Author's note:
This is a story about reluctance and blackmail. If you love that, and you love to see a big titted slut get humiliated and used in creative ways, then I think this will be something for you.
I hope the characters I've created make you care, and that the scenes I've written make you hot.
I hope you enjoy,
C&D
_______
Thanks to Kaye for giving my story a read and sharing her opinion.
***
Dalia's heart thumped in her chest as she stood outside Matt's door, the pictures he'd sent her clutched to her chest. Nobody could see her here, hidden by the hedge bordering the garden. It made it easier to dawdle, even if the seconds slipped between her fingers, pushing closer to his deadline.
After the umpteenth glance at her watch, Dalia reached for the doorbell with a trembling finger and pressed. Her stomach clenched when the sharp ring cut through the quiet. She couldn't go back now. Dalia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She'd get the originals and put this whole mess behind her.
The door opened, and Matt filled the doorway, imposing as ever. He leaned against the doorpost and traveled his eyes down her body. "I see you didn't read the note I sent you."
"I did, I'm on time."
"Wearing clothes."
"It's cold outside." Matt left a pause, long enough to make Dalia shift on her feet. "Please, can I come in?"
"That's not how this works, Dalia. You do what I tell you to do, or Rich gets a package. I'm sure he'll want to know what the gardener's doing with his cock inside you."
"Please don't."
"Then get naked and kneel. It's not that hard, is it? You can sit on the clothes your husband bought for you."
Dalia's heart sank. "Why are you doing this?"
"Someone should punish you, Dalia. You cheated in the house you share with the man you're supposed to love. If you don't want to pay for that mistake with your marriage, you'll pay with your body." Matt grabbed Dalia's chin and forced her to look up at him. "Don't think this'll be like with garden boy. We're not having an affair, you're my fuck toy until I say we're done."
Dalia's resistance crumbled under the certainty in Matt's eyes. There was no doubt in them he'd make her do whatever he wanted her to. Every word, so calmly told, hammered at Dalia. This wasn't her. She wasn't a fuck toy. She called the shots.
It didn't seem to matter. She'd cheated, she'd fucked around on every surface in the house she'd decorated with Rich's money. Her reasons seemed irrelevant now. Matt had said he'd punish her, maybe she could get through this if she thought of it as atonement.
Dalia nodded, and Matt let go of her. She pulled her sweater over her head, and the cool air on her skin made her nipples stiffen.
"Drop it."
"There's dirt there."
"I know, don't you think that's right for a dirty slut like you?"
"Don't call me that."
"Why not?"
Dalia opened her mouth, but she couldn't say it. She'd loved the thrill, loved the boy's big cock stretching her pussy as she rode on top of him. The way he looked at her, the way he grabbed her ass and buried his face in her big tits.
She loved the looks, the envious faces of bitches whose husbands wished she was the one sucking their cocks wearing nothing but those expensive stockings they couldn't keep their eyes off. Sometimes she even made those fantasies come through, and she loved how their eyes widened when she aimed their spewing cocks at her tits.
She was a slut, and he'd called her on it. Still, she didn't have to hear it out loud. "I don't like it."
"Doesn't matter, keep going."
Dalia let her designer sweater fall to the ground and reached behind her back to unclasp her bra and free her double D's. She didn't dare hesitate and dropped her bra on her sweater.
"Nice tits, slut. Now show me your ass."
Dalia turned around and popped the button on her tight jeans. A fresh wave of shame and fear swept through her. This wasn't the country club, this wasn't a game. She was a few steps from the sidewalk, and there was a huge gap in the hedge for the driveway. Anyone could see her, maybe he'd even fuck her here. She'd die of shame. It was fun and exciting on her own turf, but here?
Dalia rolled her jeans down her legs and jumped when Matt's hand touched her back once she'd gotten her pants halfway down. He pushed her chest forward until her tits dangled down. "Stay like that."
Matt didn't give Dalia any time to recover before his hand smacked her ass, hard. She wobbled, and he grabbed her shoulder to keep her standing, but it didn't stop the punishing slaps to Dalia's round cheeks. "Stop! Please! You're hurting me!"
He didn't listen, he just moved his supporting hand from her shoulder to her mouth, muffling Dalia's cries. Nobody had ever done this to her. Sparks of pain and heat shot up her spine with every strike. Matt kept a steady rhythm, each slap loud in the quiet garden. Dalia tried to cover her ass to protect herself from the pain, but it was no use. Matt dodged her fumbling hands and set her entire ass aglow.
Dalia's pants fell down to her ankles, shackling her in place, naked and crying, her nipples rock hard, and her slit dripping wet, at the mercy of a man who thought she was a slut, who wanted to punish and fuck her like a piece of meat.
She fell to her knees, smearing grass and dirt on her expensive sweater, panting. Her ass burned in the cool air, and she clenched her hands in her lap to keep from touching it. Matt towered over her, and she looked up at him and said, "Please, stop."
"No. You need to get it in your head how bad you fucked up."
