The leasing agent met me at the space and she handed me the keys in addition to the finalized lease contract. This spot was mine for five years. I had five years to turn this into the neighborhood bar that my ex-husband and I had dreamed about for twenty. It was late, and I couldn’t wait to meet up with the general contractor in the morning to discuss the tenant improvements.
I woke up early, went to the gym and then immediately after at 9AM I arrived at the space, parking my G-Wagon right outside and unlocked the front door. I gazed around the emptiness and took in the old, vintage scent of the wooden floors and brick walls. I loved it. There was a concrete bar-top that I wanted to replace with marble, and I put my purse, keys and a few documents on it, eagerly awaiting the contractor.
I was still slightly sweaty from the gym so I turned on the ceiling fan and opened every window. Clad in off-purple leggings, a white tank top and a headband, I walked to the bathroom and freshened up with a little concealer and cream so that my face looked presentable.
I heard a “hello?” as the contractor and another guy holding a clipboard slowly crept the front door open and stepped in. The contractor was a middle-aged slightly greying white man with strong, hairy forearms and hands that showed years of wear. The other guy was clearly his underling, a tall and lithe Latino man in his twenties or early thirties, had beautiful glistening tan skin littered with cheap, prison tattoos up to his neck, and wore a toolbelt. Both wore white tees with the company printed on the front pocket, dirty jeans and Red Wings.
We introduced ourselves and got right to business; Paul the contractor and Marco the underling. I explained what I needed to Paul as Marco nodded his head and made notes. Measurements were taken for various items on the list, and things were going smoothly until my idea for the marble bar-top came up.
“I’m tellin’ ya right now Miss, that marble is gonna cost ya.” Paul explained, his low voice echoing throughout the empty space. “You’d be better off leaving the concrete and applying some epoxy that looks like marble. Or just a nice piece of granite maybe.”
“I want a marble countertop for the bar, and I’m not budging.” I replied.
“It’s gonna cost ya.” He reiterated. “Marble’s expensive.”
We began going back and forth. I didn’t understand what the problem was, and we began arguing. I was insistent on a specific Sicilian marble and didn’t care about the price, but he was attempting to gouge me by making it seem like it was difficult to procure. Back and forth, the arguing became louder. Marco glared at me, a look I found both angry and lustful. Tempers were increasing, my blood was boiling, and before I knew it Paul and I were inches away from each other’s faces. “I’m tryin’ ta help ya out!” I kept hearing, his face and words blurring together. There was only one way I was going to get what I wanted and not get ripped off. So I slapped him. Hard. My predatory eyes locked into his and my lower lip quivering.
He didn’t hesitate for a second before grabbing me by the throat which transitioned into sloppy making out. He was using his big rough fingers to rub my swelling pussy through my leggings and pressed our foreheads together. I could smell the cigarette on his breath.
“Little feisty one, eh?” he said, flashing a toothy smile. “Marco, get over here.”
Marco strode over as Paul whipped me around so I was leaned over the countertop with my back turned to both of them. They stood at either side of me. “Bend over.” Paul instructed.
My clit was fully engorged as I stuck my ass out. I looked back as Marco grabbed a chunk of my cheek, jiggled it and then spanked me. My yoga pants barely softened the blow, the snap of which echoed around the exposed vents. I could feel the sting expanding on my skin.
“Nasty little Asian hoe, huh?” Marco said, before administering another intense slap on my other cheek. I could feel the pain really increasing yet normalizing to match the other cheek. I looked back and glared at Marco.
“Spank me again, little bitch.”
I immediately felt a quick tug of my hair and my head snapped back, with Marco getting right in my face. I felt Paul fondle me, his thick fingers pressing into my fleshy cheeks and then two fingers starting to rub my pussy, now soaking. I smiled at Marco and spit in his face, laughing.
Marco, still holding my hair, dragged me from the countertop to a brick wall, with me crawling on my knees. Paul followed, slapping my ass. “Feisty fuckin’ whore.” he muttered under his breath.
Marco placed me with my back against the wall, in squat position, towering over me, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. I grabbed the waistband to his boxers with two hands and pulled down, and was treated to his long, thin member and a well maintained bush. He dangled it in front of me, swaying it from side to side as it grazed my face, all while I looked up at him with a scowl. Paul followed suit, unveiling his own thick, veiny, uncut cock.
