She nursed her beer in the ratty bar, her heart fluttering a bit as she glanced around. She’d only been there for a short bit, but she was clearly out of place and not the normal clientele. Things had cooled down at her home lately, ever since she’d had the baby. They’d always been an open couple, kinky to the extreme, and while they still had fun, it hadn’t been the same lately. Her husband no longer saw her as a dirty needy cunt, or his little to use. He saw only his wife, the mother of his children and thus, she felt ignored, abandoned.

That was why she was here. The voices raged in her head, more and more, her neediness building up to near uncontrollable levels. Her own hands and self-abuse were no longer enough and if her husband wouldn’t use her, she’d go elsewhere. It had always been a fantasy, of course. She’d been all but raped, had 2 CNC encounters, she knew what it was liked to be slapped and even hit. And by god, did she miss it. She missed, however wrongly, the feel of no control, the violence of sex, of having control taken away. She needed to be less, even if only briefly. And so, she sat and drank.

The bartender kept feeding her drinks, and she drank them quickly, at first. Then pacing herself, she glanced around, drunk smiles, which emboldened a few of the men there. She ignored the first couple, they were too nice. They wanted only to fuck, and she could get that anywhere. She was dressed to be raped and nothing less would do. She was still a D cup, if only barely, from her pregnancy. That helped her fill out the too small black dress nicely. No bra or panties tonight, just the dress and heels and a slim purse with a fake id. She wasn’t crazy, she knew she might be robbed or worse if things went south and she wanted to protect her family. Just cash and an ID and a broken need to be hurt.

The third man, however, was different. He didn’t come up and chat, didn’t ask her name. She knew he was there as he stepped up by the unasked-for hand on her ass, gripping it possessively. She suddenly acted drunker than before, slurring her words, as she playfully slapped at him.

“Hey ... watch it mister,” she said, and was surprised by the size of him. Not that he was some Adonis. He was more like a retired linebacker, now overweight but you could tell he was once the specimen. Now greasy, a bit smelly, reeking of cigar and stale beer. She found herself instantly wet as the 6’+ 300lb man slide his hand up her back from her ass. She froze, as he grabbed her chin and told her to finish her drink. Hand almost shaking, her nature went into automatic, downing the vodka before she even thought about it. He then turned to the bartender.

“Get the pretty thing here and some whiskey,” he said as he sat down by her, resting his hand on her thigh. “Don’t see such pretty things here often,” he said. She stammered, face flushed, losing control already as her brain dialed down and her need cranked up.

“I’ve already had a few drinks,” she said, trying to limit as the shots were set out. He gave her a look that said shut the fuck up, as he handed her the shot, so she drank it, her throat burning. He then offered her the other shot and she shook her head, before he grabbed her chin again, firmly.

“Drink it pretty thing,” was all he said, but with again, a look that dared her to challenge him. She did, noticing it was a bit more bitter, and the smile he gave her as she finished it. He stroked her leg as he talked briefly, giving her his name, telling her about his day. Never once in the short conversation did he even ask her name or what she did. She felt a bit fuzzy and clamped her thighs as she felt his hand slide up, and when she spoke, he kissed her deeply, taking the opportunity of the closeness to jam his hand up against her cunt, fingering her briefly, roughly. He grabbed her head and pulled her head back, just smiling to her rapidly dulling eyes.

“Just what I thought,” he said, pulling her unsteadily up. “Follow me pretty thing,” he said, and she did. He gripped the back of her neck and guided her along to the bathroom. They walked in and she tried to tell him no. It was a crappy men’s room, no stalls, just a toilet and a urinal. He locked the door and shoved her on the toilet, everything swimming now. Panicked, she slapped at him, trying to stand but he backhanded her to the toilet, almost falling off it. Then he unzipped and drove his cock into her mouth, hand painfully tight in her hair.