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Don't Treat Me Like A Man
by NotTooFugly

Light looks so pretty when it's seen through an amber filter doesn't it? I
stared at my shot glass as though nothing else existed then, realizing how
odd I must've looked, slugged back another shot of the stiff whiskey, adding
the empty glass to the rather large row of inverted glasses arranged in
front of me.

"Jaysus Charlie, can you even see straight?" a voice calls from what seems to
be a great distance. I glance over, my head feeling like it's weighed down
with lead. My buddy Nick.

"Well, I can still see your ugly mug so that means I ain't had nearly
enough," I said, turning to the bar and waving my hand at the bartender.
Nick reached over and pulled my arm down.

"I don't think that's such a great idea ol' buddy ol' pal. You're not built
for this kinda drinkin' you know." He glanced meaningfully at my rather
slight form.

"Oh, I'm weeping for me liver. Just because I'm thin doesn't mean I can't
hold my booze." I put on a good show, but I was still disturbed by the hint
of a slur creeping into my voice. I signaled for another whiskey. Nick
rolled his eyes and turned away. The bartender slid another whiskey in front
of me. Trying not to become entranced by the golden glow again, I dropped
another one down the hatch. My eyes started to swim. I looked at Nick.
"Okay man, I'm officially tanked," I said. At least I tried to. It came out
sounding like, "Shhokee mang, ahm `fishally tuhnkd." Amazingly, Nick did
seem to understand.

"Told ya so. Do you want me to give a ride home?"

I stuttered a few times, gave up, then shook my head. I gestured toward the
door. "Schmoke," I uttered in a garbled tone that roughly translated to the
word smoke. He understood this too. Wonders never cease.

I pushed back from the counter, got off my barstool, wobbling a bit as I
tried to regain that elusive balance. I steadied myself then headed out the
door into the crisp New York night. I fumbled in my pocket for my cigarettes,
then stuck one in my mouth. I inhaled. No dice. You forgot to light it you
drunken buffoon!, I berated myself. I reached into my other pocket and found
my lighter. I was about to light up when I felt something heavy bludgeon me
in the back of my head.

I tumbled to the concrete, smacking the side of my face against the
unforgiving street. Blinding pain shot through the side of my head. I hardly
noticed a pair of unseen hands grasp my ankle and begin dragging me into a
nearby ally. My body was bounced and jostled as I was pulled along the rough
sidewalk. Finally we came to a stop. My eyes had been squeezed tightly shut,
but now I opened them dreading what I might see.

For a moment two blurred images warred with each other, before finally
giving up and merging. A woman stood before me, illuminated by the glow of
neon light. She was tall and muscular. I could see she was wearing some sort
of tight leather corset and a pair of matching leather gloves. Her breasts
appeared ready to burst out of their confines, the leather straining to hold
them in. Her long raven hair was tied pack in a long braid. I'd seen her
before...but where? Then in came to me.

"Chyna?" I hazarded. She started visibly and glared at me. Maybe she'd
thought I was unconscious. She strode toward me on long powerful legs and
bent over, giving me a nice full view of her dangling tits. I couldn't
really enjoy the view though because she grabbed my hair and hauled me up
in one quick movement.

"Oww-" I started to exclaim, but she swung me around and shoved me into the
wall. I managed to pull my head back, else I would've suffered a broken jaw.
She wrapped her arm around my throat and began to choke me, her body pressing
into my back so I couldn't use the wall to push off of. Black spots crowded
in at the edges of my vision. After a little I stopped struggling in the
hopes she'd relieve the pressure. She did. She pulled back from the wall, her
arm still around my throat. With her free arm she pressed her hand against my
chest, groping down to my crotch. She hurriedly unzipped it and slipped her
hand inside.

"What the hell-" I began.

"Shut the fuck up, maggot," she hissed in my ear. She managed to get her hand
through the slit of my boxers and she drew out my limp cock. "Get hard you
little bitch." Before I could even begin to think of a question to ask she
bit me hard in the earlobe. I could feel blood flowing from the wound. "Get
hard or I'll kill you."

I was thunderstruck, but I didn't have time to think. I bent all my will to
producing a stirring in my nether regions, but the pain of my head and ear
screamed away any erotic thoughts I could conjure finally in desperation I
imagined Chyna's great tits, barely restrained, pressing against me. What'd
be like to feel them, lick them...

"Took you long enough", she spat, holding my erect cock in her hand. She
began to squeeze, hard and I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming.
Finally she eased up and began to stroke me. Her leather gloves pulled my
skin, rubbing it raw as she stroked. She pressed against me, rubbing
herself against me. I could feel her cunt pressed against my ass and her
tits squashed against my back. She picked up the rhythm, jerking from the
base of my shaft almost to the head. Her hips jerked in time, smacking
against my ass as she milked me. Her breathing became more and more ragged,
her tongue almost unconsciously licking the oozing wound on my ear, as if
she were nearing climax instead of me.

"Unnn...mmm..." she moaned as she jerked me, moving at such a frantic speed
I thought she'd rip the skin right off of my penis. I was afraid of what
would happen if I came. Would she just choke me to death and leave me in a
puddle of my own seed? Her hips rubbed against me faster and faster, and the
arm about my throat tightened. I looked down at the hand moving up and down
my cock at blinding speed, and I began to feel light-headed. I could last no
longer. My cock jerked and then burst, shooting thick streams of white cum
into the wall in all directions. The lack of oxygen to my brain only seemed
to heighten the sensation, because I actually manage to shout hoarsely
despite the arm slowly killing me. She bit down on my shoulder, my orgasm
her own. I could feel her body shuddering with the intensity of my/her
climax. Finally she raised the leather glove to my lips, smearing my own cum
all over my face, a gesture of disrespect and disgust. I slumped against the
implacable arm, clawing it as I strangled, tumbling into black...

Suddenly the arm was gone. I fell to my knees, gasping at the sweet air. I
turned around, expecting Chyna to kill me in some horribly painful way, but
instead I saw my friend Nick. He stood over her unconscious body. "Nick," I
managed to force out. He hooked his arms beneath mine and pulled me up.

"Damn man, you look pretty banged up." He inspected my eye, and the bleeding
wounds from her teeth on my ear and shoulder. Then he looked down. My flaccid
penis hung out of my zipper. His head snapped up and he stared at me. I
tucked it back into my pants and zipped up.

"Lets not talk about it." My voice told him more than words could say. It was
broken, raw, and hinted at dreadful fury. It was the voice of a rape victim.

"What should we do with her?" he said after a long silence.

"Leave her to me." My tone allowed no refusal. He looked at me for a long
time. Finally he nodded.

"Aye. A man needs his pride. Take back what she stole from you."

We picked her up and carried her to my car, which was parked outside the bar,
and tossed her into the trunk. I thanked him, then sped away, with thoughts
of sweet revenge in my head.

To Be Continued


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