VIP room

The bass vibrated up through the floor, rattling her teeth as she drained her glass. She wasn’t looking for anything but the sharp burn of vodka on her tongue—until his palm settled low on her waist, fingers splayed like he already owned the space. “Crowd’s too loud for you,” he said against her ear, voice rough enough to make her shiver. Young, cocky—she could smell it on him, the arrogance mixed with expensive whiskey. His grip tightened, steering her toward the roped-off section without waiting for an answer. The bouncer barely glanced up before unhooking the velvet barrier. Inside, the air was heavier, thick with perfume and musk. His hand slid from her waist to the curve of her ass, squeezing hard enough to draw a gasp. “Eyes forward,” he ordered, pressing flush against her back. She could feel him already—the rigid line of his cock grinding into her as he walked her deeper into the shadows. A private booth swallowed them, leather cool against her thighs as he spun her around. His mouth crashed into hers before she could speak, tongue forcing past her lips. The taste of mint and liquor flooded her senses. One hand fisted in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat; the other shoved her dress up, fingers digging into the bare skin of her thigh. “Spread,” he growled. She barely had time to obey before his fingers were inside her, thick and relentless. Her knees buckled at the sudden stretch, but his grip on her hair kept her upright. “Fuck—” she gasped, the word breaking as he curled his fingers just right. His laugh was dark against her neck. “Told you you’d thank me.” He added a third finger, scissoring them deep, and her vision blurred at the edges. Somewhere in the haze, she heard the clink of his belt, the rustle of fabric. Then the hot, blunt pressure of him pushing into her, no preamble, no mercy. The noise she made was half-sob, half-moan as he filled her to the hilt. “Good girl,” he muttered, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. The pace was brutal from the start, his hips pistoning against her ass with every thrust. She could hear the wet slap of skin, feel the booth shaking under them. Her nails clawed at the leather as his teeth sank into her shoulder. Close—so close—but he suddenly yanked her back by the hair, denying her. “Not yet,” he breathed, dragging his free hand down her stomach to circle her clit. “You come when I say.” The orgasm ripped through her like a live wire the second he gave permission. She screamed, back arching, muscles clamping down on him as he fucked her through it. He followed with a groan, hips stuttering as he spilled inside her, hot and deep. For a second, the only sound was their ragged breathing. Then his lips brushed her ear, smug and satisfied: “Knew you’d love it.”

Before she could catch her breath, his hands were on her again—this time gripping the neckline of her dress. A sharp tug, fabric tearing at the seams, and suddenly she was bare from the waist up. The room’s dim lights painted her skin in gold and shadow. Whispers erupted around them, but the heat of their stares only made her nipples tighten harder under his gaze. "Look at them," he murmured, pinching one peak between his fingers, twisting just enough to make her gasp. "They all want to touch. But you’re mine." His palm smacked against her ass—a sudden, stinging crack that echoed through the booth. Someone chuckled low in the dark. Another voice, husky with want: "Fuck, she’s gorgeous." He didn’t give her time to process the hunger in their words. One hand fisted in her hair again, forcing her spine into a desperate arch as he shoved her face-first against the leather. The cold air hit her bare backside just before his cock did—no warning, just the brutal slide back inside, still wet from her own slick. A moan tore from her throat as the audience leaned in. She could see hands gripping drinks, fingers flexing like they ached to reach out. "Count them," he growled, thrusts rough enough to blur her vision. "Count every pair of eyes on you while I fuck you raw."

The words slithered through the humid air, cutting through the rhythm of skin against skin. *"Worth every fucking dollar,"* a man’s voice drawled from the booth’s shadows, thick with arousal. His wife’s laughter followed, high and breathless. *"Bet she’d take double for both of us, baby."* Her moan hitched as he fucked her harder, like their words had stoked something primal in him. His hand left her hair to grab her wrist, twisting her arm behind her back—forcing her chest up, her body on display for the murmuring crowd. *"Ten,"* she gasped, barely audible over the wet slap of his hips. He laughed against her spine, biting the knobs of her vertebrae one by one. "Louder." *"Thirteen,"* she choked out, as another couple leaned in, drinks forgotten. The woman’s fingers were knotted in her husband’s shirt, her lips parted. The man from before whistled low. *"Shit. I’ll pay right now."* Her captor’s thrusts turned punishing, his grip on her wrist tightening to the edge of pain. "Tell them," he panted, voice raw, *"tell them what happens if they try."* Her answer dissolved into a cry as his free hand found her clit, rubbing rough circles. The room blurred into a haze of hungry stares and the relentless drive of his cock. She was close—so close—when he suddenly stilled inside her, leaving her shaking. *"Not yet,"* he growled. *"Let them watch you beg first."*

The crisp sound of bills hitting the table cut through the heavy air. The husband’s fingers grazed Julie’s hip, hot and greedy, while his wife’s manicured nails traced the curve of her ass. "Paid in full," the man murmured, his other hand already unbuckling his belt. His wife didn’t wait—she shoved two fingers into Julie’s mouth, pressing down on her tongue. *"Suck. Nice and wet for me."* Julie’s captor finally pulled out with a slick sound, smirking as her hips twitched for more. "You heard her." The wife pulled her fingers free, glistening, and guided them between Julie’s legs, rubbing her own slick over her swollen clit. The husband didn’t hesitate—he lined up and drove into her with a groan, his wife’s hand still working in tight, punishing circles. Julie’s back arched as the wife leaned in, teeth grazing her earlobe. *"Bet you love this, don’t you? Both of us using you at once."* The husband’s thrusts were slower but deeper, each one wrenching a ragged moan from Julie’s throat. Then the wife’s fingers slid lower, teasing her ass—just the tip, just enough to make her gasp. "Fuck," the husband hissed, his pace faltering. *"She’s squeezing me like a vice."* The wife laughed, breathless. *"Wait ‘til you feel her from the other side."*

the wife puts on a strap-on and fucks Julie's pussy at the same time as her husband fucks Julie's pussy

The wife stepped back, her hands already working the strap-on’s harness into place with practiced ease. The latex gleamed under the dim lights, thick and unyielding. She poured more lube into her palm, stroking it over the length with a slow, taunting smirk. Julie’s breath hitched as the husband pressed deeper, his cock stretching her full. But then the wife’s fingers hooked under her thigh, lifting her leg higher. The blunt pressure of the strap-on nudged against her entrance, slick and relentless, before pushing in alongside her husband’s shaft. A broken gasp tore from Julie’s throat as the wife rocked forward, filling her completely—every inch stuffed, every thrust dragging against oversensitized walls. The husband groaned, his hips stuttering as their movements synced, the slick friction between their cocks making Julie’s vision blur. *"Christ, she’s taking both like a fucking champ,"* he gritted out, one hand fisting in her hair. The wife’s nails dug into Julie’s hip, her pace ruthless. *"You should feel her—god, she’s clenching around us."* Julie’s body trembled, overwhelmed, her moans dissolving into a desperate whine. The air smelled like sweat and sex, the wet slap of skin echoing as they fucked her in tandem, each thrust driving her closer.