“I adore you, and you’re right. Bend your ass over. I’ll take the butt floss off later.”
I squealed and kicked both legs the first time his big, meaty hand hit my ass. It covered both cheeks — a combination of my small butt and his huge hands. He didn’t hit especially hard, but it had weight and sting at the same time, and you rarely get both, combined.
One of the things I most like about stripping is that I’m naked in a room full of people who are dressed. Human society says this power imbalance gives those dressed the power, and takes it from me.
But in my mind, I have more power than my audience at Blaze. The eyeballs are on me. Yes, it’s entertainment, and it’s carefully staged, but they’re giving me their energy — both metaphysical energy, and tangible energy in the form of money.
Draped over Squatch’s lap, with him fully clothed and me naked, seemed at face value to give him power over me, and yet, I was the one getting the attention.
We say you are paying attention to someone for a reason.
And Squatch was paying all kinds of attention to my butt.
The heat of his hand on my back claimed me. Made me his in a way I’d never felt before. At first, I wiggled and squirmed with intention, but ten strikes in, I wiggled and squirmed because my lower body was on fire, and his hand repeatedly striking my bottom kept stoking the flame higher and higher, and there was no way to be still. He’d taken his boots off, and I grasped the meat and bone of his ankle with both hands. His pulse beat out a rhythm under the skin — sure, certain. Confident. He was in control and I was along for the ride.
I bent my legs a few times, but he hit so much harder when I did, and I made sure to keep them out of his way once I figured it out.
His strikes seemed random, but he’d hit hard until I was frantic, and then he’d back off the intensity just enough for me to rise above the pain. I screamed and yelped, but I didn’t want him to stop. He never took me beyond what I thought I could take — he drove me right to the edge more times than I can count, but never past it.
I can’t remember everything that happened, but he played with me at least four hours. He spanked me, he fucked my pussy, he tortured my tits, he fucked my throat.
I thought the phrase to myself again. He fucked my pussy and my throat. After a lifetime of not even thinking a curse word, it felt wrong, but I knew I needed to get over it. I’d practiced saying the words at work, since the other girls used them. However, any use was deliberate. I needed to start using them without thinking about it.
Squatch had fucked my mouth and throat.
And he’s a wolf, so he tested me while he fucked my throat — his dick went short and fat a while, and then long and skinny. I swear he was trying to get me to gag, but I didn’t. Never could I tell him how I’d been trained, though.
He fucked me on the sofa, and against the wall. He spread me out on the kitchenette and kissed and licked my pussy — no one had ever done that before, and I nearly came unglued. His lips, his tongue, his fingers, until I couldn’t breathe and I thought my heart might beat its way out of my chest. I came so hard, I thought I might have broken something. Who knew that licking my pussy would make the top of my head come off? Never in my life have I experienced so much pleasure, and in the back of my mind, I wondered if three months would be enough time with this man.
Eventually, we ended up in his bed, and he gave me a whole different kind of pleasure. He went in my ass skinny, but then went fat and spread me open until I begged for relief.
But instead of giving it to me, he pumped fatter still. My eyes watered at the stretch, the burn. Fuck, it was too much but no way did I want him to stop. In my heart, he was claiming me, and I couldn’t ask for mercy. I didn’t want mercy.
He leaned in, so his breath tickled my ear when he spoke. “Someday, I might want to cram my whole fist in your ass. Spread you so wide, there’ll be no doubt in anyone’s mind who owns you.”
And just like that, I needed him to do it. To take me. Own me. Possess me. All I could verbalize though, was a quiet, “Yes, Sir. I’m yours.”
He pulled out a few inches and slammed back into my ass so hard it pushed the breath from my lungs. While I was fighting for air, he reached around to pinch my clit with those strong, talented fingers. “Damned straight you are.”
I nearly passed out during my last orgasm. Colors streaked around the room. A symphony played. I think there may have been fireworks surrounding me while I shot through the sky and then finally floated on a cloud.
Squatch cleaned me all over with a warm washcloth when we finished, and then he held me in his big, strong arms against his massive chest. It felt like home, but even while floating in bliss, I wondered if I was being stupid. I’d spent years planning a risky escape from someone who thought he owned me, and here I was, proclaiming that I belonged to a different man.
My brain jumped back to earlier in the evening, when he’d been impressed with my ability to accept him in my throat at any size without gagging. I’d never tell him how I’d been punished for gagging while I’d been trained to take a cock down my throat. Young tiger girls are trained to be able to please their partner when they’re sent to get pregnant. We’re vaginal virgins for our first match, but we’re skilled in every other way to please a man.
Punishment for gagging was swift and severe, so I’d learned early on to control my gag reflex.
Uncle Mikey had been in charge of my training, but he wasn’t an actual uncle. I think he was something like my dad’s third cousin in one direction, and fourth cousin from the other direction. Even after he began training me, I was required to use his title when addressing him, though. Uncle Mikey.
