Santa’s Baby: Chapter 3
Idon’t need User 2906 to provoke a fight or flight reaction in me. It’s already there, loud and clear. Jesus Christ. My head is wired. Spun out to hell as I stumble down the club steps onto the street.
The night chill helps, bringing me back to some semblance of clarity. I suck the cool air into my lungs, desperate to keep a hold of myself. I banish all thoughts of Santa, because I have no time to ruminate or speculate. Not now. I’ve got to get in the zone.
Creamgirl has to take the reins.
The shadowy alley is just up ahead, running down the side of the club. I figure I’m going to have to ‘stall’ as I pass by, so reach for my clutch as a pretend distraction, but I don’t need it.
An arm bursts out of the darkness, a savage fist grabbing my hair and yanking me from the street as I squeal. My squeal is barely more than a squeak, since a hand slaps over my mouth before I can blink.
My assailant must know martial arts or something, because he takes me in a chokehold – his elbow against my windpipe as he drags me backwards. I don’t know how I manage to stay upright on my stilettos, because there’s trash all around our feet. I hear the jangle of empty bottles being kicked away, and the crumple of paper under my shoes.
This isn’t just an alley, it’s the club bin store, and it’s a stinking shithole.
User 2906 has already prepped for our session, that much is clear. He slams me into the wall between two big dumpsters and switches the chokehold for a forearm against the back of my neck. My face is flat against the damp brickwork, and the gravel texture could easily graze my cheek, but that’s the least of my worries right now.
“Stay fucking quiet, understand?”
I try to nod, but he’s got me pinned too tight. “Yes.”
He eases up the pressure a touch and I gulp in some breaths.
I stick to my usual script.
“I’ve got some cash, if you want it… not much, but you can take it.”
He laughs, his voice throaty.
“I don’t want your cash, you dumb bitch. I want the body you’ve been slutting around on the dancefloor.”
“I was just dancing.”
His scoff gives me a pulse between my legs, and I squeeze my thighs shut. I hope this guy is into degradation to the max, because that’s what Creamgirl needs right now. The whore side of me needs to come to the fore and block out everything but the dirty games ahead.
I don’t want men in posh suits, or Santa smiles to send me loopy. I want to be used like a cheap slut and earn my money.
“Just dancing? Yeah, right,” User 2906 says. “You were begging for cock from the second you arrived in that place. Your cunt nearly sucked that guy’s whole fist in, you were gagging for it so fucking bad. Dirty bitch.”
I love it when my character feels the burn of embarrassment. I could have been an actress in a previous life, since I sink so deep into my roles.
“It was his fault. He made me horny.”
“He had fuck all to do with it. You were being a slag, like a piece of beef at an auction house. All it took was one fucking prosecco. You may as well have bought him one, since you were the one desperate for dick.”
This client is definitely new to me. His voice has a twang of cockney. I wonder what he looks like, but his arm is pressed too tight to my neck to turn and see.
I say nothing, just breathe. The club is thumping to the side of us, and I can barely hear any traffic on the road. It would be pointless to fight him from back here, even if this wasn’t a proposal.
“You still desperate for cock?” he asks.
“No, I swear! Just let me go, please.” I hitch a sob. “I’m sorry I was a slut. I didn’t think anyone was watching.”
“You’re talking shit. You can’t flaunt it like you do, tits spilling out as you twerk your fat arse, and not know that everyone with a cock is watching you.”
“I like attention sometimes, that’s all.”
His laugh is vile, his weight still hard on my neck.
“Yeah? This attention enough for you?” His free hand goes for my dress, tugging at the split with so much force I’m sure he’ll rip it. He finds my thighs closed, and I squeeze tighter. There is no way he’s working his hand between them. My thighs are like tree trunks.
His fingers dig, trying to get to my pussy, but he gets nowhere.
“Open your fucking legs, bitch and stop pretending you don’t want it.”
“No!” I try my best to squirm away but he’s way too strong.
“Give it up now, slut. Don’t waste my fucking time.”
I’m not prepared when he pulls away to set me free, only to slam me back again. My clutch goes tumbling to the floor, and I try to push back with my hands, but he’s a big guy. I can’t move him.
“You’re nothing but a dirty slut who needs cock.” He pins me so hard this time that my tits are mashed flat against the wall. “I said, open your fucking legs.”
“And I said no!”
I try to fight, but it’s pointless. My arms flail, but reach nothing, and the asshole uses the opportunity to lock me in an arm bar. He cricks my arm back so bad I cry out, then I curse, because I know I’m not cut out to fight him. He could break my arm if I dared.
“Fiery bitch, aren’t you?”
I both love and hate his snarky laugh at the same time.
