Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

User 706.Male. 38.

I like to playact rough, in the middle of the night. I’ll grab you while you’re walking along a little park backroad. I’ll tie your wrists while you struggle, and once you’re bound, I’ll bundle you into my truck. I’ll drive you over bumpy lanes until we reach the backend of nowhere, and then I’ll throw you to the ground, and let you struggle to get free. But you won’t get very far. I’ll make sure of it.

I’ll treat you like you’re a kidnapped victim, and you won’t see who I am. You won’t have a clue. I’ll be masked and clothed in black. An anonymous monster who uses you like a slut.

A little backchat is welcome. Total submission is a must.

Pussy and ass. Tit fucking. Slapping. Choking on cock.

When we’re done, I’ll bundle you back into my truck, and dump you back where I found you.

This will be playacting. CNC. No violence, besides what’s mentioned above.

Duration – 4 hours.

Proposal price – £8000.

“I’m not sure about this,”Ebony pits her eyebrows onscreen. “I know I said don’t hold back, but seriously. You might end up a traumatised wreck at the end.”

“He’s checked out though, right? So, it’ll be safe.”

“Course he is, but still. Girls normally take a long time to work up to this kind of shit. You’re still a newbie.”

Yeah, but I’m not a ‘normal’ girl. That’s what I want to say.

I’ve checked out User 706 through every forum thread in chat, and they all say the same thing. This guy is true to his word, and the brief is always the brief, no unexpected surprises. They say he likes newbies in general, because the surprise and the fear is so much more genuine. There are a few girls who freaked out so bad they backed out of the proposal and screamed their safe word the very moment they got grabbed, but he didn’t leave them a negative review, just let them go and went on his way.

I tell Ebony this, and she looks up a few of the threads for herself, but still doesn’t seem convinced. She’s still scrolling when she catches sight of something. She smirks when she sees it.

“Are you really going after Creamgirl? You’re all out to be a hardcorer, aren’t you?”

I play dumb, as though I haven’t been checking out every comment Creamgirl has posted these past few days, fascinated. I’ve also seen her in 706’s thread…

“Sure, I saw she played with him.”

“Played with him? She’s a regular from the looks of it. So are some of the other hardcorers, bar the newbies he goes for.”

I’ve been busted. I’ve seen Harlot and Bodica have taken him, too. Weston isn’t on there, but he’s a guy, so maybe 706 is a girls only client. Anyway. Who cares? I’ve been looking, and I’ve been seeing, and Eb knows it. This guy plays with the hardcorers, and I want to be one of them.

She laughs. “Has anyone ever told you you’re competitive as holy fuck, Ella?”

I’m honest with her. “No, they haven’t actually. I’ve always been the weirdo on the sidelines, picked last for every team. And then, when I met Connor, he was the superstar, not me. I barely had a scrap of ambition of my own, you know? None. I’d have worked in the store for ever if it meant he could follow his dreams.” I feel the passion flowing through me. “And now, for once, I have a calling of my own. Something I want to do for myself.”

“And that’s being a hardcorer? You want to top the agency charts?”

I get a bloom in my chest, and fire in my stomach. I’ve been reading my reviews on loop, along with some of Creamgirl’s, wondering if I have what it takes to earn the seriously crazy money, and be a dreamgirl like her.

“I never thought these would be the kind of charts I’d be out to top, but yeah. I want to be a hardcorer. I want to be up there with Creamgirl.”

Ebony gives me a round of applause, nothing fake about it.

“Good for you. The change in you is fucking awesome. You’re on fire, babe.” She pauses. “BUT, these kind of games can blow your world apart. Instincts are instincts, and yours will want to charge right on out of there and out of his sight.”

I’ve already thought this through.

“And so what? If that happens, he’ll leave me alone and let me go.”

“He will, yeah. But you might be a shivering wreck, too scared to leave your room for months on end.”

I look up at the ceiling, finally facing the truth of my demons. I’m not scared of them anymore.

