Looking into your grayish green eyes for too long makes me think you’ll see right through me. I divert my gaze while you’re talking to me, sit up a little straighter in my seat. The slightest shift in myposture, and I’m suddenly convinced you can hear my pulse between my legs. I’ve been working here for what? Two weeks? There’s nothing sexy about restaurant work… but I saw the way veins bulged from your forearms when you were wrestling that keg into the walk-in. I heard the closed mouth grunt I imagine you make when you’re in bed with someone. Who am I kidding, though? You could be with anyone you wanted on any night, I’m just that girl you work with and had to train. That’s a funny thought, you training me…

I keep slipping into fantasies, but it’s hard to focus when you walk by and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. I imagine me trying to wrestle that keg into the walk-in.

“Awe, come on Emily, you’re stronger than that” you say through a smirk and crossed arms.

“If you’re so sure about that why don’t you come tell me to my face”, I say offhandedly. Oh my god, what the fuck did I just say? Did I say that aloud? Too afraid to turn around and look at you, I close my eyes and hear the slam of the walk-in door as it closes.

As I’m hunched over this keg that I’m wrestling with, from behind, you grab my face with one hand and smush my cheeks together. You turn my head around, force me to look directly into those green eyes, and with the same smirk from before you whisper, “Sounds like you need to learn what being a brat will get you.”

My nipples immediately tingle, I mean they were already hard from being in the walk-in. This can’t be seriously happening. Can you read minds? Did you steal my journal? Have you read the text messages between me and the fuck boys I talk to to? One paranoid thought after another and suddenly I’m brought back to present moment. I hear the jingle of your belt. You bite my pouted lips before expertly cuffing my wrists together with your belt and then on to the keg. “It’s kind of tight”, I sheepishly mutter. “Maybe you’ll remember this the next time you decide to taunt me”, you say as you continue to fiddle with your belt.

My heart pounds through my shirt and I sarcastically mumble, “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”, you ask sharply with one eyebrow raised. “It’s yes sir, you know that”, you say with a confidence that those fuck boys could never have.

I clear my throat and try to straighten up, as much as someone cuffed to a keg can anyways. “Why don’t you try that again, but this time say it to my face”, you state, knowing what reaction you’re likely to get. Pieces of hair fall from my bun into my face, “Mhmm… Fuck… You… David”, I say through chattering teeth.

You push your knees into the back of mine, and I buckle. You thrust your hips against my ass, making me bend over this keg entirely. It’s funny how confident you are and yet your hands shake when you touch me. Probably just the walk-in temperature, but maybe not… With trembling fingers, calloused from decades of manual labor you slide my black leggings down to my ankles, taking my underwear with them. As you come back up your nose and subsequently your tongue travel ever so gently from my swollen wet pussy lips to the crack of my ass, as you spend just a fleeting moment applying pressure to my asshole. I gasp as if coming up for air from underwater. I have no more sass, and no more arguments to give. I am yours to use. I sink my teeth into the remaining slack of your leather belt and brace for impact.

“There’s a good girl…”, you utter as you trace your index finger down the length of my spine. You crouch down, spread my cheeks, and use your tongue to bring my wetness to my asshole.

Then, I hear it… That closed mouth groan.

I gush, unable to keep up the charade that I’m some onry bitch looking for a fight. The reality is, I’m scared and needy, and I know you’re going to take care of me.

The primal sounding groan, and hungry animalistic energy you give creates a volume of wetness from me that I hope you choke on. Ok, maybe I’m always going to be a little onry. I hear you slurp me up and I whimper with your belt still between my teeth. “You strong enough to stave off an orgasm? Don’t you dare cum without my permission”, you say sounding distracted by the meal that you’re going to make of me.

My eyes widen, my knuckles turn white and I give a little nod. Dropping your own pants to your ankles you waste no time and slam your cock deep inside of me. This keg that I’m bent over rocks a little. You grab my bun of hair and pull on it as you slowly, but forcefully slam yourself into me. Between being restrained, not speaking, the chill of the keg underneath me, and the twinges of pain throughout my body, everything in me tightens up. I feel so used and I only want more.

Spitting your belt out of my mouth, I loudly moan, “Oh, god.” You pull your shirt over your head you ball it up on the floor. You free me from the keg though my wrists are still restrained by your belt. You lay down with your balled up shirt underneath your head. Impatiently you ask, “What? Do you need an escort down here?”.

I’ve thought before about sitting on your face and blowing you while you make me cum with your tongue, repeatedly. I’ve pictured it so many times, I’ve masturbated to the very thought. Now that it’s happening though, I’m scared. What if I’m too heavy or something? What if you don’t like the way I blow you? What if… What if… What if…
I carefully lower myself to the ground thighs still trembling as I do. Before I can lower myself all the way down, but close
enough that I can feel your breath on my pussy, you smack one ass cheek, hard. Thwaaaappp.

You spread me apart again and get to work. I fall forward, my cuffed wrists are at your knees and your cock is pulsating right in front of my face. It’s nothing spectacular, I think to myself… but it’s thicker than I pictured.

“Wait, wait, wait”, you sharply say. You push me from a top you and I roll onto my knees catching myself, even with belt cuffed wrists. “I want to see what’s mine“, you smugly say to me. You flip me
over and put my feet on the inside of my belt cuffed wrists almost like a hog tie. There’s nothing in between my needy pussy and you. Everything spread open, and I have no control. Exactly how you want me.

In a demanding yet loving way, you say, “I’m going to wreck you Emily… and remember, don’t cum until I tell you to.” I quickly retort, “Because there’s going to be consequences worse than this?” For a second, there’s a bastardly glint in your eye. You get down on your knees and sit on your calves, leaning towards me like a ravenous man who’s having his first meal in days. I close my eyes as you slide your tongue across my asshole. You take your thumb and make tiny circles on my grossly swollen clit. You don’t know this about me, but every muscle in my body stiffens when I’m about to cum. My legs, my arms, my ass cheeks clench together… even still, you know the signs.

“Uh uh, not yet…”, you garble.



*To be continued*