2. The Bench
THE BENCH
Dirty Dick’s was a seedy club, living up to its name. It sat near the docks, between two dilapidated warehouses and behind a squat building of unidentifiable purpose. It looked like a place where you could score drugs or lose a kidney.
When a beautiful young omega entered on a Thursday afternoon, every eye in the room watched him make his way to the bar.
“Can I speak with the owner?” he asked the bartender. The man stared with his mouth open, then he jabbed his thumb to the left.
A tall, bearded alpha rose from behind the counter. He wore an open checkered shirt over a dirty tank top, revealing a sizable belly. He wiped his hands on a rag and leaned over the countertop. His beady eyes ate up the omega with undisguised lust.
“That’s me. How can I help you, gorgeous?”
The owner’s name was Robert Emanuel Shortle, but he went by Big Bobby.
He’d run the underground club for nearly a decade and had gained quite a reputation.
Balancing just on the edge of what was legal, he offered the raunchiest, riskiest entertainment and services, everything from BDSM live shows to private orgies.
Compared to the more upscale establishments downtown, the performers at Dirty Dick’s were exposed.
There was no separate stage and no security.
Just a circle in the middle of the room made up of alphas who were used to touching and taking whatever and whenever they wanted.
“I’m looking for work,” the omega said, pasting on his most seductive smile.
Big Bobby licked his lips, his eyes on the boy’s nipples in the transparent top. “I don’t need more personnel.”
“That’s not the kind of gig I’m after. I do live performances.”
Big Bobby threw the rag into a sink and rounded the bar.
“Follow me to my office.”
The cramped back room held a torn faux leather sofa, two metal chairs, and a narrow window, barred for security.
The air was thick with the stench of stale cigarette smoke and mold.
Only the desk was impressive, a solid piece of carved wood—left behind from the golden old days when this place served as an illegal gambling joint.
Big Bobby sat behind the desk and folded his arms on top of his belly. His uninterested sneer was fake. He was drooling into his beard.
“Your name?”
“Valentino.” Yes, he kept the name he’d given himself the other night. Sentimental? Maybe. He liked it. “You can call me Tino.”
“And exactly what kind of performances do you do, Tino?”
“Anything from solo with toys to gang bangs. I’ve heard you recently purchased a very nice breeding bench. I’d like to try it out for an hour.”
It took Big Bobby a few frantic heartbeats to sort through the lewd images in his head. Tino could see them as clearly as if they were his own thoughts. The alpha was a simple man, easy to read. He swallowed thickly. “When?”
“Tomorrow.”
The chair squeaked as Big Bobby shifted and adjusted his dick. “I won’t have time for promo. I can’t offer you more than five hundred.”
For a gang bang? Tino could get more for one blowjob downtown. But money wasn’t why he was here—his reason for playing this game was entirely other.
“I’m leaving on Saturday and need at least two thousand.”
Big Bobby opened a pack of cigarettes and lit one. “You’re pretty. Why don’t you go whoring in the business district if you want that kind of money?”
Tino smirked. “That’s boring.”
“Seven hundred, but you’ll do two hours. I’ll be there the entire time, making sure nobody gets too rough.” He sounded about as convincing as a used-car salesman.
Tino pretended to think about it.
Then he stood and unzipped his pants. He lowered them to just under his ass cheeks, angling his ass toward Big Bobby. As he ran his hand over the smooth velvet of his exposed skin, he could smell the alpha’s arousal already.
“I can do two hours,” he said. “For one thousand plus tips.”
The club owner laughed, sounding a little strained. “They’re going to rip your ass to shreds.”
But Tino only smiled prettily over his shoulder. “Is that a promise?”
Big Bobby leaned over the desk and grabbed Tino’s ass cheek. He squeezed and hummed then patted the muscle. Settling back into his chair, he took a drag from his cigarette.
“How about a test ride, huh?” he rasped.
Would he fuck Tino over his desk and kick him out?
But Tino doubted it. He’d come in a sinfully enticing form as a twenty-year-old dark-haired omega with a golden complexion and deep green eyes.
His lips were plump and juicy, and his asshole was like a ripe raspberry.
The alpha would be an idiot to pass on the opportunity to have Tino bound to a bench in his club.
Tino slowly peeled his skin-tight jeans down his legs. He bent over until his fingers touched the floor and showed Big Bobby his smooth crease.
The alpha let out a heavy breath, filling the air with smoke. “Eight hundred, and I can give you twenty percent of the tips.”
