Golddigger's Punishment

He moved his fingers in and out fast and a continuous scream came out of her agape mouth, as his fingers rubbed against the dry skin of her asshole.

The taste of leather filled her mouth, when he quite swiftly pushed the belt between her lips and pulled back.

"That's better," he chuckled, when the belt muffled her cries. "I don't need to listen to you screaming all the damn time, baby. Besides," he sighed, as he pulled his fingers out, "that was only the warm up."

It was with great anticipation swarming her fast-beating heart she watched him, with the corner of her eye, putting a condom on his prick.

"Just in case," he grinned, "these guys last night did fuck your ass and were just too small to make much of a difference."

She grunted, when the mushroom head of his dong pushed past her asshole and opened the first sphincter up. A wild sensation overwhelmed her—a mad combination of burning pain, intense pleasure, and insatiable lust.

Slowly, pulling the belt back just enough to put pressure on her lips and increase the pain, which was beginning to get her soaking wet, he buried his rod balls deep in her. He groaned and for a moment simply stayed inside of her.

"Good thing I put on the fucking condom," he said, throwing the belt away and putting both hands around her waist. "You're so fucking tight, I'd have come by now."

"Take it easy, bab...Master," she begged; her toes curled in her pumps and her mind had been perfectly emptied of all thoughts.

"Oh, I will," he spanked her ass hard. "But only to warm you up just enough," he burst into theatrical laughter.

She clenched her ass as tight as she could and her whole body grew weaker, as she felt his girth tightly engulfed by her muscles. He groaned and tightened his grip around her waist, burying his fingers inside her firm abs.

With her ass still clenched tight around his dong, he began slamming her; she felt every thrust, every movement of his prick, and the faster he went, the wetter her pussy got.

Defeated by the mad lust that had overwhelmed her, she reached for her clit and rubbed hard, while Rick, caught in the mania of his own desire, intensified his thrusts even more, powerfully drilling her.

She squirmed wildly, flapping her legs, as she increased the rhythm with which she rubbed her clit; Rick slowed down, letting her feel his whole length, only leaving the tip inside.

A loud, prolonged cry of "fuck" (with potentially more than fifty "u"'s) escaped her mouth, as her pussy convulsed and her legs went completely numb; the mindblowing orgasm hit her like a runaway train and all she could do was squirm in sheer pleasure, rubbing her squirting cunt, while Rick tightened his grip around her waist and increased the pace of his pounding.

When he pulled out, she felt her asshole popping; she groaned loudly, when he pulled her face by the hair closer to his crotch, and hurriedly took the condom off.

"That's it, slut," he moaned, as he jerked off furiously, burying her face in his crotch viciously, "open your fucking mouth wide!"

The warmth and thickness of his spunk overwhelmed her, as it filled her mouth. She swallowed the spunk down, grinning widely.

"Yeah, that's it," he patted the top of her head. "Suck it clean, slut. That's it."

She remained on the floor, staring at him, as he fixed his pants and straightened his jacket. Somehow, the fact he didn't even bother undress had contributed immensely to the strength of her climax.

"By the way," he said, "go get cleaned and dressed up; I'm taking you out tonight."

"Where?" She asked, while still on the floor, while the burning sensation in her ass slowly subsided.

"Wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, would it?" He winked and sauntered away, leaving her staring at him bewildered—last time he had surprised her was when he proposed to her on their third date.

* * * *

She put on her most elegant, and at the same time sexy, dress—a strapless black dress, with deep cleavage, reaching down to her ankles, but with high slits on both sides going all the way up to her waist. With no underwear and seven-inch knee-high boots, she climbed down the stairs and met Rick at the frontyard, where he was waiting for her next to a shiny limo.

"You look stunning, baby!" He said excitedly and planted a rushed kiss on her flushed cheek.

"You too," she smiled widely, patting the shoulders of his brand new Armani tux. "Where are we going? I mean..."

