Trouble - A Nightmare Revisited

It was difficult to admit but the evening had been a failure.

The latest live music offering, this time from a local band, had failed to capture the imagination. I'd heard their demo tape only two days ago, I'd been reticent while Steve had told me to trust the Promoters and embrace something different.

Now with more and more punters leaving at the end of each song from a torturously depressing set list even my brother had to concede defeat, the most worrying aspect bring that at present we were barely halfway through their rapidly turgid set.

'Lifestyle' was an ironic choice of name, as was often the case. Their music did not indicate a lifestyle I would be willing to consider I contemplate as I find myself quiet enough to pour myself a large freehand measure of whisky which I glue down almost immediately.

I started a head count, ditching the idea immediately. I knew from advance ticket sales that 'Lifestyle' had failed to draw in even half the usual number of casual punters that our monthly live music events usually guaranteed.

I'd have been better placed stood at the front doors counting the steady procession heading for the exit as the lead singer whiningly caterwauled over yet another overly heavy thrash guitar accompaniment.

Each song they played sounding remarkably unlike the song that had preceded it. Angry maudlin rhetoric accompanying every similar sounding tune they attempted to entertain with. I'm sure their supposed style had a time and a place, to our detriment O'Leary's on a Wednesday night was neither.

Something about them was so painfully amateur that calling them amateur would though have been paying them a compliment.

Looking for distraction, trying not to dwell on lost revenue, I'd noticed her a handful of times across the evening already. She appeared to be alone. One of the few in attendance who remained captivated throughout the performance.

Late teens or perhaps early twenties she was dressed in a faded black sleeveless tee that sat an inch or two short of a faded black denim skirt, black fishnets clad her legs, while mid-calf patent leather vivid purple boots broke the dull monochrome of her outfit.

Visually her punkish appearance stood her out a little from even the fans of the band. Purple tones of makeup adorned her eyes and vivid purple lipstick painted her full lips. Her hair shoulder length bobbed hair style hung straight parted through the centre of her scalp one side light blonde while the other side in stark contrast was jet black, creating an unusual and captivating appearance. It mattered very little, but I couldn't ascertain which side was artificially dyed.

There was something about her appearance though that appeared almost unnatural, of course two-tone hair band slightly gothic makeup were far from natural but the way she held herself even as she swayed along to the musical accompaniment was visual out of place, a little forced.

Shortly after 'Lifestyle' had finished their set I'd watched her once more as she approached the lead singer at the bar. The exchange had started civil enough, although he did not appear overly warm to her approach. Within minutes a situation had flared up to the point of becoming physical. Voices of bystanders raised in objection as she noticeably stumbled while he physically her away from him. His physical reaction carrying enough ferocity to attract the attention of the additional security we hired for such occasions, tonight even they were itching for something to do so was the tedium.

By time they'd made their way to her several of his band mates had already dragged him away, drinks were spilled, voices were continued to be raised by the situation. I chuckle to myself as the situation dissipates the moment the lead singer storms away.

I simply shook my head at the pathetic drama while two members of the band's entourage held back the two-toned haired girl while she hollered after him.

"Why won't you let me explain... why don't you even care what happened to me Gregg... I confided in you... I confided..."

Her voice tailing off into angry hyperventilating tears.

"Go die in a ditch you fucking Whore," his voice boomed throughout the bar that had fallen to a hushed silence following the altercation. His voice sounding better than it had when he had closed their set with a song featuring the same lyrics.

For the remainder of the night she had perched, cross legged, on a bar stool angrily brooding while knock back shot after shot of neat vodka, demanding replacement after replacement into the shot glass from Chris our Barman. The crew had packed up the stage around her, she hung around in anticipation of another opportunity to capture the lead singer's attention, in her increasingly intoxicated state she obviously had not spotted him and the rest of his band leaving fire the fire exit around twenty minutes earlier.

On closing I noted security approach her once again to request she leave the bar. I stop them silently with a raise of my hand and a subtle wag of my finger. They don't question why but diligently follow my instruction as they concentrate on herding the few remaining patrons towards the door.