“Once upon a time, I was afraid to leave my room every morning, full stop. I hated being in the city, and hated work, and dreaded going to the bitch fest of a store every morning, and dreaded hanging off Connor’s arm every night, trying to convince everyone I was worthy. But I’m not that girl now. I’ve left her behind.”

Eb is right, and so am I. I have been changing. Since Eric and Jack, I’ve been flying high – despite still getting a pang of wanting to be back in the suite with them. Screw the morning after syndrome. I’ll forget about them when the next adrenaline spike hits, especially with one as powerful as User 706. These past few crazy weeks have given me a boost I never thought possible, and fuck any nerves. I can handle them.

Finally, for once in my life, I feel like I’m in control. Ironic, given the proposal I’m considering, but that hasn’t knocked me. I’m ready to face life head on. And face User 706 for an extra chunk of cash in my bank account. I don’t even bother considering the vanillas anymore.

“You don’t need to convince me,” Eb says. “If you feel up to handling it and you want to handle it, then go for it. Click on accept. Just be careful.”

“I don’t need to be careful of him,” I repeat. “I’ve checked him out a zillion times.”

“No, not careful of him, Ella. Careful of you.”

“I do want it, actually.” I smile. “I’ve been watching videos online of this kind of stuff since I saw the proposal in my inbox. You know, I once asked Connor to grab me while I wasn’t expecting it, back when we were still dating as teens, keen for the crazy spike of endorphins at being snatched and used. It didn’t go to plan, though. He raced up behind me and lifted me up from the ground, but he ended up saying boo, and that was it, game over, both of us in stitches.”

Ebony bursts out laughing at that, shaking her head. “Jeez. Boo. What a passion killer.”

We laugh again, back to us giggling so hard my sides hurt. I manage to take a breath and wipe the laughter tears from my eyes.

“User 706 won’t be saying boo, will he? He’ll be binding my wrists as I flail, then throwing me into his truck like he owns me.”

“He definitely won’t be saying boo, no.”

“Win for me.”

“Maybe.”

I’m never going to convince her, but that’s ok. I’ve surprised her before, and I’ll do it again. It might just be quite a crazy adventure in the process. Four hours of pretending I don’t want a stranger while he fucks me. But I can do it. I know I can.

I click accept. No morning after syndrome after this one.

I’m expecting he wants a night over the weekend, but no. His earliest option is Monday, and the location is a park, far on the eastern outskirts of London, amongst some housing estates. It looks rough around there. Getting snatched by User 706 will almost be a relief in that place.

The time? 1.30 a.m. – it’ll be almost daybreak by the time we’re done and finished.

I don’t get too dressed up for the occasion. Not for an experience like this. A cami top with a lace bra underneath, and a short skirt, with tights. No stockings. I want this to be authentic.

I wear heels that aren’t too high to dash in, and have my coat wrapped up tight around me as I get my cab to the park.

The driver does a double take when we reach the location. It really is the edge of a park on the side of a shithole.

“You sure this is where you want to be dropped?” She points to the nearest tower block. “Are you heading to friends or something?”

“I’m meeting someone for a walk,” I say, and she raises her eyebrows, but she’s smiling.

“Interesting time for a stroll.”

I hand my fare over, then stop before I reach for the doorhandle.

“Don’t suppose I could pre-book, could I? Can you be waiting here at just gone 5.30? Are you still on shift?”

“You want to be picked up here? At 5.30?”

“Yes, please. I’ll pay you double your fare.”

She seems to get a sense of what I’m doing here. I wonder if she’s going to turf me out with judgement, but she doesn’t.

“Fine, cool,” she says. “I’ll be waiting.” She laughs. “With the doors locked, so rap on one of the windows.”

“Will do.”

I have a flash of fear that Eb was right after all as the lights of the cab disappear into the distance. It’s cold, and I’m shivering on the edge of a park pathway, with a sense of fear that puts my usual jangle of nerves to shame.

My finger hovers over the arrived button, wondering if User 706 is already watching me from the shadows. Can I really do this? Have I been an idiot by jumping in the deep end so soon?

