Author: bluest bell
Title: Your Night is Mine
Summary: A female security consultant gives a male thief a night to remember.
Keywords: MF, Fdom, reluc, exhib, bd, humil, rim, oral, cfnm

Your Night is Mine
by bluest bell (bluestbell@gmail.com)
(C) July, 2014

	Fireworks burst in the night sky 
overhead and a menagerie of costumed men and 
women push past me on the crowded street. 
The inebriated celebrants shy away and let 
me pass when I glare them down with my 
practiced 'Do Not Fuck With Me' face. It 
takes quite a lot of practice to get it 
right when you're a five-foot-six woman. I 
scan the crowd and regain sight of you as 
you turn down a wide stairway and into an 
underground concourse. My lips can't help 
but curl up in a smile.

	Your night was mine the moment you 
decided to cheat in my casino. I may not own 
the glittering gaming halls of the Peixe 
Voador, but as a security consultant, it's 
part of my job to consider the casino's 
possessions my own. At least when a swindler 
tries to take them from me.

	It's lucky for you, in a way, that it 
was just me watching the camera feed at 
table fifteen when you palmed the dice and 
threw your own on a big bet. Your plan was 
obvious. Win one big bet and then fuck off 
into the impossible nighttime revelry of 
Carnival. Loaded dice get noticed quickly. 
With the press of a button I sent a silent 
alert to the table dealer to cycle the dice 
and play it cool. I was impressed by your 
balls, as you stayed put with your pile of 
chips, maybe to lose a few small bets to 
cover your ass. I zoomed the camera in. Your 
tight, juicy ass. You were dressed as any 
young man out for fun, a black shirt open 
down the front showing off your shaved, tan 
chest, and black pants. My plan for your 
evening formed quickly, and I felt a quiver 
between my legs.

	Just as I predicted, three losing bets 
later you made a pouty show of 
disappointment and slipped away from the 
table with your mountain of coins. I 
observed with mirth as you cashed out at the 
cage with your eyes darting around, 
betraying your guilt. Some might say to get 
you before you changed your chips, but I 
know that Peixe Voador chips are traded at 
near face value on the street, and besides, 
I had other plans. Slinging my nylon 
security messenger bag over my shoulder I 
let the casino staff know I was going to 
head out and handle a situation.

	Stepping out onto the crowded street I 
saw you smoothly mix in with the crowd, a 
fattened leather case hanging off one 
shoulder, but you made a mistake heading 
into that concourse.

	As I step down into the concrete 
throughway the sounds of the street quickly 
become muted and distant. Before me, the 
long underground concourse stretches 
forward, a fifty-foot wide concrete paving-
stone path. The path is bisected by a line 
of columns, each about four feet in 
diameter, supporting the middle of the 
ceiling all the way down the concourse. The 
way is lined on the south side with boutique 
shops. The shops are closed at this hour, 
and the lights on that side of the path are 
shut off, with only a few logo displays and 
emergency exit signs still glowing. The 
north side is brightly lit for after-hours 
foot traffic.

	There are few people walking the 
concourse at the moment, however. Two aged 
women in bright and fluffy frocks, a 
security man in his brown shirt with gold 
piping, two young men holding a third young 
man upright after a little too much good 
cheer. Far too much excitement in the height 
of the celebration to be down here.

	My heels click-clack pointedly as I 
walk with purpose across the smooth paving 
stones. I see you conspicuously strolling at 
a leisurely pace about a hundred yards down 
the concourse as the security man passes by. 
My tight black pinstripe pantsuit swishes 
with my accelerated gait. I notice you're 
not carrying your leather case. Perhaps 
you've stashed it, perhaps you're worried. 
You're right to be worried.

	A loud beep-beep issues from the 
security man's radio and a string of garbled 
Portuguese flows from it. The man stops and 
slowly turns around in place, casting his 
eyes about while speaking into the radio. I 
notice you hesitate, then keep walking. The 
security man's radio barks and the man turns 
around and begins quickly jogging in your 
direction. I smile inwardly as you nearly 
dive into the darkness of the closed 
shopping area to avoid him. The security man 
turns his head and excuses himself as he 
never breaks pace passing you on his way to 
the other end of the concourse.

	As I approach, you are sitting in the 
dark on a concrete bench a few feet away 
from the lighted path.

	I sit down, my suit pants stretching 
around my ample ass.

	"Bad night?" I ask in my limited 
Portuguese.

	You seem startled at first, but smile 
at me and answer in heavily accented 
English, "Ah, yes, very rough night."