One of the first things I’d done after I escaped was to have vaginal sex on my own terms. Even if they found me and dragged me back, they’d have to renegotiate the Texas deal, since I had to be a virgin for that contract. I’d waited until I was in Alabama, which means it was the third night. Just before I met with Brooke. That first time on my own had been awful. Worse than awful. Thankfully, I enjoyed it when I had sex with the johns, later. Or rather, when they fucked me. I only took the ones next door that I wanted to let fuck me, after all.
Some days, I felt guilty about running away from my family. The ambush had sent some of our males to college specifically to learn about genetics, and there’d been a ton of research into our genetic makeup as a result. Too many of our children had been born with a cleft palate, some with scoliosis, and a few with problems controlling the muscles of their eyes. The elders all talked about how important it was that we remain pure, and yet, I had to wonder how healthy that really was.
At any rate, the person they’d matched me with in Texas was supposedly my genetic opposite. Our babies would have been some kind of new beginning for our race. A line without any of the genetic markers for any of the birth defects.
But I didn’t want to have babies with a stranger, nor did I want someone else raising some of my kids. If I ever decide to have kids, I won’t let someone negotiate them away to another ambush.
Chapter Eight
Squatch
I didn’t go into Blaze the first night Kitty went back to work. I worked late at the spa, and then gave my wolf some time to run on the property once the customers were gone.
Still, I made sure I was home when she got there, but she walked straight by me and into the shower. My wolf bristled the second she stepped in the door. We smelled other men on her. No one had come on or in her directly because she’d made them wear a condom, but they’d touched her, and they’d been hornier than fuck when they’d put hands on her.
She smelled like she’d had sex with dozens of men. I knew she’d likely only gone next door with two, but she’d given lap dances, and let them touch her when they put money in her G-string.
I’d known what I’d smell, and I’d thought I could handle it, but I had to walk outside my apartment and punch a tree a few dozen times before I regained control. My fists were bloody whe
n I finally stopped, but I stood and felt the pain a good ten minutes before I changed my hands, counted to ten, and then changed them back.
I pushed the wolf down, went back inside, stripped, and joined her in the bathroom. She was standing before the sink, blow drying her hair. I took the dryer away from her, turned it off, and pulled her into my arms.
“Your wolf is pissed.” She sounded like she was about to cry, but her face didn’t show it, nor did I scent anything but the soap and shampoo she’d used.
“My wolf would happily pee all over you right now to scent mark you,” I agreed. “I let him vent a little outside, but I’ve pushed him down. It feels like you’ve pushed the tiger down, too.”
“It felt like this was a precarious time for us, so I figured it might be best if the humans were fully in charge.”
I laughed. “The humans are never fully in charge. Your cat is too feline, and my wolf is too canine.”
Kitty
His wolf hadn’t just been pissed. Incensed was closer, but still not enough. Furious. I needed to head something off before he put it out there, though, so I told him, “I considered all the ways you might try to deal with this tonight, and I think if you try to punish me for being with other men, I’ll need to go home and end our experiment.”
He shook his head. “I was thinking maybe I should rub you down with whatever lotion or oil you use. That’ll let me touch you all over, and you’ll hopefully like it, and I think girls have to do that anyway, right?”
“I have shea butter scented with a hint of patchouli.” My signature scent in my former life had been shea butter scented with a hint of vanilla. The patchouli seemed to better fit my new life.
“Bring it with you.”
“I need to finish drying my hair or it’ll be wild tomorrow, Sir.”
His eyes softened, and I swear the milk chocolate brown turned to dark chocolate. He liked hearing me call him Sir.
And then it hit me. He’d only ordered me to call him Sir when we were talking before he punished me. Outside of that, he wasn’t saying anything when I didn’t, though he let me know he liked it when I did.
Maybe this wasn’t so much him owning me, as us owning each other? I could leave whenever I wanted. I’d told him I’d be gone all night and part of the day when I’d needed the time to change and then do my hair, and he’d accepted it without grilling me.
I used the cool function on my dryer once my hair was dry, put my hair into a loose messy bun, and grabbed my homemade shea butter mixture. Squatch was on top of the covers, with a blanket on top of the regular bedding. Naked. Waiting for me. His mister happy was at half mast, and it made me want to take it in my mouth.
He grinned and patted the bed. “You first. I want to start with your back, so I need you on your stomach.”
I stretched out, and then moaned when he started rubbing my feet. I already knew he had magical fingers, but I’d had no idea he’d know how to give a proper foot massage.
It was another of those things I’d had to learn how to do before I could be temporarily given to a tiger who was supposed to impregnate me. I knew the proper way, but how did Squatch?
He waited until he got to my calves to start talking.
“I’ve agreed not to ask too many questions about your past, but I need to know some things about your sexual experiences. In some ways, you seem like you’re a recent virgin, but in other ways, you seem to have a decade of experience.”
I had no idea how to answer his question. I decided to go with as much of the truth as I could. “You seem to have a pretty good handle on it, then.”
He didn’t say anything for at least three or four minutes. “I told you, originally, that you weren’t allowed to orgasm without my permission, but then you came without permission last night and didn’t seem to think anything of it, so I let it go until we could talk about it.”
I felt my brow wrinkle. “I assumed you gave me the orgasm, so that was permission enough.”
His scent told me he was both relieved and confused by my answer.