Tino scoffed as he turned around. He dragged his tank top over his head and, stark naked, walked around the desk. After sinking to his knees, he ran his hand over the bulge in the alpha’s leather pants.
Big Bobby didn’t get his nickname based on his impressive six-and-a-half-feet, two-hundred-sixty-pounds figure. He was hung like a horse.
He watched avidly as Tino unzipped him and pulled the weapon out.
The giant penis hardened in Tino’s hands. It smelled of sweat and musk. A raw, filthy alpha stench that had Tino’s womb aching. A ladder of piercings adorned the underside. Tino flicked his tongue over a big barbell in the bulging cockhead.
“You tell your patrons it’s my first-ever club performance,” he said, lips moving against Big Bobby’s slit. “You take ten bucks for a kiss on my asshole. Then you auction off the first fuck.” He mouthed the crown and suckled softly.
Big Bobby pressed his cigarette into the ashtray on his desk and fisted Tino’s hair. “Keep going.”
Tino lifted his head, struggling against the pressure of Big Bobby’s hand on his scalp. “For the second half, you open me up with a womb wand and take as much as you think your patrons will pay per breeding.”
With a groan, the alpha pressed Tino’s head down.
“Outside heat? That’ll hurt.” He sounded excited. Eager.
Tino would have replied, but Big Bobby grabbed his head with both hands and thrust up, forcing his humongous cock into Tino’s throat. The piercings massaged Tino’s tongue most deliciously. Tino’s lips were about to split at the corners, his jaw aching. He gagged then sucked hard, humming.
“Fuck, you’re a horny bitch, aren’t you?”
The salty tang of alpha precum clung to the roof of his mouth.
Tino was playing with fire.
But he needed to feed, dammit.
Ever since that night when he almost drained the esteemed Sir Oswald Sandoval, he couldn’t find satisfaction.
He’d seduced a virgin alpha, a nerdy college student who had come like a fountain five times.
He’d hidden in a sex club dark room overnight, feeding off everything that happened there during eight hours of debauchery.
He’d even found a couple of dragon shifters, two alphas with insatiable libidos, and spent the weekend in their bed, getting double-dicked with those gorgeous, ridged cocks.
Yet he was still hungry. Was he sick? Demons didn’t get sick.
A gang bang at Dirty Dick’s was his last resort. The basest, filthiest sexual energy concentrated in one place, all for him, at once. He could see those frustrated, angry alphas in his mind. He’d bring out their most violent urges, and they’d take it all out on him. They’d fill him to the brim.
That kind of energy would keep an incubus afloat for months. Getting it all at once he risked losing his cool and changing forms on the breeding bench. Which would mean immediate mayhem and extensive damage control afterward. Would he risk it?
But what was he supposed to do? He’d tried everything. Every meal he’d had over the past few weeks had left him starving for more. If this plan didn’t work out, he might as well join a convent.
Big Bobby loosened his hold on Tino’s hair. “Give me your ass, bitch.”
With a teasing lick up the pierced underside, Tino let go of the massive dick. He slowly stood and leaned on the edge of the desk.
“I want five hundred now and five hundred tomorrow, then thirty percent of all the extra money I’ll bring in.”
He lifted one knee onto the desk, opened his crease, and pushed with his ass. His tiny hole flared open. The scent of his slick must have assaulted Big Bobby right in his face because the alpha let out a painful groan. His arousal washed over Tino, sparkling and crackling on his skin.
That’s better.
The chair scraped over the linoleum floor. One coarse hand grabbed Tino’s ass cheek, and a blunt cockhead prodded his hole.
“You’re one expensive whore.”
Tino smirked then sighed when the girthy dick stretched his hole open and inched inside, the balls of the piercings popping in two at a time.
“Don’t overdo it,” he teased. “You want me to look virginal tomorrow, don’t you?”
In lieu of a reply, Big Bobby thrust forward, ramming his horse dick into Tino’s slender body as deep as it would go.
It hurt, but Tino was merely aware of the pain—he didn’t truly feel it. His human form was experiencing pain while his demonic soul drank the alpha’s lust. Tino’s lips curved up into a happy smile.
“I need to make sure you can take it, boy.” Big Bobby growled, dragging his cock out slowly. “Hours on a bench. You better like it hard.”
The piercings rubbed the front wall of Tino’s hole. The pain abated quickly, and on a river of slick, pleasure took over.
Tino moaned. “Mmhmm. Yeah. Fuck, you’re huge.” It was the cheapest line ever, and it always worked.
Big Bobby purred contentedly. “I’m paying hundreds for a quick fuck over my desk. You’re lucky I’m feeling generous.”