Still scowling, I gazed at Marco’s penis; it was long but I had no use for it. Just as he grasped my wrists I spit on his dick and slapped it, and I stood up, took each of their manhood by hand and walked them over to the bar top. Just behind the bar top was the attached table top, about a foot lower, so I climbed on that and laid myself out. I peeled down my yoga pants and thong, kicking them both off. Marco grabbed my thong and stuffed it in my mouth before climbing up, splaying my legs back and diving his face into my pussy. I grabbed my thong and dressed it on Marco’s head; the back strap bisected his nose so that he could smell what had been up my ass.
I tilted my head to see where Paul was. Paul wasn’t tall enough to be able to shove his cock down my throat, so he stood back and watched Marco get to work. Marco took off his shirt, revealing a ripped torso completely littered with tattoos and gnarly scars. He was a powerful, dangerous man and yet, under my command.
His cunnilingus skills lacked any precision or care, as his tongue slurped all over my lips and bush. He darted his tongue inside my opening, and to show him who was in charge I took his hair by two fists and pushed his head down, his nostrils plugged by my bush and skin. I shook his head around, feeling and hearing him trying to come up for air but disallowing it by forcing him back down. I pushed his head a little lower so his nose wiped my clit.
“Put your tongue in my ass.” and he obeyed. He plunged into my asshole a few times before he reached all the way inside, and I made sure to hold him down. The inhales and exhales tickled my clit as I applied the pressure, his tongue stretched to the limit while twirling inside my rectum. I pulled him up, giving him respite, and right as he looked at me I gave him a slight, dismissive slap in the face.
I looked back at Paul, who was jerking off and waiting his turn. With my eyes I motioned for him to come over, which he did. Marco stepped off as Paul climbed up, turned me over doggystyle and entered me. He pushed all the way in as I felt his girth stretch me out and fill me up. The fullness was intoxicating; tingles raced through my pussy and up my spine, forking out to my arms and to each of my fingers and then back from where they came. And then he went deeper. I moaned, both of my palms stretched out on the concrete.
“Pull my hair.”
My head yanked back as I squealed, his thickness both firm and soft, plastering into me. My wetness felt in complete sync with his thrusting, my pussy swallowing him whole as he went in and deflowering as he went out. I closed my eyes and imagined my finished bar, tons of patrons, a line out the door and classy live music in the corner. I imagined my ex-husband, angrily writing alimony checks to fund an alcoholic establishment he had no equity in. My hips convulsed, the impending orgasm too intense to restrain. My toes curled, my hands white-fisted and then I was cumming all over his fat cock. My breathing slowed considerably.
When I opened my eyes, Marco stood in front of me, stroking his cock fast and abrasively. I instinctively opened my mouth and displayed my tongue as he unleashed a torrent, small drops landing on the ground. I swallowed as much as I could and the pummeling from behind continued, my body jerking forward.
“Rrrr, fuck!” Paul growled. He left his cock inside for a second and I could feel it pulsate; he was about to cum but tried desperately to hold it in. It was no use; he pulled out and warm drops sprinkled on my ass and lower back.
“Ahhhhhh” Paul exhaled and calmed down, climbing down. I lowered myself to my stomach and dangled my feet in the air, crossing my arms and resting my head in them.
“What the fuck just happened?” Paul exclaimed. He walked over and put his undies and jeans back on. He held his head, looking dehydrated and dazed. Marco was fully clothed now, also appearing dazed. They looked at eachother and then looked away instantly. I smiled, the cold concrete regulating my temperature.
“Send me the quote for the marble today, Paul.” I said. He put his shirt back on. Marco grabbed his clipboard.
“Fuckin’ A.” Paul muttered. He shook his head and nodded goodbye. They both left. I laid there on the countertop, knowing what a good deal I had just received. The multiple levels of power I had over them was exhilarating. The bar would be exactly to my specifications, on-time and within budget.
*Note: This is my first fiction piece! Hope you enjoy.*
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ic5y50/i_f46_was_not_willing_to_compromise_turning_two