When he didn’t say anything, I asked, “What am I missing, Sir?”
“Most people who play around in this lifestyle use orgasm control. It means even if I’m trying to give you an orgasm, you aren’t allowed to come until I verbally give you permission. It boggles my mind that someone has taught you to enjoy a spanking but you have no idea that orgasm control even exists.”
Bobcat had paid for my services once, before he’d met Tess. He’d told me I wasn’t allowed to orgasm until his phone’s alarm went off. I’d thought it odd, but it’d been anal sex so I’d managed to not orgasm until it went off. To be honest, it’d been kind of hot, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it on a regular basis.
“I like watching you come,” he said. “Feeling you. Smelling you. I don’t think I want to teach you control.”
My heart sped as I took in the meaning of what he was saying. He likes me as I am — he doesn’t want to change me.
“One of my johns taught me to enjoy being spanked,” I told him. “He offered to pay more. A lot more, and promised he’d stop if I said guacamole.” There was a lot I couldn’t explain, but I saw no danger in telling him that much. The john hadn’t hit me anywhere near as hard as Squatch, but I’d loved the feel of Squatch’s hand.
Not his belt, but he hadn’t wanted me to enjoy that.
Squatch spent two hours massaging every millimeter of me. Even my eyelids and my ears, both of which surprisingly sent warm tingles to my pussy. He also made a short detour to my nipples, and that sent electrical sparks, not just tingles.
When he finished, he fucked me from behind with both of us lying on our sides, and only moved enough to dispose of the condom and dry his dick before he was back behind me, the heat of him at my back, so much contained power, all those hard, defined muscles spooned around me, holding me with gentle strength.
How long are you supposed to wait before you tell someone you love them? I’d never told anyone I loved them except my close family. I didn’t know the answer, so I didn’t say anything.
And again, I thought about the difference between having sex and being fucked. Sometimes, Squatch and I have sex, but most of the time, he fucks me. Hard and fast and perfect. I wasn’t certain I could explain the difference, and yet, I felt it.
Chapter Nine
Squatch
In many ways, my week was routine. I went to the various Rolling Thunder establishments, I talked to Mad Dog about potential issues, and I broke up three fights in the clubhouse. One of the prospects was involved in the first and third, and when I broke the third fight up, I tossed him through a wall. I meant to throw him into it, but I guess I threw harder than I intended.
I assumed I’d have to repair the wall, but Mad Dog jumped on a table and announced, “Ya’ll have officially pissed the Squatch off. The two prospects who couldn’t keep their fists to themselves need to get with Frost about buying supplies from his inventory so you can put a new wall in. If it isn’t replaced to Frost’s standards by church on Sunday, we’ll probably vote some extra fines for both of you boneheads.” He looked around the room. “Anyone else want to test our short-tempered Sasquatch?”
No one moved. No one spoke.
I looked around and saw both available sweetbutts were busy. We were down to four, and two of them worked at Blaze, which meant we needed more, since they weren’t around on weekends anymore.
Gears saw me looking, and his grin told me he’d be more than happy if I joined in. He was on the sofa with Daffodil stretched out beside him, her head in his lap, blowing him. I walked to the bar, grabbed a condom, and pulled my dick out of my jeans as I neared. Five seconds later, the condom was on, Daffodil was on her knees blowing Gears, and I was sinking into Daffodil’s warm, sweet cunt. She needs a decent amount of stretching before she can enjoy anal, and she isn’t a fan of pain, so we’re all a little gentler with her than we are with the others. She’s a sweetheart with a sunny disposition, and we
enjoy having her around.
She’s also addicted to sex and can’t get enough, which makes her even more fun. I pounded her hard while Gears used her head like a fleshlight sex toy, and he came down her throat while I came into the condom, buried inside her.
Fuck, it felt good to empty my balls. Not that they weren’t being regularly emptied multiple times a day with Kitty, but down-and-dirty fucking for the sake of just gettin’ your rocks off is different than having sex with someone you’ve quite possibly fallen in love with.
Oh, who was I kidding? I was head over heels in love with a tiger who wanted to keep her life a secret, and I had no idea what to do about it. Well, other than hold onto her and not let go, but my instincts told me if I held on too tightly, I’d lose her.
She’d told me to tell her if I boned someone else, and I wasn’t certain how that worked. Thirty minutes later I was driving myself crazy with it, so I texted her. Took you up on your offer. Daffodil, in the clubhouse. Short and sweet.
Thanks for letting me know. It makes me happy when you’re happy.
I guess I seemed nervous when she got home, and she merely said something about spreading it around and not using the same woman every time, and that she was glad I could get my rocks off while she worked. And that was it. No awkwardness on her part. No irritation or jealousy.
During the week, Kitty was home somewhere between midnight and shortly after two in the morning, depending on when she was scheduled. This worked out fine for me. I was used to waking at noon and heading to one of our establishments. I occasionally worked earlier in the day at the bike shop or restaurant, but only when they were shorthanded. I also worked nights on the weekend at Blaze, when they didn’t close until four in the morning.
Squatch (Rolling Thunder MC Birmingham Book 4) Page 7