I remind myself of the dungeon, and being bound to a rack, to be hurt for real. I remind myself of Daddy play, and how terrified I was of pretending to be a daughter for 14 hours straight.

And I remind myself that User 706 is just a client, like any others. His fantasies are just… different.

Fuck it, I click arrived.

I’m shaking even worse when the reply comes through.

Walk. Don’t look behind you.

Shit. I stare ahead. The park lighting is dim, and some of the street lights are bust. I’ll barely be able to see the path in front of me, let alone look behind.

The reaction in my legs is weird. At first every step feels like I’m wrenching myself out of a bog. I have to force myself along like I’m walking into pure doom. But once I’m a little way in, the trees of the park rustle in the biting wind, and they give me a rush of terror that speeds me up – pacing along like I’m on a mission to get somewhere.

Anywhere.

Only there’s nowhere to get to…

Even if I turned back now, the chances are that a masked man will be right there behind me, waiting to snatch me and run.

I repeat my safe word in my head. Flag, flag, flag.

He knows it. He’s had to sign it off with the agency.

Flag, flag, flag, flag, flag, flag.

I hear something. A gentle crunch, off to the side, and it’s enough to have me running like I’ve never run in my life, heels pounding the path as I force myself not to scream. My heels aren’t cut out for this, and I stumble. Hard. I manage to grip hold of a streetlamp at the side of the path, but it’s one of the broken ones. There’s a crunch of glass under my feet from where some idiot has thrown a rock up and shattered the bulb.

I grip the metal pole, eyes frantic as I figure out which way to keep on running, but I get no chance. I don’t hear the footsteps approach – my breaths are too loud in my ears. The first thing I know of User 706’s presence is when his bulk slams against my back and a gloved hand clamps over my mouth, hard enough that I couldn’t scream if I tried.

He pins me to the lamppost, and I feel the fabric of some kind of mask against my ear as he whispers.

“Stay the fuck still, and stay the fuck quiet. Do you get me?”

I don’t answer him. I can’t yet. I don’t trust myself.

“DO YOU GET ME?” he barks. “You’ve asked for this, you little slut. Parading yourself around here in the middle of the night, like nobody is gonna fuck you. Stay still, don’t even think about moving.”

I do what I’m told. The chill of the cold metal post enough to focus on the sensation. Get a grip, Holly. Get a grip. But it’s hard. So fucking hard when you have a man’s hand clasped over your mouth, so fucking strong, he can do what he wants with you.

But that’s the point… he can.

He can and he will.

“Let’s see what you’ve got under here,” he says, and pulls my coat loose. “Such a short slutty skirt for such a chilly night, don’t you think?”

I try to nod.

“You know what I think? I think you’re asking for this. I think you’re a dirty bitch asking for cock. Now, I’m gonna tell you again. Stay the fuck still, and stay the fuck quiet. Do you get me?”

I suck in a breath through my nose as his free hand lifts up my skirt, and I do nod this time.

“You fucking sure?” he asks.

I nod again. My adrenaline is spiking like fucking crazy, and I’m trembling so bad he must be able to feel it against his chest, but I know what I’m doing here, in this pitch-black hellhole with a man out to kidnap me.

I gulp in air when he takes his gloved hand from my mouth and spins me around to face him. The lamppost is a rigid beast against my back, but nothing near as intimidating as the beast before me. He’s got to be at least 6ft 5, and is built like a tank. His hoodie is black, with the hood pulled up, and he has a mask which covers everything bar his eyes and mouth. Eyes that are piercing and dripping with malice. I could scream, but I don’t. I’m mute as he takes my arms and slams my wrists together.

“You’re coming with me, slut.”

He pulls some rope from inside his hoodie, and ties my wrists like a pro, knotted tight. Then he shunts me along the path ahead of him, his hand gripping the back of my neck.

“Keep fucking walking.”