"Sack of shit night," Steve offers his brutal appraisal of the last seven hours.

"I won't disagree," I state without looking to him.

"Let's get cleared up ...a kebab and some strippers might take the edge off the night." Steve immediately starts collecting empty glasses around him from the bar.

"I dunno... Let's get some far cheaper benefit from the evening," I offer coldly to my brother with a nod towards the inebriated young women at the end of the bar.

Steve's grin spoke volumes, "Seems only fair."

"On one side of her head at least," I quip, referencing the two-tone hairstyle.

Steve chuckles.

Walking up to her from my side of the bar she sits slumped forward her head in hands as she bears her body weight on her elbows rested on the bar, she slowly looked up at me from weary bloodshot eyes, framed with dusky purple eye makeup. I notice for the first time a small silver hoop that pierces her nose through her right nostril.

"Hey there..." I offered a sincere an opening. "It's gotten late... Can I get you a cab?"

"No..." her head shake unexpectedly violently to punctuate the single word that was immediate and curt, "...No Taxis ....No fucking Taxis ....I don't trust Taxis."

Her continued response on slurred words confused me a little as I glance to Steve as he steps up to the bar to her left.

"Can we interest you in a lock in then?" Stevie offers with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

She turns her head to Steve, visually she looks like a blonde at this angle, before she looks back at me.

"Sounds.... Sounds like a terrible idea..." her eyes lock on mine slightly mischievously while lifting her empty shot glass towards me. "...but Vodka and I'm in"

"Best lock up Steve," I offer without taking my eyes from her bleary yet beautiful pale blue eyes. "And we'll have a private party for three."

Steve diligently steps away before I turn and procure a full bottle of budget Vodka from a stack of boxes to my left. There's no point wasting the good stuff I consider to myself as I break the screw cap of the bottle open and immediately pour a shot for her.

"Knock yourself out trouble," I offer.

"I'm not trouble," she slurs her response snatching the bottle from my hand and pouring contents into the already full shot glass, spilling as much of the clear liquid as she would have managed to actually fill the glass with.

"You seem troubled," I offer sincerely but she doesn't react as she flings her head back while sinking the vodka.

"And you're gonna be in trouble." I hear Steve quietly utter as he walks up behind her.

**********

Jenny had taken very little coercion or offered very little resistance given her state of relative incapacitation.

As I lift her upper body Steve takes her legs and we clutch her lightweight frame between is turning her on to her back, stretching her slender body out as we raise her towards the black marble surface of the bar.

Setting her down, a slight disgruntled groan passes her purple painted lips. I move the bottle of vodka from just above her head, noting around a quarter of the bottle to be missing.

Walking around the bar, Steve steps up opposite of me and we both look down on our capture.

Thick black duct tape sits wrapped tightly around her ankles and thighs, the same thick black industrial tape that secures her wrists and upper arms which sit beneath her. Jenny had stood there and allowed us to restrain her, offering no resistance no inclination to escape our clutches, even in her inebriated state.

Her chest rises and falls, her eyes furtively glance from Steve to myself and then attempt to focus on the ceiling above her. As she lays there either mortified by or accepting her conundrum it is only her alcohol misted eyes that give away any unease at the restraint she finds herself in.

"Let's see what we're dealing with Bruv," I offer as I reach under the bar.

Jenny simply gently repositions herself in her effective restraint I note, she doesn't look as I pull a pair of general purpose lethally sharp scissors.

Cutting the scissors in the air three times, I watch Steve's smirk as he grabs the hem of her sleeveless plain faded black t-shirt for me.

"Oh no...." Jenny utters weakly "No please don't"

"Shush now" Stevie offers and as I take the garment in my grip he places a hand over her mouth and jaw, I note her eyes widen and feel the slight flinch across her bound body.

The thin faded grey garment cuts with ease, as with two swift hacks I cut through the majority of her sleeveless top revealing the pale skin of her toned slender stomach, a little stud sits in her pierced belly button. Two more cuts, reveal her ample breasts held up in a sheer lilac bra through which her nipples are visible, with a final hack I'm through the neckline of the basic cotton garment.

