I let the golden thickness of the beer glug down my throat.

I start to feel myself being observed and smile into the cold glass. His scalding dark gaze warms my throat, a nice counterpoint to the cold liquid. I put the beer down and resume my chat with the hunky bartender. Bill narrows his eyes at me. I hide a smile as I move my hair to expose my neck.

The beer tickles my belly and I smile way too earnestly. Oh, I know he's not going to be able to focus on his girlfriend for a while. Such a pity, I almost respected this one. But it's just so irresistible to put someone's self-respect in a choke-hold.

Who knew that being sexualised would give you so much power? People think that men staring at you, leering at you, choking you, getting sucked by you, fucking you... Is a tool for humiliation that renders women powerless.

I chuckle to myself, feeling Bill's gaze still on my neck.

The thing is, by sexualising us, men's high-standing civility comes toppling down on all fours where all that's left for them to do is bark.

I find myself stroking my bottom lip, deep in thought.

And by stoking the right fires... You can find yourself completely in charge of their every thought and emotion. Okay, that sounds a bit manipulative, I guess. But I don't wish men any harm... Don't get me wrong. If I wanted to, I totally could. I could destroy Bill so easily; it's kind of pitiful. I could have him go crying to his mum in a week. But what would be the fun in that? All of that raw, suppressed energy put to waste...

It's the big equaliser. Men were born with the most. They had a body full of strength with which to enact force and violence. Women, on the other hand, got a rib. From day one, or day six, I guess, men had the upper hand. So Eve took the apple, and by consuming The Temptation, she became it. And when she stood in front of Adam, she held the power of his demise in her curves just as much as he held the power of hers in his fists.

So, when Bill looks at me like he wants to ravage me, I smile, get absorbed in a conversation, put my hand on his thigh when I laugh, introduce him to hot people, whisper to someone else that I'm going to the bathroom a little too loud... I make him agree to things he is only aware of to the extent that they lie before his image of me naked, kneeling, eyes wide. I let him see that in the little things I do, and that's it.

He cannot for the life of him, disrespect me. He cannot ever not want me. From that moment when his gaze clouds with lust, I become a goddess, and he will beg to worship me at his feet.

My kindness... my mercy? Is to let him.

And then we finally get what we both want.

Bill slams me against the bathroom mirror, shattering it. His hand is on my throat as he kisses me. I don't hold back on the biting. He grunts ferally, "That's enough", and spins me around. I chuckle. His eyes widen, frantic. He pulls my boobs out over my bra and presses me against the wall, hard. The glass shards lightly prick me. I can't help sucking in a little breath, but smile through the pain. Maybe he's a little rougher than I expected, but I know that he has no control over it anymore, and that's what turns me on. I could rein him in at any moment, if I wanted to. He frantically tries to undo his belt one-handed.

"Aw, are you nervous, bab–"

He clamps his hand around my mouth and whispers in my ear. "Now, now, that's enough, I said. Help me." I scrabble to get the buckle undone. "Yeah, there's a good girl."

Little does he know he's actually the one following my orders. I'm the one who started this. I force a triumphant smile against his hand.

He laughs in disdain. Pushes up my skirt, rips my tights and pulls aside my panties. "Oh, you're fucking wet for me, hey? Good girl."

I try to bite his palm to chastise him for his tone. He laughs, tightening his hold around my jaw and puts his dick at my entrance slowly rubbing up and down. I still myself completely. "Oh, you want that, hey? Is that what you're saying? Do you want me to fuck you?" I stare at him in the mirror and push myself against him but he bends out of the way and tuts with a smirk. Oh, how easily I could wipe that smirk off his face right now if I wanted to.

"I said, do you want me to fuck you?" He shouts at me again.

I narrow my eyes. How quickly he forgets his place. I finally manage to bite into his hand properly.

He swears and jumps off me. "Bitch!"