I nod, but don’t say a word. My feet are heavy again, not flighty, so I have to force them with every step. We are going to an ominous destination now, not running away from one. I push back against him as I see a battered white truck off to the left through some trees, but it makes no odds to him. He practically throws me up a verge, and I skid down the other side before he catches me and shoves me onwards.

The double doors at the back of the truck swing open wide when he unlocks them, and the darkness inside is too much for me. I try to flee on instinct with bound hands, ready to let out a scream, but he’s quick enough to catch me in the act, silencing me with another slam of his gloved hand over my open mouth.

He doesn’t say anything, just picks me up like I weigh nothing and shoves me into the truck where I stumble in the darkness, falling to my knees on the hard metal floor.

The doors slam shut and I’m genuinely shitting myself, heart pounding like crazy.

I tell myself it’s all an act as the driver’s door opens and he climbs in – a brief moment when the interior light lights him up. He’s wearing a ski mask, his eyes and mouth visible. He glances back at me and smirks before slamming the door shut and the light goes out.

He switches on the engine, and I manage to raise myself enough to hook my arms over the passenger headrest.

“Where are you taking me?” I manage to ask.

“Shut the fuck up,” he says, putting his foot down on the accelerator.

I bounce around as he drives, hanging from the back of the seat, like I’m strung up for the abattoir, but it’s ok. Through the terror I’m beginning to get intrigued, transfixed by watching the streets flashing past us on the way.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask him.

“Told you to shut the fuck up,” he says, easing off the accelerator as a police car passes us by.

I do shut up, my heart in my mouth, imagining what might happen if the cops decide to turn back and investigate what a battered old truck is doing out at this time in the morning. How the hell would he explain the bound girl in the back. Just having fun, officer, nothing to see here.

But the cop car disappears from sight and my heart is back to pounding.

“I’m going to treat you like the slutty whore you really are,” he says.

I guess he’s right – I am a slut, and a whore, truth be told.

“I’m going to take your cunt and ass,” he says, “and punish those big tits like they’ve never been punished before. And you can beg me to stop all you like, it won’t make any difference. You’re mine now, until I’m done with you.”

Until I’m done with you.

I picture him strangling me to death, snuffing me out once he’s done with me. The emotions are weird, conflicting. I’m scared shitless but it’s turning me on. He won’t really hurt me, I remind myself. Just an act.

He smacks a gloved hand off the steering wheel and I start. “Fuck!” he barks and I don’t know what the hell he’s cursing at. “My cock is fucking raging,” he says. “I’m going to plough you so bad you’ll be begging me to stop.” He laughs a crazed laugh. “Or begging for more. One of the two.”

Jesus Christ.

The bumps in the road start as we hit a side track. My wrists hurt as I bounce, and I curse and whimper, but it doesn’t stop him, he keeps on driving.

It feels like a lifetime until I see a looming building in the distance. It looks like a barn. I’m shaking like crazy as we reach the place. He pulls up in a cobbled yard, turns off the engine and gets out of the truck.

The doors open behind me and the smell hits me – cattle. It’s a farm.

User 706 doesn’t hesitate as he climbs up into the back and hauls my wrists up and over the headrest. I kick out on instinct, but he doesn’t give a shit, just grabs me by my ankles and tugs me backwards so hard I drop out of the truck onto the cobbles with a yelp.

He puts a foot on me and shoves me onto my back, placing his boot on my stomach like I’m nothing but shit. He towers over me, his bulk lit up by the moonlight.

“Here, you’re mine. Scream all you like. Fight all you like. Run all you like. It won’t fucking matter. Nobody will hear you, nobody will save you, nobody will come running.”

I look around, frantic. I can’t stop the whimpers.

Flag. I could say it. It’s in my throat. But I don’t. I don’t say it… because there’s something else in the pit of me now… something familiar…

Something like being on a rack bench at someone else’s mercy.

The beauty of pure submission.

He lifts his foot off me and I struggle to crawl away. He laughs as he watches, and I feel so cheap it’s disgusting. But so fucking dirty that my pussy is wetting my thighs.

Submission, I tell myself.

