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Who was Betty & why did she think I was her prey?

Earlier that night a woman in glasses came down to my end of the bar to buy some smokes from the machine — I watched her out of the corner of my eye. I could tell she knew I was watching her because she studiedly refused to glance my way.

She was blond-haired, which did not impress me particularly, but she was also a tall woman and she was wearing glasses, both of which did. I liked her face – tasteful make-up, her features a nice mix of composure and intelligence. And although she was simply dressed in slacks and a loose sweater, I could tell she was exactly that kind of woman who I had no defense against — in her proud bearing and Poised female presence, she was large in all the right places.

I asked Wanda, the barmaid, who she was: “Oh, that’s Betty,” said Wanda, “She comes in for darts and pool occasionally … I don’t know her well but she seems to have her followers among the guys.” I wondered just what Wanda’s quickie portrait of Betty might mean — particularly intriguing to me was her use of the word “followers” — but when I turned back to look at this woman, she was nowhere to be seen. Gone. I nursed my drink, wondering at the magic of being so immediately tuned into someone who didn’t even acknowledge that I existed — I wanted so much to speak with this Betty, to find a way to declare to her my interest, although I knew her avoidance in acknowledging my gaze was no doubt her way of keeping me suspended in place. It was her control tactic for strange males, I decided, a way to hold my kind in abeyance until Betty decided on a further option. We’d yet to speak, had not even exchanged glances, yet already Betty was completely on top.

I came out of the mens room and our paths crossed — Betty was on her way into the adjoining ladies room. We were, for that brief instant, seemingly transfixed by each other, not knowing who would go first or even what our protocol would be — that classic scene where two people are facing each other and neither one of them makes the first move. Or so it at first seemed. I stared into her eyes and her return glance was direct and appraising, but noncommital. It dawned on me that I was mistaken, that Betty’s not making the first move was a deliberate choice she’d made. I should have known. She stared dead into my living eye as if to make sense of my being in her way.

“I am Ra’s Elf,” I stammered, “and you are … magnificent!” Clumsy and vulnerable, enthusiastic and wretched, I might as well have been but a schoolboy.

She stared at me and her eyes took in my posture and my bearing. Something very close to a smirk had come over her features. Yet I was thrilled to have this self-composed lady appraise me so forthrightly. Her eyes were cold, but keen and unapologetic. She stared at my physique and her eyes were bold, looking me up and down. I could not but help notice how her loose sweater clung to the fullness of her bosom … I was stunned when she took a deep breath, making her already marvelous bosoms rise … her nipples seemed to press outward against the cloth of her sweater and with difficulty I forced my gaze not to linger … and my vanity was at such a pitch I thought her deep breath had something to do with how solidly fit my own physique was — even though I was older, I liked to think my strength showed thru, that my daily fitness regimen had borne fruit. That I was more than just some vain man-child with a receding hairline …

“I’m Betty,” she said, “can I get by?” Her tone of voice was matter of fact, direct. She went around me as if I wasn’t there, but her generous bosoms brushed my arm ever so lightly as she passed – again, I was thrilled beyond reason.

Flushed and encouraged by so little, I reclaimed my stool at the bar and waited for Betty to come out. Glancing around the room, I could see no other lady even remotely as attractive as she — I was already under Betty’s power and I was so well aware of that fact that there might as well have been a sign on my back.

Had I been a wiser man, I would have taken immediate note of the fact that Betty did not reappear … as it was, I drank my beer and ordered another before it dawned on me that Betty was no longer there … somehow she had disappeared herself completely, left the premises like a whisp, a dream. Had she even been there at all?

This was a Thursday night, in fact it was the very Thursday night I was supposed to go back across the river to Secrets and meet up again with the powerful Marilyn … I waited a tad beyond what seemed like a reasonable amount of time, then I left and headed across the river, to that fabled club on the Ohio … Secrets!

Secrets was not crowded when I came in, typical for a weekday night, with only a few couples. I thought I might see Melannie, Secrets’ imperious and bawdy owner, but she was not there yet. I spotted Marilyn right away, however, seated halfway down the bar, her broad back ardahan escort turned my way. I walked up to her and stood behind her, gazing upon her expansive charms.
I did not hesitate this time, but bent close to her and exhaled my breath along the nape of her neck … the refreshing candor of Marilyn’s laughter was my reward, a tonic to my ears, and when she turned in my direction her grin was wide and welcoming.