	I smile right back and switch to 
English, "I believe it might be about to get 
worse. There is security at both ends of 
this concourse," I bluff, "Private security. 
And I am private security at the Peixe 
Voador. We have you on camera."

	Your eyes widen and your head turns to 
peer at the security man still jogging away 
down the path. I can sense you're a flight 
risk.

	"Private security. The police have not 
been called. I believe we can handle this 
right here," I speak as my eyes drill into 
yours and I slide my ass toward you on the 
glossy smooth bench to place a firm hand on 
your forearm, "We will simply require our 
money back. As you'll never be stepping into 
our casino again, we have no problem letting 
you go as you'll only be stealing from our 
competition."

	Your arm tenses in my grip but you 
remain still. I lean close, wrap my other 
arm around your back to clasp my hand around 
your free arm, and breathily whisper in your 
ear, "Trust me. It's better this way."

	You sigh and I can feel your body 
slowly relax. You nod your head, haltingly.

	"Good. Now we'll have to take this step 
by step, but don't worry, you'll be free to 
go when we finish," I explain as I pull your 
arms behind you and smoothly pull my short 
handcuffs from the security bag, "First 
things first, I need to search you, 
understand?"

	"Yes," you say, your eyes forward and 
resigned as I cuff your hands behind your 
back. I nudge you to stand, pick up my bag 
and, with my hand on your bicep, lead you 
forward, further into the dark side of the 
concourse.

	"For privacy," I say. As my eyes adjust 
I see we are in front of an exercise club 
and an expensive sport outfitter. Lean 
mannequins model sports bras and yoga pants 
in the shop window. Outside the shop and 
club are two polished concrete statues on 
raised dais. One a male soccer player at the 
apogee of a bicycle kick, the other a female 
skier in the half-crouched downhill 
position.

	I lay my bag on the ground as you 
stand, slightly bowed, clearly uncertain as 
to what's going to happen next. You glance 
furtively at me as I approach you, my hips 
swaying as my heels click on the paving 
stones. I slide my hand along the small of 
your back and let it rest on your side. 
"Relax," I whisper in your ear, and give 
your side a gentle squeeze. My word seems to 
have the opposite effect as I slowly sweep 
my hands over your shoulders and across your 
torso. I can feel your heart nearly pounding 
out of your smooth shaved chest. I can't 
help but murmur my approval. You begin to 
breath through your mouth as my hands work 
their way down your unbuttoned shirt and 
find your nipples. I smile and look you 
straight in the eyes as I flare out your 
shirt and tweak both hard nubs at once.

	Your eyes widen with sudden revelation 
and it's clear you're unsure how to feel 
about this turn of events. "Don't worry," I 
coyly state as I draw you close to me, my 
fingers tightly gripping your nipples, "I 
just need to find out what you've got 
hidden."

	I caress your smooth chest and undo the 
last few buttons on your black silk shirt. I 
let it hang open as I trace a line down 
across your stomach. Moving to your left 
side I slip my right hand up the back of 
your shirt and rest it on the small of your 
back. My left hand briefly grazes your bared 
belly with my fingertips. I'd scratch you, 
but long nails just won't do for security 
work. My breasts press into your left arm 
and side as I flatten my left hand and press 
my fingers under your belt and down the 
front of your pants. I feel the elastic 
waistband of your briefs and purse my lips.

	"These won't do," I whisper, my hot 
breath in your ear, "This search requires 
total access."

	I swiftly retrieve a thick pair of 
shears, used for cutting zip ties, from my 
security bag. I roughly pull you close by 
your belt, cowing you with my gaze. Reaching 
into your pants at your side I grab the 
elastic of your briefs and quickly snip them 
apart before spinning you in place to cut 
the other side. I slip my hand under your 
waistband and curtly rip your ruined briefs 
up and out of your pants. I hold them before 
you momentarily, smiling, then ball them up 
and throw them toward the lit half of the 
concourse. They come to rest near the 
concrete bench.

	Returning to your side my hands resume 
their search. My left hand resumes its 
search beneath your waistline as I pull you 
close, pressing our bodies together with my 
right arm. My left hand slowly surveys your 
pubic area. I nearly come in my moistening 
panties when I realize you are totally 
shaven. Lizard smooth from belt-line to 
balls.

	"Hot date tonight?" I rasp as I wrap my 
fingers around your cock. A weak grunt is 
all that escapes your lips as I gently 
squeeze your shaft. Your hot, smooth member 
quickly rising to attention. I softly slide 
my fingers in a ring up and down your 
throbbing, rigid cock. I can feel your body 
tense and release as I touch you. I grasp 
your balls and cup them against your groin 
possessively. I quietly growl in Portuguese 
in your ear, "Tonight, your body is mine."