I love submission.

I adore the sensation of giving up everything… my fate someone else’s to control.

“Keep crawling all you like,” he says, still laughing. “You’re not going to get very far, and there’s cow shit over there, so unless you want a face full of it, I’d think fucking twice.”

My knees keep crawling regardless, my bound hands keep shuffling along. And it’s not because I want a face full of cow shit, it’s because I want him to come and take me. Come and grab me, and force me, and pin me to the ground with a big muddy boot, at his whim.

“I’m going to give you to the count of three,” he shouts. “If you’re not turning your pretty ass back towards me by then, you’ll pay for it, you stupid bitch.”

I want him to make me pay for it.

“Three!”

I keep crawling, like a warped, clumsy caterpillar in my bonds. I lose one of my heels, but stand no chance of getting it back, so keep on going.

“Two!”

I whimper as I squirm, scuffing my palms as I fall, and there goes my other heel.

“One!”

I’m still trying to get back onto all fours, frantic when he approaches. I scream and lash out and flail on the floor beneath him as he lands his boot back on me. Only this time he flips me onto my back with a thump of his toe, and his cold, muddy sole presses against my heaving chest, right on my tits.

“You’re a feisty little fucking cow, aren’t you?” he laughs again.

“Fuck you,” I say, the words coming so naturally.

“No,” he replies, his voice serious this time as he hauls me up to my feet, his masked face in mine. “Fuck you.”

I’m trembling so bad I can barely stand as he unbinds my wrists. He takes a fistful of my hair and drags me back to the truck, slamming my back against the side. He tears my coat open, slapping the mud off my tits, rough enough that I cry out at the pain. Then, oh fuck, his eyes meet mine once he sees the points of my nipples.

“I knew it all along. You’re a desperate horny slut,” he says, and pulls my cami top and bra down so my tits are bare. My nipples are so hard in the cold, they’re like freezing bullets – so much more sensitive when he slaps them.

“Harder,” I say to him, with the backchat he wants from me. “If you think I’m such a cheap little slut, then at least slap me like you mean it. Take your gloves off.”

“You’re asking for fucking trouble,” he says, but I raise my arms over my head, like I’m ready for it.

“Do it. Don’t be a pussy.”

“A pussy?” His voice is so low. “You really think I’m a fucking pussy?”

“I’ll think whatever I think, until you show me otherwise.”

His gloves are off and cast aside in seconds, and he slaps my tits like I deserve it. I stare him in the eyes with every slap, my whimpers turning to moans as the tingles turn to burns. The cold is burning me along with his palms. The contrast between ice and fire is a dream.

I’m still staring him in the eyes as he hitches my skirt up. I don’t fight him as he does it. I don’t make a sound as he tears my tights away and tugs my panties down my legs, just let him battle with each of my legs until he has them off me and my pussy is bare for him.

A bare wet treat, waiting to serve.

He plunges two fingers all the way in and I cry out for him.

“You have one soaking wet cunt, you know that?” he says, his breath fogging the air.

“I always do.”

“Say it, then. Say you’re a slut who wants dick, no matter where it comes from.” I hesitate too long, and he pins me by my throat, his mask right up in my face. “SAY IT!”

The dynamic between us is serpentine, twisting. And weirdly addictive.

“I’m a slut who wants dick, no matter where it comes from,” my voice is trembling just as much as my body is.

“And where do you fucking want it, huh?”

“Wherever you want to put it.”

My pussy is squelching as he pumps me, and he’s not hitting anything tender, just a slopping wet hole, ready to belong to him. He adds a finger, and that makes me whimper. He brushes a thumb against my clit, and the pleasure is enough that I moan.

“Dirty fucking whore.”

He keeps playing, and my breaths quicken, my ice-cold tits heaving in the night. He pumps faster, and I shift my legs apart, squatting a little for the thrill.

“You’re a dirty bitch with a dirty cunt,” he says. “You’re a lucky girl, since I’ll make you come before I use it.”