I lick the tiny drop of blood I managed to draw off my lip and smile. "You're such a chicken. Are you going to quit prancing around and fuck me, or have you realised you're actually more into men?" I see the quip hit its mark as his predictable outrage peaks through his wild eyes. I raise an eyebrow.

Suddenly, something changes in him. He smiles and pulls his pants up. "Stay here." He challenges as he strides out.

"Hmf," I snort. What a wuss. When the door bangs shut, I look around the bathroom. Two mirrors are broken, and there's some of my blood in the sink. My shirt is ripped in a corner of the room, and my sweater is in one of the sinks. I try to smile. Men have such weak minds. The things he can't help doing once he gets a glimpse of me. I stare at myself in the broken mirror: boobs pushed out of my bra, covered in shard pricks, tights ripped, semi-naked. He'd better fuck me real good when he finds the courage to come back. I push my boobs back into my bra and rub at the little shard cuts with wet tissue. It feels like someone else's hand is doing it. So clinical. I throw it away and stare at the few drops of red among the white tissues in the bin.

The door swings open. I feel like I'm plunged into boiling water and doused with ice at the same time. My stomach plummets. I try to cover myself with my hands instinctively.

"Hey, my dove, where are your manners?" Bill comes into the bathroom. Stepping out behind him is another man. The bartender. He is tall, very tall, and big. He's a full two heads taller than me and looks like he could crush me with one hand. His eyes are wide as he takes me in. He clears his throat and tries to avert his gaze. "Since you think I'm such a chicken, I brought you a proper cock," says Bill. I look into his eyes with fury. There's a telltale glint in them. Oh no, he didn't. Who the fuck does he think he is?

To keep Bill in check when his ego or affair guilt flies too high, I tell him about my "fantasy" of having a second man in the room. I feel a worm biting its way through my stomach. Is this him using that as an excuse to force me into an uncomfortable situation? Have I miscalculated?

But then his eyes dart to seize the bartender up and back at me nervously, and I smile. I see through his facade. He doesn't want to share me. He thinks this will make me back down. He thinks he's backed me into a corner. I start walking towards the bartender, whose eyes widen as he locks in on my half-naked body, walking towards him. Bill's brow furrows slightly. Oh, sweet boy. I'm about to teach him he's wrong. Let's see his emotions dance. I giggle.

"Oh, honey, you're so right. Do you know where my manners are, big boy?" I purr to the bartender as I drag my finger down his hard chest, leaving his shirt open in my wake.

"Fuuck." The bartender groans. "Bro, you could have given me some warning, and I would have asked Tony to cover for me. I–" My fingers reach his belt, and he sucks in a breath. "I, I'm still on the clock. I don't know if this is a good idea..."

I drown out his mutterings and look at Bill. I can see his panic start to settle in. I can't help smiling.

"My dove, why don't you put our new friend's worries to sleep with a welcoming kiss?" Bill's voice sounds reedy. My eyes snap back to him. What did he just say? His eyes are narrowed.

For Christ's sake, of course, he chooses today of all days to be an immature little boy. Well, if he won't bend, then he'll fucking break. He wanted to humiliate me? Let's see how he feels about being cucked. "Oh, Bill, I think we can skip the pleasantries. I know what will take your mind off things... friend." I wink up at the bartender as I unbuckle his belt and drag his pants down until I'm on my knees. I grope his dick over his underwear, while staring Bill down. I grip it like the joystick of a car I know I'm fully in control of.

He has the nerve to smirk! Or grimace, more like it. "Yeah. Absolutely. Give him a very warm welcome." He leans back into the wall, arms crossed, staring at me. His crotch is still swollen. He doesn't think I'll do it. No. He's trying to act like he doesn't care about how much I'm already doing. Aww, poor hubby's feelings are hurt. He's mad that I'm not doing anything to soothe his itty-bitty insecurities after trying to humiliate me. I snort at him. Disdain curdles my blood. He'd better fucking man up.

