The Private Club Adventure

I drive us to the hotel after we have obtained our invitations to the private club. We check into the hotel and get unpacked in our suite. Finally everything is put away, you go into the bathroom, and come out after a bit wearing your schoolgirl outfit. As usual, you are your normal naughty self and give me so many reasons to delight in you.

"What now, Daddy?" you ask in a mischievous voice.

"Now we shop," I smile.

"Shop?! For what?" you smile back at me.

"You need a special outfit for tomorrow, love."

You pout, sticking out your lower lip, "You don't like this one?"

I chuckle, "Of course I do. But I have something special in mind. Tomorrow night I won't be Daddy as much as I'll be your Master."

Your eyes sparkle and you drop the little girl act for a moment, "I know. Want me to change before we shop?"

"No," I say, "You will be a delightful distraction to all." I know you love to wear this outfit in public.

You hold up your collar, "may I wear this too?"

I nod, indulging you, loving that you want all to know you are taken.

We leave and visit several shops, finding the right items and few others that catch our eye. I can tell you enjoy the shops. How you love the smell of the leather and the shiny metal. How you run your hands over different things. The hungry look in your eyes when you find certain ones and hold them out to me and say "Please, Daddy?"

Of course, others in the shops watch us. At first they see us as an ordinary, if a little exotic, man and woman. After watching us together, noting our obvious D/s relationship, they often smile with understanding. Several do not.

One man in the last shop, one of the seedier ones, watches you and I. Especially you. He is rough looking. Needs a shave. A shower too, I realize when I catch a whiff of him as the AC kicks on and I am downwind. Even the shopkeeper seems nervous about him.

He keeps pretending to shop, but cannot take his eyes off of you. I watch his eyes. Staring at your cleavage, at your ass and legs beneath the plaid skirt, and especially the patent leather collar around your neck.

You are oblivious, having a blast looking at all the wonderful toys. I am not. I watch him carefully, not letting him know I am aware of him.

You turn to me and giggle. Lean into me and kiss me, showing me something you found.

I see him scowl and turn away, tossing down the box he is holding onto the shelf in front of him. I hear the tinkling of the bell on the door as he leaves, stalking off in the twilight. I feel a sick wrenching in my gut. I sense I will be seeing him again.

We buy a few items and go out. I unlock your door and start to open it to let you in. I hear the crunch of glass on the refuse-strewn pavement behind me. Yes. I shut the door and turn.

He stands a few yards away with that same scowl on his face, his features barely visible in the fading light. The light breeze that is blowing across the parking lot brings his scent to me again. Stale beer. Old sweat. Rancid grease. Cheap whiskey.

"Fuck you," he snarls and launches himself at me, swinging his fist towards my face. I pivot to the right and drive my left elbow up to intercept his fist. I feel the crunch, hearing it also: cartilage ripping and thin bones snapping. Not mine. His. My elbow throbs as he collapses up against the car next to us, cradling his broken hand. I grab him by the shirt and heave, throwing him away from the car.

I hear a muffled scream and spin to see two men holding you at the back of the car. One has a long combat knife at your throat.

"We want some fun tonight. Don't you wanna share, you perv? Thought you freaks liked that?" he spits at me and touches the collar around your neck.

My eyes narrow, "No, dickless, I won't share. She's MINE." I gesture at the man beside him. "Have your friend hold her," I say, taunting him, "and come play with me, if you think you know how to use that knife."

As I hoped, he snarls at my open challenge and pulls the blade away from your throat. He flings you towards his companion and stalks towards me. I smile, knowing that you can handle him, now that knife-boy is dancing with me.

We circle each other for a moment and he lunges at me, leading with the knife. Clumsy. Instead of dodging, I twist and step into his lunge. Grabbing his wrist as the knife slices the air next to my waist, I jerk his arm on past me and down, taking his balance with it. I release his wrist and keep spinning. I use my momentum and add to it desperately, knowing I only have a moment before he recovers and the knife will be stabbing into my back. My elbow slams into the side of his head and he limply drops to the ground.

I look over at you and see you are fighting the last guy. I see him double over after your knee drives up into his balls and you start to batter the side of his head.

Before I can move to aid you, I hear a sound behind me. His shattered hand held to his stomach, the first man has found a broken bottle and is advancing toward me. He immediately lunges, swinging the broken bottle awkwardly. I leap back and then forward, tackling him when his arm has swung wide.

As we hit the ground, I grab his wrist and smash the bottle in his hand against the pavement, shattering it. We wrestle for a few moments, until I can grab his other hand: the broken one. He screams in pain and I am able to get on top of him. I brutally punch his face several times. He goes still. My knuckles throb.

A weight hits me from behind and I catch the flash of the edge of a knife coming toward my throat. I grab his wrist, fighting to keep the knife from slicing open my throat. We roll off the unconscious man. "I'll kill you, you freak!" he rasps. No doubt anymore, I'm fighting for my life and probably yours to.

