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“What time is her set?” It’s already pretty late, and I have a shit ton to do tomorrow. Just thinking about everything that needs to get done and the amount of sleep I will lose…my cock hardens at the thought of our sassy executioner. I know I won’t win this debate.
“In like ten minutes,” he says, looking back from his watch. “You in?”
Fuck it.
“I’m in.”
Soft, sensual music reverberates through the speakers as Knuckles and I wade through the crowded bar. Women in different varieties of undress flit around while members of Silent Renegade take their usual booths. Outsiders bounce around as different scenes are completed, watching intently as they sip their drinks.
I can’t help but eye every single person here, debating if they are spies for Big D Raiders. They are known for their undercover work, but no one appears to be…suspicious looking. Stupid, I know, but it’s shitty as fuck to constantly be checking over your shoulder in case you miss someone wanting to stab you in the back. They know we’re watching them, so they most likely have someone waiting for us to fuck up too. Contracts can be finicky.
Before Leather, the club would overlook females all together, the stupid stigma that women weren’t more than baby pushers. While she had to work harder to get patched in, there’s no doubt that she’s the most driven. Her specialty was always torture, which works because she’s also like a fucking siren. She lures in the enemy, then eats them alive.
Just another reason I shouldn’t fucking touch her with a ten foot pole. I can’t stop thinking about how she tasted in my mouth, her sweet pussy dripping as she rode my face, grasping my hair for dear life.
“Hello?” Knuckles rams his elbow into my rib cage, a rush of air whooshing from me.
“Was that fucking necessary?” I grunt, hunching slightly from the pain. I rub the spot while glaring darkly at him. He just laughs at me.
“Oh, don’t be a giant pussy. You’ve had gunshot wounds worse than that.” Knuckles grabs my elbow, dragging me across the platform to our usual table. If it were anyone else I would knock their fucking teeth in. Our guys dip their heads toward me, a silent greeting as we pass.
“She should be getting ready to go on,” Knuckles mutters, plopping his ass in the chair next to mine. A waitress swings by, tits testing the strength of the buttons on her blouse. We both order waters, neither of us planning to get fucked up tonight. The thump of the music continues as they chatter, and I can’t help staring at the stage with very thin patience.
Right after she bounces away with everyone else's orders, Leather’s signature song hums quietly in the background, “Queen of Pain” by The Cramps.
Leather struts out on the dais, a complex leather bodice hugs her with ropes that neatly tie into knots over her lengthy limbs, and her signature studded boots on full display.
Wolf whistles blare around the club as she carries a leash in one hand and a riding crop in the other. She’s got this deep seated swagger about her, almost as if she’s unbothered by the bullshit around her. Charles, her sub, crawls on his hands and knees, his ass swaying while she prances him by the leather rope and bit in his mouth. She taps his bare ass with the end of the leash while walking him around. I can see his red knees from over here, obviously chafed by the carpet. He’s practically naked, his toned muscles on display for the crowd, save for the damn leather jockstrap his impressive dick is crammed into.
With a sharp crack, she pulls him to the center of the stage. He obeys mindlessly, preening under the attention of the crowd. While on all fours, she whips the end of the leash against his ass and yanks on it, forcing him to kneel backward on his heels. Chest pushing out, he presents as the perfect submissive; open palms up and all. She takes a single step away from him and gives him the chance to soak up the attention of the crowd.
She steps behind him and gets onto her knees behind him. His body covers what she’s doing, but after a moment, his cock visibly jumping in his strap. A wicked gleam shines brightly in her eyes as she looks into the crowd. Whatever she’s doing, he loves it because the first guttural groan of the night swims through the sea of pleasure.
In this club, you can fuck while they do the show, you just can’t be obnoxious about it. We’re still respectful fuckers. Either way, they are enjoying this display of feminine power far more than I realized.
“Fuck,” Knuckles mutters, shifting slightly in his chair. Daring a glance in his direction, words are caught in my throat. His large hand palms the engorged bulge in his pants. There’s two very different, but very appealing, places to look at. A small part of me wishes I was up there, getting the attention she’s giving. Another part of me wants to have her dominate Knuckles while I fuck her.
The song fades before “Dirty Mind” by Boy Epic starts up. It’s a dirty, filthy song. Perfect for this moment exactly.
Zoning back in, I catch Charles swift nod, drool starting to cover his chest from his mouth being spread open for a prolonged period. She unclips the leash, letting the end drag over his pebbled flesh softly. With a quick flick, it wraps around his neck, and she pulls back. His spine hyper extends backward, his chest pushing even further out. If it weren’t for the blissed out expression on his face, I would think he was suffocating for real.
“What a good boy,” she coos, letting the leash go with one hand. It drags in front of him as ragged breaths pull into his lungs. She curls it into her hand, flicking it over his taut body. He doesn’t move, the obvious desire evident in his hardened cock.
She takes a step back, rounding to the side of his body as she drags the leather over his skin. Grabbing the back of his head, she pushes on him. His face lands onto the platform softly, hands splayed out. Stepping a heeled foot on his back, she keeps him firmly in place as his ass juts into the air.
“That’s so fucking hot,” Knuckles grunts next to me, undoing the button on his jeans. I flick my gaze around the club, realizing that everyone in the audience is already in some state of pleasure. Leather watches the crowd swallow the sight of her submissive, tugging a little harder on the collar.
“Your ass is so pale,” she taunts, her voice hauntingly soft as the crop smooths over his naked backside. “I would much prefer it to be red. Don’t you?” Charles mumbles a response, the metal bit stopping him from saying anything legible.
A broken moan pushes past me as I look down, realizing my cock is practically on fire. The hardened length presses against my zipper, begging for friction and release.
Stealing another glance over, Knuckles’ fist is wrapped tightly around his girth, the damn thing bigger than his hand. His eyes are hooded as his thumb drags over the bulbous tip that shines bright red with need.
“Holy shit,” I mutter, watching as his fist picks up the pace. I swear I’m in a trance, watching him palm himself into oblivion as he watches our girl fuck her submissive into submission.
Hold the fucking phone.
The hand that was trailing to my own cock unconsciously comes to a halt.
