The Bar

My vision goes a bit fuzzy for a moment as more of the alcohol catches up with me. It makes it feel like time zooms by at the same time that it stops. But I'm pulled out of this as I see someone moving towards me.

"Alright hipster bitch, give me your clothes. Come on, pick them up and hand them over," the bartender orders as she comes up to me on her side of the bar.

There's something different about her now. She seems more nervous as well as impatient. Like she wants to get something over with. Previously she seemed as if everything was right with the world. That there was no chance of getting in trouble at all. That seems to be gone now.

Looking at her, I see she's pointing to the floor to where my pile of clothes are. Swaying some, I walk over to my clothes. When I reach my clothes, I notice the bartender has my cell again, pointing it at me. Once again the red light is on, meaning she's recording.

I don't react to this, even through I fear she could be streaming on one of my social medias. I attempt to play everything cool and calm, which is hilarious as drunk as I am. I don't try to cover myself but let her record, in which she could be ruining my life for all I know.

Doing as she wants, I bend over and pick up my clothes, then place them on the bar. I put everything on the bar too, doing exactly what she wanted. To this, she puts my cell damn near in my face, almost like making sure to capture who I am. It makes me rather nervous about what she has planned. She's acting totally different now.

The bartender doesn't look at my clothes. She instead uses one hand to push them to her side of the bar where they fall to the ground while she keeps filming me. I'm unable to see where they land on her side, but I have a feeling she dropped them into a trash can or something. Something about the way she does it makes me think I'll never see my clothes again.

"Here, put this on. Wear them like a mask," the bartender orders, squatting down on her side to pick something up. When she stands back up, she drops my panties in front of me on the bar while she aims my cell at my face.

I can't help but look at my own camera, wondering why she is doing this. She wasn't acting like this before. What deal did she make with that guy? What's about to happen? I mean, is someone watching me right now?

My hazy eyes look at my panties, where I feel a horrible arch between my legs at the thought of doing something so humiliating. My eyes then look back at the bartender, wanting to see the look on her face. For some reason, I want to see her smirking. I want to see her superior look at the thought of me having to wear my own panties.

Only my eyes don't make it to her face. Instead they move to her breast pocket. I hadn't noticed that she has a pocket on the shirt she's wearing, probably because I only was focused on her face. But now I can see that pocket as my cell covers her face so I can't see it. More than that, I see the several $100 bills in that pocket, along with a ton of fives and twenties. It makes me gulp as I see she's been paid off.

"Wait, take this first," the bartender interrupts. Her tone has changed now. There's the same sternness, but it's no longer the same. It feels almost like she's nervous, or maybe worried.

She moves backward where she grabs a bottle from atop a small display while continuing to record me. I recognize the bottle at once, but am surprised she's grabbing it. It's Patron Tequila. Very expensive tequila. Very strong too.

The bartender pours me a shot and places it in front of me. Downright scared, I try not to think of how I don't have access to my clothes, that I'm surrounded by men, and that there's no way for me to even run as drunk as I am. I'm utterly and completely helpless. To seal my fate, I take the shot, letting the nice tasting liquor burn as it goes down.

Moving fast before the booze hits me further, I grab my panties. Feeling pathetic and enjoying it, I lift them to the top of my head. With everyone watching, I pull them down over my face as if they were a mask because she told me to. The waistband moves downward, where I move my panties so my face sticks out through one of the leg holes.

There's laughter. A lot of it. Everyone in the bar laughs, everyone but the bartender. She just records, where the cell blocks her face from me. But I have a feeling she's smirking at the sight of me. Of what she's done to me, the pretty, college girl that thought she was better than her customers.

"A-Alright. Go ahead and, well, b-bend over the bar," the bartender orders, her tone not as stern as before. It is clearly an order, but I can tell she's concerned because she knows what is about to happen.

All at once, I know what's about to happen. Why she's acting like this, and why she's so worried. And so I look at her through the camera lens of my own cell. In it, I give her a look, letting her know that I understand she just sold me out, literally. Only, I try to give a message that I understand that what is about to happen is not her fault, but my own. That I should have never entered this bar.

And so, I give the bartender a look for her to capture on my cell. A look that plainly reads, "I'm about to be fucked." That the big guy that paid is about to pound me once I bend over this bar. That everyone is going to see it. Everyone is going to watch.

