The Word (2)

She sat in the dark in her car.  The sound of crickets seemed over-loud after the engine had stopped. What now, she wondered. Her heart was pounding so hard, yet her clit was pulsing equally as hard. It was humiliating. It was also oddly erotic.

He’d followed through, followed up on that one word promise that he’d teased at all those weeks ago.

Owl.

Who was he, she wondered.  Who had her husband ‘volunteered’ from his group of cronies? The voice from the stranger in the backseat startled her from her reverie.

“Get out, walk over to the door. Hands at the small of your back and you keep facing that door, you hear me?”

Her voice was barely above a whisper when she answered.

“Yes, Sir.”

Taking one last breath, she opened her door and slid out. The building was small, concrete, dark. The sound of night insects grew louder as she made her way across the short gravel drive and over to the door. Her shiver was not from the cold as she put her hands at the small of her back. A stranger was going to fuck her. A stranger was going to touch her, use her, do what he wanted to her–with her husband, her Master’s, permission.

Behind her she heard the opening and closing of the car door, the crunch of gravel underfoot. His heat was behind her, hands coming around and grabbing her tits through her cotton blouse. He made a noise of satisfaction, a hum of approval at the heft of her tits. She whimpered just a little as his fingers found her nipples and pinched. When he stopped and moved away, she was tempted to turn and look, but she didn’t quite dare.

Something slipped over her head. She could breathe, though her nose was covered. Eyes open, she could see nothing. There was a jerk around her throat, the tightening of something around it that made her whine.

A hand grabbed at the hood over the back of her head, tugging her backwards.

“Step back. I need to open the door.”

A swirl of air moved around her legs, then she was pushed forward. His hand grasped her upper arm, guiding her through. She heard a small snap as a light was turned on but she could see nothing behind the thick hood covering her eyes. She stood there, feeling stupid, confused, scared, and to her shock, extremely turned on. One word, his word, kept running through her mind, an echo of his voice in her head.

Owl.       Owl.        Owl.       Owl.

Her wrists were tugged from her waist, pulled to the front of her. Something thick was fastened around each. A moment later, they were affixed to the collar he had put around her neck. It felt strange to have her hands hanging just under her chin, useless. The zipper on her skirt was lowered. For a moment it encircled her ankles, a last tie to her vanilla day, until he had her step clear of it.

“Nice,” came the voice. The hood muffled the sound. She wasn’t sure where he was, but she knew he was looking at her. She never wore pantyhose–Master wanted access to her holes at any time — even at work — so it was always garters and stockings for her. The swat on her ass took her by surprise and she jumped. He took her arm and tugged her forward. One halting step followed by another, her feet throbbing. Those fucking shoes that she’d hoped to be quit of by now…they were sexy as fuck but boy did they kill her tootsies. His hand on her head pushed down.  Arms and belly pressed against something cool, a desk maybe, or a table, until she was laying across it, feet on the floor, her ass and pussy on full view.

He began to spank her, firm hard swats that stung. For a while he used his hands, but then she felt the unmistakable touch of a belt on her butt. It stung, wicked licks of fire on her flesh. She moaned, lifting one foot, then the other to try to ease the pain. Fingers clenched and released under her chin, her breath coming in short gasps until the tears started. Hands caressed her hot, welted bottom, cool contrast to the wicked hot stripes.

His cock entered her unexpectedly. She was so wet she wanted to fall through the floor with embarrassment but it felt too good. His cock was shorter than her husbands, but thick, each thrust piercing her, spreading her cunt wide. The head rubbed in just the right spot; pressing back, pressing into each thrust she could feel her body begin to clench, the intense itchy pressure building until she came.

“Hot fucking cunt,” he growled, fingers digging into her hips as he pumped into her. He wasn’t gentle, but she didn’t care, lost in a swirling haze of sensation. He’d taken her sight, taken her hands, and taken her pussy, and she didn’t give a flying fuck what happened next. She came again, her muscles clenching hard, squeezing the thick rod pumping into her. His groan, his fingers tightening painfully on her hips, presaged his own thundering climax. He stood a moment, panting as hard as she was, before pulling out.

She thought she heard the splatter of their cum leaking from her. She flushed with mortification, adding to the heat inside the hood. An aftershock rocked through her; legs trembling, pussy shuddering, she trembled on the top of the table, until her body relaxed. Spent, she lay limply.  Unable to prevent it, she fell asleep.

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About vanillamom

For over 8 years--(EIGHT?!) nilla and M have been a D/s couple. I'm the "small s" side of that designation, as he often reminds me. I'm silly and prone to giggling at inopportune times. He's a wicked Sadist, who feeds me my drug of choice--pain. My brain is always spinning dirty and dark little fantasies, which I sometimes share with the world. Welcome to the nilla-verse. It's wet and slippery here...with a dragon or two lurking.
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5 Responses to The Word (2)

  1. The unknown, not knowing when or where or even how. Yeah!

  2. *deep sigh* SO HOT.

    xx Dee

  3. Wordwytch says:

    More?
    Hot stuff.

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