Bailey are broken, you enter the office to return the key and check out.

The young man from last night was gone, replaced by a mousey woman in her mid-40s. Returning the key, you finished checking out before leaving the office to see the police cars pulling out of the parking lot.

Hopping into the car, you and Bailey head back out to Port Road, stopping at the first Waffle House you come to. Pulling in, you and Bailey share a hearty meal before making your next stop. Leaving a tip, the two of you depart the Waffle House to make the five-minute drive to Fallen Angels.

Pulling into the parking lot, you saw two bikers come out of Fallen Angels and start getting on their motorcycles. Thinking nothing of it, you and Bailey get out of the car while noting a van parked in the handicapped parking, without a placard, sporting a university tag on the windshield.

Walking up to the parlor's main entrance. Opening the door, you're greeted with a pain-filled screech, "Fuuucckkiiinnnggg Shiiiittttt."

Immediately after that a dude who could swear and sounded like the asshole friend right out of a bad 90s coming-of-age movie chimed in. "Suck it up, mannnnnn; a bet's a bet, dude.

Entering the store, you look to the right, seeing a privacy screen set up, and judging by the buzzing, that was where the screamer was getting his tattoo. Clustered near it were three university students, all wearing Sigma Alpha Epsilon T-shirts.

Trying to ignore the painful scream from behind the screen. You approach Angela, who was sitting at the front desk sporting a set of pink cat ear headphones. Noticing the movement, Angela took off the headphones, saying, "Welcome to Fallen Angel..." When she paused studying you for a moment, she asked, "Weren't you here a couple weeks ago with a hot little brunette and an Asian girl?"

Bailey looked at you, raising an eyebrow as you replied, "Yes, I was."

She then turned her attention to Bailey, giving her a once-over. "I thought you were a newbie, but it looks like you're a fast worker."

Not knowing what to say to that, you elected to smile and shrug. Angela turned her attention back to Bailey. "Okay, young lady, while I assume your dom," she nods to you, "is making the decisions here, it is your body, and you have to sign off on it in writing."

Bailey takes a second before replying, "Sounds okay to me."

"Great," she replies, "if you follow me, we'll discuss what you're getting today." Angela turned to lead you back to her work area when one of the college boys decided to butt in.

"Yo babe," he slurred, "Ditch this old fucker, and I'll show how a member of Alpha Epsilon can pound that pussy."

Sure enough, it was the asshole friend. Looking at him, calling him a man was a stretch for you; boy, you were not impressed. His frat shirt was visibly stained, and he was wearing a hideous pair of tie-dye shorts. The look was rounded out by a pair of off-brand Crocs. One of the kid's front teeth was chipped, and judging by his red, bloodshot eyes, he was hammered from last night.

In your mind he already had two strikes against him. One being the asshole friend, and two calling you an old fucker and daring to speak to one of your girls.

Bailey's incredulous snort told you what she thought of the drunken pickupline. But then she expounded on it: "Has that line actually worked on a girl you hadn't already slipped a roofie to?"

The asshole friend's eye went flat as his face went beet red. Snarling, he snagged Bailey's upper arm, ranting, "Listen here, bitch..."

THWACK

The second he grabbed her, you thought strike three. Quick as an asp, you blindsided the enraged college student. Your fist connected with his nose, making a sickening crunch. With a groan he collapsed to the ground in a spray of blood; you took a step forward, looming over the fallen frat member.

All hell proceeded to break loose. Asshole or not, the two friends leapt to their feet to defend their frat brother. Bellowing, the closest one to you threw himself at you, trying to grapple you.

Angela screeched, "Need some help, Rodney." As she grabbed Bailey, pulling her away from the melee. Friend one tried to wrap his arms around your waist for a takedown; luckily, he was off balance, and you shoved him off, sending him tumbling. Turning to friend two, you saw him rear back, striking out with a haymaker. You manage to get an arm up partially deflecting the blow, but it still connected with your cheek. You immediately tasted blood and took a step back, accidentally stomping on Asshole's friend's hand, causing him to howl in pain.

Still focusing on friend two, he threw a jab at you, which you avoided. Following up, you threw a punch, which connected with his jaw, sending him momentarily reeling. You sensed that friend one was scrambling to his feet and knew if that happened it was going to be grim quickly. You turn, trying to keep both friends in sight, when you hear a sound come from the back of the shop.

CLICKETY CLACK

They say the AK-47sounds very distinctive when fired at you. There's another sound just as distinctive and feared in close-in defense. The sound of a shotgun being cycled. Immediately you threw up your hands as a voice with one of the thickest Alabama accents you had ever heard called out, "I'm gonna give you one chance to stand down."

Even if he didn't have the shotgun, the man would have been impressive. He was a good 6'6" and had to weigh at least 400 pounds. He was dressed in just a vest and jeans. But his skin from his neck to his navel was nothing but ink.

Friend two looked like he was going to throw another punch when Rodney raised the gun and growled, "I said stand down now!"

Just then Asshole friend sobbed from beneath you, "Fucker, you broke my hand."

Looking down at the frat member, you flashed a bloody smile, saying, "Play stupid games, boy, win stupid prizes."

At that point all three frat members started yowling different things. Rodney shifted the gun, pointing it at the floor, before bellowing, "Shut the fuck up, all of you."

Wisely, they did just that as silence descended on the room. Rodney stared at the cowed belligerents for a moment before turning to Angela. "What happened, honey?"

She snorted before pointing at the Asshole friend who was still cradling her busted hand. "This little fucker decided to be an idiot and lay hands on that man's girlfriend," she informed him, pointing at me. "He defended her, and these two," she says, pointing at friends one and two, "decided to compound the stupidity and join in."

Rodney looked at the three frat members before snorting, "You three get the fuck out of my store and never come back."

Asshole friend wisely nods from the floor. Friend one also looks similarly inclined to leave. But friend two, either being the stupidest or bravest of the lot, pointed at you, hissing, "What about him? He assaulted us. My father..."

From the back of the store, Rodney breathes in, hawking a loogie 20 feet, landing on a friend's shoes. "Son, consider yourself lucky. If I call the cops, it's not him going to jail, but you three."

Friend two looked like he was going to push it but then snarled, "Fine, we're leaving, but it'll be a cold day in hell before you get any business from Alpha Epsilon."

Rodney snorts, "If you lot are like your friend in the chair, good; we could use peace and quiet around here."

The three frat members are joined by the fourth, who was getting the tattoo. As they were leaving the parlor, friend two stopped and said, "Pray we never meet again." Then the four college students left the store.

As the door shut behind them, Rodney looked at Angela. "Everything good now, baby?"

Angela grinned at her husband. "Thanks, sweet pea. Go back to what you're doing; I have it from here."

Rodney turned, disappearing into the back. Looking at Angela, you ask, "Should we leave?"

Angela laughs, saying, "No need for that, honey; you weren't the one in the wrong there."

You finally were able to turn your attention back to Bailey, whose eyes burned with...arousal.

"Alright, you two, now that the riffraff has been dealt with, let's step over to my station, and we'll discuss what ink will be adorning her before you leave."