"Oh, god," the bartender whispers, as I pull his boxers down. Fuck, okay. He's quite a lot bigger than I expected. I gulp and steal a glance at Bill. He's uncrossed his arms and is standing up straight, frozen. Something about his horrified expression emboldens me.

"Oh, my," I whisper into the bartender's cock before licking the whole length of his cock, root to tip. He rests his hands on my shoulder. I look up at him, and only him, as I lick him again. It takes ages. Then I open my mouth a little, and without breaking eye contact, suck on his tip. I go cross-eyed looking at the rest of him. No fucking way I'm taking all of that in my mouth. He groans and threads a hand through my hair. I let him because I doubt Bill will let him keep it there for much longer. I moan onto his dick performatively and try to look at Bill, and freeze.

He's right beside us. It was actually his fingers threading through my hair. I feel him tighten his grip, and I grunt as some pain shoots through my scalp. My brow knits as my feelings overwhelm me. Bill has blindsided me. He's acted unpredictably, which scares me. But he's being rough like I like it. And another feeling lurks in my body. Something about the disdain I felt through the way he tightened his grip. The same disdain that I felt for him a second ago. What is the meaning of this wetness pooling between my legs more than ever before?

"There's a good girl," he whispers. Then to Paul, "You know, I didn't think you were the shy type..."

Something snaps in Paul, and he grunts. He grabs me by the throat and pulls me towards him. He presses on the sides of my jaw, hard, forcing my mouth open. With no hesitation now, he thrusts himself into my mouth, slamming against the back of my throat. Fuck, that's only half of his dick. I gag. Oh my, he's so amazingly rough. I hear myself moan involuntarily, shocked. I don't understand. I like it when men succumb to my gradual teasing. I like having them wrapped around my fingers; I like being powerful... Right now, I'm being used purely to satisfy urges.

So why am I so fucking turned on?

The bartender pulls his cock out of my throat and mouth and then shoves himself in again, slamming harder this time. I feel myself gag again. My eyes start streaming. He pulls himself out and then starts to push in slowly. "All of it this time," he says dangerously. My eyes can't look away from his. His eyes are fixed on his cock entering my mouth. There's a focused intensity held within them. I feel my thighs getting sticky and warm. What is happening to me?

I feel him pass my teeth and slide down my tongue. I feel him press against my uvula and whimper.

He shakes his head. "Not there yet." I strain my eyes to keep looking up at him as I get closer.

I see Bill's hands gather my stray hairs in my peripheral vision and feel him pull them into a ponytail. He pushes me forward with the hold on my hair and the bartender lets go of his hold on my throat, letting me breathe in fresh air... Before his dick squeezes into my airway.

I feel him in the back of my throat now and press my eyes shut. He's pushing against the back of my throat, and I'm opening as wide as I can, but there's no way he can go any further. I see him frown at me as I try to open even wider.
"Stop forcing your mouth open and relax the back of your throat, slut. I can call you slut, can't I?" He looks between me, with my mouth full of cock, and Bill.

"Of course," says Bill. I'm surprised yet again by his tone of voice. I'm not sure it's entirely disdain anymore. It's more intense and focused, like what I see in the bartender's eyes. Maybe even... turned on?

I feel his breath on my left ear. "Relax the back of your throat, he said. The longer you take, the more time it'll take for you to be back up for oxygen."

I try to relax the back of my throat, but end up choking and tensing again. I see impatience start to cross the barman's eyes. Bill shifts behind me. "Let me help her relax," he says as he forces a hand between my thighs and pulls them apart. He snorts, whispering, "Jesus, can't take you anywhere, can we, my dove?" as he feels my wetness running down my thighs. He swipes a finger over my pussy, getting it slick with my juices. I feel pleasure shoot up from my clit and moan over the bartender's cock. Suddenly, he pushes past the back of my throat.