Another finger and I’m lost to him, still sore from the strain a few days ago. My G-spot is too tender to resist, and his thumb on my clit has a rhythm, and I’m done for. I’m a hostage in the middle of nowhere, with a masked man using me like a cheap little bitch, and I’m going to come for him.

It’s so much easier to feel the wetness dripping down my thighs as I come in the cold December night. It’s hot against prickling flesh, and makes it feel even more fucking filthy as he uses me. I pant without giving a fuck for the hitch of his masked breaths in my face, or the way he slams his weight against me to keep me still, or my bare feet, cold on the muddy cobbles.

I don’t give a fuck as he pulls his fingers free of my pussy and forces them into my mouth, just suck like a whore and take what I’m given.

He unzips his jeans, and I’m ready for it.

He grabs my hand and pushes it against his hard cock. It’s thick. Thick enough to make my pussy clench.

“Think you can take it, slut?” he asks, his masked face right in mine.

I almost say yes, no fucking problem. But no, I play the game.

“No,” I tell him, “please don’t, you’re too big.”

He likes that, I can see it in his eyes, piercing mine.

“Want me to stop, do you?” he says and I know he’s giving me a chance to say the safe word.

The safe word I’m never going to use.

“Yes, please stop, please let me go. I want to go home.” I’m trembling so much my shaky words sound so genuine. “Please,” I repeat. “Don’t do this.”

“Fuck you,” he says and lifts me up.

My legs automatically wrap around his bulky waist, and his long exhale as he shoves his cock deep has me whimpering.

He pins me there, his hot breath in my face. “Such a tight cunt,” he says, “Know what I like more than anything?”

I shake my head no.

“A slut who cries when I fuck her,” he says and starts pumping his thick, fat cock.

I don’t object this time. I can’t, it feels so good. I take it as he pounds me, whimpering with every thrust.

“That’s it,” he says, one hand squeezing a tit so hard I cry out. “Is that good?”

I don’t reply, lost to the crazy moment.

“I asked you a fucking question,” he says and licks his tongue up my face. “Is that good, bitch?”

No saying no this time. I switch to backchat, knowing it’ll rile him.

“Could be better,” I tell him.

“Oh yeah?”

He pulls out of me, drops my bare feet to the ground, grabs me by the throat and drags me along the side of the truck. Yes. He shoves me, so I’m bent over the front, the cold metal icy on my tits. He takes me from behind, slamming all the way, and it’s much, much dirtier like this. The angle is deep and his thrusts are vicious, just the way I like them.

“That’s better,” I tell him.

“Cheeky bitch!” He slaps my bare ass so hard it stings like a bastard and I cry out into the night.

“Fucking whore!” He slams into me again and again and I could come like this, all over again. He feels me tense up, flying high, and keeps on slamming, bringing me closer and closer… but then he stops.

“You really think I’m going to let you come again? This is about my fucking pleasure, not yours, you dirty slut.”

Once again, he wrestles me, and I’m done with the fight as I land on my knees in the mud. My mouth is already open for his cock. He fists my hair and bulges my cheeks out one by one, making me retch and bringing tears to my eyes as he laughs at me.

“Pretty when you cry,” he says.

He has to crouch to fuck my throat, because he’s so damn tall, and that only drives his dick deeper. I choke, dribbling all down my chin, but I keep sucking, keep giving, staring up at him as he treats me like his servant.

“You’re good at sucking cock,” he says, “which is just as well since your spit is going to be lubing me up for your dirty little asshole. Make it easier for yourself and get me wet.”

I do get him wet. Hacks of spit and drool that have his whole shaft dripping when he finally pulls me to my feet.

I’m ready for it when he shoves me against the truck, my face pressed flat against the metal.

I reach behind and spread my ass cheeks for him, but he slaps my hands away.

I cry out again when fingers push into my ass.

“Fuck,” he says, pumping me like he’s on steroids. I’m a trembling mess by the time he yanks them free. It’s a moment of relief, until he plunges his nasty big cock in instead.

