Date Night Justice

He had finally worn me down.


All the pestering at the gym water fountain. The smiles from a distance over the cardio equipment, which almost always ended with him catching his own reflection and smiling to himself. The messages to my Facebook. The coincidental run ins at the coffee shop. It seemed never-ending. So when he'd cornered me on my way to the changing room, told me he'd booked somewhere special for Saturday dinner and that he expected me to join him, I sighed and agreed. He had finally worn me down.


As I sat opposite him in the glossy dining room that oozed fake sophistication, I smiled and nodded for what seemed like the thousandth time. There he was, rabbiting on and on and on about himself, only pausing to seductively smile at whichever woman caught his attention, or worse, his own reflection in the mirrored dining room wall we had unfortunately been sat beside. He really was something to look at: a beautifully crafted athletic physique, coated in a crisp Italian white shirt, tight tailored trousers and frosted with a huge Rolex that resembled a Tunnock's teacake; the man looked good. It was just a shame that his beyond-inflated ego seeped through and destroyed any redeeming qualities about him. Yet, here I sat, in my black strappy Calvin Klein dinner dress, Kate Louboutins and seamed Wolford stockings for someone I greatly disliked. Yes, the man had finally worn me down.


"Babe, guess how much I can squat. Bet you'll never guess. Go on, take a guess", he fired at me. Riveting conversation.


"Pffffff.... oh I don't know, 150kg?", I threw out nonchalantly.


"HAAA!!!! Not even close, babe! 250. Two fifty kees, these bad boys can lift", as he slapped his thighs in admiration.


I didn't flinch.


"Have a feel. I bet you're dying to know what a real man feels like". He grabbed my hand and with serious force, pulled it towards his lap, causing me to startle and our table's contents to crash. Surrounding diners glanced over and sniggered to each other with amusement. I was mortified.


Completely unaware of the reaction of his date, or fellow diners, he continued.


"Yep, these beasts have won me many a competition, and many a woman, if you know what I mean", his voice raised and he animatedly winked at me, before searching around him for silent praise from our neighbours.


"Kill. Me. Now", I prayed.


You might wonder why I would put myself through such an ordeal. I knew of his reputation, I knew he bedded women from the gym, never called them back and laughed about it with his cronies as they spotted each other doing lifts. I knew this, yet here I sat, in my best black dress and heels. He had finally worn me down.


When the waiter brought the bill at the end of the meal, I audibly sighed with relief; my public humiliation was finally over.


"So babe, back to mine for a wee, het hem, nightcap?" he grinned at me and winked.


"God, could he be any less tactful?!", I grimaced to myself.


Now, it was showtime. I had sat through that torment for three full courses, I had to play this just right.


I fluttered my eyelashes at him "Wellllllll, babe, I thought we could go back to mine", I suggested sweetly.


"The party is wherever I am so just take the lead!" he declared triumphantly. He thought he had me, another notch on his bedpost, another rep to his repertoire.


We left the restaurant into the cool Glasgow air. I flagged down a taxi and opened the door for him. "After you, babe", I smiled with confidence.


On entering my apartment, the atmosphere buzzed. He immediately pounced at me, pushing me against the wall and trying to ram his hand up my dress.


"Wowwww, slow down there, Sparky, we're just in the door", I giggled coyly as I attempted to wriggle my dress back down to a modest length. I led him through to the lounge, gesturing him to take a seat on the deep purple velvet sofa.


"What's your poison?", I teased.


"Women", he replied without missing a beat.


I turned my back to him and moved towards the bar, rolling my eyes heavily. I took my time, dislodging ice cubes into two thick cut Royal Doulton tumblers, before filling them almost to the brim with caramel coloured liquid.


"So I hear", I remarked as I handed him the glass from my right hand before sliding in next to him.


We drank in silence for a minute or two before he launched himself at me, again.


"Ah, ah, ahhhh", I toyed, pushing him back to a seated position. "Drink up!" I said, shaking my glass at him as indication. He dutifully finished the remaining liquid in a few consecutive gulps, declaring his end with a wet-sounding burp. He really was a vile creature. Of course, my glass sat almost untouched, but he was now too tipsy and focused on his goal to notice.


"Room", he barked.


I slowly smiled. The drink had taken effect so much quicker than I had calculated, it must have been due to the remarkably low 6% body fat he kept going on about during dinner.


"Follow me", I instructed. I stood up and adjusted my dress. It was showtime. He had finally worn me down.


Laying on my ornate kingsize bed, I watched in amusement as he scrambled to remove his clothes, struggling with each button of his dazzling shirt. He ripped off the final item with breathlessness and a huge grin on his over-tanned face. He really did think he had won a watch.