In a way it feels like I'm headed to the gallows in olden times. That I'm headed to the end of the line, where my life is going to end in a manner of speaking. So, with everyone closely watching and the bartender recording, I walk up to the bar. Not saying anything, I use my hands to lift me up again until my stomach rests on the bar while I lean over and my legs hang off.

With the strong tequila taking hold, I position myself the best that I can, where my stomach rests on top of the bar in a balanced position. My tits hang off the other side of the bar, as does my head while my legs hang on the opposite. My feet don't touch the ground, making it feel impossible for me to even get enough leverage to try and escape if I wanted.

The bartender moves up to me and grabs my right arm as I continue to try and position myself. When she grabs me, I stop moving and let her have my hand. She slowly and calmly moves it behind my back, prompting me to do the same with my left hand.

I'm not sure what it is, but my guess is duct tape is then wrapped around my wrists as they are behind my back. Only I can tell it is not the bartender doing this as she only has one hand since she is still recording. It's HIM. He's the one wrapping the tape around and around my ankles. I can feel his energy.

My breathing is really fast and I don't think I've ever been this drunk before. It makes everything seem to spin around, as if none of this is real. That I'm not really naked and helpless in this dive bar. That I can't see the dirty mat that's on this side of the bar. That I'm being tied up for the first time in my life.

My body feels like it is on fire when the man finishes with my hands. I then feel my right leg being pulled to the side. Whimpering some, I then feel that duct tape start to be wrapped around my ankle and a barstool, ensuring that my legs stay spread open. That my pussy be nice and helpless.

It takes a couple of minutes, but both legs are taped to nearby barstools, spreading me wide while my wrists are taped behind me. Unable to help it, I wiggle and squirm from the fear and excitement. Never have I felt like this before. Never have I been so scared.

"Oh fuck me," I gasp as I feel what can only be a hard cock at my pussy. The large man that's behind me calmly places his cock at my entrance, letting it part me open just a bit.

The feeling of it is enough that my head lifts up as my body responds, both wanting this to happen and fearing it. A loud groaning moan comes out of me as the man starts to insert himself inside me, where I swear his cock stretches my pussy lips.

My moan is loud enough that everyone in this bar can hear it. Every guy in this place can hear what it feels like for me as this man violates my womanhood with his hard, large cock. Where everyone knows how I sound when being dominated.

The man's cock keeps going inside me, going deeper and deeper. Inch after inch it goes in, making me moan and roll my eyes from the feeling. It's so intense that I don't even realize he's grabbed my hair until he has all of his manhood inside me. When his body presses against my ass, I open my eyes to see I'm looking at the men on the far side of the bar. That this man is holding my upper body up by the hair.

"Make her say it," the man with his cock in my pussy growls, holding me in this painful position. He doesn't move at all, but keeps his cock buried in me in a very dominating feeling. I know he wants me to feel how small and pathetic I am. To feel how it is to have his cock inside me.

"T-T-Tell everyone that he's...he's going to fuck you. That he's going to fuck your pussy like the bitch you are," the bartender tells me, the camera practically shoved in my face. I look at the camera, my face red from all that I am feeling, not to mention how lewd I feel as my tits swing under me.

"H-He..." I try to say, my words slurring at being so drunk. I thought being able to say this would be easy, but I find that it's not. I've never said anything like that before, not even drunk. It's just so...not me to say. Like it goes against everything I am.

"He's going to fuck me like the bitch I am!" I suddenly yell with passion, knowing my words are slurred. My words ring out, where I swear they echo back to me as I yelled them so loud. Where everyone hears.

Instantly the man begins to fuck me. Holding onto my hands and hair, he pulls his hips back and thrusts into me. He rams into me hard, my hips slamming into the bar again and again as he fucks me wildly. He makes sure to put his weight behind each thrust as my spread pussy takes all of it.

Unable to stop myself, I moan and scream as he fucks me, my pussy feeling overwhelmed. My eyes are wide and I keep moaning as he pounds me so damn hard. I feel how my pussy feels raw by him, how his cock seems to stretch every inch of my insides. Where that magical cock rubs against all of me in a special way, where no matter how wet I am, there's just so much friction.

While staring at the group of men in the corner, I see and feel my tits swinging wildly. They once again feel larger than life as they swing about, showing how hard this man is fucking me. Where I feel little more than a slave, just something to be used for pleasure. Where my existence is only due to my pussy and for this purpose. Where everyone should get to see me like this, complete with my swinging tits.