My inner fiery bitch battles with my inner slut, both out for the win. I always love this part of the game, where my quest for war has to succumb to my need for dirty, raw sex, but fiery bitch has a sword tonight. Outrage flames up like fucking heartburn and I grit my teeth. I’d punch this guy if I could. I’d fight him, and wrestle him, and claw at his face, goading him through every second he was trying to claim me.
“You’re a cunt,” I tell him. “A fucking prick.”
“You’ve got a big wet cunt that needs a fucking prick.” He tugs my arm higher to remind me he’s in control here. “Now, open those slutty legs and give it to me.”
I groan in frustration. I hiss curses, telling him he’s a piece of shit who won’t be able to get me off anyway, because he’s a worthless asshole.
“You’d have your own choice of pussy in that club if you were half decent,” I say. “You wouldn’t need to be grabbing me in the fucking dark like a psycho.”
“Open your legs and I’ll show you how decent I am.” He slams me again when I refuse. “Open your fucking legs, bitch. I’m losing my patience now.”
I get the click of knowing, my experience serving me well. The guy is in the zone himself now, frustrated and sadistic. His character is meeting mine.
My slutty soul waves hello to his in the beautiful depravity.
Finally, I part my legs for him.
“Wider,” he says.
I shuffle my feet, but he kicks them further apart. I really am spread now, my flabby thighs parted enough to give him full access. The torn fishnets grant him entry. He tugs my panties to the side and my sopping wet pussy lips are waiting.
I get another flash of delicious embarrassment. It’s like he’s rummaging through leftovers as he explores me with rough fingers.
“I knew you wanted it,” he says. “Fresh and smooth. Yeah, you were out to get some tonight.” He pushes his fingers into my slit, rubbing back and forth. “I love a meaty pussy. You’re gonna be so easy to stalk, you filthy beauty. You’d better keep one eye over your shoulder, coz one day I’m gonna want to check out this cunt in the daylight.”
He grabs my pussy lips in his fist and tugs, and fuck how I moan as my clit springs back to life.
“Dirty bitch,” he says and tugs some more. “Like that, do you?”
Fuck yes, I like it a fucking lot.
“No,” I tell him, “My meaty pussy loves meaty fingers.” I push against his hand.
He likes my words. His thick thumb slips inside me and he grinds his crotch against my curvy ass. I can feel his hard-on. A decent size.
“I know what you’d like,” I tell him as his thumb jabs at me.
“What’s that, bitch?”
“My pussy spread open for you. I look so dirty with my legs up.”
“Filthy slut, I bet you fucking do.” He pulls his thumb away and goes back to tugging at my lips.
I rock myself against his fingers, and the tips start to catch against my hungry fucking hole.
“Go on,” I say. “Show me how good you are.”
“That wanker in the club was gonna get you off, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah, he was.”
“How many fingers was he giving you?”
“Four.”
“Pathetic.” He pushes four right in and Christ it feels good as I sink onto them. “You’ll take my cock as well as these, bitch.”
I pretend to be intimidated. Tensing up.
“Please, no… I can’t…”
“Nah, bitch. I know what a cunt like yours can take. Don’t treat me like a dumb fucker.”
He doesn’t give me a warmup before he lines his thumb against his fingers to demonstrate, and fuck, it’s going to hurt. I’m still sore and stretched from last night, so used I’m aching – but my inner whore Creamgirl wins out easy.
I want it.
I shunt back against him so I’m working my pussy against his hand, waiting for the pop as his knuckles sink in. And sink in they do. Just like that.
“See,” he says. “You’re a fucking liar. You can take it, no sweat.”
I moan in protest when he pulls out, but I hear his belt unbuckling, and the zipper on his jeans. He lets go of my arm, and I shimmy myself into position, fight done. My palms are against the wall as I bend for him. Yeah, my meaty cunt is on offer. I’ll take whatever he wants me to.
I brace myself as he moves up close. He grabs my panties, tight in his fist, and the fucker rips them apart like they’re made of paper.
I gasp as they’re torn away and gasp again when he slaps my exposed cunt.
“Take it,” he says and I take his dick easy as it slides inside me in one. He’s deep, but not girthy enough. I clench around him and give a little wiggle.
“You’ll need more than that. My cunt needs a pounding, not a poke from a sweet little cock.”
“Shut up and take it.” His hips slam quick, thrusting in hard, but I laugh.
“You said you know what a cunt like mine can take. You’re the fucking liar if you think that’s going to do the job.”
He leans in close. “Believe me, bitch, I’ll be giving it to you. You should’ve asked nicely, because now it’s gonna hurt like a bastard.”
The initial sensation always pains like a bastard, but I’m an addict. I moan as the piece of shit pulls his cock out to shove all four fingers back inside me. He follows them up with his dick in one big fucking stab.
“Better,” I tell him and he stabs me again and again.
It burns like hell, but I’m squelching and bucking, taking it all with a fuck, fuck, yessss.
