A Wal in the Par

It was a beautiful warm evening. As I sat on the bench, the breeze made my hair dance across my face, and blew my dress up a little, revealing more thigh than it should. I held it down with my hand, and looked around to see if He was here yet.

He had told me to meet him here at 7.30. It was closer to 8pm now, and still no sign. The breeze rippled through the fabric of my dress, and my nipples twitched against the cold air.

I fidgeted on the bench. I feel so naked when He doesn't let me wear underwear. Especially when the dress he tells me to wear is a thin cotton number, with shoe-string straps and a style that that just skims my body. It's short too, and could quite easily pass as a chemise.

I hear a chain rattle behind me, and turn round quickly, to see Sir standing there, with my leash in his hand. In the other hand is my collar. Not the one I had forgotten to wear, even though I'd been instructed to, either. This was my punishment collar. It's about 2 inches wide, black, and heavily studded. Attached to it are 4 silver D rings.

I looked into his eyes, searching desperately for clues as to what he was thinking. He could see what I was thinking. My eyes said it all. I was horrified. I was annoyed with myself for forgetting the collar in the first place (how could I?), and utterly dumbstruck that He had brought this one with him, along with the leash. That leash had been used to walk me around the house. And round the garden. Once. When it was very late, and very dark. Once, when I had acted 'cocky' with him.

I soon dropped that attitude.

It was the first time I'd ever seen them outside of the privacy of our home.

I looked around, to gauge how many people were about at this time of evening. Not too many, thankfully.

He smiled at me, and passed me the collar.

'put it on, you naughty little slut'. He isn't impressed with me, I can hear it in his voice. I quickly put the collar round my neck, and tighten it so that I can feel it against my throat. My heart is beginning to pound now. I can hear it in my ears. The fear of the unknown circles around my cunt, and makes it feel damp. I can feel it against my dress.

'on your knees'. He watches as I slide off the bench and onto my knees, and then he comes to the front of me, and attaches the leash to my collar, making me hold my hair out of the way for him.

He shows me the end of the leash, which is a leather looped handle, and tells me to kiss it (as he always does). I have to kiss it passionately too. Not a quick peck, how you might kiss your Nan. I close my eyes, and brush my lips against the leather, inhaling deeply as I do. I love the smell of leather; it makes me instantly horny. I open my mouth and kiss the strap, using my lips, tongue and teeth to show Sir how much I love my leash.

I'm fully aware of my cunt now, because it's throbbing against itself, against this public display of humiliation. I daren't open my eyes, in case someone somewhere can see me.

Sir grabs the strap backs, and then slaps me across the cheek with it. It stings. I gasp in shock. I wasn't expecting that. I don't like the way I feel now. I look down to the ground, tears in my eyes.

There's something about a slap to the face that makes me feel so very small.

'I am very disappointed in you this evening, slut. I had a lovely evening planned for you and that tree there', and he pointed a large tree that lay to the edge of the woods, about 20 feet away from us. 'But seeing as how you were mindless enough to forget your collar, I think I shall have to put into practise plan B. But don't worry, it will still involve that tree'.

My eyes stay on the ground.

'lets walk', and he tugs gently on the leash. As I reach forward to get onto my hands and knees, I become very aware that my dress isn't hiding anything. IF there was anyone behind me, they would have caught a very good glimpse of my shaven cunt and arsehole. A whimper escaped from my throat. Sir tugged harder on the leash.

'Come on bitch, we haven't got all night. Why are you fidgeting? Do you need to use the toilet?'.

I shake my head and manage a 'no Sir'. I start 'walking', as slowly and steadily as I can, trying to prevent my dress riding up my arse any more than it has already.

I don't know what's more embarrassing - having my most private holes on display like this, or to display them in their obvious state of horniness. The juices emitting from me are making my cunt glisten under the sunset.

Sir walks a little faster, and I find I'm having to 'trot' in order to keep up with him.

He stops by the tree he pointed out earlier. It's more secluded here. At least I might be saved from too much shame by the shadows that the trees are casting.

Sir points to a spot on the ground, where the grass is quite long, and tells me I may go to the toilet there, if I need to.

'I don't need to Sir', I tell him softly.

'Well that's a shame, because I need you to. I need to see you pissing in the park, like everyone else's slut does. Now piss for me'.

I can feel my cheeks start to blush. I move to the patch of grass that Sir pointed to, and cock my leg up against the tree, just as he had showed me when we were at home, in our bedroom, and I was kneeling on the plastic sheet. I can't seem to make anything come out.

'I can't do it Sir' I whimper.

