“That's it, feel my cock inside you.” I realized my moaning had become muffled as I was burying my face in the pillow, my hands gripping the headboard threatening to break it apart. She grasped my hip as with one final thrust she sent the last length of it in and I felt her hips on my ass. She pushed me over with her body, forcing me onto my stomach. I felt her chest pressed against my back, thrilling me with agonizing desire as she picked herself up while drawing her knees up beside my hips until she was sitting upright on top of me. “Say you want it. Say you want your mistress to fuck you.” “Oh, please fuck me, mistress, I need you to fuck my ass.” Her hips began to move rhythmically against my ass as she slowly began fucking me. “Say it again, tell me you're my little ass slut!” “I am your ass slut! Fuck me hard mistress! Slow motions started to give way to quick, short thrusts that punctuated my groaning desire. She leaned in closer to me as the short thrusts became longer and. The “struggle” (if you can call it that) was over in an instant. The night was silent now, just his breath and mine. Not even a dog barking in the distance. I found myself handcuffed to that chain link-fence. Writhing was futile, I obviously wasn’t going anywhere and those cuffs hurt. I doubted I’d ever want to wear my gold and pearl bangle bracelets ever again after tonight. I breathed heavily. His radio crackled and a dispatcher briskly said something that I didn’t catch. He responded to her with a number. He then asked me if I had anything in my pockets that would stick or hurt him. I told him, “I don’t even have any pockets.” I shouldn’t have used such a sassy tone with him. That was a mistake. “This dress better not get dirty in this little dust up,” I thought. He explained that he had to check for weapons as a matter of procedure. He started at my socks. Of course he had to start there! He unclipped my pink pocketknife and asked, “What’s this for?” I zipped my lips. My bad.
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