	I continue to stroke your hard dick as 
we begin to hear the ribald voices of a few 
party-goers starting down the concourse. Our 
backs are facing the brightly lit portion of 
the walkway, and anyone looking into the 
darkness would be hard-pressed to see much 
beyond the line separating the light and 
dark. Even still, the group of young men and 
woman laugh and their giggles echo loudly 
against the concrete walls as they pass by.

	Your body stiffens as my right hand 
drifts from your side and slides down into 
your pants, coming to rest on your ass 
cheek. Squeezing and kneading your smooth, 
tight butt, I cross my leg over yours and 
softly grind my crotch against your upper 
thigh. The fabrics swish with my lewd 
motion.

	"Don't worry, my prize," I whisper, "I 
take care of my possessions."

	In a fluid motion I place my hand 
between the cheeks of your ass and slide my 
fingers down to your asshole. Your sudden 
inward breath ignites a massive quiver 
between my legs, and I can't help but press 
my pussy harder onto your thigh. My left 
hand strokes your lovely cock from the stone 
hard base up to the plump head. I make a 
cage of my fingers and lightly caress the 
head and tip of your shaft with my 
fingertips. As I rub lightly on the 
sensitive underside of your cockhead, I 
slide a finger swiftly up your asshole.

	You gasp and tremble, clearly confused 
at the dual sensations. I am careful to be 
gentle with your ass as I slowly move my 
finger, feeling your inner passage, and 
claiming it for my own. For several minutes 
we remain embraced just so, your shuddering 
waves of new experience radiating directly 
into my crotch as I stroke your cock and 
slowly finger-fuck your asshole.

	A few blissful moments later I slowly, 
ever so slowly, remove my finger from your 
anus. I stand upright, still gripping your 
rigid cock, and lead you towards one of the 
thick concrete columns further in the 
darkness. Circling around to the rear of the 
column I release your dick and press your 
face to the hard, cold, polished masonry. I 
unlock your handcuffs for but a brief moment 
and I can see the momentary confusion in 
your eyes. Smiling, I quickly and roughly 
pull your arms around the column and re-cuff 
your wrists. You grunt and your hands splay 
open to plead with me, but I am not one for 
mercy. Without payment, that is.

	I circle back around, behind you now, 
and thrust my hand between your legs, 
roughly grasping your balls through your 
thin pants. I slide my hand back and up, my 
fingers plunging deeply between your ass 
cheeks as they travel, and come to rest on 
your belt. I pull up hard, and hear the 
stitching of your inseam strain and pop. You 
stiffen again, in that cute way you do, as I 
squat down behind you. My left hand snakes 
around to wrench the belt unbuckled. I pull 
it off swiftly and several of your belt 
loops rip. The belt jangles as I throw it 
aside.

	Pressing your pants against your firm 
butt, I softly kiss each of your ass cheeks 
through the fabric. I smile as I grasp each 
side of the waistband and violently pull 
outwards. The front button pops off and 
clicks against the column and the floor. I 
giggle involuntarily as your zipper flap 
quickly rips away. I continue to pull on 
your waistband and the tear continues far 
down your crotch and inseam.

	I let the ruined remnants of your pants 
fall to the floor around your ankles as I 
playfully tickle the inside of your thigh, 
"Doesn't that feel better?"

	Your flush face, pressed against the 
column, your eyes shut, tells me all I want 
to know. I quickly remove the remaining 
tatters of your pants, as well as your shoes 
and socks, as I tease your smooth legs. I 
stand and fling your shoes far down the 
concourse. They clatter across the floor, 
drawing inquisitive looks from passersby in 
the lit walkway.

	After slipping out of my jacket, I slap 
my hands against your asscheeks as I quickly 
squat back down, my knees apart as I balance 
on my sharp heels. I spread your cheeks 
widely. A grunt escapes my throat as I see 
your perfect rosebud asshole, and I thrust 
my face into your ass.

	I hear a gasp as I press the tip of my 
sinuous tongue through your clenching anus 
and begin to explore the pulsing velvet 
passage of your asshole. My slit drips with 
excitement as your anus squeezes my tongue. 
My lips are wide and sealed against the rim 
of your anal opening. I snake my tongue in 
and out, caressing your muscled inner walls.  
Drool begins to leak from the sides of my 
mouth and flow downwards, dousing the collar 
of my striped shirt. I grip the soft cheeks 
of your ass and spread them ever wider. I 
press further inwards and suck gently on the 
virgin skin of your asshole as your anus 
spasms around my long, wet, probing tongue. 
I hear your fingernails scrape across 
concrete as you embrace the column ever more 
tightly.

