Night Life (+18 please)

Beer in my hand, wallet in the other my eyes focused as if on prey, she looks like something out of a prostitute house. She is with this group of girls, facing and talking about one of the gay shirtless bartenders that I have employed. Her beauty somewhat astounds and amuses me, the way that her hips sway as she walks mesmerises me, but the size of her fake tits bouncing to the music amuses me. They most likely should be pert and firm, but they bounce all over the place. I just want to go over and grab one, holding it so tightly that the implant bursts. Her screams of pain, the look of horror on her face and the shocked looks of her friends, the music stopping and the whole club turning to look at me and the bloody flesh grasped in my hands.

Skolling the rest of my drink, placing the glass on the nearest table, wallet slipped into my back pocket I wander over to the group of girls. Placing my hands on her and one of the others, she jumps the other just looks at me in a drug infused haze. She opens her mouth to speak; I place my finger on her lips and tell her to shush. I introduce myself, welcoming them to my club and ask them if they want to join me in my private room upstairs. Stares of alarm, shock and gratification are sent around the group. One of the others begins to say no but she interjects saying that we’d love to, asking me to lead the way.

Hand still locked around her waist, I swivel her around towards an unmarked door, the girl that was uneasy yells that she is not going to come and will find her own way home. Fake tits lunges for her arm and tells her not to be stupid, free drinks girl, she looks reluctantly in my direction but comes up eventually.

This guy is trouble, I know it, and I think to myself, that self satisfied look on his face when Alicia hauled me towards them and the way that he is grabbing at her. I told her not to wear that top, too much goddamn cleavage, but don’t listen to me; I couldn’t be right at all, never.
Walking up these stairs in a mission in itself, Fake Tits is holding onto that girl’s hand and I’m gripping onto her waist still, I’m tempted to kick the other girl over just to see her fall down the two flights of stairs and have her head hit the concrete, splattering brains everywhere. Tasty. The stairs open up to my relaxing room. With my private bartender, red leather couches and some treats aligned on the table. Cocaine, Marijuana, Ecstasy, M&Ms and a few rohypnol tablets, these are my drugs of choice.

Leading them towards the couches I hold Fake Tit’s hand tightly, she looks at me with something that I can analyse as something between longing and lust. Can’t distinguish between the two, but both are good, boosting my self esteem, knowing that she wants me. Sitting down, I call the bartender over and tell him to bring a round of champagne out for the lovely ladies. My bouncer closes the door down the stairs and sits himself down, watching the entertainment with an amused face. The girls look around in probably in wonder of how nice this place is. I designed it myself, black tiling on the floor, a large window overlooking the rest of Surfers Paradise. Fake tits talks to the blonde, she’s not bad, bit of a face, would have to paper bag her. Or quite possible jut cut her head off, I can imagine the brown haired girl’s reaction – she helped herself to the Ecstasy and is tripping out hardcore, don’t want to know what she was stupid enough to mix it with, but she would look over half caring then look away wanting to ignore the scene.
This is not the first time that I have taken people up here, more of a regular occurrence. I’m contemplating what to do with these girls. The drug fucked one will be of no risk to me. Or maybe she will have another use; if I drug Fake Tits she may have a threesome. Have to get rid of the blonde and the sooky one in the corner. Ahh the drinks are here, handing them around I make sure that the bigger one is given to Big Tits, the annoying one is refusing to take one and mutters something under her breath.

‘That’s it,’ I yell, the bouncer jumps up, knowing that he is needed. I pretend that I am offended by her lack of politeness, ‘I’ve taken her upstairs and shown you hospitality and what do you do? Throw it back in my face! Get out!’ I scream.

The bouncer jumps for her arms, pulls her up, kicks the door open and shoves her out. The blonde spits at me, Fake Tits tells her to sit down or get out.

‘I’ve had it with this shit Alicia, you can go get fucked, I’m going to go after her, make your own way home and don’t talk to me anymore. I can’t believe that you would let him do this to us’, she yells at Fake Tits, storms over, opens the door and slams it behind her.

