Publican Property

Beth raised the glass of wine to her lips, her nose sensitive to the gentle fragrance that stood in stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere of the pub.

It had not been her ideal choice of venue, and she'd told him so as they arranged the meeting, but he had been insistent and she - not wanting to upset her first date in seven months - had relented.

She'd regretted that decision almost the moment she'd entered.

The pub was dimly lit, the noise confining and the air thick with the scent of beer and sweat. Those patrons - old before their time and too young to know - sat in huddled groups in the half-light; their conversation hushed and slowed.

It was a place where people came to drink. Not to date.

The only person of any appeal had been the barman. He was older than she, perhaps, but had an air of confidence that she'd noticed as she entered.

He noticed her too, and she'd felt his eyes upon her as she passed by the bar. Perhaps the dress she'd chosen was a little on the short side, she considered, but it was tasteful. And besides, she'd wanted to feel good for the evening.

As arranged, her date was waiting for her in the booth he'd reserved near the back - in low light Beth noted - and she was aware of him eyeing her hungrily as she snaked her way between the tables.

They'd smiled politely, she'd extended her hand in greeting, then turned her cheek in practised good time to ensure his kiss landed where she was comfortable with it. She wasn't about to give him expectations this early on.

An hour had passed since that first meeting and the date had not gone well. After ordering the wine and two glasses Daniel, perhaps from nervousness, managed to consume almost a third of the bottle before announcing the taste didn't suit him and changing to pints of beer.

And as the barman had brought the drinks over, Beth had again caught him noticing her from the corner of his eye.

The glances might have simply been the shared understanding of her situation, but beneath the kindness in his eyes, there was a definite something else. Something carnal that made Beth feel slightly cheap. And, if she was honest, slightly wet.

Beth lowered her glass again and savoured the taste; the only thing nearing sophistication in the pub.

The excess of alcohol had done nothing to improve Daniel's conversation as he faltered and floundered his way through trying to impress her. Over the next two hours, he chattered his way through tales of sporting prowess - some invented, all embellished - and through his opinions of current politics.

It was clear Daniel was nervous, she got that, but he was doing everything guaranteed to ruin his chances and Beth, unable to find a pause in which to steer him back on topic, went through disappointment to deflation and, finally, to disinterest.

By the time the pub was ready to close, and Daniel had announced he'd enjoyed himself but needed to head home, the date had been a complete disaster.

Beth watched as the final call for closing came and Daniel got unsteadily to his feet. She was about to rise as well when the barman, having removed the other patrons, made his way over to their table.

"Sorry mate, I have to close up," he said to Daniel. Then he turned to Beth "you can stay to finish that glass of wine, though. I'll call you a taxi."

Daniel gave a nod of acquiescence as he allowed himself to be walked out by the barman who locked the door behind him. Now the pub was empty, save for Beth and this man.

She watched him for a moment as he collected empty glasses from the other tables and returned them to the bar, then began to mop the tabletops.

Perhaps it was the wine she'd drunk, but Beth was sure he was only half focussed on his work, and more than once he gave her a sideways glance.

Was he simply being kind? Or was there something more? She felt suddenly very aware that she was alone with him in a locked pub, and she drained the rest of her glass even as she heard the carnal whisper deep within her.

"Feel better?" he asked, approaching the table as she made to stand and collect her handbag.

"Thank yous," she replied. "Ah...I mean, thank you," she corrected herself with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I'm a bit tipsy."

The barman gave a wolfish smile. "You're also very attractive," he said outright.

Beth looked back at him, a mixture of surprise and desire fighting in her body. "Thank you," she replied. She knew what was happening, but found a part of herself willing it to happen. Wanting it to happen.

She stepped out from the table and collected her bag, but the barman blocked her path.

"Taxi," she said, her voice suddenly weak.

He regarded her cooly for a moment, then nodded. "Of course," he replied. "If you want to leave I will order you a taxi and place you in it myself." Then his eyes twinkled. "If you want to leave, that is."

Beth saw the plain desire on his face as she stood before him, feeling small and naked. He stood motionless before her but kept his eyes locked firmly on hers as a predator stalking its prey.

