We had skipped that safety meet. Or at least she had. Her name is Scarlet. At least that’s what I call her. I’m not even sure if it deserves capitalization. That might offend. She is supposed to be treated as if she is a worthless thing.

I had her park in the parking lot where I could see from my hotel room. She kik’d me that she had arrived and I had her get out of the car. I sent back to walk around her car in a circle twice while I decided if she was worth my time.

I watched from my window as she looked around, vainly up to see if she could see who was watching and from where. She was too far for me to make out any details of course. But I saw a clear female shape, wearing the blue dress that I recognized from the naughty photos she had kik’d me throughout the day.

I sent a note back, taunting her, calling her a horny slut, telling her she was so overwhelmed by the wet slick between her legs that she was rushing up to be abused by a man she hadn’t met or seen, when I had clearly seen her.

*********

I won’t tell you that this story makes me look like a good guy. I’m sorry, but sometimes I do morally questionable things. Like have sex with married women.

scarlet found me from my Mrs. B stories. (Hello if your reading you dirty whore, I still have your photos and could send them any moment, have a nice rub as you think about that.)

She was, at the time of the meeting, a lovely woman in her early 30’s with long light brown hair, brown eyes, and a curvy, but the thin side of curvy figure.  Unlike many of us, Scarlet gets to live at home, provided for by her husband, caring for her kids and staying in shape.

She did a bit of cyberstalking through my comments. As she read my various stories, she realized that I spend time, quite often, in the city where she lives.

******

The knock at my door jarred my nerves a bit. The first meeting is always strange, a bit scary. I looked through the peep hole and saw a pretty woman on the other side in a blue dress. I had never seen her face.

I opened the door, the lights were quite low and I knew that she could only for the briefest moment see my face before I stepped farther back and motioned her in.

There was to be no sweetness. No pleasantries. We had worked out our mutual likes, our limits, our rules, and safe word well before the meeting.

I closed the door and said, “Hello scarlet.” Then moved behind her, taking her bag and tossing it onto a chair before taking her wrists in my left hand, holding them tight and sliding my right hand up the back of her leg, up the dress and onto her bare ass. I didn’t tease or caress. I was not gentle or loving. I roughly slid my hand to her slit. It was sopping. Juicy. I roughly slid two fingers in while she made a soft “ohhh” sound and then held them to her lips to be cleaned.

*******

scarlet is a humiliation freak stuck in a happy vanilla marriage. She was, in her teens and college years, a rebelling masochist who liked painful sex and self cutting. After an attempted suicide she got help, but for a long time believed her masochistic sex interest was just an aspect of her depression and self harm.

It wasn’t until after she was happily married to a wonderfully sweet, sexually boring, man that she realized her interest in bdsm wasn’t self destructive, it was just that her self harm found BDSM as an outlet. Now she’s married to a man that loves her, in a life she likes, dreaming of being violated and used by perverts.

I’m not the first man she cheated with and I doubt I will be the last. scarlet started with cyber sex chat and posting erotic fantasies to websites. Then nudes, some tasteful, many not, but always hiding her face. Her husband travels and she would spend hours alone at night role playing disgustingly perverse fantasies of rape and abasement. Masturbating to orgasm after orgasm.

******

Strip I tell her and walk off to turn my back. I called back to her as I grabbed my phone to kneel and wait on the floor. Then I ignored her for almost 20 minutes.

It’s a small tactic, its a tactic she had red in my stories, but its surprisingly effective. I finished up some emails. I put away some clothes. All the while a lovely, nude slut who had begged for debasement knelt and waited.

I could almost feel her nerves bunch up. Nude in the dark room, ignored instead of abused sexually as she had expected. The taste of her own pussy on her lips. The knowledge of what she had asked me to do today. The fear of it. The excitement.

scarlet is an attractive woman, waiting on a man to pay attention to her nude body is not something the is used too.

And finally, as I knew it would, a scheduled work call started. I dialed in, chatted for a few moments then put myself on mute and walked over to her. Without a word, I unzipped and pulled my pants off, my boxers and I pointed at my limp cock and said, “what are you waiting for scarlet, suck.”

******

By the time she contacted me, she had met up with a few strange men. Some fun, some not. But none would push her hard enough.

Then she found me. Read my stories, the real and the fake. She sent me a Mrs. B story of her own, a much more fucked up one where our slutty heroine Mrs. B ended up tied naked on her desk with all holes exposed to be used by anyone passing.

We wrote each other stories back and forth for a month or two. I didn’t know she lived in one of my travel cities at this point. She shared the account that she liked to post nudes on and I began making increasingly obscene suggestions. Then she began asking for orders, instead of suggestions and finally she asked if we could meet up.

For our first meeting, she only had one request. She wanted to feel insulted and worthless. Used. Mistreated (but not beaten, light pain only). She wanted to leave my hotel room feeling like she had been taken advantage of and not appreciated in the slightest.

