This story is completely fictitious and the characters are all adults, but there is a fantasy rape. If that offends you, please be warned that you might want to exit the ride before it starts.
Read My Lips
It was not my first time around the block.
The party was jumping, with young, available, energetic,... did I say young? I know they carefully check id's at the door, but some of these people looked to be too young to legally fuck, let alone drink! Some of them had athletic bodies, while others were disproportionate in a way that suggested 'fake'.
The music was loud and full of bass, while the lighting was mostly from stage lights, beamed from above and reflecting off of silver, red and blue disco balls.
"Drink?" Yelled the young guy that had been dancing in front of me for the last 5 minutes.
I had certainly noticed him, though I had not acknowledged his ravaging of my body with his eyes. I acted like I hadn't even noticed, though I most definitely did. Even without undressing him, I knew that he was a bad boy.
I looked him over without shame.
"Strawberry vodka," I yelled, but I didn't even smile.
"Hi Strawberry Vodka, I'm Victor Kolla," he returned my yell and smiled.
What the fucking fuck. It was original enough to get my attention.
"Caprice." I called out my name, but smiled just in case he was toying with me.
"Oh! I capiche," he bellowed. "But I can't hear worth a FUCK." He finished, but he smiled when I nodded.
"Let's go eat," he cried, while miming a spoon going to his mouth.
I took his offered hand and followed him to his table. I kept a small clutch on a chain, since I came to the club stag, and I didn't even have a table to sit at. There were 3 other guys there, and they looked equally well built. They stood as they saw me, which goes a long way toward showing good character.
It was not as loud in this area of the nightclub, so my hand holder introduced me to his friends.
"This is Strawberry Vodka," he started. "And these are my friends, Carl, Fin and Tito."
I nodded and smiled at each of them, but I didn't bother to correct the name I had been given, or say anything for that matter.
"We are off to get to know each other over some food," Victor informed his companions. "Don't wait up."
They smiled, and one of them winked at me. They had certainly undressed me with their eyes, but I am very used to that.
Victor grabbed a set of keys from the table.
"You can take an Uber." He growled at his associates.
I was hungry, and quite interested in my new friend, so I was happy to leave the club before I had really even started the evening. The valet was fast, allowing us barely a chance to comment on the spring day, when he pulled up in an Escalade SUV. Victor walked me over to the passenger side, opened the door, helping me into the tall seat without grabbing my ass.
Check, check, and (grudgingly) check. I would have ignored a slight cupping of my buttocks, but I still liked his gentleman-like approach to making friends.
"Is the Grillhouse Okay, Strawberry?"
He was referring to a very nice restaurant nearby, and it adjoined a Holiday Inn Express. I was not in the habit of going all the way on a first date, and I could tell that we were in a rental, so I assumed that Victor was a visitor to our city.
He pulled into the lot and found a spot near the door. It was only 9, so the late crowd had not filled the place yet. I scurried over to his hip as he exited the vehicle, so instead of walking all the way around the large SUV, he took my hand, and helped me out of the driver's side.
Check.
"An intimate spot?" Victor asked the Maitre D, but he looked to me for acceptance and I gave him a nod.
The man nodded and turned to lead us down an ornate, but dimly lit, hall.
He turned into a side room, with a few booths around a huge fireplace, but no fire.
Victor held my hand as I shimmied into a booth, across from two men at each of the other two tables.
Victor came into the booth on the same side from me, prompting me to slide further around the table, but I stopped on the back side, facing the other tables.
I was immediately aware of their eyes, and grateful for the table cloth that hid both of us below the waist.
"Bread and Strawberry Vodka," Victor ordered, before the man could get away.
It was probably not his job to take the drink order, but the man was a professional, so he backed away, nodding.
"So tell me your story, Victor."
I like to ask open-ended questions when I meet people for the first time. It often results in a better understanding of the person, when they decide how to respond.
"Well, my dear, I am an engineer from Munich Germany, and I am here with my associates to tour the General Motors plant outside of your fine city."
He moved his arm around my waist and held me close.
"I'm going to call you, Bree, instead of Strawberry, if you don't mind," Victor whispered.
"I will call you Vic, then," I replied. "Vic."
The waitress came with a basket of rye bread, a variety of breadsticks, and a tray with two glasses and an unopened bottle of Smirnoff Strawberry Vodka. A busboy carried a bucket with ice and tongs.
