Control

"Watch out boys, she'll chew you up!"

Michele sang to herself.

That's me I'm a man-eater.

Michele chuckled it was Friday night and she had a whole week off to play. Who knows - maybe this time she might actually find "the one". She snorted, pulling on her stockings with a smirk.

And maybe pigs would fly.

One last check in the mirror perfect. Smokey grey eyes, subtle rose lips. The magenta in her v-necked blouse highlighted her cheekbones, also accentuating her generous and perky breasts. Her legs were beautifully on display from thigh to ankle in a black miniskirt and elegant pumps. The lace from the top of her sheer black stockings just barely peeped out from the hem of her skirt. Her lingerie was new black lace, delicate and expensive. A dab of Chanel on her wrists, behind her ears and between her breasts, and she was ready for the hunt.

***

The Wild Grouse Inn was as full as the brilliant moon, and Michele surveyed the scene with anticipation. There was a great blues band wailing away to the packed dance floor, every seat at the bar was filled, as was every table in the main lounge. Off to the side she noticed the pool tables were also occupied, but wait there he was. Tall, broad shouldered, trim dark beard -

Mmmmmmm look at those forearms.

No girlfriend hanging around,

good, good

. Michele ignored the tiny voice in her mind that said, "Not for you dear, he can do much better."

She licked her lips and sauntered up to the table as he lined up his shot. She admired the way she could see the well-developed muscle move across his back through his shirt as he bent over, concentrating. Smoothly, he pulled his arm back and struck the cue ball with a precise stroke, just a little English, and the cue shot across the table, striking the 8-ball about 2/3's of the way down the table, banking it twice and sinking in the far pocket.

"Nice shot!" said Michele, smiling. "All alone tonight?"

He set down the cue and looked her over slowly, measuring her with his eyes. A slow smile spread across his lips.

"Thank you darlin'. I'm guessing I'm not alone now."

Michele batted her eyelashes and extended her hand.

"My name's Michele. You looking for some company tonight?"

"I'm Gene, darlin'". He enclosed her hand in his own and looked her in the eye as he brought it to his lips. Michele felt herself flush, unused to such confident, cool gaze. "You're a very pretty girl, but does your momma know you're out?"

Stung, Michele jerked away.

"I'm old enough to know what you want, daaar-lin.'"

Waste of time

, she thought to herself,

go for someone easier.

Still he was as gorgeous a guy as she'd seen in a while, and she knew he liked what he saw. "Buy me a drink."

Gene chuckled.

Trouble

, he thought,

not for me.

"No."

Michele pouted, mockingly, and stepped back towards him.

"Awww, why not? I'll make it worth your while." she purred, reaching up to stroke his face.

Gene caught her hand, drawing it in to twirl her around until her backside snugged up against him. Pointing to the door with his other hand, he put his lips to her ear.

"I'll buy a woman a drink, but only if she asks nicely. You, baby girl, ought to go home before you get yourself in a fix, playing at being a grown-up." He released her gently, giving her a little pat on the butt. "Go on home, now."

Michele was momentarily speechless. No one dismissed her like that!

"You're kidding me, right?" she exclaimed, "You know daaah-lin', maybe I was looking for a little trouble! But I just don't think you've got what I'm looking for." She strode away, making sure her hips swung, so that arrogant asshole would know exactly what he was missing.

Gene shook his head.

Nice ass - too bad she acts like a spoiled little brat. Still...

He shook his head again and racked up the balls for another round.

***

His name was Vincent, and he had fulfilled the requirement. He needed her. Michele could see it in his eager posture, could hear it in his animated voice. Michele was charming, her throaty laugh pealing often as Vincent complimented her outrageously, artlessly; with the adoration she craved shining in his warm brown eyes.

"Vincent, let's get out of here, OK?" Michele looked him straight in the eye and leaned in close. "Let's get to know each other better, what do you say - at your place, maybe?"

Vincent stood up so fast he knocked the barstool over, making Michelle double over in laughter. He grinned sheepishly, righting the stool and taking her by the arm quickly, as if not to let her get away.

As they passed by the pool room, Gene looked up from his game, and shook his head again when he saw Michele leaving.

Poor thing

, he thought,

guess she found what she was looking for

. He sighed and signaled the waitress for another drink.

***

Vincent chatted with her about the usual things as they drove to his place. Anything but what was palpable, electric, and unsaid, hanging in the air between them. Amused, she watched his slim hands tremble on the steering wheel as he drove. Finally he seemed to screw up his courage, and got down to business.

