He pauses and his fingers run up my thighs and around my clit, briefly, too briefly. He moves his hand back and they are replaced by another blow from...the belt- a stinging blow in my most sensitive spot. I moan as the pain fades into pleasure, and desire. The belt comes down again, this time gently, the leather running over my tender, aching skin. It rubs over my clitoris- oh yesss- and again, sliding over the wetness of my desire for him. “Oh baby” he mutters, and pushes the tip of the belt. ‘There’s a tradition here at Gibbey’s. On your second night, you have to tell the bartender your name or buy him a drink.’ ‘A tradition, huh? I’ll bet.’ ‘How about if I just say I like to know who’s sitting at my bar then?’ ‘You can say it if you want to.’ Apparently, she wanted to be left alone, so he walked back to the tap and wiped down the bar. Dave, the bouncer and stock boy, brought in a couple of cases of beer to restock the ice tub. He nodded his head toward the end of the bar. ‘You. More

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