My cry sings out into the night and he can’t hold back. He fucks my ass like it’s the last fuck he’s ever going to have, and my head is spinning so bad, I love it, already bucking back against him, desperate for more.

“Yes,” I tell him. “Like that, but harder. Harder. Fuck me, harder!”

He slams all the way in, using all his weight as solid, brute force, and I take it like I want it right back, grinning as I hear him cursing.

“Put your fingers in my dripping wet cunt as you come,” I tell him.

“Dirty fucking bitch,” he hisses, but he does it, wrapping his arm around to fill my pussy with his fingers, mashing them against the right spot – just like I knew he would from this position.

He’s a relentless monster on the brink, picking up the pace and fucking my sorry ass with a vengeance, grunting and slamming.

I know he’s coming, and so am I. I’m coming in sync with a masked man fucking my ass against a battered truck, by a derelict barn in the middle of the night, and I’m smiling. It’s pure fucking insanity. Beyond words. Beyond reason. Beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

Jesus Christ, I’m shivering, coming down from my orgasm. My teeth are chattering loud when User 706 pulls out of me and zips his jeans up.

“Don’t you dare think we’re done yet,” he says, sucking in breaths through his mask. “I want to see the full filthy state of you. Get in the truck. Passenger side.”

I do as I’m told with nothing more than a nod, tugging my skirt down as I go. Damn, my bare feet are like ice blocks. My toes must be fucking blue. He switches the engine on as he climbs into the driver’s seat, and flicks on the light overhead. I blink against the glow, almost breaking role and thanking him as he puts the heater on. The blowers feel like heaven as they warm up.

It’s the first time I truly get sight of him, in his hoodie, looking absolutely terrifying with his black mask over his face.

There’s something instinctive about a thick, woollen face mask with eye holes. Almost criminal. His eyes are still dark and thirsty, and even through the cold, I’m grateful our time isn’t up yet.

“Show me how filthy you are,” he says, and I turn towards him, baring my muddy tits.

I look down at myself as he does, and I really am a state –my skin smeared with dirt and my cami top a scrunch of mud around my waist. I don’t even look at my bare legs, just show him the goods of my top half, my nipples still hard, even though the blowers are beginning to blast out heat.

The warmth is like heaven.

“I want to see the wet wreck of your pussy and ass,” he says. “Spread for me. Heel up on the dash.”

The size of his truck makes it easy to give a good display. I rest my head against the passenger window and hook one leg between our seats, raising my other foot up onto the dash. I’m watching him as he soaks in the sight, and it’s my own horniness, not his instruction, that has my hands roving down between my legs.

I spread my pussy lips to give him a better view, and he leans over me, offering his fingers to my mouth.

“Spit on them.”

I hack up a decent amount, and he uses it to twist three fingers straight back into my asshole.

“I know how much you fucking like it,” he says, and I nod for him.

“Yeah, I’m an anal loving slut.”

I’m sore from taking his cock, but it doesn’t hold me back from moving against his thrusts, silently urging him on. I tip my head back and curse with a fuck when he slides in another finger, but I don’t protest, just keep on leveraging myself against the stretch.

I work against my masked attacker’s thrusting hand, happy at the burn of the four-finger stretch. I’m looking straight at his hooded face as I slide a hand down and play with my clit as he fingers my wet ass.

I smile. “You were right, you know? I did want to be fucked earlier. I was desperate for cock when you grabbed me.”

“Some sluts are always gagging for it, even when they kick and scream.”

“I’m one of them.”

“Show me, then. Play with your needy cunt until you come.”

“I’ll come easily, as long as you keep pumping those thick fingers.”

“Fucking dirty whore,” he says.

“Says the man who’s fingering my cum-filled ass,” I reply and he grins at me, twisting those fingers until I’m gritting my teeth.

He’s rougher now. Stretching me with a fresh bout of force as I circle my clit. I focus on his eyes as I lick my lips with a slutty grin, hoping I get snatched by a guy like him in the future.

Maybe he’ll be kind enough to offer a repeat performance.

