6:33am. The clock is fucking ticking. I'm no closer to completing my mission now than I was last night. The sun hasn't even come up on the streets of Atlanta and my day has already turned to shit. Everything has went wrong, horribly wrong.
At the moment it looks like I'm fucked in more ways than one. James Coldburn has eluded me and I'm clueless where he's at. My best chance of finding him without checking all his known hideouts from my database, well, let's just say I royally fucked that up, too. I should've known better than to deceive Rhonda, a lesbian bartender, into thinking I was a bisexual woman in order to find my target quicker. On a more positive note, I got to eat some of Rhonda's sweet, wet pussy before breakfast. But, that put me in the awkward situation I'm in right now.
"I suppose things can't get any worse. Or, can they?" I debate silently listening to Rhonda vent her frustrations.
"You're not a woman!" Rhonda shouts in frustration upset at her discovery of what I have hidden under my black, leather, mini dress. "You're nothing more than one of those sissy, faggot ass, bitch boys that wanna take it up the ass like some wannabe slut!" Rhonda exclaims as she backs away from me venting.
"It's not what you think, Rhonda." I plea my case ...... hahaha. "Yeah, begging and pleading are useless now, Kira." I assure myself raising my back off the bar table with my elbows, following her with my eyes around the bar.
I can't tell what Rhonda is doing behind the bar; she appears to be looking for something. For all I know, she's looking for something to shoot me with. Raising her head above the counter, Rhonda calmly starts mixing another Long Island iced tea. A shaky feeling of security comes over me.
"Well, at least she isn't gonna shoot me." I sigh keeping my eyes glued to Rhonda walking around the bar holding her mixed drink.
"You wanna dress like a fucking bitch and deceive me? Big mistake. You wanna play games; it's your ass that's gonna get burned, not mine." Rhonda dictates with a stern voice, stepping around the bar totally nude; wearing a monster-sized, realistic looking strap on.
"Oh, my fucking God!" What the fuck have I gotten into now? "I exclaim totally shocked at what I'm seeing.
"Just a little payback for deceiving me to get into my panties. You wanna dress like a bitch, you might as well get treated like one, too." Rhonda states with a sadistic look on her face pouring some of the mixed drink onto the strap on.
"Holly shit!" I silently scream, trying to assess Rhonda's intentions watching as she makes her way towards me; widening the wicked grin on her face.
"What're you doing, Rhonda?" I question. "This is just a misunderstanding, that's all." I explain as Rhonda grabs a hand full of my hair pulling me closer to the alcohol soaked strap on. "I am trying to find James Coldburn. I have business with him." I protest as my heart and mind begin racing sporadically.
"Shut the fuck up, bitch boy!" Rhonda demands forcing the huge strap on into my mouth dripping wet with alcohol." If I wanna hear you talk, I'll pull my dildo outta your mouth." Rhonda says pumping and driving her strap on further and further into my gagging mouth face fucking me.
Do I resist? Do I play along? Do I try to reason with her? All kinds of questions shoot through my mind randomly. It's probably best that I play along with the charade; she looks like she is enjoying this. Letting her have her fun punishing me might make it easier to reason with her to find James Coldburn after she has had her fun. I hope.
My saliva drips from the surface of Rhonda's artificial cock as she forcefully face fucks my mouth. Resistance might damage my chances of locating my target. I play along with the charade sucking the alcohol from the surface of her toy abusing my mouth trying to bruise my tonsils without mercy.
Satisfied my mouth has taken enough abuse from the insatiable, punishing, onslaught from her toy, Rhonda backs away. My mouth is too dry and too sore to speak. I watch as she removes what looks to be a butterfly knife from her clothing that lies scattered on the bar room floor.
"This ain't good." I think watching Rhonda flip the knife around a few times with her wrist revealing the business end of the blade. "Now what?" I contemplate scooting myself back up onto the bar table with a false look of fear in my eyes.
"I must be doing a pretty good job disguising my ulterior motives. Rhonda's not worried about me as a threat, right?" I remind myself.
"Time to separate the men from the boys. You're gonna pay for tricking me to get into my panties." Rhonda says pushing me back down onto the bar table, then lifting my black leather dress up; searching for my cock hidden under my panties.