With that commotion over I nod to the bartender to make us up a round of Jagerbombs, those things are lethal, especially after a few. A smashing noise breaks my concentration, he apologises, his hand slipped and a glass broke. At least the sook and the stupid blonde are gone. Comatose brunette faces me, asking for another drink. I tell her that they are on the way, getting up to get the drinks; I inconspicuously pick up a rohypnol tablet and slip it into my pocket. I look back at Fake tits, her eyes are drawn to the window, diagonally across there are a couple having sex on the veranda, the woman’s face is in a moment of pure joy and the man looks like he is concentrating. I’m starting to get hard watching the scene and Fake Tits keeps looking at me and crossing and uncrossing her legs.

Turning around to pick up the tray I pop the tablet into one of the Jagerbombs, turning around I grin at Fake Tits and Comatose. As I set down the tray comatose reaches for a drink, almost swiping the drugged one, she grabs two of the ones beside it and shots them down without the red bull. Fake tits high fives her and takes a bomb. I sit between them, arms across their shoulders, I nod at my bartender to go and do something else. He takes the hint when I hand the drugged one to Fake Tits, by now, her chest is half hanging out, I can see a nipple and she knows this and doesn’t care. I suggest that she and comatose come back to mine, that seems to snap her out of her seductive mood and starts grabbing for her bag, she shots down her drink as if alarm bells are going off in her head. As she does this, I feel a warm wet sensation on my chest, looking down I see Comatose, passed out and dribbling all over me.

Fake Tits stands up, but in her heals she cannot walk anymore; the drug must have kicked in, finally. She starts swaying, but not to any music that I can hear, her legs go wobbly and I stand up to catch her. I motion for the bouncer to move comatose to another lounge and then go downstairs. When it is free, I take off my wet shirt and lie her down. She looks like a doll to me. Her blush all red, hair half messed up, but in a sexy way, her heals slightly falling off her feet and her dress clinging to her body. She has passed out, breathing heavy and deep, I trace the outline of her red lipped mouth. Her hands are by her side occasionally opening and closing.

I put my hands in hers and lift them above her head, so that her tits are at their best looking point, nice and pert. I reach up and grab them, pulling at them through the material, fondling them as rough as I can. Reaching down I yank her dress so that it’s now above her head. Her panties are small and encompass all of her. Her bra is black and boring, it has to come off. I rip the material between her cups hard, wanting it to break; it does, just as I like it. I will be keeping this as a souvenir. Her tits fall free, large and soft; they will not stay like this for long. I am now hard; I sit between her chest and rub myself between her breasts, it feels like her vagina. I am almost about to blow my load, but I don’t want to do it on her chest; I want it to go down her throat. I prise her mouth open with one finger and shove myself down into the hole. I increase my motion so that I am now fucking her mouth. I’m about to come and I empty it down her gaping mouth. I take it out and look at her; I poke her belly button, not knowing what to do. I’m half tempted to cut her open, fuck her or just dump her downstairs. All three sound like good ideas. I walk over to where the bar is, picking up a bit of glass that the barman broke earlier and take it over to Fake Tits.

Standing over her, I reach down and grab a breast, gripping it hard, I make a small incision at the bottom and I stick a finger in feeling around for the implant. I find it and stick my thumb in there too, pulling it out. A whimper escapes her mouth. I repeat with the other breast. The implants sit on her nipple as if they were provoking them to poke it. I seize her panties and cut it off with the piece of glass in my hand. I shove three fingers in her hole, making squelching noises; I slap her juices on myself and thrust into her. Fuck, she is tight, almost virgin tight. It is so tight that I’m not going to be able to last much longer. With that, I explode into her, my whole body shake but no reaction from her. Not that I care anyway.

I find her clitoris and make small cuts on it, blood drops onto my hand. I reach up, taking a hold of her chin, blood staining her now white cheeks, and ask her what her name is. She cannot reply, so I pick up her wallet from her bag. Alicia Granton. What a boring name. I tell her that she should have listened to her friend and not come up. I put the implant and the bleeding flesh into the bra and pull her dress down back under her head. Calling for the bouncer, he picks her up and brings her downstairs. I give the lounge quick wipe over, cark the strobe lights for a few seconds to let him drop her somewhere, grab another shirt from the closet and casually stroll down stairs to start all over again.