"Don't be impatient, baby," he put his arm around her shoulders and grinned. "All in due time."

He helped her in the limo, spanking her ass as she got in; she giggled as girlishly as possible.

She took a seat and crossed her legs high; she tried to comprehend what was truly going on. Had her one-time cheating brought this drastic change in Rick's demeanor, or, was it something else?

Something deeper, which her cheating had simply brought up to the surface?

"Would you like something to drink?"

She blinked wildly, when she heard the all too familiar voice. Her jaw dropped, when she saw Peter sitting on the other side of the limo, next to a small, yet well-equipped, liquor cabinet.

"Hey, man," Rick greeted him, as he climbed into the limo—after a brief talk with the chauffeur. "How about that scotch from the other day?"

"Ah, yes, Macallan!" Peter snapped his fingers. "How about you, Constance?"

"She'll have what I'm having," Rick winked at Peter meaningfully. "Besides, some alcohol will do her good, don't you think?"

"Hooch's always good," Peter agreed and poured two glasses.

"Have one for yourself, man!" Rick had a sniff of the strong, smooth drink.

"I'm sticking to what I know," Peter shook his head and poured himself a Kentucky bourbon.

"You sure as hell aren't cut out for the high life, are you?" Rick guffawed.

"Clearly not!" Peter, with a grin, raised his glass, then drained it.

"So, baby—" Rick slapped Constance's exposed thigh, then squeezed it hard, "—how'd you like the scotch?"

"It's good," she said, desperately avoiding Peter's gaze, when Rick put his hand between her legs, determinedly reaching for her cunt. "Strong."

"Exactly what the occasion calls for!" Rick laughed harshly.

"Where are we going?" She asked yet again, growing impatient.

"Patience's a virtue, baby," Rick grinned; then, he pushed her legs open and grabbed her pussy forcefully.

A small sigh exited her lips, then, she immediately closed her eyes—but, not before noticing how quickly Peter turned his attention to the liquor cabinet, counting the bottles.

"Peter," Rick said, having slipped a finger in Constance's pussy, "why don't you join us, huh? I'm sure you could use a good blowjob!"

"I'm good, man," Peter shrugged, focusing his attention on an unopened bottle of Bacardi 151. "I'm sure, yeah," he responded to Rick's insistence and poured himself a tall glass of high-proof rum. "But, I am gonna drink your cabinet dry, if you don't mind."

"Suit yourself, you fucking drunkard," Rick shrugged, then got down on his knees, burying his face between her legs.

She grunted, when he thrust two fingers in her pussy, his warm, wet tongue moving circularly around her clit, causing her to squirm. All the while, she kept her eyes shut and bit her lips down hard—Rick slipped a third finger in her pussy and slammed her hard and fast.

She dug her fingers in Rick's hair, her nails lightly scratching his scalp, in a desperate attempt to refrain from reaching for her breasts—he flapped his tongue faster, sending mind-numbing shivers across her spine.

Her eyes popped open and her heart sank down to her stomach, as soon as she noticed Peter, through the blurriness of her pre-climactic state of mind, downing drink after drink, while engaged in a steadfast staring contest with the rapidly depleting liquor cabin.

She gasped, when Rick's firm hand was wrapped around her neck; she struggled to get air, as he squeezed, demanding she opened her eyes. She obliged and, for the first time in her life, experienced true horror.

Something about Rick had changed drastically—the way he stared dead into her eyes with a menace she hadn't encountered even during her time in the gutter. And yet, she could not help but spread her legs wider, when he guided his prick in her dripping cunt.

A sharp jolt of pain traversed her body, when he bit her lower lip hard; he drove his tongue down her throat, kissing her furiously, while he worked on his rhythm, increasing the pace with which he plowed her.

Her bare ass grinding against the rough leather seat of the limo, she wrapped her legs around his waist, guiding him even deeper into her. She buried her face on his shoulder, gently biting his blade in desperate attempts to drown her orgasmic cries, and kept her eyes tightly shut, while he pounded her harder and harder, whispering degrading insults in her ear.