Maybe it will help if you get into your role more slut. Bark a little for me.'

I let out a few very quiet and shaky 'woof's, not daring to take my eyes off the ground.

Still nothing comes.

'Maybe it will help if I piss too slut?' he asks. Maybe it will. Before I can think anymore about it, I can feel warm liquid in my hair, dripping down onto my face and then to the grass. My back and shoulders are lightly sprayed with urine as I finally let a trickle of piss out of me. It runs slowly down my leg, but then as it gushes faster, it sprays up my leg, onto my stomach and onto the grass below my knees.

I feel so utterly dirty now. I think I want to cry. My face is pushed to the ground, into the puddle of piss we have just made and as I try to wriggle out of it, he holds me there with one hand. My dress is wet; I can feel it cold against my skin. My ass is sticking out proudly – it's his favourite position; face to the floor, arse in the air - just proudly enough for Sir to take a tube of KY, and squeeze the contents into my asshole.

I can feel it filling me up. Cold. Filling. I want to struggle with him, because I'm acutely aware of how I look to a passer-by. Like a dirty little slut, covered in piss, and about to take a good anal fucking. But I can't struggle. I have to hold the jelly where it is. As I concentrate on the muscles in my arse, everything changes. I forget that I'm in a public place. I forget how naked I am. I forget how dirty and wet I look.

Sir runs his fingers along the slit of my cunt, and whispers to me that I am wetter than he's ever felt before. I whimper something – I feel embarrassed at how horny I feel. I know that whatever he wanted me to do for him now, I'd do.

This evening, he wants to fuck my arse. He's not done that yet. We've played games with it, but the actual fucking bit makes me too nervous. He circles my arse hole with his fingers, and as he does I can feel my cunt twitching. Needing. To be filled. My thigh is wet.

'tell me what you want', he whispers to me.

'I want you to fuck my arse Sir. Please'

Then he does. . Slowly. I feel tense. He pushes into me gradually, and as I push back on him, it doesn't hurt so much. I feel so full now, right into my stomach. I can feel the jelly oozing out as he pushes in. Embarrassment isn't a factor anymore. As he fucks me, I'm growling into the wet grass. So free. His hand is supporting me from underneath. His fingers are strumming at my clit, and I'm bucking my hips at him. Need more. Want more. Charges of electricity run through me.

I tell him I need to cum. I can barely speak. He whispers to me that I can't. I mustn't. I don't know how I can hold it. He pounds into me now, roughly, and I can feel cum fill my arsehole. Hot. I'm so close to the edge now I am crying. And then he stops, and takes his cock out of my arse. I can feel him looking at me. Looking at my arsehole that's not a virgin hole anymore. Looking at the wetness of my cunt, my thighs, as my arse sticks into the air, fully open and not at all shy…

I can't hear anything but the grass rustling in the wind around my face. And there's distant traffic noises. But I can't hear him. Moving. Or breathing. I want to see where he is, but I daren't. He never said I could move. SO I stay as I am. Cum is dribbling out of my arse now – I can feel it running down the crack into my cunt, down my leg. I love the feel of his cum on my skin.

I can feel the cold night air. Then I feel something else. A tug on my leash. As I lift my head up to stop myself being strangled, a hood is put over my head. The leash is let go of, and my head falls to the ground. Plunged into darkness. Closeness. The smell of leather again. So close to my face. I struggle to breathe. While I'm dealing with that, my hands have been pulled up behind my back and tied with what feels like Hessian rope. I'm trying not to panic. I'm pulled to my feet by my bound wrists. And my back is pushed against what must be the tree. I can feel the bark digging into my shoulder blades. Rough. Hard. Cold. There are no words. Just me, in this dark little world, alone with my fear, at the hands of who I presume is Sir. He wouldn't harm me. He wouldn't hurt me…

I can feel more rope. Around my ankles. My feet are kicked apart. I can feel more cum trickling down my leg. Whimpers are escaping my throat, and I can't move my feet. They've been tied to the tree. I push against the restraints, to see if I'm really as stuck as I think I am. And I am. More rope. Threaded through the side rings in my collar. Tied again, round the tree.

I feel sick. And cold. And like I can't breathe. My head is swimming in fear and uncertainty. There's something very cold and hard at my neck. As it dances across my throat, I realise what it is. It's a fucking knife.

Now the tears fall. There are still no words. I feel the knife run between my tits,, and through the thin fabric of my dress. It's ripped. Down to my navel, past my navel, to my cunt. Stops at my cunt. Gently the cold steel blade moves around it; my cunt doesn't know whether to be scared or aroused. It feels curiously good. The dress is ripped some more, until it hangs off me. I shiver. I'm cold. I'm anticipating something, but I don't know what.