Mortified or petrified at the turn of events that have ensnared her Jenny still doesn't react even into Steve's hand clamped over her jaw. Taking the opportunity presented I cut with ease through the shoulders of the garment, leaving it useless below her, across her bound arms.

Immediately I take the scissors to the hem of the faded black denim skirt.

A deep shuddering inhale of breath passes her body under the realisation that she's to be fully stripped.

I find cutting through the thicker material a little more troublesome. Jenny's eyes screw shut as I graze past her left thigh. Her legs pull at their restraints, the back of her heels scratch across the polished surface of the bar. A grin passes my lips.

As the scissors meet the thicker waistband of the skirt, I take several attempts to hack through the skirt, eventually watching as the blades complete their task and the short skirt falls open across the bar.

Jenny is left bound on the bar in just the sheer bra, a pair of fishnet tights, that reveal she wears no underwear underneath, and the patent shiny purple boots that adorn her legs from mid shin.

"Looks fucking perfect," Steve offers running his right hand firmly up the inside of her bound left thigh.

Even now harshly and fully stripped of her clothing Jenny still barely reacts, even as Steve's hand slips from her thigh to heavily press between her legs she only repositions herself a little, but she does not resist.

Steve notes her lack of reaction too, his fingers deftly press deeper, I watch the fishnet material stretch and give a little before his fingers break the flimsy material.

Jenny finally gasps, taking a deep breath from behind the thick fingers of Steve's hand still held over her jaw, as she feels his fingers enter her harshly, I watch on as her eyes fall closed as she lays there her head simply resting on the hard surface of the bar.

"We should come to an agreement..." I state looking up from her to Steve as my right hand clutches his wrist tightly with his fingers pressed deep into her. "...Usual rules apply."

He takes his hand from her mouth rather than retract his fingers as he attempts to slip them deeper into her. I watch his hand rise and fall three times in succession over Jenny's toned stomach, I follow suit.

"I had a pair of fucking scissors in my hand..." I sarcastically offer to my brother as he holds his hand flat, losing our familiar decision-making process "...I should cut your fucking fingers off just to prove a point."

His own stupidity dawning on him Steve ruefully shakes his head as he looks down across Jenny's body, realising he'll not be the first to discover her fully

"Naturally I'll go first then," taking the scissors I drop them back over her body and hack with one brutal cut through the front of Jenny's bra. Two more quick cuts through the shoulder straps render the flimsy garment useless, she flinches closing her eyes tight once more as I pull the remnants of the bra and t-shirt from under her, dropping them on the floor behind the bar, her pert firm breasts barely move even free of the bra.

"Pull her up a table ...and a chair.... I'm willing to make a slight concession for you brother dear."

**********

"Oh fuck... oh fuck no," Jenny quietly finds her voice and begs as she feels her body rendered redundant once more under a new means of restraint.

Face down across the square table her shoulders, neck and head protrude out over the edge of the table, her slender waist wrapped in further thick black duct tape that holds her body to the table as securely as the same tape wrapped around the purple boots, trapping her ankles to the legs of the table.

"Little late for protesting now trouble," I offer caustically.

"You... you don't understand," her head turns back over her left shoulder as I step up behind her. Jenny's arms pulled tight behind her with the tape restraint that had been applied to her first, her wrists and upper arms have barely moved such despite what she has been through such is the tight and effective grip of the industrial tape.

"We might not understand..." I nod to Stevie, "...but it's too late now."

"No... no... not again... please I'll ...I'll do anything you want." There is more clarity to her words now, her body shocked from the grip of the alcohol. Her bargaining is understandable, but futile.

"You're about to...." I press my hands over her pert fishnet clad buttocks. "...What you've just given us was a prelude to the main event."

"I'm begging you." Jenny desperately offers.

"And I'm dying to fuck you," is the cold response Jenny receives.

I watch Steve step up alongside of us, catching sight of the item he clutches between the fingers of his left hand.

"Do it," I offer harshly.