His grip around her neck tightened, when her pussy convulsed and embraced his cock even tighter; they both moaned and grunted, as they reached a climax synchronously. She sought for his lips, while she felt his prick throbbing and unloading deep inside of her—for the first time in their relationship.

He simply backed down and with a smirk pulled out and tucked it back in his pants.

"Almost there," Peter said coldly, when Rick's inquiring glare fell on him.

"Heard the man," Rick addressed Constance coldly. "Fix yourself up, baby."

She raised her eyebrow and, still overwhelmed and curious, did as told, deliberately avoiding Peter's gaze.

The limo stopped and Peter, on cue, drained his glass.

"Jesus, what a shithole," Rick chuckled, when he looked outside the window. "Well, baby," he said, "we're here."

"Here where?" She demanded.

"Come on," he gestured at her and opened the door. "Get out and check it for yourself."

As she climbed off the limo, immediately recognizing the strong scents welcoming her back home, she caught sight of the meaningful wink Rick gave Peter, who hurried out of the limo.

As soon as she stood outside the limo, noticing the bright red neon light sign reading Dan's, she knew the fairytale was over.

The engine roared and the limo soared into the night and the dark streets of skid row.

"What the fuck?" She asked Peter, who lit a cigarette and blew smoke in the air.

"You screwed up big time," he shrugged. "Come on, let's get inside."

She followed him inside the bar and they sat at the counter.

"Peter!" Jim, the bartender, greeted him with a wide smile. "It's been a long while! Heard you...upgraded!"

"Yeah," Peter frowned. "Get me a bottle of Kentucky bourbon, will you?"

"Sure, man, I..." Suddenly, Jim stood perfectly still, eyeballing Constance. "Sweet fucking Jesus, is that...Constance?"

"Hey, Jim," she gave him a most timid smile.

"My God, how long has it...what are you doing here? He told me you were married to some rich fuck."

"Who just dumped me, apparently." She rested her chin on her open hand and stared straight into Jim's eyes. "So, how about some tequila, for old times' sake?"

"A bottle of rotgut and a bottle of well tequila coming up," Jim said. "Damn,—" he chuckled, when he slammed the two bottles, and two glasses, in front of them, "—it's been five years, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, something like that," Peter nodded, as he poured himself a strong one and drained it.

"Shit," Constance cleared her throat and wiped a single tear with her finger. "I've forgotten the taste of well tequila!"

"That's why I never allowed myself to get too accustomed to the expensive shit; you just never know when you'll be kicked back to the gutter."

"What happened?" Jim asked. "Last I heard, you owned a fancy bar, nightclub, however you wanna call it. Doing great business."

"Still do," Peter took another swig. "It's this one that blew it."

"What happened?" Jim raised his eyebrow.

"Long story," Constance drank her well tequila, slowly getting reintroduced to her once upon a time favorite poison.

"She got married to a rich motherfucker, the same guy that paid for the bar I'm running, and for a long while did great playing the dumb bimbo that just fucks and eats his money.

"Then, she decided to fuck two random dudes; the rich fuck learned about it and, obviously, kicked her to the curb."

"Why are you here, anyway?" She asked him.

"Simple," he crashed his cigarette in the ashtray, after he used it to light another. "I'm here to ensure you...well, technically, Rick wanted me to make sure you get further punished; I guess, he kind of wants me to instigate a gangbang, or something."

"He's got no clue, huh?"

"Nope," Peter grinned. "Anyway," he checked his watch, "he's not coming back to pick me up. I told him I know my way around and that I wanted to stick around for a while, have a few drinks in my old dives.

"Little does he know, this place is home."

"You guys are fucking insane," Jim said. "How in the hell did you manage to find a rich guy to support you?"