I know my next orgasm is going to be a big one. Hy heel is braced on the dashboard as I press down, wanting extra strain as he stretches me. My fingers work faster, and my breaths get quicker, building up to a filthy crescendo.

I push two fingers into my pussy before I explode, working them like crazy as my ass and my clit send me wild.

“Fuck,” he says, and that one simple word speaks volumes as he stares at me, such a kinky bitch in his passenger seat. He’s impressed. I can see it. It gives me a glow of heat that’s got nothing to do with his heater fans.

The masked beast’s eyes are on my heaving tits as I come down from the orgasm. I grimace, but I’m still smiling as he pulls his fingers out of me, and then I push my dirty tits together, mashing them tight.

“Are you going to use these? I’d love to feel your jerking cock between them. Why don’t you get some filthy slick cum on me as well as the mud?”

He slides his seat back to the max, and there’s plenty of room for me to clamber over him. I kneel in the footwell between the monster’s legs, looking up at the brute strength of him.

He’s not the only one who enjoys having the light on.

His dick is still dirty from my ass – a perfect blend of filth along with the caked-on mud. He takes hold of my tits, crushing them together so tight that it hurts. My God, he has to work to slam his cock up between them.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he says and spits on my tits as his cock thrusts.

I know my tits were built for tit fucking. I know how to bounce up and down until he starts to pulse between them, frantic as he uses my tits like a pussy, warm and tight.

His breaths are ragged, full of grunts as he jerks and shoots – one spurt impressive enough to smack off the underside of my chin.

He keeps grinding in the sopping aftermath, staring in wonder at the filth he’s been fucking. His cock must be as muddy as my chest, but he doesn’t give a fuck, slapping his wet dick against my dirty nipples.

I don’t stop there, take hold of his filthy cock and suck him into my mouth, cleaning him and licking up every last drop of cum. Fuck. My filthiness just reached a new peak and sent me to hell.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he says before shoving it back in his pants with a groan.

I feel like a winner as I take over, smearing my tits with his cum.

“Back in your own seat now,” he says.

He gets out of the truck and grabs my things from outside, tossing them over in a bundle – coat, torn tights, panties and heels.

“Thank you,” I say as he climbs back beside me.

He turns off the overhead light as we set off back to London, so I brush my coat down as best I can, and slide my heels back on in the footwell. I don’t even bother with my tights and panties. They are done and finished.

“Leave those behind, if you like,” he says, “I’ll enjoy them later.”

“Sure,” I say, and shove them in the glove box.

The journey is considerably easier now I’m not bouncing around the headrest, and a hell of a lot more pleasant with the heater on.

There is no conversation to be had on the way back to the city, and the silence is heady in its dirty brilliance. I only hope I served him well. From the way he keeps shooting glances in my direction, I’d say the chances of that are pretty high.

“We’re ten minutes early,” he says when we turn the corner to the park entrance. “Have you got someone coming to pick you up? Do you want me to wait with you?”

“Nah, don’t worry, they’re already here,” I say, and point to the cab up ahead, parked up with the lights on.

“Thanks for the fun time,” User 706 says. “Sorry about the mud. You’re caked in it.”

“No problem.” I laugh. “I can have a shower easily enough, cow shit or not. Will just be a shame to wash your cum down the plughole.”

“Dirty bitch,” he says with a laugh.

I pull my coat closed around me before I get out, hoping the taxi driver doesn’t see what a state I’m in as I rap my knuckles on the car window, but it doesn’t work. The interior light shows up the mud on my front as soon as I open the door. I hope I don’t stink too bad.

“Sorry,” I say to her, trying my best to keep the muck off the seats. “I fell over.”

Her eyes meet mine in the rearview.

“Sure, right. The park is slippy, but not that slippy.” There’s humour in her voice, no chiding in the slightest as she laughs. “Was it worth it? Getting caked in mud for?”

I grin up at the festive lights as the city comes into view, so bright in the darkness.

“Hell, yeah,” I tell her. “It most definitely was.”