"Fuuuck, yes, that's it." I can't help but gag hard, but his cock is so far down that I'm only gagging around him, even as he squeezes further into me. More sensations take over: Bill has started to toy with my clit. I try to make a noise, but can't as the bartender slides further along my tongue. I can feel the ridges of his veins on his cock and follow them with the tip of my tongue more and more frenziedly, trying to counteract the friction on my clit. He bites his lip, panting. He takes himself deeper down my throat, and I can now see the details of his V-line, a few inches from my face. Bill picks up the pace. It gets too much: the tightness in my throat, the choking, the relentless pressure building in my pussy. I try to pull Bill's hand away from me in vain.

The bartender takes my hands and holds them against his thighs with a smirk. Bill hits the spot with his knowledgeable finger and I buck, trying to push the bartender's thighs. He just slams the last few inches into my throat, with Bill pushing my head. I feel my nose pressing against him, my lungs burning, my body burning, and my legs start to shake. I feel him start to pull out, relieved. Until he jams back fully down my throat. My scream is stifled. His eyes have gone feral.

I try to slap on his thighs to signal my need for oxygen, gagging, for space, for respite. But his hands are still firmly on mine. Bill slides a finger into my pussy. I buck again as I gag weakly over the cock in my mouth. The bartender bares his teeth, almost as if in pain, desperate, and takes over Bill's grip on my hair. Bill now has two hands to pump into me and toy with my clit. I have no oxygen left to even attempt screaming. He pumps three more times in my throat, frantically. I feel my vision start to darken, my senses overwhelmed, and feel myself start to slip into an orgasm, my legs starting to quake.

Finally, I feel him pull out. I breathe in and explode, moaning uncontrollably. They let me fall on the floor, gasping and gagging. I lay there trying to recover my breath, as the bartender moves away, stars in my eyes. Then I feel a finger slide against my pussy. "Fuck, she's a wet one, isn't she?"

I whimper and start to get on all fours, but the bartender grabs me by the hair and keeps my face pressed against the tiles. "No, don't worry, I want your face on the floor, like a very good girl." He slaps my ass so I lean on my knees, though, ass in the air. I no longer really register what's happening around me, still feeling aftershocks riding through me. I feel spit pool from my mouth onto the cold tiles below me.

Then he fucks me. I scream.

I feel him rip through me and touch the places hidden deep inside me. My pussy burns with his roughness, and yet my mouth falls open in fulfilment. He grabs my thighs and rams into me, quickening his pace. My moans and shouts don't stop; I don't really notice. I feel like a ragdoll.

I feel every inch of him inside me, and what he touches burns with pleasure. The rest of the world flies away.

Until I feel a hand pulling my head up by my hair. "You're practically begging for something to shut your mouth up, aren't you, my dove?"

Bill is sitting, belt unbuckled and dick out, in front of me. I look at him pleadingly, moaning, hardly aware. He pushes my mouth down to take the length of his rock-hard dick.

Fuck.

I'm being fucked.

Everywhere. My body is being used to its full extent. I can't take it anymore and lose control, awash in overwhelming sensations. I start to shake again as I reach my orgasm, making the boys just fuck me all the harder. I scream onto Bill's dick, breathing through my nose as I gag on my way out and feel the bartender cum in my clenching pussy as he swears. For the second time today, I collapse on the floor to recover and swallow some thickened spit down my bruised throat.

I lie there gasping, and Bill helps to turn me onto my back. "You've been perfect, dove. You really are a very good girl. And don't worry, I'm going to fuck you now. Used and cum-covered as you are. You're beautiful." I whimper and stare at the ceiling as he pries my legs open, elbows hardly holding my weight. He pulls himself towards me slowly, kissing up my stomach, both my nipples and finally my mouth. As his tongue slides into my mouth, he slowly pushes his dick into my cum-filled pussy, letting me feel every single sensation of sex. He does this again, at this slow pace, as he kisses my neck and nibbles lightly on my earlobe. He kneads my boobs as he pants and moans, softly keeping my embers hot.

Like this, he worships the feel of me, all of me. He closes his mouth over mine again after he climaxes and moans:

"I love you."