"Do you need ice?" Victor asked me, and I shook my head.
"Nikto." He ordered. "No Ice, thankyou." He quickly corrected himself.
The busboy and the ice disappeared.
The waitress liberated the cap from the bottle, and poured two healthy samples, starting with mine.
"Should I give you a chance to study the menu?" She asked as she set the bottle down in front of us.
"I will flag you down," my friend informed her, and she hastened away.
Victor picked up my glass and handed it to me. I wondered if he was going to order my food for me too. My internal alarm was starting to tingle. He might be a bit too controlling. I decided to do a pre-emptive strike.
"I feel like meat tonight," I started, but quickly realized that my wording might suggest something lascivious. "I mean, the prime rib is really good here." I hoped that I had recovered, or that the language difference would hide my sexual overtones.
Victor seemed not to notice as he took a good swig of his vodka. I followed his lead, but as soon as I set my glass down, Victor picked up a bread stick and brought it to his lips, but paused before putting it in his mouth. His tongue darted out, and he gave it a little lick.
"Not too salty, like most of your American products," Victor reported.
He brought the stick to my lips and I opened to allow him to continue. He slowly pushed it into my mouth, far beyond a comfortable distance. I watched, cross eyed, as he pushed it into my throat. When he was about to force me to gag, I snapped my eyes to his eyes and closed my lips around the breadstick. He pulled the stick slowly out of my mouth. His smile melted any resistance that I had.
"I think that we will be good friends," he decided out loud, looking at how the moisture extended far down the shaft.
I could see that the other men were no longer talking. They were sitting back, watching us.
Victor pumped the stick in and out of my mouth a few times, then I thought that I had humiliated myself quite enough. I waited until half way out, and bit down with a crunch.
Victor pulled back, acting alarmed, or maybe not acting?
One of our spectators could be heard whispering, "She looks hungry."
We both had another shot, finishing off our drink, and this time I reached for a slice of dark bread. I bit off a fair bite then turning to Victor I stuffed the rest into his mouth. His piece was 6 times bigger than the one that I took, and it was quite dry, so we both needed a few minutes to clear our pallets.
"Would you care to order?" Our server had returned.
"I would love some uncooked vegetables as a starter," Victor responded. "Clean and raw, that is how I like it."
He turned to me.
"Would you order the main course, Bree. You have experience with this establishment." Vic was again a gentleman.
"I would do anything, for your juiciest, reddest primest piece of rib. Baked potatoes with the works and sauteed mushrooms." I could see Vic smiling so I continued. "He will have it the same."
The young lady smiled in a conspiratorial way. I wanted to ask her what she was thinking about, but I suspected that she was very jealous of me. I was just noticing the diamonds on his fingers and the expensive watch.
I leaned in and kissed his cheek. It had a pleasant smell of shaving cream or a minty aftershave.
"I want to read your lips, like a blind man." He said quietly.
I had to think for a sec. How does a blind man read? By touch?! He wants to touch my lips?
"Okay," I responded, but I was not sure what I was okay-ing.
He turned to face me and moved his far hand to lay it on my thigh, just off of my panties.
"I did not mean 'those' lips." He whispered, then he slowly finger-walked across my panties until he was on my labia. We stared into each other's eyes while his fingers lay over my mons.
The tray being placed on the table, brought me back to reality.
"A veggie plate with dip." The waitress announced, but seeing that we were engrossed with each other, she fled.
Victor started to slide his finger and thumb, up and down both swollen lips. Reading me like a blind man. I could feel my clit swelling under its protective flaps. Soon, it would be poking out like a new flower. I couldn't look away from his eyes, though I was very aware that the other men knew that something was going on.
"Look at your audience." My finger fiddling friend whispered.
I turned my head, but kept my vision on Vic until he removed his arm from around my waist and reached for a carrot. His left hand continued its steady reading of my lower lips. I knew that he would feel the moisture leaking through my lace undies.
As he turned to look at the tray, I pulled my eyes to the rest of the room.
My clitorus was now fully expanded and the pushing in of my labia caused friction on both sides, even though he never touched it. As he slid along the lips, it caused the fleshy hood to rub my favorite sex button.
My heart was racing and I was breathing harder. I realized that I might cum while four strangers were watching me.
"Do not climax without permission." He ordered, though not loudly.
I bit my lip. Then I realized that it wasn't going to stop me from exploding. I was afraid of what the consequences would be.