“Ra’s Elf! my toy!” she exclaimed, and with that she immediately let both her hands roam up under my shirt and rise to my nipples … she pinched both simultaneously as she tugged me close and French kissed me forcefully, her tongue so deep in me I sucked upon it greedily. When she slowly moved her tongue in and out between my lips the sensation was that she was simultaneously teasing and taking advantage, toying with her toy, reasserting her utter and complete control … her pinching grew even more vigorous so that as I sucked at her deep tongue I also took in several sharp breaths, which made her laugh all the more as she broke away from the kiss.

She led me over to the side and we sat close at one of the tables back toward the unlit stage where the lighting of the bar was not so intrusive. Marilyn deftly unzipped me and pulled the elastic band of my briefs out and tucked the band down under my testicles as she had done once before … the maneuver made both my penis and balls rear out from my unzipped trousers, highlighted and available for whatever play she had in mind. “What an eager fellow,” she mocked, “and what a talented pair of lips.” Marilyn unbuttoned her blouse and it was clear to me where she next wanted my lips … her fingers closed upon my balls, toying with them as I sank into the enclosing depths of her warmly generous cleavage, licking between her breasts. I lifted her bra over her bosoms, freeing them — they were wide and heavy and soon my lips closed upon a thickened nipple, drawing it in. Her fingers on my balls grew ever more insistent and bold, squeezing them together and pulling them, and it was both painful and exquisite, so that my suckling itself grew more insistent … again I began those involuntary sharp intakes of breath and the air being drawn in across her nipple aroused Marilyn further and soon she had my cock firmly in hand, her expert grip closing with intimate intent around its head and tightening rhythmically so that my breath continued to come faster and faster as I moved alternately over to the second nipple.

Marilyn allowed her skirt to rise high along her thighs and as I moved back and forth from breast to breast I knew it was only a matter of time until Marilyn demanded even more intimate attention from my lips. My hand moved to her thighs and she parted them permissively. The flesh of her inner thighs was soft and warm as my touch moved firmly but gently toward her source. I soon perceived her nakedness as my hand rose. I felt the delicate touch of her most intimate fleece but then, even before I could touch the warm softness those hairs covered, Marilyn suddenly closed and tightened her thighs upon my hand. Although I had gotten far enough to discover Marilyn was not wearing panties, now my hand was held fast by the strength of her enclosing thighs. I felt her own hand go under my ball sac and pull the elastic band out and then she let it snap back against my cock and the snap was startling and briefly painful, causing my already aroused member to grow even more strained and swollen. Marilyn pulled my zipper up for me and, just that quick, my privates were once again tucked out of sight.

I lifted my head from her breasts. Then out of the corner of my eyes I saw Melannie enter Secrets and move along the length of the bar, greeting the women and teasing their men. I looked into Marilyn’s eyes and I knew she could see my desire and how much I wanted to please her. I slid off the chair onto my knees, my hand still held captive … Marilyn said nothing as she then pulled her bra down again around her bosoms, cupping them into place. She slowly re-buttoned her blouse in a strange reverse strip tease. I so longed to explore the intimate complexities of her pussy with my lips and tongue, and I could feel Marilyn reading my longing in my eyes and then she lifted her hips and reached down and pulled down her skirt.

“All right, Marilyn!” It was Melannie, suddenly standing close. Seeing my hand held between Marilyn’s thighs, she laughed: “Catch somebody trying to shoplift?”

I turned my head and tall Melannie’s loins were at my eye level … her light-colored slacks were skintight, so that the inviting cleft between the puffy lips of her sex was expressed clearly, only inches from my face, which reddened under cover of the dim lighting in that part of the bar. Humiliated by being held in place by Marilyn’s thighs, with my denied desire still throbbing away between my own legs, I glanced into Marilyn’s eyes and saw her smirking. She darted her artvin escort gaze in a quick way at Melannie’s loins, then her eyes just as quickly returned to my own and it was clear what the powerful Marilyn wanted me to do.