I feel the knife flick the remains of my dress out of the way, leaving my whole body entirely exposed. My nipples are standing proudly and expectantly and then. There are soft, warm lips on my chest. A tongue travelling down to my left nipple, licking it. Teeth biting it. Lips kissing it. A mouth sucking on it. It feels smoother than Sir's mouth. Softer. It can't be. Fingers take my other nipple and pinch. Hard. I wriggle inside my bondage. The fingers don't feel like Sirs. They feel smooth. They feel like they have long fingernails. They can't be.

I'm moaning as the lips move downwards. The tongue circles my navel. Hands take a grip of the sides of my waist.

Smooth hands. Running down to my hips. To my thighs. To the front of my thighs. Lips on my tummy now, kissing me gently. Hands on the insides of my thighs.

Fingers moving over my clit. I can't stifle the moans in my throat. I try to push myself further onto the fingers – reaching out for whatever's there.

My cunt lips are held apart, and a tongue finds its way in to my soaking wet hole. Swirling around, licking up all my wetness, my clit throbbing with an overwhelming need to be fucked. I can feel soft hair brushing against my legs. That isn't Sir's hair.

I panic a little, not knowing now whether he has arranged for this to happen, or if this is not part of the scene. If it isn't, and I'm seen to be enjoying it, he'll punish me for it. That's for sure.

But that licking action is filling me up with orgasm. I can't stop now. I try to push against the face, but the restraints remind me that I can't move. All I can do is stand there, legs apart, hands tied, blinded, in a dark world, close and tight, where feelings are rushing through my bloodstream so fast that I can barely keep up with them.

I'm muttering rude things inside the solace of my hood. I need to cum, I want to be fucked. Hard. I want that tongue inside my cunt, fucking me, while those soft fingers rub my clit til it can't take anymore. I feel like a dirty slut. I love it. It turns me on more. I'm moaning, panting, gagging for more.

'Something you want slut?' A voice! Sirs voice! Coming from what sounded like a few feet away. The licking stops. I turn my face towards his voice.

'I need to cum Sir. Please Sir'

My eyes hurt as the hood's removed. Even though the night is full on now, it's still remarkably lighter than it is inside that hood. I readjust my eyes. There's a woman. Mad red hair. It was her licking me. I feel shy, and avert my gaze.

She reaches forward, and cuts the shoulder straps from my dress, so that it comes free. What's left of it isn't much. Looks like a rag. A dirty one at that. A mixture of piss, cum, grass and mud.

She lays it on the floor in between my legs.

'Piss for me, slut', she tells me. I look at Sir. He nods at me. I look back at the woman. She's smiling at me. She's also twiddling her shiny knife over my nipples. There's a sudden desire to be cut. Stick it in me, I'm thinking…Make me bleed. Hurt me.

'Piss', she says, again. And smiles. Again.

I close my eyes and try to force myself to urinate.

'open your eyes slut – look at me while you piss'

I feel so ashamed as it runs out of me, splashing round my ankles, soaking the rag of a dress even more. It sounds so loud against the silence of the park.

She picks the dress up, and folds it up into a compact little bundle, and then shoves it in my mouth. I'm surprised a dress, as small as it was, could fit in my mouth.

'Suck on it a little…taste yourself' she purrs at me. I'm responding to her now. Sucking. And still aching.

She's untying me. First the collar Is loosened, then my ankles. I falter slightly as I have nothing to lean into now.

'Lay on your back, legs wide wide apart, slut'. And I do. Immediately. My clit is aching with my restrained orgasm. It's making me fidget. I suck more piss out of my gag. It tastes surprisingly nice.

The woman bends down, bends my knees up to my chest, then pulls them even further apart. 'like that', she smiles. She takes something from her pocket. A lipstick.

She writes across my stomach in big red letters 'S L U T'. Then she applies some to my face – on my lips, but roughly. Smeared on. 'You look very pretty now' she says. She stands back and admires what she's done to me. I cant look at either of them. I need to be fucked.

'Play with yourself now slut'.

And I do. I stick my entire fist into my wanton hole, and 3 fingers from the other hand make their way into my arse. Fucking myself. Harder. Deeper. Faster. More. Harder. Ramming my hands inside myself, thrusting against them, want more. More. More. More. I'm lost in the moment, I glance up at Sir and the woman who are standing over me, and I see her giving him a hand job. And as cum rains from Sir's beautiful hard cock onto my dirty body, I cum. Everywhere. Several times.