"Do you really want to do this?" Vincent asked shyly, "Just like that?"

"Yes Vincent, I know quality when I see it."

"You're not - " he started, seeming embarrassed, "Well, you're not a pro or anything, are you?"

Michele frowned prettily, but smiled inside, knowing she had him.

"Did I ask you for anything? I just like to have fun."

"Why me? You're a very beautiful young woman. It's not like a guy gets offers like that from someone like you every night."

"You looked lonely." Said Michele. "I just want to make you happy - it makes me feel good. Is that so unbelievable?"

Vincent grinned and shook his head. "Un-be-leev-able."

Michele chuckled. She needed this. Vincent was charming, complimentary, and had responded to her offer with an eagerness that was rapidly erasing the humiliating dismissal of earlier this evening. And she had picked well, taking in the supple leather seats of his car, and the thick gold jewelry he wore. This would be a pleasant diversion, to be sure, especially entertaining, as a more successful man would be hurt that much more by her eventual rejection. She might string this one along a little, just for fun. Vincent turned into a quiet residential area, turned a few corners and then pulled into the driveway of a mid-sized rancher. A tall cedar hedge surrounded the property.

Just lovely

, Michele thought,

a nice change from the usual.

Vincent got out and quickly came around to open the door for Michele. He took her hand and helped her out of the car, and Michele smiled sweetly at him, thinking how easy this was going to be. He led her up the walk and opened the door, indicating that she should enter. Michele stepped into the entryway and froze as Vincent shut the door behind them. Two large German Shepherds, one white, one black and tan, stood about two feet from her, hackles raised, growling.

"Winter! Storm! Hold!" commanded Vincent, in a totally different tone of voice than Michele had heard from him earlier. The dogs sat instantly, and fell silent.

"Ummmm - nice dogs." Michele stammered, "Are they friendly?"

Vincent helped her off with her coat, a little too briskly for her taste.

"They are well-trained. They won't hurt you, as long as I tell them not to." Michele's mouth went dry. Vincent seemed different, here the gentleman was gone, replaced by someone harder, threatening. He kicked off his shoes and bent, removing hers as well then stood up behind her. His breath blew hot in her ear and she shivered. "And as long as you are a good little bitch, I won't."

Michele tightened up, all sense of surety vanishing with these words. She'd made a terrible mistake. If she wasn't very, very careful, and very lucky, she was going to be hurt badly.

"Storm, guard. Winter, watch." The darker dog trotted to the door and sat, alert. Vincent took Michele tightly by the wrist and led her down the hall, and white shepherd followed. He pushed he into what she presumed was a bedroom, and this time the door shut with a slam. He did not turn on the light. She stood, blind waiting for what would come next.

Michele felt Vincent's breath on her neck.

"I'm going to strip you now, pet." He purred. "Just do as you're told and we will get along fine." He reached around her and unbuttoned her blouse, letting it fall to the floor. Michele started panting lightly, trembling. "That's right," he unclasped her skirt, "there is nothing you can do now but obey."

His words were calm, but with each one Michele grew more agitated.

This was wrong

, she had chosen wrong, and as her skirt followed her blouse she felt a cold spike of panic shoot through her as she felt smooth metal press against her thigh.

He's got a knife a knife oh my god he's got a knife!

"You're afraid now, pet, aren't you?" Vincent demanded, the cool metal slid up her thigh and the waistband parted. "You need to stay very still now." He smacked Michele's ass, and she cried out. "Shut up! Not so fucking sure of yourself now, are you? Prancing around expecting us to come begging at your feet for a little attention." Vincent's voice rose as he continued.

"Shaking your little ass so they'll buy you drinks, peddling your little pussy for some jewelry, that's how it is, isn't it?" He drew in close again, encircling her with one arm, placing the knife on her belly. "You picked the wrong man to work your little ways on, bitch." The knife slid under the band of her bra, between her breast, and with a practiced flick, it too parted and fell away. Tears flooded Michele's eyes as she stood, frightened, shaking and completely naked.

The sharp click of his belt cracked though the dark and Michele started. Once the sound of triumph, it was now terrifyingly sinister. Again, Vincent grabbed her wrist, and jerked her forward. She could barely make out the shape of a bed. He turned, sitting down on the edge, and spread his legs. Vincent pulled her down between them roughly.