"Tell me what you want," he said sternly.

"I.." the sentence faltered in her throat and she felt her heart beat faster.

"Tell me what you want," he repeated. Still, he made no move toward her but, flicking her eyes downward, she could see the firm bulge in his trousers and she felt herself get suddenly wetter.

"I..want to get a taxi," she replied meekly.

The barman remained where he was. "Tell me what you want".

Charged with the wine and the pangs of desire, Beth's mind began to rebel. She knew this was wrong, utterly wrong. She should ask - no, should demand - this man fetch her a taxi now and not touch her, but there was something in feeling trapped and helpless that appealed to her baser instincts.

"I..want.." she stuttered. Then a pause. "I..want..you."

And there it was. Suddenly, the room became small as he gathered her into his arms, his hands sliding tightly around her waist.

Even as her body melted into him she hated herself for giving the command but felt unable to resist.

Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as he reached under her dress. With rough abandon, his fingers pulled aside her already wet underwear and she gasped as he found her engorged clit. At the roughness of his touch, her mind was suddenly shaken and she tried to recoil.

"No. Please," she protested. "Taxi. Home."

"You don't want that, slut," he replied roughly. "You want this, don't you?"

"I do, sir.." came the automatic response, and she was suddenly disgusted with herself for saying it.

His fingers continued to play with her clit as she reached instinctively for his bulge, then unbuckled his trousers and released his straining cock. Curling her fist around it, she gave a few strokes as the man sighed in approval.

"Now. Down on your knees, slut," he commanded.

She felt her knees go weak at the order and dropped down before him. Her lips were inches from his throbbing member, but she kept them tightly closed as the battle raged within her. She was furious with this man for doing these things to her and furious at herself for allowing him to, but she was a slave to the arousal within.

The battle raged a moment longer, then desire won out and in one movement she leant forward and took his entire length into her warm, inviting mouth.

The barman sighed and closed his eyes as Beth's tongue teased the underside of his cock, then reached down to grasp her firmly by the hair. She gave a small yelp of pain as he gathered a clump in each fist, then began to slide her head back and forth on his straining cock at a pace and depth of his choosing.

"That's it, slut," he growled. "Take that cock in your wet little slut-mouth. You like that, don't you, slut?"

Beth moaned in response, then gave another yelp as he dragged her off his cock.

"What did you say, slut?" he demanded.

"Yes, sir," she repeated. "I like that, sir."

Satisfied with her answer, he dragged her back onto his cock.

"Now, play with yourself, slut," came a second command.

Beth felt a bolt of electricity through her body. Was it not enough this man was forcing her to suck on him but was now demanding she increase her degradation by playing with herself?

The momentary flare of anger was snuffed out by submissive desire and before she knew what she was doing she found a hand sinking between her legs to continue what he'd started.

She felt filthy as she played with herself before this stranger. Filthy and wet.

His hands gripped her hair tightly as he pounded his cock into her mouth, causing tears of pain to well in her eyes and roll down her cheeks.

This seemed to spur him on and he increased the pace of his thrusting. At the same time, Beth found her fingers working her clit faster and faster. She could feel the volcano stirring inside her pussy and she began to moan on his cock.

In a flash, her head was wrenched backwards and she was half-gathered, half-dragged to her feet by his strong hands.

"On the table, slut," he growled, lifting her up and dumping her onto her back on the wooden surface.

Her mouth fell open in a wild pant and her eyes watched as his hands wrench down the front of her dress, exposing her breasts. Free from the material they heaved with her panting, nipples erect and aching to be played with.

The barman walked to her side, then a rough hand grasped her firmly by the throat and pushed her down.

Beth was now flat on her back. The top of her dress pulled roughly down to expose her aching breasts, the bottom ridden up to reveal her dripping wet underwear and the hungry pussy beneath.

One of his hands remained on her throat, pinning her down, whilst the second dived down into her most intimate regions and began to rub at her clit.

The small gasp at his touch was soon replaced by a louder one as he lent forward and she felt his lips on a nipple.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as his tongue flickered over one sensitive bud.

