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Swish, yank, tie. There, that ought to secure the boots. The corset would have to do with some of its thongs undone, until she could find someone else to do the honors (or undo, she snorted in her mind).

The moon was just perfect – an angry red, looking like it had a patch on. You know… the kind of moon that throws bad things in a good light because it’s light itself is up to no good. Bad line, but that’s what she was full of these days and what people hurled at her day after day.

No more though. Tonight, she would do the hurling. Good, self-respecting women who work themselves into a fit ought to get something out of it, at the very least. Now that ought to be made into one of those oft-heard sodden rules of life, she nodded emphatically.

Dressed like a slash of the black night itself, the brown-haired thunderstorm kicked her secret motorbike to life and sped towards the first dive bar she could find.

A couple of seedy bars with seedier men and women later, she stumbled upon the one woman she had hoped to sharpen her nails against someday. The right woman rubbing herself along the wrong man. It was a good night to make the wretched thing experience that ‘someday’.

Oh no, no, no sugar pie, this man is marked out. Maybe I ought to get down to performing some serious territory-marking to stress my point tonight, she thought.

She strode up to the couple at the bar and yanked the wretched woman from the man by her hair. POW! Take that punch bitch. Everyone in the bar stared at the transformed woman who entered the bar tonight, wondering where her pastel dresses and sensible shoes had disappeared.

The red-faced, tacky, frock-clad hag (okay, she was beautiful, in an un-extraordinary way though) screamed in pain, fit to shrivel the balls of all the men gathered there. Hah! That ought to show the men what ‘actually’ rubs against their lusty loins in such places.

The frock-clad bitch gathered her lousy and minimal wits and took a swing at our girl. Too much drink on the swinger’s part and exceptional (and comparatively sober) reflexes on the opponent’s part tends to result in gravity taking over.

Tramp down, our girl still up. Game over. The bar settled back with disappointment and contempt for the frock-clad trollop. The cat-fight ended too soon in their none-too-honest opinions.

Turning her attention towards the man of the night, our vixen grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to his feet. Yanking him by the hand she strode out of the bar as silently as she walked into it, with each eye in it noting their departure.

The motorbike was parked a good way off, close to the brush nearby. Some sparse trees dotted a land otherwise bristling with bush. Somewhere in the distance, a cougar wailed. For its mate perhaps? She sure wasn’t wailing for her’s tonight.

What you playing at sugar, drawled the fellow. Whatever it is, I like it. I would like it even more if you demonstrated your point at length.

She slapped him, straight and hard. Do not piss me off buster. I’m roaring for a great ripping and I would appreciate it if you would just shut the fuck up and do as I say.

She took out the leather thongs from her back pocket and tied his hands to the tree she had shoved him against.

Hey! What the…mmmf… (You can’t really talk when a hot woman is kissing you like she wants to melt your body and reshape it now, can you?).

She shrugged her denim jacket off, the cold night air instantly perking her up some more. Her butt tautened as she raised one leg to curl around his hip and inched towards his mouth. Grind, nip, bite. The poor sod moaned in frustration.

She unzipped him and he groaned some more.

Come on baby, untie me and let me show you what these hands can do with that fine body of yours.

I said shut (bite) the (bite) fuck (nick) up! And she took him in her cool hands.

They didn’t stay cool for too long.

Stay put buster and beg for me, she ordered as she slowly worked her one hand down his length. The other was engaged in snipping the buttons off his shirt, one by one.

Her hot tongue paid equal and close attention to his nipples and his length. The stays in her lacy corset unraveled a bit more, her ripped skirt climbed higher. Twin hints of pert, pale cheeks flashed him a mocking grin.

He groaned some more and clenched his hands harder against the trunk.

What? No wisecracks now? Cat got your tongue? Ha ha… now that’s a nice line to use in this situation.

Stop talking woman and give me more of that hot tongue.

She undressed. Corset, gone. Skirt, down. Bare flesh clothed in nothing but the red moon’s dark light, she stood before him with her legs apart.

Why? So that I’m another notch? No chance honey… I’m not one of the tulips you deflower every second night. You lost that chance anyway.

Maybe I should leave you panting and hanging for once hmm? Leave you tied to this tree, free for the taking of anyone and anything that comes for a late night piss in the brush.

Mmm… is that panic I see in your eyes? Now why don’t you make things sweeter for me and do some interesting begging and pleading?

He didn’t get a chance to. She shoved herself against him and clutching his smooth, shaggy hair began kissing him with a fierce fury.

She was slick with want, there was no doubt about it and he was clearly aching to touch her where she was slickest. It didn’t make things any easier when she showed him how very wet she was.

She growled in his ears. Want that do you? How badly now…

Goddamn you! Show me some mercy here. You have no idea how hot you look right about now and how badly I want to touch you.

You want to touch me? Are my rakes and claws and bites not enough to show you I have no mercy to spare tonight?

She sighed. Greedy, greedy man… here.

Sweet mother of screechin’ Satan! She raised her eyes at the oath he roared as she impaled herself upon him. No time to think when she was being filled fit to tear.

She was either too tight or he was too big. Oh but sweet, sweet fuckin’ sweet feeling, she mentally exclaimed, don’t go away yet!

She dug her nails into his waist and clung to it as she rode him standing. She rode till the cold night air crackled around them. She smiled at the thought that she was probably the first woman to take him this way. She smiled at the rush of power that tingled at each spot where her nerves ended.

So this was what it was to have someone at your mercy, to make them crave and want and then take them at your own unhurried pleasure.

She thrust herself upon him more urgently as the feeling grew and spread. Her breasts rising and falling in a steady rhythm as she fought for control over a situation she would rather lose control over. She closed her eyes and got ready to give in.

Suddenly, she felt two hands grab her at the base of her back and lift her.

With a start she saw her captive grinning at her and lowering both of them to the ground, lying flat on his back and placing her above him. The wretch had freed himself!

She didn’t wait a second more. Hair tumbling over her shoulders and slashing across her breasts in mad streaks, she rose above him and began riding him more urgently.

He couldn’t stay still and clutching her by her butt, added his own thrusts to her tempest- two crude and primal creatures beating against each other with the night as a blanket for their lusts.

She cursed him, scratched his chest, his hands, his legs and arching her back reached behind herself and lightly raked his sack, his groin.

That’s it. There’s only so much a man can take. He roared and gave one last hard thrust, triggering her release on a cry that sounded both angry and pleasing to the ears.

They pressed cruelly against each other at the point that joined them. As though in a bid to get closer than it were humanly possible to do so.

But it was over. She dismounted and without sparing him a glance, put on her clothes while she walked towards her motorbike.

His eyes had the defeat and a distinct let’s-start-a-relationship look in them. Her cruel, dismissive grin said it all.