They didn’t call her anything but Zayta—or Mistress Zayta, depending on the relationship. If she had a last name, she’d left it somewhere over the ocean, in the nameless Eastern European country from which she hailed. Some people said she was spawned by hell itself and got too strong for the devil. The important thing is where she was now: at the Emerald Lights, the hottest adult club in town working as head bouncer and if you were looking for a fast road to disaster, you were welcome to put her to the test.
Occasionally men did, the drunk and foolish ones, thinking that a tall, lithe brunette with such striking features could never kick ass like a man.
Toby and his fraternity buddy Paulie were two of the drunkest—and the most foolish. They were to receive the lesson of their lives.
Zayta left them tied to a couple of chairs in the basement to sober up before dealing with them. She always did it that way, giving them time to think, time to get good and scared. And they should be scared, too. Technically, this kind of thing could be construed as kidnapping, but it was only for a few hours and in Zayta’s mind, they had it coming.
They’d broken the rules big time by trying to grab one of the dancers, a little blonde who could hardly defend herself. Zayta had two assistants, but as usual, she would do the heavy work herself. Few men, even the tough ones she hired could keep up with her. One of them, in fact, would be fired by the end of the session for failing to keep up with the woman’s strenuous demands.
To begin with, Zayta took the pair of fraternity boys into custody. As always, she struck like lightning. She had several black belts and she’d served in a unit of the armed forces in her former homeland known ominously as the Black Wing.
Toby, the redheaded young man had moved for the dancer first. Zayta came out of nowhere and twisted his arm up behind his back.
“Don’t fight this,” was her advice, her accent thick and guttural. “Or I’ll snap you in two right here.”
For the most part her English was quite good, though on occasion she confused her idioms. The results could be comical, not that anyone dared laugh at her.
Upon Zayta’s command, one of the assistants immediately put him in plastic cuffs and took him downstairs to the basement holding room. Meanwhile Zayta grabbed the other one by the back of the neck in an iron grip. Paulie grimaced and went down on his knees. He’d been trying to touch the dancer in imitation of Toby and had likewise failed.
Zayta bent her head to speak to Paulie, quietly enough for only him to hear. “You made a mistake. Before you go home, you will beg to lick this stripper’s ass, but you’ll lick your friend’s instead. Now I suggest you come with me very quietly or I will make you regret the day you were ever born to your miserable whore of a mother.”
He was too shocked to resist. Downstairs he went, to the waiting empty chair. Toby was wide eyed in fear, already secured to a chair next to it. Zayta laughed, seeing he’d pissed his pants. “Big man,” she mocked. “Not so big now.”
“My father has money, please,” said Toby, sensing the trouble they were in. “Let us go.”
Her laugh chilled the blood of all within hearing range. “Your father’s money won’t help here.” She tied Paulie down. “You will go when I say. Not before. Feel free to scream, by the way, the walls are sound proved.”
Sound proof, she meant to say.
With that, she left them, taking care to turn off the lights on her way out. To her satisfaction, she heard whimpering from inside as she bolted closed the door.
It was well after two in the morning when she returned with her two assistants, Niko and Gray. Niko was a former wrestler, stone faced with icy eyes. Gray was quiet with silver hair, slighter of build, but merciless in a clutch.
“How are my guests getting along?” Zayta asked, turning the lights back on.
The pair squinted in the harsh light. Both had soiled their pants by now. They looked haggard to say the least.
“Let us...go,” Toby said attempting to sound fierce.
Zayta strode up to him. She wore black leather pants, a tight leather jacket and high heeled black boots. Her long hair hung in a braid down her back. Though she wore no makeup, her cheeks were finely chiseled and defined, lending her an air of regal, if ice cold beauty. “Or else what?”
Toby pulled back in the seat, wanting no part of her games. “Stay away from me,” he declared.
She grabbed his hair in her hand. “Why should I? You show no respect for the women here, so I give to you none in return.”
He gritted his teeth, powerless to stop her as she tore open his shirt, sending the buttons flying. “Untie this one here,” she pointed. “Let’s see what use we can find for his mouth.”
Toby was quickly released. Zayta ordered him to strip naked. He was too frightened to disobey.
“Hands on your head,” Zayta snapped when he tried to cover his crotch.
“Wh—what are you going to do?” Toby asked as she put on a pair of Latex gloves.
“You will speak when spoken with, little man,” Zayta slapped him crisply. “Is that clear?”
“Y—yes.” There was a red mark on his face.
“Don’t you say yes to me,” she fumed. “It is always ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ you little worm.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he croaked, trying to avoid further punishment.
Zayta grabbed his cock. He protested with a moan, a mix of joy and distress. “Do you like being touched against your will?” she wanted to know.
He shook his head no.
“Neither do the dancers, you bad little boy.” She masturbated him, making him shudder. Toby quickly lost track of everything with the exception of what she was doing, running her hand up and down his thick, purple and red rod, the rubbery material squeaking ever so slightly.