With my hand still locked between Marilyn’s thighs I leaned over and let my nose rise along the expressed cleft of Melannie’s cunt-lips beneath her skintight slacks. As my lips came close to the fabric, Melannie pulled back…

“O you lovely, dear, gentle boy,” Melannie coo’d, “mustn’t slobber on Mommie’s new slacks!” And with that, Melannie slapped me -! Not a resounding slap, but with enough force to smart. And when I looked to Marilyn, she slapped me, too -! Marilyn’s slap was slightly harder, more proprietary somehow. And then the both of them started laughing, a mingled music of mockery and mutual delight, as if they were collaborators. Both of my cheeks were now red, and from more than mere blushing — part of me felt the sting but another part of me was fully complicit and willing. Abruptly, Marilyn released my hand from her muscular hold and stood up.

Still on my knees, I stared up at those two dominating women, but they weren’t paying any attention to me. They reached over me to embrace each other, and Melannie’s loins straddled my shoulder, and then Marilyn straddled my other shoulder, riding me in the same way, and as they hugged each other their pelvises ground against my pinned head, sandwiched on either side between them. I just could see out into the bar from where their grinding loins held me squashed in place and I wondered what a sight this all must make, but nobody was watching. Sometimes Secrets liked to watch, and other times, well, Secrets just looked totally the other way.

“Don’t you just love riding a pinned head?” Melannie laughed when they broke the embrace.

I had never thought of myself as such an absolute pinhead, but that is what I was in that moment, staring up … four large breasts overshadowed me, and up past those breasts were the mocking leers of my betters, staring down at me.

“I’d love to stay,” Marilyn said, and I dreaded what was coming, “but I have to be to work early in the morning. If you can still manage to get on your feet, Ra’s Elf, I’d appreciate you walking me to my car.”

When Marilyn bent to unlock her car door, I stared helplessly at the flair of her hips. “Stay on your feet,” she said over her shoulder, “and dream in humble adoration about what I’ll someday make you do for me … ” Again, she mocked me.

I stood on the street after Marilyn had pulled away, bereft and abandoned. When I walked back into Secrets it was because I was helpless, not because I wanted further excitement. The throbbing in my long-denied balls was growing noticeably more uncomfortable, almost painful. Helplessly I walked back to where we had been sitting and I again sat at that table, nursing my drink and staring blankly down. I put my hands up and cupped them around my lips and nose. There was no odor of female intimacy on my fingers, yet I felt my face pressed into the cup of my hands and it was as if I was pressed between Marilyn’s strong thighs and it was as if my face and my lips and my tongue were close to the source, the warm wet source, and a phantom odor actually came to me then, and that phantom odor was of Marilyn’s sex…

When I opened my eyes, lifting reluctantly from a dream that seemed to have been going on forever, Secrets was getting more crowded. I saw a man on his knees at the bar, his head between the legs of a woman sitting there — he had his own cock in his hand and was jacking himself off as he pressed his head deeper, and it seemed very odd that his woman would allow him to jack himself off that way, while he lapped her, and then I saw his juices start to spurt, and then an even stranger thing, for it became apparent that even more fluid was falling down from where he was mouthing the woman and then I knew that the woman was urinating into his mouth and that he was unable to swallow enough of it fast enough to prevent an overflow and that the overflow was raining down onto his spurting cock – all hell broke loose of a sudden when Melannie appeared and kicked the guy between his legs very hard and she spun the woman off her barstool — “Jackie, you fucking pig!” Melannie bellowed, “You don’t piss in men’s mouths in my joint, gotdamnit, and you don’t let them cum on my floor, gotdamnit, and for fucking GOT-damn sure, you don’t ever bring your nasty ass in here again!!” Melannie threw the woman out of the bar physically, and then she returned to where the man was curled in a pained ball on the floor and she commenced to kick him some more till he crawled bawling out the front door. Standing over the mess, her long legs spread and her heavy chest heaving, red-headed Melannie looked around the bar, a glare of combined contempt and satisfaction on her face.

I grabbed my glass and sucked in some beer, appalled ataköy escort and amazed at Melannie’s fury. I did not want to look at her and I tried to avert my eyes, but Melannie was in a high enough fury that when she looked my way I was unable to tear my eyes away from hers — “Ra’s Elf!” she bellowed, “Get over here!”