	I tongue you lavishly for many long, 
wet minutes. Garishly dressed party-goers 
continue to walk by in the glaring light of 
the main throughway. Some stumble with 
drunken smiles and some stare off into the 
darkness towards our direction. Almost as if 
they know that there is a man in the 
blackness giving himself and his delicious 
ass to me.

	I release my hold on your asscheeks and 
they envelop my face as my tongue continues 
to slide in and out of your tight anus. I 
caress your inner thighs and find your cock 
erect and straining against the column. I 
move my hands back and find your balls 
tight. I coax them with my fingers and 
gently tug until they loosen up. I feel your 
hot scrotum resting against my saliva-slick 
chin. My tongue retreats from your asshole 
and I cannot resist wrapping it around each 
hanging ball before sucking them into my 
warm mouth one at a time. As I suckle your 
balls, my right hand strokes your cock up 
and down and my left hand has found its way 
between my spread legs to rub my aching sex 
through the fabric of my crotch.

	I tongue your balls until they are 
fairly dripping with my saliva. A dark spot 
is slowly spreading from between my legs and 
my ankles are beginning to tremble with the 
strain of balancing on my heels. I look 
about our perfect surroundings as I lick my 
lips, savoring the salty, sweaty taste of 
your balls. An idea flashes in my head. 
After first kissing the back of your 
scrotum, I lick up and up, over your pulsing 
asshole and up through the cleft of your 
asscheeks as I stand.

	"I want you to enjoy this as much as I 
am," I whisper into your ear, "let's see if 
we can find you some action."

	Unlocking the handcuffs, I remove your 
shirt and drop it onto the ground. I push 
you away from the column and toward one of 
the concrete statues. The female skier. As 
we walk I see you stare out at the 
increasing traffic in the lit concourse. The 
statue is polished concrete and slightly 
larger than life. It is shaped like a 
downhill skier in the tuck position, her 
knees bent and her rear end raised up. The 
carved form is well-cut, and the skier's 
skin-tight suit follows each curve of her 
athletic legs and butt. The figure is on a 
dais two steps high. As we circle to the 
rear, the statue's enlarged proportions are 
evident as her ample ass and thick, toned 
thighs are thrust towards us. Towards you, I 
mean.

	"Here's your date, love," I say as I 
push you up the steps. You hesitate on top 
of the dais, clearly uncertain. I wrap my 
fingers around your cock. "She's all for 
you," I rasp as I jerk you roughly, "look at 
that glorious ass. Time to get in there."

	I press you forward and carefully place 
your dick between the cool glossy-polished 
thighs of the crouching statue. I push your 
chest over the big ass of the skier and 
drape your naked body over the statue's 
lower back. I pull your arms forward and re-
cuff your wrists over the breasts of the 
figure. I cup my hand and give your ass a 
hard, loud, slap. Your hips jerk, pressing 
futilely into rear of the statue's groin.

	Squatting down behind you, I drag my 
fingernails up the back of your legs, 
watching from below as your cock twitches 
against the glossy smooth inner thighs of 
the skier. I kiss the back of your thighs 
while my fingers slowly spread the cheeks of 
your ass once again. Your buttocks clench 
sharply as my tongue enters you with renewed 
vigor. I can sense your pleasure by the way 
your anus accepts my long, thrusting tongue. 
In and out, I tongue-fuck your asshole with 
abandon. You move your feet apart to grant 
me easier access. I groan my approval into 
your rear end. I place my hands on the 
insides of your knees and press outward, 
widening your stance even further. 

	Withdrawing from your anus, my slick 
tongue explores up the crack of your ass and 
then downwards to the area between your 
balls and asshole, kissing and teasing. From 
my low vantage I see your hands gripping the 
skier's chest, your knuckles whitening. 
Returning my tongue back home, back to your 
incredible asshole, I redouble my efforts. I 
open my mouth wide and snake my tongue in 
and out as deeply as I can. I hear you groan 
into the concrete skier as you rise on your 
tiptoes, aiding my velvet assault.