I hold off on my next move for a moment as I watch as Jenny's head jerks back as Steve loops the black ball gag over her head and draws it back swiftly into her mouth. Jenny struggles in her restraint, black and blonde hair flails, but her disposition works against her as Steve swiftly secures the gag buckling the leather strap tightly through her blonde and black two-tone hair. Steve had obviously tired of her verbal protest as quick as I had.

Muffled pleas continue yet barely escape her mouth through the edges of the gag, her protests rendered indiscernible. Even if I can hazard a guess as to what she wails.

I act with haste, seeing little point in stringing out the inevitable. My fingers seize the fishnet material stretched across her ass, pulling harshly I rip her tights open to reveal her to me.

In the dim light of the Bar, I can see the folds of her smooth little cunt, I will soon sink my exposed dick between those folds, deep into the soft pink warmth I imagine sitting nestled between her shapely toned legs.

I am hard for her; I have not lost my erection since she had sat bound to the high-backed chair to my left. The chair in which Steve and I had sat her and taped her too we had both used her begrudging mouth. Slipping deep into her throat as we had straddled her tape bound legs as she sat before us, her chest and upper arms taped to the back of the chair. The taste of our combined ejaculate would still be relatively fresh in her mouth beyond the ball gag that dissects her now faded purple lips.

There had been little protest from her once we'd demonstrated our physical control, although little compliance had been received either as Steve and I had brutally interchanged for almost ten minutes clutching her head pressed against our crotches as she gasped for breath amongst dry heaves and heavy retches.

Leaving her exposed chest and midriff soaked in her own saliva by time I had decided she needed to be restrained across the table that Steve had pulled into the centre of the bar area minutes earlier.

Stepping close to her bound body, she knows now what's about to happen to her. Jenny struggles feebly as I press against her.

Guiding myself with my right hand my left-hand bears down on her lower spine. Jenny baulks momentarily as I feel the tip of my dick press between her tight soft plump folds of flesh.

The warmth of her cunt spreads around me as I slowly penetrate her tightness. Accompanied by a pained caterwaul of exasperation that wouldn't have been out of place to accompany the dire little band she appeared to be such a fan of.

Raising her shoulders from the surface of the table despite tape restraint as I continue to slowly penetrate her, I hear her inhale a sharp breath after sharp breath through the gag.

I watch her fists clench just below her tape bound wrists.

I achieve full penetration with ease, she feels fucking divine, her cunt so tight around me as I stir my hips letting her feel me deep within her.

Jenny then howls into the once more into the gag as I ease gently back only to impale her with a harsh deep thrust.

Her body rigid against both my intrusion and her restraint. I groan as my left hand clutches her left shoulder and with slow thrusts, I stretch her body around my girth building up firm hard, deep, repetitive thrusts into her.

Pressing Jenny's shoulders eventually back down against the surface of the table, her resistance subsides almost immediately despite how she still clamps tightly around me to attempt to prevent me from taking her, seeming not appreciating it's too late and that I already have her, I take her body unopposed. I use her.

Her tension only serves to heighten the sensations I feel as I begin to rapidly thrust my hips back and forth, edging deeper into her young body with each thrust.

She falls silent now against the gag.

I fuck her hard feeling her eventually stretch around me as I keep pressure on her left shoulder while my right hand grips first her fishnet clad hip and then the right-hand edge of the table.

"You're just a cum rag..." I goad her, "...no better than the sports sock Stevie keeps in his bed side table."

Jenny does not respond, her body forced down onto and held across the table. The only sound she makes are grunted exhales through the gag, subtle little throaty protests that seem to punctuate every increasingly deep harsh thrust that her body absorbs.

"Your only purpose until we're through with you..." I continue to goad her, "...is to soak up every drop of cum that we fill your little body with."

Still she fails to react, how I might expect as if trance like she simply stands there held bent double, slim wrists and slender arms taped alongside the further restraint to her slim waist and boot clad ankles in the middle of the bar she'd come to hours earlier of her own free will. She had stayed after hours of her own free. She seemingly accepts her fate, even if she now realises the error of her ways.

As I fuck her, the sound of my hips slapping against her ass under my relentless style fills the bar, my mind passes to her earlier altercation.