I scrambled over to Melannie — “Follow me!” she ordered.

Melannie led me to the utility closet, where a mop and bucket awaited — “Put a dab of PineSol in there and go mop up that mess,” she ordered.

With care and devotion, I swabbed up the cum and piss, and wheeled the foul bucket back to the utility closet.

“Give my boy Ra’s Elf a hand, people!” Melannie stood with her long, strong legs spread and her hands on her hips as the bar then gave me a small round of applause … “A drink for my new Swamper!” she called.

I sat back down at the table and sucked at the free drink Melannie had sent to me. I felt unclean and subservient, like a menial slave, and the feeling was delicious … for several long moments I concentrated my attention on the drink, which drink I not only didn’t want but surely didn’t need, but not even daring to look up from it nonetheless. My prick had resumed its attentive stretch inside my trousers — my willingness to be used, and to be of use, was high and urgent, but not so alarming that anyone would notice …

When I finally mustered the courage to look up at the bar, Melannie was standing at its end with her weight on her elbows and her generous hips arched out and back. I could see her large bosoms under her armpits, and the way her hips were stuck out took my breath away.

Melannie was talking to some female in an overcoat as I passed on my way to the john, a blond woman who didn’t glance my way. As I slid past Melannie, my eyes cast downwards with adoration to her hips, at the way they jutted out, almost blocking my passage. Melannie’s ass was generous, like her bosom, and I was spellbound.

Back in the men’s john, I stood before the mirror with my engorged member in my hand … unable to piss because I was so fixated on strong fantasies, I finally tucked my balls and cock back into my pants, still throbbing … when I walked back out, Melannie was still standing that way, with her big hips almost blocking my way. I stared down at them helplessly and wanted very much to just sink to my knees behind her … as I eased past, I looked at the face of the blond she was chatting with and was dumbstruck to discover that Melannie was talking to the woman I’d fallen for back across the river, the cold and imperious lady wearing glasses —


Betty was staring at me as she had before, that look of appraisal that stabbed at my guts … she looked down my body and her gaze came to rest at my groin. I was both pleased and embarrassed with myself that I had remained aroused, my prick swelling against the restraints of my trousers. As I tried to ease past, Betty stepped directly into my path.

“Are you following me, Ra’s Elf?” Betty reached up with both hands and gripped my chest, her palms flat upon my nipples … “Are you?” Her hands were wide and very strong and she squeezed my chest muscles with inordinate power, making me wince … she pulled me close and her tongue was thick and deep in my mouth. Helplessly, I wrapped my lips around Betty’s thick tongue and suckled it greedily while her hands continued their forceful and exhilarating squeezing of my male breasts.

“You certainly know how to treat an older guy,” I managed. “This isn’t a treat,” Betty responded. “It’s a promise – you like to be hurt, don’t you, Ra’s Elf?” “I like,” I stammered, “whatever you like … ” “I like to hurt vigorous lechers who like to work out.” Betty’s grip grew even more painful, and I swelled my chest in response, letting the muscles push against Betty’s grip. I was near to swooning at the delicious pain.

“Do you like ass, Ra’s Elf? Would you do anything, anything at all, for the sake of my ass, you horny bastard?”

“I worship ass, Betty … I would worship your ass.”

“I know,” Betty smirked, “because worship is exactly what it will take … ” Betty dropped one of her hands, grabbing tight against my groin and turned away, leading me out of the bar. Her hand at my uncomfortably swollen cock was every bit as firm and painful and exquisite as it had been on my chest … the tears in my eyes as Betty pulled me forth from Secrets were as much in gratitude as they were in pain.

“You are a rotten bastard, Ra’s Elf,” Betty said as we emerged outside, “and I’m going to sit on you till you know your place. You’ll worship my ass, Ra’s Elf, and I will make you my slave!”

“Oh!” I gasped, “I … but yes! Please!” It was a plea I need not have uttered, for Betty was way ahead of me and in complete command.

Betty drove a late-model small red pick-up. Before she let me climb in, she bound my hands behind my back. It was only a ritual binding, for I was already entirely at her command.

“Do you go into Secrets often, Ra’s Elf?” Her voice was languid and almost uncaring, as if already knowing my answer … she’d lit a cigarette and the smoke curled thickly from her lips.

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