"Gobble my cock, my little pet - if you do a good job I make sure you're done right by."

Now Michele was in familiar territory. She reached forward to take his cock in her hands, but Vincent kept hold of her wrist.

"No, pet, with your mouth, there's a good girl." Michele took the head of his cock between her lips tentatively, and Vincent made an impatient noise, grabbing the back of her head with his free hand and shoved her head down. Michele choked, gagging as his cock hit the back of her throat. She reached up again to push him away.

"None of that, now." Vincent growled. His grip tightened on her. "I said I wanted you to do a good job." His fingers curled in her hair and twisted it cruelly. "Winter, come." Although Michele could not hear it approach on the carpet, she could make out ghostly form of the shepherd as it padded up to them and sat down beside her. She could smell its breath, fetid and meaty. Vincent forced her head down again with a groan, and Michele squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself anywhere but here, doing anything but this. Vincent's cock slammed down her throat, and he grunted deeply with every stroke.

Michele sputtered, gagged, trying desperately to grab a breath in-between. His smell was nauseating reeking sharply of urine and old sweat. Thrust gag gasp

oh god would this ever stop

shove thrust - choke

"Suck it, bitch!" Still she fought to grab air, crying out when he pulled and struggling for purchase. The shepherd started to whine and the tears streamed down Michele's face in fear, pain and humiliation. Ramming cock bruised her throat viciously, vice-like claw pulling her hair, and in her ears, growling, whining, grunting, man indistinguishable from animal.

Then Vincent slowed his pounding and started talking to Michele in a low, sneering tone.

"Oh, no, my pet. Don't think you can get away with a little blowjob. I want you to understand your place, here, now, and from now on." Letting go of her hair, he slid his hand down on her neck and mashed her face to his crotch, suffocating her. "Tell her, Winter." The shepherd started to growl fiercely in a rolling, terrifying snarl and Michele screamed around Vincent's cock, choking as he gave her another vicious thrust. She felt her gorge rise. Vincent yanked her head up quickly; pulling her hair again so her head cracked back, and at first she thought the clicking sound was her neck breaking. Glaring light suddenly blinded her.

"Lazy little whore." Crack! Vincent slapped her hard; her jaw felt as if it would shatter. "

Answer

me, bitch!" Michele's vision cleared, and she could see his face screwed up in a visage of hate.

"Please, Vincent, if you'll just take it easy on me I can make it very nice." Michele begged. Vincent drove her head down again, suffocating her.

"You're all the same," he continued conversationally. "Thinking all you have to do is bat those big blue eyes of yours and we'll fall at your feet. Isn't that right?" He hauled on her hair again, forcing her gaze back to him.

Oh, god

, she thought,

what can I say to make him stop?

"No, no, all I want is to make you happy, make you come, please Vincent, let me!"

"Liar!" Vincent roared, belting her again. Michele shrieked. "You think you're so smart. You use your tits as a meal ticket, making some spineless sap work his fingers to the bone to keep you in lipstick." He pushed her back down. "And if he doesn't do what you say, you pussy whip him until he gives in." Michelle saw black flowers bloom before her eyes as she began to suffocate, choking hard now. "And when you've used him up you throw him away and move on to the next." Slam, slam, slam. "I know your type. Lying around all day with your fingers in your cunt." Michele was a rag doll; Vincent pumped her head up and down on his cock mercilessly, pulling her back up as she started to convulse. "Waiting for your latest sugar daddy to bring home the bacon." He sneered.

Michele's voice was raw. "Vincent, please!"

"Call me Master, bitch I'm not one of your little conquests." Back down, slam, slam, slam. Michele saw fireworks behind her closed eyes each time his cock crashed against the back of her battered throat. Michele felt the fight going out of her -

He was right, after all

. She couldn't remember how many times she had done just that, used them up and threw them away.

"I should mark your pretty little face so that no one will every get sucked in by your tricks ever again." He fucked her face hard, and Michele's entire body seized in protest, making ugly urking sounds while she gagged. Again, he pulled her head up. "You know I would, don't you, slut?" He slapped her brutally, and she keened in agony. "Mark you as my own little fucktoy. If you're good you can sleep with the dogs." Once more, he grabbed her head with both hands and forced her down, slamming past her uvula and down her throat, holding her there. "Even that's too good for you."