"Your turn", he enthusiastically nodded.


I chuckled to myself. This was going to make it all worth it: the constant harassment; the embarrassing dinner; the vulgar way he touched me. It would be all worth it.


"Let's play a game", I prompted. "For every item I remove, you have to put one on".


I could see the confusion wash over his face as he tried to quickly work out what I was doing, but before he could answer, I unzipped my dress and let it fall to the floor, revealing a stunning lingerie set I had bought for the very occasion from Honey Birdette. I knew this would convince him to stay and play my game.


I ran my deep-red manicured fingers up my leg, ensuring he could see every movement. I unclipped a stocking from my suspender belt and gently peeled it off before handing it to him.


"Put it on", I whispered.


"Wh-wh-what? You're joking, aren't you?" he stammered.


"You want me to take off my clothes, don't you?" I reasoned.


"Well, duhhhhhh", he responded.


"Good, so put it on", I stated simply.


"No chance, I'm not a faggot", he spat.


Faggot. I hated the word. Even his choice of vocabulary was vile.


"Awww babe, how can you be gay when you clearly want me? It's just clothes, besides, it kind of makes me want you more" I toyed.


He quickly put it on.


I repeated this with my other stocking, handing it to him with a meaningful look in my eye. He dutifully put it on.


My hand ran over my body before reaching to my back to unhook my bra. I turned to face him before letting it cascade off my chest. His eyes bulged. I held out the bra, signalling him to put his arms through the straps for me. He hesitated before accepting that this was the game he had to play if he wanted his prize.


My lacey pants glided down my legs before I tartly kicked them off in his direction. "Put those on", I barked. The more he complied, the stronger I felt, and it felt amazing.


He now stood infront of me as a huge bulking creature, crammed into my delicious little lingerie. He tugged at the pieces uncomfortably, his ego was breaking.


"Can I take these off now and we can fuck? I did what you asked", he questioned.


"Hmmmm, I quite like a man in my underwear. I'd like for you to keep them on", I stated, leaving no room for negotiation.


"Do you want to fuck me?", I teased.


"I wouldn't be here if I didn't, would I, babe?" he guffawed.


He was in too deep now. A man like him would never leave defeated and without his prize. He'd never invest so much time and effort without the satisfaction of winning, and he'd certainly never go back to his cronies and tell them he failed. With a track record like his, the embarrassment of failure would knock him off the top man spot he believed he had.


My eyes glistened. "I'd looooove to fuck you, babe", I oozed at him. I pulled out my strap on and laid it on the bed. His eyes bulged.


"What the fuck is that, babe? I'm not into this kinky shit", he stammered as he backed away.


"You want to fuck me, don't you? So, I fuck you with this then you can fuck me and tell all your gym cronies about it, yes?", I reasoned. A man like him would never leave without obtaining his prize. He didn't budge.


"Welllllll", I licked as my finger tips traced his skin. "I could, perhaps, mention our date to your good pals at the gym. Tell them how I brought you back to mine, dying for you to have me any way you like, but you.... Just. Couldn't. Perform. Imagine the shame", I grinned.


"Urghhhh, I swear, you had better be worth this. I've been chasing you for too long to not find out!", he groaned.


I stepped into my strap, pausing to ensure he could take in the full scope of what was about to take place. The worst tool that could be used against him was his own ego, and it was working.


I lubed up my power of a dildo, before bending him over the end of my bed. Pushing his legs apart, I tugged my panties to the side and slowly slide the strap into him. He winced. Good, I wanted him to feel this. I wanted him to feel as fucked and used as all those women he slept with and never called back. Using that as my momentum, I glided in and out of him, ignoring his whimpers. I was now in a world of my own, with a sissy at the end of my dildo and righteousness on my mind. Pulling his hips towards me as I thrust deeply into him, I never missed a beat. I could feel him becoming weak beneath me; I had broken him. I thudded him faster and harder than I had ever fucked before. He had to know, to learn, to understand what was taking place here.


Eventually, I slowed my pace to a rhythmic stride. He had finally worn me down.


"Now, babe", I whispered in his ear as I continued to enter in and out of him. "This is where our game ends. It's been fun, hasn't it? You're going to leave here and if I ever hear of you mistreating and bragging about me or any other woman at our gym, your cronies are going to hear all about our date. They're going to hear how I dressed you up in my lingerie, bent you over and fucked you with my thick strap on until you couldn't move. Do you understand me?".


He mumbled in agreement.


I slipped out of him, sat down in exhaustion and watched as he undressed from my underwear, gathered his things up and left.


He had finally worn me down.