Las Vegas Car Battery

By Dingo © 2007

As a bi-coastal Aussie living between Las Vegas and New York for the last four years, I suppose because of my accent I seem to attract a weird and wide selection of sheilas and broads. I am quite okay looking, or so people tell me, so picking up sheilas has never been a problem. Mine all just seem to be total whack jobs.

In my time in Vegas I have had numerous humorous and not so happy run-ins with hookers, strippers, pushers, pimps and other assorted hustlers.

One night I was at my usual haunt for sheila-preying at the Mandalay Bay's Island Bar, a well-known haunt for all of the newer hookers in Vegas (most of the old crowd have been 86'd, so no longer tempt their fate there). So in late 2004, I am at the bar playing video poker and doing my drinks arbitrage, basically playing quarters whilst drinking $14 martinis and wine and whatever other swill my mate the barman Rob would let me get away with. I used to tip him $40-50 a night and play fuckall but drink volume.

The band The Limit had just finished their 2nd set at around 11 PM when two average-looking 30-something broads/betties approach me and start giving me a line. I initially think they are Midwest tourists looking for free booze and a good time but the taller of the two, a 5 ft 10in "cruel black Irish" looking tart sticks her hands straight down my pants onto the little fella and her friend proceeds to suck on my ear. Despite nearly 12 hard drinks my little fella is getting hot and horny so I decide to accept their invitation to go back to their suite at the Venetian.

We race out of Mandalay and into a cab and after a stop off at the Hard Rock, they want to try some fancy schmancy drink at Mr. Lucky's (hardly my favorite drinking spot in Vegas). After guzzling the $18 concoction, we headed to the Venetian.

We get to the Venetian and the betties tell me it would normally cost me $1,000 for the two of them but as they were new in town they would do me for free (yeah right).

Anyway, by this time I am frazzled, drunk as a legless lizard and horny and go up to the suite with these two sheilas. They tell me they are from Chicago and like fucking together. We get to the suite and the smaller lady, Kimberley, takes me into the bedroom and we get naked. She has a very nice body with large natural boobs but the most enormous scars on her lower belly and shoulder and burn marks around her thighs.

We are bonking when her friend Kitty comes in and decides I need to be tied up. Well this is kind of a first for me so I accept.

STUPID mistake.

She ties my hands to the posts with two Hermes scarves and my feet to a brace they have attached to the bed. She takes off her clothes and sits straight on my face while Kimberley licks my crotch. Kimberley starts to bite my legs and feet (bloody hard) and Kitty is rocking on my poor face. She nearly breaks my frickin' nose. I am thinking, what the fuck am I doing here? Kitty is getting very violent as she half drowns/half suffocates me as she comes.

I then notice Kimberley coming into the bedroom with what looks like an old car battery, gulp, oh fuck! I ask them what's going on and they proceed to tell me in detail how I am going to be tortured. Not fricking good. I am ripping at my arms trying to free my worthless sorry ass while Kimberley attaches some leads to the battery and zaps me on my feet (I still have a scar two years later).

SHIT, this is where the other bitch got her burn marks from. I almost pass out from the agony. Man, in my life, I have had broken arms and legs, impaled myself in a tree, had chemo and nasty dog bites but nothing compares to being electrocuted with a car battery and prod.

For 40 minutes while I beg and plead to be let go (yes, shut up, you whining Australian pussy) they hit me, burn me, zap me and bring me to the strangest orgasms and depths of ecstasy and pain. Kitty mixes up some concoction and pours it down my throat knocking me out in about ten minutes.

I wake up the next morning alone in the suite, my watch and all of my money gone and have the most searing agony in my crotch. The bitches shaved my balls and carved their initials in my legs.

I could not walk properly for three days or have sex for a month and still have some scars from the experience, the weirdest being a mark on my left hand where they sliced me with a chisel.

Dingo is a forty-something lawyer who's originally from Australia and currently living in New York City.