I’m back to the horny bitch I was when I was teasing cock on the dancefloor. I put my hand between my legs to check out the full horny extent of what he’s giving me, gripping his wrist to urge him deeper. His balls bounce against my fingers.
“That’s so good,” I tell him. “You’re so much better than the jerk in the club, so much better…”
“He wasn’t going to treat your cunt like this. He’d have no fucking idea how to play.”
“You know how to play.” My breaths pick up. “Oh fuck, you know how to play. And I hope you do play. In the fucking daylight when I can see what the fuck you’re doing to me, because you know what? I like watching. I like begging for it. I like to splay my fucking legs and beg to be pounded.”
“Beg now, slut. Beg for it.”
I circle my clit as he slams me.
“Faster, please. Make me a dirty bitch. That’s why I came out tonight. I wanted to be used like a filthy slut.”
He speeds up his thrusts, and my tits are bouncing. They come out of the neckline of my dress, hanging free.
“Crush my tits,” I tell him. “Play while you fuck me. Please.”NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.
He wraps an arm under me, and his hand grapples and grabs. My flesh slaps as he pinches and tugs.
“I’m gonna love seeing these in the daylight,” he tells me. “But I’ll be in charge, remember that. I’m always in charge.”
“That’s ok, I don’t care… just give it to me. I’ll take whatever you want, because you’re so fucking good. My God, you’re so fucking good.”
This time, I’m not lying.
User 2906 is a beast with my tits while his fingers and cock plough my pussy. My clit sparks with lightning bolts. I press my forehead to the wall, not giving a fuck about how I might get grazed. The only thing that matters is reaching the peak, and he owes me one, since he fucking wrecked it when I was about to come on another guy’s fingers.
He was right, though. He’s better than that. The buildup only made me more needy, full of moans as I get to the edge.
The timing is perfect. My clenching pussy sends him over the edge in sync with me, and we’re nothing but a grunting mess of slapping flesh as we come together. He unloads in my pussy with his four fingers still buried deep, and holds them there in the aftermath, squidging them around in his cum as I try to get my breath back.
It’s so gross, it’s hot as fuck.
“There you go, whore,” he says. “I could read you a mile off. Piece of trash cum-slut.”
“Fuck you,” I say. “I can’t help what my pussy needs. That’s called biology.”
“It’s called being a desperate slag with a big wet cunt, and just wait until next time. It’ll beg for a whole lot more from me then.”
He pulls his fingers free, wipes them on my ass, and can’t resist grabbing my pussy lips again.
“Fuck, that was good,” he says.
I moan when he tugs.
“Dirty bitch.”
I hear him buckle himself back up, but I don’t move, just stay bent over like the slut I am while his cum dribbles out of my pussy.
The bottles on the floor do another jangle as he walks away and leaves me there, dishevelled and used up between two dumpsters. I don’t move for a while, enjoying the flooding power of the aftermath, with a heady smile on my face as my body comes down.
It really is fucking cold now, and my teeth start to chatter as my adrenaline depletes. My nipples are like frozen bullets and my tits are prickling as I shove them back in my dress.
I scramble around the floor for my clutch, grabbing my phone and calling my usual cab number. They are only ever a few minutes away, given I’m such a regular client.
“Belgravia, please,” I say. “From Club Revelier. Tottenham.”
I use my phone torch to get out of here in my heels. It’s a shit show, with used up wrappers, and battered boxes and broken bottles everywhere. And fuck knows where my ruined panties are. Maybe he took them as a trophy. Damn, I’m glad he didn’t drop me to my knees. I’d have likely ended up with far more than a grazed cheek from some brickwork. I brace myself on one of the dumpsters, clenching my pussy to test the aftermath, and fuck it hurts. I take a steadying breath and step back into the street, which is still practically empty since everyone is still clubbing.
The cab lights appear in three minutes, tops, and I hop on in with a thanks. My phone is already in my hand, so I get right to typing out my D&S message to Josh. But if I’d have waited, just a few more seconds – if I’d have held off on the D&S until my cab was down the street, I might have got more of a glimpse of the man standing at the entrance of the club, directly under the Club Revelier sign.
Santa.
There is no wine glass in his hand. Not this time.
My fucking God, was he outside? Was he watching? Did he hear my filthy begging and the way I took it like a piece of meat who needed a pounding?
Suddenly I’m shaking as the nerves eat me alive out of nowhere. I feel so intimidated, so dirty and exposed as I twist in the cab seat to stare back at him.
Vulnerable.
I feel vulnerable.
Exposed, naked, used, debased and so fucking vulnerable.
Another cab pulls up and Santa glances my way before he gets in.
My heart is fucking pounding as the cab pulls away, but no, he’s not telling his cabbie to follow that cab. The cab does a U turn and heads in the opposite direction.
Shit.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.