“He means me,” the girl said quietly, crawling up into her seat. There was cum on her hands and face, dripping off her steel-rimmed nipples.
The Dark Man studied her, turned and considered Dawg, and then jerked his chin at Dawg’s table and went back to his map.
The girl froze, her hands still raised in kittenish washing motions. “What?”
Without looking up, the Dark Man swung his arm and knocked her out of the booth. As she struggled to rise, he suddenly turned and caught her by the jaw and gave her a little shake to get her attention. “Just this,” he said, glaring down at her.
She nodded in his grip, eyes huge.
The Dark Man released her and went back to his reading.
Some of the low dogs must have been catching on to the real weirdness here because there weren’t as many catcalls as there might have been as the girl inched towards Dawg. Some of the brothers were looking at the Dark Man still, and there were hands on weapons. The Cow-Boy actually shoved his chair back when the girl came near, as if he thought he might explode if she touched him, and coming from the stone-faced Cow-Boy, that was heavy shit indeed.
But Top Dawg was darkly, furiously oblivious. He grabbed the girl’s head defiantly, yanked her down so she whacked to her knees, and unzipped himself. With the memory of the Dark Man’s monster cock working in and out of the girl’s mouth, the Dawg’s own dick was pathetic, pale and wormy. Fat Joey looked helplessly away. He didn’t want to look at the girl gobbling the Dawg. He didn’t want to look at the Dark Man, either. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He’d never in his life been so fucking sure he was going to die.
“Take it all, you fucking whore!” spat the Dawg, and slapped the girl’s face.
Joey saw the Cow-Boy flinch again and glance at the Dark Man’s booth. Joey looked too, but the Dark Man was sitting easy, not paying the least attention.
Top Dawg was getting louder, aggressively so, probably glaring at the Dark Man the whole time he banged the back of the girl’s throat, but Fat Joey didn’t look. He was horribly afraid that Dawg was going to pass the girl out like a road hag, maybe piss on her at the end he’d done that first time with Cammy. Fat Joey didn’t know how the hell anyone could get it up in the same room with as the Dark Man, but he was pretty sure there were at least a few low dogs willing to try.
Top Dawg finished with a rebel yell and solid slap to the side of the girl’s head, shouting, “Spit it out and you fucking die, you cunt. Suck it down and tell me you love it.”
The girl sputtered.
Dawg kicked her back on her butt and stood up, buckling his jeans again. “Say you love it, cunt!”
The girl spat Dawg’s cum out on the floor and glared at him in silence.
Fat Joey watched Top Dawg finish with his buckle, and then turned to see the Dark Man watching this little scene play out, his eyes in the shadows of his face like slivers of a broken mirror.
Top Dawg smiled, first at the girl, then at the Dark Man, and said the words that sent Joey’s guts to icy churning. “Come and get her, boys.”
Not one of the big dogs moved. Ratchet didn’t even look away from his close study of his hands, and Ratchet’s knuckles where they closed around his bottle of beer were white as marble. The Cow-Boy was showing the whites of his eyes all around like a crazed horse, and he looked as though he might spring up and kick the girl away if Top Dawg nudged her towards him. Fat Joey could taste copper in his mouth; he thought he was tasting an omen of his own death.
There was a low shuffle of movement at the edges of the room. Low dogs and a handful of brothers were circling, aware that the order was disrupted and not sure how to proceed from here. The Pack was all about dominance and Order, with a big ‘o’. Passing out a bitch was done a hundred times and it all went the same way. First Top Dawg sprung her, then the Cow-Boy, Ratchet and Fat Joey. After him, the Pack dogs. Then, and only if the Dawg permitted it, the low dogs got a go. After the bitch was had, there came a christening, either beer or piss, and then she got her collar, and a tag if she was private stock.
The Dark Man was playing the game. He’d given Dawg his girl, or at least, the girl’s mouth. And Dawg had done his part.
Cow-Boy, Ratchet, and Joey were still as death. None of them looked at Dawg. None of them looked at the Dark Man.
Of the road brothers, only Heck, Ross, and Juicer looked anything like enthusiastic. The rest looked downright green. But the low dogs, stupid fuckers to a man, the low dogs were wanting it.
Finally, Heck stepped up to the plate and took careful hold of the girl’s shoulder, almost patting her as he looked queasily back over his shoulder at the Dark Man’s booth. He pulled over a chair, sat down and sprung his stubby cock and waited. The girl glanced around, and the Dark Man held her gaze for a moment before going back to his map. Finally, with a miserable-looking sigh, she latched onto Heck and went to work.
After Heck, there was Juicer, who went as fast he could and went clear over to the other side of the room when he was done, where he sat down at a booth and pulled out his knife in nervous silence. Ross took her next, using her hair for handholds and humping her face, all the while sending swift, ambitious little glances at the Dawg. Hagen was the first of the low dogs, naturally, and he put some effort into it, slapping the girl around a little first and then tossing off in her hair to make Dawg roar laughter. Then there was Shiley, and then Shooter, and then Ross again, who yanked her up by the hair and came on her tits this time, working at the piercings there as he told her to rub it in good, it was good for keeping steel lubed up.
This won the first and only remark from the Dark Man during the entire event, and he did it without ever looking up: “You rip those out and I will pull out your beating heart and show it to you.”
Ross dropped the girl and jumped back, banging into Ratchet’s chair in the process, and Ratchet punched him in the head so fast and so hard that Ross was probably unconscious even before Ratchet’s knuckles left his head. Ross hit the ground and Ratchet stomped on him three times, like a man killing a rattler, his teeth bared and spit flying as he panted, then shoved himself back and went rapidly to the bar for more beer.
No one else moved, and Top Dawg, once more furious, ordered Sue Eye to come over and make the girl eat her out. Sue-Eye flat-out refused, even after she took two rights to the face, but then Rosie Harper came over to the table, plopped herself down on the edge of it and spread her legs so you could see all the way up to the back of her throat.
“Do it,” the Dawg snarled, and when the girl didn’t move, he grabbed her by the hair, pulled her across the floor and shoved her face into Rosie’s sour snatch. “Do it, and you better get her off or I’ll put a boot up your ass!”
The Dark Man looked up for a few seconds, still ignoring the Dawg, but watching his girl work on Rosie for a while before glancing at the door and then returning to his map.
The girl sounded like she was starting to cry. One of her hands curled convulsively into a fist, beating slow and not hard at the table while the other pushed at Rosie’s soft belly. She was trying to struggle back, but she quit when the Dawg punched her, once in each kidney, and after a few more seconds, Rosie announced the girl was munching carpet. Rosie kept a play-by-play to the amusement of the few low dogs still into this scene before finally shivering herself to a good cream, and then Dawg hauled the girl back by the hair and threw her facedown on the center table.
“Come on, Hagen,” he called. “I know you still got some in you! Eating Rosie’s thirsty work!”