I struggle with him, finally twisting his wrist so the hilt of the knife is against me, buying me a moment. I then pull at his knife hand, trapping the blade against me in a way that it cannot hurt me. Then I concentrate on driving my head back into his face a few times, breaking his nose. His grip loosens a little and I twist the knife away from me, holding it out to the side. I'm tiring, panting, not in as good of shape as I once was. I shift my body sideways toward the knife, pinning his arm to the ground beneath me. His other hand starts to pound into my ribs and my face, but it is not very effective. I drive my other elbow back into his gut and his breath rushes out. My arm snakes around his neck. I squeeze hard, continuing to twist at his wrist trying to make him drop the knife.

I hear you scream and your booted foot comes down on his knife hand, driving it into the ground. making him release the knife. He tries to scream and writhes. Finally able to use both hands, I tighten my hold on his neck; I grab my wrist, pulling it tight. My body strains and I grit my teeth. I realize that he has finally lost consciousness and gone limp. I release my hold and start to struggle to my feet as I hear a sharp slap and see you spin to the ground next to me holding your face.

I lurch upright to face the third man and hear you getting up behind me.

"Kick his ass!" you scream. I hear you kick the knife, making it skitter across the pavement into the underbrush. Then I hear the first of a long series of meaty thuds. I smile faintly for a moment knowing you are furiously applying your boot to the downed men behind me.

I see that my new opponent is hurting, limping a little like his balls were hamburger. Good for you, my Pet, I think. He comes toward me. I smile feeling the hot blood of my rage building, remembering how he hit you. He swings. I block and return the blow. My fist connects. He reels. I drive in. Like a demonic machine, I beat him. Pound him. He sways, but I prop him up against the car. I don't want to stop, my rage finding sweet release. I don't stop until he falls, his face a bloody wreck.

I stand for a moment, my chest heaving. I turn to you and step closer. "Are you ok?" I look you over. Other than a few tears in your shirt, and some dirt, you seem fine.

You look up at me; I see the red mark across your face where that bastard slapped you. "I'm fine," you say softly. Then you gasp, "Honey! You're bleeding!"

I look down, feeling for the first time the hot sheet of blood flowing down my side. I see the cut in my shirt and the deep red stain down my side along my jeans. "I think he just nicked me at first." My fingers probe the wound. It is small and shallow; a glorified paper cut. "I'll be fine, lets get out of here."

I help you up. I let you drive us back. Luckily it isn't far. As the adrenaline is washed from my system, the aches and pains become apparent. I tremble with the reaction. You reach over and put your hand on my leg and squeeze.

We take the back elevator up to our hotel room. I start to undress. You come to me and stop me. You look me over, making sure I am really all right. Assured I am just bruised except for the little cut on my side, you grab me and push me down onto the bed. You mouth seeks mine, kissing me brutally. Your hands tear off my bloody ruined clothes, tossing them away from the bed. You all but rape me, taking me into you and riding me like a demoness. You pull my bloody, bruised hands up to your breasts and make me crush your tits while you grind your hips on me. You shudder and gasp, then roll off me and turn to take my glistening cock in your mouth. I watch this display of naked lust in awe and finally come, passing out on the bed with your hungry mouth sucking my seed down your throat.

I awaken in the depths of the night and go into the bathroom. I climb into the huge tub and fill it with hot water. I look down and see a haze of blood in the water coming from the little slash in my side. I trail my hands in the steaming water, watching the blood on them dissolve away.

I hear you in the room, awakening. I turn on the whirlpool jets; relaxing as the pulses of water massage the soreness my body. After a time, I glance out the door and note that you are up and out of bed. I hope you feel better now; that the violence will not spoil your weekend with me. I hear you opening packages and your squeals of delight at the new toys and clothes we bought. I lean my head back and close my eyes, smiling. That's my girl, I think.

After a time I feel your hand on my shoulder. I open my eyes and you are there, sitting on the edge of the tub. The red mark on your face is almost gone, which relieves me. You are far too beautiful to have it marred with a welt.

"Need me?" you ask quietly, a vulnerable look on your face.

"Always, Pet."

You light a single candle and place it across the room. You turn the lights off. In the darkness, I can barely see you. You stand for a moment and slowly undress, turning as you do, teasing me. In the gentle candlelight I can see you well enough that my cock stiffens under the water. My breath comes in shorter measure, I love you so.

You stand for a moment, only your shirt held in front of you, like a shield. All you wear now is the collar around your neck. I see your chest heaving. I sense that this is an emotional moment for you. So much we could say to each other, yet we don't need to. You slowly lower and then drop the shirt and step forward into the tub opposite me. You kneel in the water as I shift my legs aside.

You take up the soap and the washcloth, "May I bathe you, Master? Please?" I see the hunger and the desire to please me in your eyes.

"Oh, yes."

- To be continued...