There was nothing left in Michele's mind but the punishing meat asphyxiating her, tearing hair, the menacing dog and the mindless fear, the shame, the defeat enveloping her. Dizziness overcame her and she felt herself fade, only to be viciously hauled back to reality as Vincent pulled her off his cock once more.

Vincent waited a moment for her to recover.

"Look at me now and tell me what you are." Michele's will died as she looked into Vincent's eyes. She realized that he was completely crazy and that she might not make it out of here but she found she didn't care. Something inside her broke, because deep down, she did feel worthless. She deserved this. This was her punishment for who she was and what she had done. Vincent chuckled in triumph, his grip on her head loosened and she bowed her head.

"It's all right now, pet." Michele heard Vincent's tone soften, and she looked up, confused. One of his hands slipped behind her head now and cradled it gently. "Tell me now, and I won't hurt you anymore." She felt grateful that the pain had stopped, but still shame flooded her and she started to cry again, tears mixing with sweat and snot.

"I'm a whore." she sobbed. Her voice croaked with the abuse her throat had taken. "Master." She whispered.

"Yessss, pet. Tell me." Vincent cooed. He grabbed his cock and began to rub it against Michele's lips.

"A lazy little slut. I'm worthless, Master."

"That's it, pet, go on!" Vincent beat his cock against Michele's face now, grunting again.

"Good for nothing. Not even worth fucking."

"That's a good little slut - there's more, come on, tell me everything." Vincent was close now, sure of his victory.

"A lying little fucktoy. If anyone knew who I really was-" Michele's voice broke.

"What, slut?" Vincent's voice was encouraging, but shaking now, he just needed to hear her say one more thing. "What would they do?"

"They'd hate me."

They all hate me.

.

Vincent grasped her hair and pulled her head back one last time, pounding her face until his cock erupted, come shooting in her hair, up her nose, splattering over her face. He whimpered as he came, then let his cock rest against Michele's upturned face. It felt like a maggot as it twitched and oozed.

Abruptly, Vincent let go of her head, tossing her to the floor.

"All right bitch. I'm finished with you. Get dressed and get out." He stalked out of the room. A few moments later, Michele heard a door slam, then the shower running. Dazed, she wiped her face absentmindedly, knowing nothing except that it was over. For now.

It was over! She had to get out! Now! Adrenaline kicked in and her eyes snapped open, darting around the room furtively. The dog was gone too. She spied her sad little puddle of clothes and crawled over. Pawing though the pile automatically for her underwear, she let out a tiny squeal of revulsion picking up the ruined lace and remembered the knife. She shuddered, the chill of fear giving her a boost of energy, she stood up quickly, throwing on her blouse and skirt. Where was her coat, her shoes? She wracked her brain for a minute.

Where, dammit?

Fear and humiliation made her mind a malestrom.

Front closet.

Her clutch purse was in the front pocket, having put it there when she it into his car - she shuddered again, violently, and she opened the door carefully.

She looked up and down the hall, the coast was clear. As quietly as she could she crept out of the doorway, turning down the hall to the door. She could see the closet was still open, her sleeve of her coat sticking out. There were two huge deadbolts on the front door.

What if they needed a key?

She started down the hallway slowly and then froze and she heard not just one, but both of the shepherds start to growl behind her. Michele panicked then, breaking into a run. The dogs followed after her, barking. Sprinting past the closet and she tore at the sleeve of her coat, grabbing it and clutching it to her chest with one hand.

No time for shoes - get away, get away! Please let the door be open.

, in her mind she chanted -

Please let it be unlocked, please, please, please!

Reaching the door, she tried the handle was elated when it opened quickly, letting her out into the night air. In her stocking feet she ran a block, another, and then another before she ran out of breath. She wasn't being followed. The dogs were gone, he was gone, and she had made it out. Her euphoria quickly dissipated as she felt the rough sidewalk abrade her feet. She shrugged her coat on, not recognizing the neighborhood, but feeling the need to keep going, get as far away as she could.

***

Michele trudged mindlessly, turning at corners randomly, hurting and exhausted. Then she found herself on a main road and as she searched for a street sign she saw the one thing that might help her right now an all-night Denny's was just at the next corner.

Coffee

, she thought.

Sit down for a moment. Take stock.

She walked in and saw the grill bar was empty. She collapsed onto the stool and put her head in her hands. The waitress noticed her, startled at her appearance, started to ask for her order, then thought better of it and walked away. Michele didn't care; she needed a moment to collect herself.