Missus S Black

You blindfold me and take me to your place. Strip me. Cut my underwear off like it’s meaningless. I’m tied to the bed — spread, exposed, waiting.

You leave me there.

But you keep coming back. Just to play.

Crops drag across my nipples. Feathers. Fingertips. Your touch over my clit and pussy — always too light to satisfy. Never long enough. Just enough to ache.

Then you return for real.

You force my legs wider and go down on me.

I fight it — struggle against the ropes. Try to hide how much I love your mouth, how desperately I want to cum.

“Look at you pretending. But you’re soaked. I can taste how badly you want it.”

You don’t let me finish.

You slide the vibe in — thick and buzzing, filling my cunt. The other end pressed to my clit. I gasp. You laugh.

“Greedy little thing. Your pussy’s starving for it.”

And then… the plug.

You lube it slowly, deliberately — and push it in deep.

I squirm. Moan. Try not to break.

Now I’m stuffed. Gaping. Open everywhere. Yours.

“Now you’ll remember who you belong to.”

You blindfold me again — this time with layers so thick I can’t tell what time it is. Could be midnight. Could be morning. Doesn’t matter.

You carry me out to the car.

Tie me into the front seat — hands bound to the armrests, legs spread as wide as the space allows.

We drive.

The first hour, the vibe stays on low. A constant hum deep inside, teasing my clit and my g-spot.

The plug shifts with every bump in the road — a dull stretch, always present. Always full.

I’m soaked.

You bring my hand to your cock.

“Not even hard yet. You want to cum? Make yourself useful.”

I beg. When you finally get hard, you let me feel it.

“See that? Good slut. You’re getting there.”

Then you crank the vibe to max.

High. Relentless. Brutal.

I cum again. And again. And again.

I can’t stop shaking. Can’t remember my name. Can’t think past the mess dripping down my thighs.

You pull over.

Drag me onto the hood of the car.

Lick the cum off my thighs before burying your mouth in my pussy again — moaning like you missed the taste.

Then you turn me around. Fuck me from behind.

Bent over the hood, plug still inside, dripping down the metal.

You use me like it’s nothing.

Then you buckle me back in.

Hands tied. Legs open. Vibe still humming. Plug still stretching me.

We keep driving.

Again.

And again.

I run again.

I can’t believe we’ve done this so many times now. My body is aching all over — thighs burning, lungs straining, skin scraped and stinging in a hundred places. Still, I run. I don’t know how. I just do.

I’m moving for a few minutes when I spot him.

He hasn’t seen me yet.

I duck behind a tree, heart pounding, watching. As he passes by — unaware — I stick my leg out and trip him hard onto the forest floor.

He goes down with a grunt.

And then he bounces back up fast — pissed off now.

He lunges for me, grabs me by the waist, spins me around, and shoves me back against a tree.

“One,” he growls, slapping my arse hard.

“That’s for being a naughty girl.”

“Two,” — another sharp spank —

“Because I know you wanted it.”

I cry out, moaning through clenched teeth.

His palm stings like fire — but the ache rushes straight between my legs.

He drops to his knees behind me and presses a kiss to my arse, then pushes me forward, forcing me to bend deeper. My pussy is exposed, dripping — and he goes down on me like he owns it.

I’m coming almost instantly — and I feel it flood through me, hot and uncontrollable.

He pulls back too quickly, stands up, eyes sharp.

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs.

“I didn’t give you permission, did I?”

I look down, eyes wide.

“No, Sir.”

He nods once.

“Good girl for being honest.”

Then — five more sharp spanks rain down on my arse.

I gasp, jolting forward.

He leans in, biting softly across my shoulders — not cruelly, but claiming.

Then he turns me to face him again. His fingers slide between my thighs — teasing, slow, cruel. He builds me up, toys with me until I’m right there again.

And I come without permission. Again.

He flips me around fast and spanks me ten more times — hard. Deliberate. Punishing. I’m crying now. Not sobbing — just overwhelmed. My eyes are wet. My body’s shaking.

He sees it.

And everything softens.

He gathers me close, pulls me into his chest, wipes at my face with the edge of my ruined dress.

“You’re such a good girl for taking that,” he whispers, kissing my temple.

Then he drops back to his knees and devours me — tongue and fingers and full control.

He lets me come again and again and again.

No rules now. No stopping. Just pure release.

I scream. I sob. I fall apart all over his mouth.

When I’m barely able to move, he whispers:

“Knees.”

I obey without question — my body still trembling, lips parted. His cock is in my mouth before I can think. I suck him deep, messy, worshipful. He’s in full control, using my mouth like he owns it — because he does.

And when he’s ready, he pulls out —

and comes all over my face.

I close my eyes, gasping, ruined, marked.

Then I rise, slowly.

I don’t even ask anymore.

I know.

“Run,” I whisper.

He grins.

“Yes, baby. You’ve got another one in you yet?”

And I stumble off.

I stumble off slowly this time — not running, not really. Just moving.

I walk for a bit, dragging my feet, my body aching. Every step is harder now. The dress is making it worse — it falls past my knees, bunching awkwardly in my hands, and I’m too exhausted to keep holding it up like I did before. It clings to me, snagged with little holes from rocks and branches, heavy with sweat and dirt. What was once soft and white is now a ruined mess.

Still, I run. I don’t know how much I have left in me.

How many more times is he going to hunt me?

I wanted this — all of this — but I’m fucking spent.

It’s not even a kilometre before he catches me again.

He grabs me from behind, strong arms wrapping around my waist, and spins me to face him. I barely resist. My breath catches just as his mouth crashes into mine, rough and claiming. Then he pulls back, grabs the front of my dress—

And tears it.

The fabric splits down the centre, exposing my chest — my tits bare to the air and to him. The sleeves still cling to my arms, but the dress is nothing now. Just a charade. Something pretending to protect me but offering nothing at all.

I’m wide open.

He steps back, looks at me — and then commands:

“Knees.”

This time, I obey instantly.

I drop fast, the ground cold and sharp beneath me. My mouth opens, tongue out, waiting, eager. Desperate.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you baby?” he says, bringing his cock to my lips.

I moan before I even take him in.

I worship him. Lick. Suck. Take my time. My mouth moves over him with aching reverence — because I love this cock, love the way it fills my mouth, the way it makes me feel used and wanted and ruined.

Slurping sounds echo through the bush.

It’s all I hear — the slick mess of my mouth on his cock in the silence of the forest.

Then he takes control.

He fucks into my throat with no mercy, choking me with each thrust until I’m gagging, tears pricking my eyes. When he pulls out, he drags himself across my lips — teasing me — and I whine, mouth open again, begging silently.

“Hands behind your back,” he says.

I hesitate, aching at the loss of him, but obey.

He pulls back, fisting himself now. I stay on my knees, chest exposed, mouth still open like a good girl. He finishes all over me — hot and wet, spilling across my breasts. I gasp at the feeling, at the heat, at the humiliation of it.

And then I know what’s coming.

I don’t even need the command.

I rise slowly — cum on my chest, dress ruined, tits bare to the world —