"What is he doing?" The bartender asks me after being prodded by the man fucking me again. The camera is positioned not over my entire body, but just my face, making me understand that this is what the man wants. He wants the video of only my face as he fucks me. To see all the various emotions I go through, from humiliation to embarrassment, to the vulnerability and feelings of being pathetic while cumming.

"He's fucking me!" I shriek, and with these words I have an orgasm. It hits fast and overwhelms me, making my eyes roll and body shudder all over again. Realizing I'm cumming, the bastard actually rubs my clit with his fingers while still fucking me, causing me to struggle and squirm even more as it is more than I can take. But as I can't do anything to stop him, he just laughs at my struggling.

"He's fucking my pussy!" I shriek, saying it as lewdly as I can as the sound of hard clapping and smacking echoes all about. For in this moment, I don't feel like a prim and proper woman to be cherished and respected, but a cheap whore to be fucked hard and rough in the back of an alley and then left there.

Hard and fast waves of joy move over me, making my body jerk uncontrollably. But as I'm in this strange position, the man easily pins me down as he keeps fucking me. And what makes the orgasm so much more intense is that whenever I do get a glimpse of my surroundings, I see my cell right in my face, recording me at my lowest. Where I wonder if any of my friends or family is watching.

"He's fucking my pussy," I repeat over and over as my mind zones out. The overwhelming emotions I feel take over everything, no longer letting me have any control of anything. All I can do is moan and moan in my high pitched way, showing everyone how I'm having the best orgasm of my life. And my moans barely seem to be louder than the clapping of him ramming me, nor the clapping of my tits as they smack against the bar.

Something then happens to me and I don't know what. All moans and screams stop and I go completely quiet. I tell my body to scream and moan, but they won't come out. When I try to look at the men across the bar, my eyesight seems to fail. All becomes white, then black. Everything just disappears as I sink into the extreme joy I feel as my womanhood is ravaged.

In the darkness I hear people talking, movement and lots of laughter. I'm unable to see any of this or even place where it is happening. All I really know is how fast I'm breathing and how my body feels as wave after wave runs over me. Where the orgasm lingers, feeling like it will never stop.

While in the dark, I taste more tequila as well as feeling pain mixed with pleasure. There's emotions of bright light, then some of the darkest black. I even think at one point I laugh uncontrollably. It really feels as if I lose my mind.

"W-What..." I mutter, finally getting enough strength to open my eyes. My head pounds horribly, revealing I have a severe hangover. My mouth is dry and my body feels sore and creaky.

With my eyes half open, I can see where I am, which is in my car. The driver's side of my car. In front of me, I see the dive bar, closed. It's night now, and a glance at the clock in my car tells me it's 3:30 in the morning. That damn near 12 hours have passed.

There's no other cars around, nor people. The entire place looks deserted, with my car looking like it belongs to yet another drunk that couldn't drive home.

In a way I'm extremely happy to be alone, but I feel so very confused. What the hell happened?

Now I see what I'm wearing and it makes me groan. The clothes I had earlier are nowhere to be seen, as they probably were thrown out with the trash. Whomever dressed me, dressed me with a damn trash bag. It's been pulled over me like a dress, where a hole for my head has been made.

Curious as my pussy feels so sore, I pull the garbage bag up to reveal that I am indeed naked underneath. But more than that, I've been fucked...a lot. There's a small bit of cum pooled between my legs from what has leaked out of me. From the feeling of it, multiple men got a chance to fuck me, with many leaving me a present.

I then see my cell on the passenger's seat. I'm very surprised to see it as I thought for sure they would steal it. My hand reaches out and grabs it, remembering how the bartender recorded so much on it. When I lift my cell, I spot a small pile of money that was under it. Almost like so if someone looked in the car, they wouldn't see the money. It's $400 dollars in cash.

I groan as I recall the money in the bartender's pocket. It seems pretty clear what happened. She was making money pimping me out, and this is my cut. And if she is giving me $400, she must have made thousands as I don't think she would have paid me that much.

Did I pass out? Maybe. But the way I feel is more like I don't remember what happened. That I got so drunk I can't recall those memories, because my brain couldn't record them. But my body seems to remember as I feel a mix of shame, humiliation and arousal at all that has passed.

A ping sound echoes from my cell, revealing I got a message. I groan at this as it's no doubt someone checking on me, wondering where I have been. It's been, what, at least half a day since anyone has heard from me. They must be going wild.

When I look at the new message, I drop my cell. It's not a text or a DM at all. It's an email. An email from some site called "PornLovers." And the subject? "You're popular, your video already has 500,000 views."