"For her," Peter nodded at Constance, "it was easy; all she had to do was act pretty and stupid. I knew Rick from...well, he's a kingpin, man. He used to buy the shit I cooked.

"Eventually, I got to meet him, we became...let's call it friends, for lack of a better term. In the end, he gave me the money I needed to open a bar; the catch is, I'm letting his guys deal drugs there. Of course, in return, he's providing me with bouncers, which means, I run quite the peaceful place.

"Of sorts," he smirked.

"By the way," Constance poked Peter's arm, "how did Rick learn about my...escapade?"

"Had to show him the video footage; I've got surveillance cameras in the bar. I've told you that many times."

"Why the fuck would you show it to him?" She erupted.

"He'd find out eventually, sis," Peter sighed. "Someone would have seen it and would have rushed to tell him. If I hadn't done it, he'd start thinking something's fishy.

"The last thing we need is both of us getting kicked to the curb. At least, now, I can still make money out of him, to support your ass."

"My brother's a fucking rat!" Constance giggled, glancing at Jim.

"To me," Jim said calmly, "it sounds like you've guys bitten way more than you can chew. I mean, you ain't cut for that kind of living."

"Fuck it," Peter shrugged. "I'll ride it out till I can't. Besides, Rick trusts me; and, by showing him that clip, he knows I'm looking after him."

"And what am I supposed to do, then?"

"You'll find a job," Peter rubbed his nose. "Besides, I've got enough money now to support you; you can even go to college, sis, like you've always wanted!"

"Fuck that," Constance chuckled. "I'm too old for that shit; besides..." She turned to Jim. "Is Dave still running Blue Flamingo?"

"You're not going back there," Peter rubbed his forehead.

"Why not?" She shrugged. "I mean, I know the job, it's where I met Rick, and I'm sure you'll eventually bring another gullible rich friend of yours there, now that you've become one of them."

"Fuck you," Peter said, with a wide grin. "I wasn't actively trying to hook you up with the cocksucker and you fucking know it."

"But, you knew there was high chance I'd make a move."

"Fair enough," he sighed and drained his glass—already the bottle had gotten half-empty.

"If you want," Jim said to Constance, "you can work here. I've got a room upstairs you can use, too. And we all know I could use some help around."

"That...might beat Blue Flamingo; and, I guess these new babies will help with the tips."

"They sure will," Jim nodded.

"Quit staring at my sister's breasts, man."

"They're out there, I..."

"Quit it with your big brother act; we both know it doesn't suit you."

"Fine," Peter lit another cigarette and leaned back on the stool, examining the barflies and all-nighters populating the small, dim-lit watering hole.

"I'll be fine, Peter," she reassured him. "Maybe, it was for the best all this happened; I was getting really sick and tired of playing dumb. You don't have to pretend to be someone else; Rick likes you for who you are."

"I just want you to be happy and safe, that's all."

"And yet, you ratted on me."

"I told you..."

"I'm just kidding," she giggled and kissed him on the cheek. "Relax and drink your fucking rotgut."

"Fine," he moaned and drained his glass.

"How's it possible this place is better than your fancy bar?" She asked him, after two more glasses of tequila.

"'Cause this place's real and the people in here are real, too. All my customers are stupid kids that think they need a temporary escape from their perfectly safe routines.

"Makes sense, too; I mean, Rick inherited a well-structured drug ring from his father. He never had to struggle, never had to make runs, or, guard a corner. He just had people ready to serve him and do all his dirty work. Makes sense he'd cater to people just like him."

"Enough with your whining and philosophizing," Jim dropped his fist on the counter. "What happened, happened. Right? You've both been through much tougher shit and survived. I think," he pointed his finger at Constance, "you'll survive breaking up with a rich asshole.

"And you," he turned his attention to Peter, "get your shit together, man. You went from broke ass drunk with a knack for cooking ice, to running your own damn business."

"He's got a point," Constance said.

"Let's drink to the most reasonable bartender this side of Hell!" He raised his glass and they all drank.