He'd seen her earlier that morning, standing in her office and wearing a red scarf. A red scarf! Most people wouldn't know what that meant, but he'd known her for several decades. They'd been best friends for over 15 years. He knew that when she wore a red scarf, it was because she wanted her husband to know that she wanted to be fucked. She wanted to let him know safely that she was not going to submit peacefully. Because only a few people knew that mild mannered Sarah was into Consensual Non-Consent. And he knew exactly what he was going to do about it.
He'd fantasized about that mouth on his cock for years - watching it slide up and down his length. He knew that she gave the best head - her husband had bragged about it some years back while they were all drinking and he hadn't been able to get the sight out of his mind for some time. But it was the idea of her screaming and fighting against him that made his fists ache to clench in her hair - it was the way that she would feel writhing against him as he fucked her senseless. Knowing that she wanted it with every part of her - was begging for it.
As soon as he left her office he reached out to her husband and made some excuse for him not to be home when she got off. It ended up being something along the lines of needing him to help his own wife with something as he was going to be working late. He knew that he had to play it cool and be careful, or the suspicion would end up on him. And that made it all the more exciting.
He stood in the shadows, masked and with rope. He waited, twisting the rope in anticipation. His heart skipped a beat as he heard the sound of her heels clicking in darkness, blood rushing through his body in waves of tension and arousal. As she walked past he leapt out and pulled her in, covering her mouth with his hand. He pulled her into the shadows and pushed her roughly up against a brick wall, smashing her delicate face against the hard stone. She whimpered against his palm and he ground his cock against her back, delighting in her. He pulled the knife from its holster at his side and pulled it up to her throat, a threat evident in his movement.
"What a pretty little bitch you are," he growled in her ear. "I need a good bitch. Are you gonna be a good bitch?" She nodded rapidly, her breathing picking up. "Good. Do you know what happens if you aren't a good little bitch?" She shook her head, whining as the blade pressed tighter against her throat. "Sarah." He growled her name and ground against her, changing it from an impersonal experience to a personal one. Playing the game. "If you aren't a good little bitch, I'm going to fuck up your entire fucking family." He felt tension enter her body, and he pulled her back from the wall a little - looking over her shoulder to watch her breasts heave as her breathing quickened more. "So you are going to be a good little bitch and only do what I tell you to - aren't you?" She nodded her head and he loosened the grip of the knife against her throat, sheathing it for later. He grabbed her by the hair and turned her to face him - pushing her back against the wall. He let himself take a long look at her - black boots that went to her knee, a flowing red skirt with a black tank. And that red scarf, that she'd shifted to tie back her black hair. He had so many ideas of what he wanted to do to her, but there was one thing that he needed to start with.
"Get on your fucking knees," he demanded. She immediately sank to her knees and looked down, glancing to his cock. He knew that she could see the outline of it straining against his jeans. He fisted his hand in her hair, marveling at how well it felt. "You are going to suck my cock like your life depends on it. And you are going to beg me to do it."
"I wanna suck your cock," she whispered, her voice thin. He shook her hair, startling a cry from her as he felt his need settle over him.
"I said beg!"
"Please!" she cried out, her voice higher. "Please let me suck your cock. I need it - I need to feel you in my mouth," she begged, her hands coming up and working on his jeans. He felt her fingers deftly unbuckle his belt and slide it apart.
"Faster bitch," he growled, jerking her hair once more. He looked down and paused, seeing something that displeased him. Rather than use his words he pulled on her hair, demanding that she stand with his movements. She made a sharp noise, standing quickly. He pulled the knife from its sheath and cut along the front of her shirt, slicing through the fabric of her bra and shirt easily. He'd sharpened his knife in preparation for his event. Watching her pale breasts spring free was blissful and for a moment, he felt the desire to moan in appreciation. Instead, he kept to his mission, putting his weapon away once more. He pushed her back down once more, looking down to the blissful sight of her on her knees, her large tits swaying with her movements. "That's better."
"Please sir," she continued, something shifting in her voice. She finished unbuttoning his pants and sliding his length out. She opened her mouth and leaned in, and he thrust into her warm heat. She choked against his length, but he held her mouth there. After a moment of feeling her throat contract on him he let her pull back, breathing hard and coughing.
"Suck bitch." She leaned forward once more and actively began sucking him off. His eyes rolled back as he felt her mouth on him, and he could tell the moment that it dawned on her that the dick in her mouth was not her husband's. "What's the matter Sarah?" His voice was cruel as he shoved her face back on his cock. "You always wanted to be used like the dirty slut you are." He felt the panic settle into her, fighting against her desires and her need to control. "But you are my bitch now." He let her pull back from his cock once more, gasping for breath. "Are you going to be a good bitch?" She stilled, remembering his earlier threat and feeling it settle into her.