Every other guy she had met, even the kinky doms, had treasured her. Some had hurt her, in a good or bad way, some had demanded perverse acts of her. But she had felt treasured by each. Taken care of. Made to orgasm repeatedly, asked over and over if she was ok.

She wanted to feel like a dirty whore.

*****

I said nothing as she licked and sucked at my cock. I unmuted here and there to comment on my call but didn’t make any sounds of pleasure or approval.

I did get quite hard, which should have been a sign, but I didn’t want to react to her.

When the call ended, I pulled her by her nipple over to the desk in the room and had her crawl under to keep sucking me while I fired off a few more emails.

I said nothing, except to correct her once when I felt teeth and another time to ask “is that really as deep as you can get? I thought you were an accomplished whore.”

I could tell she was uncomfortable. Honestly I was as well. It’s hard to act so dismissive of someone doing a good job on your cock.

She couldn’t deep throat me but the entire time she showed enthusiasm. Stroking me, spitting to add more lube, whenever she needed a breather.

I gave her a light slap to stop her, got up and switched my work machine out for my personal one.

This time, when I sat, I moved my leg so the front of my angle was pushing into her cunt a bit. It was still wet, the contact made her jump.

I reached under the table and pulled her head back to my cock.

I began to surf the net. I went to porn sites and let her hear the volume as I clicked through bdsm porn. Women moaning as whips landed.

As her head slid up and down me, as I felt her starting to slowly hump my leg, I said nothign to her about it.

The videos though, those I commented on.

“Fuck, she is so hot,” I said.

“I can’t believe how hard he is fucking her ass,” I said.

“God this is turning me on,” I said, as she tried to speed up on my cock.

I had warned her I wouldn’t cum from oral. But no one ever believes me. And I could feel the frustration. She had been working on me for at least 30 minutes. Actually trying, not just playing with me.

“If you can’t do that right,” I said, “lets put your mouth to another use.”

I moved her onto her back on the floor. She made a groaning noise as I lowered my ass onto her face and when I didn’t feel her tongue, I grabbed her nipples hard. She began to lick.

******

I had told her to make a list for me. The sex acts that made her feel grossest. What was at the limit of what she was willing to do and felt the most . . . twisted.

Rimming was the first thing she had mentioned.

*****

For someone who claimed to have only done it twice before, she was quite good.

“You really can suck ass,” I said, “way better than you suck cock.”

I continued to play with her nipples. Kinder now, but not too kind. Pulling, kneading, pinching, the whole time her tongue was sliding around my asshole.

“Can you imagine your husband seeing you right now,” I said, I felt a shudder under me but her legs noticeably opened more. I slid one hand slowly over her belly down to her pubic hair, trimmed lightly.

As I got closer she grew more frantic, digging her tongue inside of me.

“Oh man,” I said, “You love this don’t you.”

I said a lot more. I dragged it out. Focusing on what a slut she was. How her husband would react to seeing her. What her neighbors would think.

While I spoke, I slid my fingers into her, slowly caressing her clit, then rubbing harder and harder.

When she begged to cum, I made her say, “Please let me cum while I lick your asshole.” Then reveled as she drove her tongue back inside me, licking with a desperate hunger as she began to cum and buck under me.

When she finished I turned over and without ceremony fucked her face to orgasm.

When she finished, I gave her a glass of water and then put her back under the desk.

For 30 minutes, she stayed there, licking my lick cock and balls. I played a video game and ignored her.

Eventually, without a word, I took her by the hair, led her to the couch and stroked myself until I came, spraying it onto her face.

“Now get the fuck out,” I said, “Don’t stop to wipe your face until your in your car.”

She looked expectantly at me. Like there was something I was forgetting.

“Oh,” I said, “Did you want another treat.”

“I,” she said, “Sort of thought . . . I mean, I have a few more hours, I thought I’d get a few more orgasms out of this, I thought maybe you’d make me cum until I begged you to stop or.”

I smiled. “I have your treat, don’t worry.”

I went to my work bag and took out a five dollar bill. I walked back, showed it to her, rolled it up and then slid it an inch or so into her pussy.

“About what I think your worth,” I said, trying to sound hard. “Now get the fuck out.”

She looked at me then put the dress on, my cum nearly dry on her face. Looked at me again, then left my room.

*****

I kik’d as she got down to the car, “I feel bad. You do deserve another. Sit in the car and masturbate with my cum dry on your face and your mouth tasting of my ass and cum.”

I saw her look at her phone and stop outside the car.

Her reply, “I fucking hate you right now.”

I texted back a 😛

She got into the car and then sat behind the wheel. I couldn’t see what was going on but I got a kik with a picture of her pussy, wet and red with “thank you.”

“You deserved it,” I wrote back.

*****

She didn’t reply for three days to me. Then I got.

“That was perfect, exactly what I wanted and needed, but 20 times worse than I expected. I’ve been hornier than ever since, normally after playing I feel calm and relaxed. I want to see you again, but nothing like that ever again. Once was enough.”

This story was originally published here

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