"You like that, don't you slut?" he said, lifting his lips from her breast.

"I do," she whimpered, sensations erupting from multiple places and flowing in unbridled waves through her body.

As he worked her over she began to buck her hips to meet his fingers on each stroke of her clit, desperate to get the most pleasure from his teasing. Without warning, his hand and mouth pulled away and she gave a mournful wail.

"I dictate your pleasure, slut," he snapped. "Look at you, filthy whore. Pinned by the neck on a table in a locked pub, breasts on display, and your filthy fucking pussy sodden wet."

Beth felt the waves ripple through her as he hurled the abuse and she squirmed under his firm grasp, her eyes wild and open and her arms hanging limply over the edge of the table. "Please," she panted.

He gave a derisive snort. "You disgust me, filthy meat," he snarled. "You're not deserving to have my cock in you."

"I am," pleaded Beth.

"You are what, slut?"

Tears began to scald and start as the words tumbled out of her. "Deserving, sir. I am a filthy slut, sir. Please use me."

Amused by her sudden outburst, he reached over a grasped the empty wine bottle that had been bought for the date.

"This," he growled, holding her throat firmly with one hand and showing her the empty bottle with the other. "Is why you are here, slut. So this is what a filthy little fucktoy like you deserves."

As she started up at the ceiling, Beth felt him trace the neck of the empty bottle in a line down her skin. It circled first one nipple, then the other causing her to gasp in pleasure, then she felt it snake down over the rumpled dress until it reached her sodden mound.

Opening and closing her mouth in a silent gasp, he felt him manoeuvre the neck of the bottle until it hovered at the entrance to her sex. The glass was chill against the heat of her lips, and she gave a little squeal as he pushed the tip a little way inside.

Then he looked into her eyes and he smiled a wolfish smile. "Ready slut?"

Before she could answer, Beth felt several inches of the empty bottle sink into her boiling pussy, its tapered neck stretching her out as he slid more of it inside her.

She squirmed under his grasp, then found herself raising her hands and teasing her own nipples as he fucked her with the bottle she'd drunk from on her date.

"Oh god!" she panted as he worked her over. "Oh fuck! Oh yes!"

The bottle-fucking became harder and faster now. The barman had found the rhythm and as he ploughed it in and out of her dripping hole she felt an orgasm stirring.

"Take the bottle, slut!" he suddenly commanded. "Fuck yourself with it!"

Without being asked again, Beth's hands scrambled for the bottle between her legs, found it, grasped it firmly, then began to pump.

The barman laughed and released her throat as he stepped back to admire the scene.

"Look at you, you dirty fucking slut," he grinned. "Lying on my table and fucking yourself with a wine bottle. You love it, don't you?"

"I do, sir," Beth cried. "I love being your filthy slut, sir. Ooohhh fuck!" Her pace was faster now, and hitting the right spots. The barman stepped forward again, pushing his throbbing cock to her face as Beth eagerly opened her lips.

She sucked him hard and furious as she worked herself with the bottle and as her orgasm was about to burst she felt his cock swell within her mouth.

Desperate for release, she dragged her lips away from him and let out one long, lustful cry as she came.

At the moment of her climax, the barman grabbed his cock and pointed it at her naked breasts, furiously pumping himself to his own orgasm.

Beth heard him grunt, then felt the ropes of sticky cum spatter over her nipples and breasts and dress, driving her to a second peak.

Her pussy clenched and spasmed a few more times, then she collapsed back onto the table, exhausted. The bottle slipped from her pussy and clattered to the floor as she lay there, breathing heavily.

A few more drops of cum spurted from the barman's still twitching cock as he rubbed it over her breasts, using it to draw upon her in his own cum.

"I'm marking you, slut," he told her, "as a reminder."

"Thank you, sir," Beth whispered, half-to herself.

A few minutes passed before Beth felt able to get to her feet. She had made to fetch tissues from her handbag but his strong hands had stopped her.

"No," he commanded. "You walk home filthy."

With his cum still coating her breasts, the barman watched Beth adjust her dress, then he led her to the entrance, unlocked the door, and pushed his trash out into the street.