	The foot-traffic in the concourse has 
increased ten-fold as the festivities begin 
to wind down on the street and heat up in 
the private homes and clubs. A steady stream 
of tourists and sequin-costumed parade 
participants walks by, and from time to time 
a particularly wayward celebrant strays into 
the dark half of the mall. These individuals 
either stare straight ahead, intent on 
remaining standing, or else gaze glassily 
our way, letting out a salubrious whoop as 
they raise their mostly empty cups in our 
direction. Your head faces firmly away from 
those who may look, whereas each passing 
witness makes the wet patch on my pants grow 
ever larger. Though from the way your cock 
twitches upward, lightly tap-tapping on the 
crotch of your concrete lover, I can tell, 
despite your protest, that the audience is 
doing something for you, too.

	 I stand and retrieve my security bag. 
Taking out four zip-ties, I unclasp the 
handcuffs keeping you mated to the feminine 
statue. I walk you around to the front of 
the skier and stand close to your chest. My 
covered breasts graze your sweat-slicked 
skin and my lips nearly touch yours as I 
gaze straight into your eyes. I see a mix of 
confusion, fear, and expectation in them, 
and it nearly makes me come on the spot. I 
place my hands on your shoulders and push 
down hard. You reluctantly submit, still 
staring into my eyes as you slowly lower 
down, down to the ground.

	On your back, I prod you to slide 
underneath the statue. I position you with 
your head directly underneath the ass and 
crotch of the exaggerated form, your body 
lying flat between the widely separated 
legs. With a gentle grip I hold each of your 
wrists to the skier's boots and zip-tie them 
snugly. I rake my fingernails down your legs 
and over your knees before taking one ankle 
in my hand. You resist at first, then relent 
as I raise your leg up and to the side, zip-
tying it above your hand on the skier's 
foot. I move to the other side and secure 
your other leg in the same way. I stand and 
enjoy the view. You lay, totally exposed, 
your smooth-shaven dick, balls, and asshole 
presented to me.

	I kneel down on the dais and crawl 
toward you on my hands and knees. My ass 
sways side to side as I move forward across 
the raised concrete floor and I smile 
devilishly as I state my intentions, "Now 
you're going to cum. You're going to cum in 
my throat."

	Your cock stands at attention as I 
arrive at your upturned crotch. I kiss your 
soft inner thighs as I work my way to your 
smooth, round balls. I open my mouth wide 
and take them both in my mouth, sucking 
gently as I tug them. I feel the pulse of 
your excitement as your balls contract and 
relax against my tongue. My drool drips and 
slickens your crotch.

	I leave your balls and move downward 
for yet another assault on your exquisite 
asshole. As I rim your ass I clasp my 
forefinger and thumb in a ring around the 
drool-slick base of your ballsack and pull 
lightly upward. I watch as your cock hardens 
to iron. I trail my tongue from your 
asshole, over your straining balls, and up 
the shaft of your dick. I draw my tongue in 
until my closed lips are against the pulsing 
head of your cock.

      Saliva drips down over you. I purse my 
lips together and press my head down into 
your crotch. Your cock pierces my gripping 
lips and slowly slides into my mouth. My 
tongue presses against you as your cock 
continues its journey. As your cock is 
halfway in, I reverse direction and draw my 
tight lips back up over your cockhead. I 
begin to suck you in once more. As I again 
tug lightly on your ballsack I feel a 
telltale stiffening in your shaft. I pull 
your cock out of my mouth and smile as your 
hips buck with desperation. With a final 
pull on your tightening balls, I open my 
lips and plunge your cock deep into my 
throat.
      
	 I gag slightly as I feel your cockhead 
slam into the back of my mouth but I am far 
too horny to let go. I spasm in the throes 
of orgasm as I feel the first spurts of your 
cum down my hungry throat. I rub my clit 
through my pantsuit with my right hand as my 
left continues to pull at your balls 
lovingly. Your cum fills my stomach as we 
both finish in ecstasy.

	As I pick up your ruined clothing I 
leave you naked and zip-tied to the statue, 
your face directly underneath its concrete 
sex. You give me hilariously worried looks 
as I pack my things into my security bag. I 
approach with your lone item of intact 
clothing: Your shirt. Kneeling down, I wrap 
your shirt around your crotch like a tiny 
sarong.

	"Beautiful, just beautiful," I giggle 
as I clip the zip-ties. You gingerly rise to 
your feet. I see a flicker of hope flash 
across your eyes before I once again grasp 
your wrists and clasp the cuffs around them. 
"Oh let's not have any delusions," I rasp, 
licking my lips, "let's go get that money, 
shall we?"

***

Comments appreciated! bluestbell@gmail.com