Sarah Burden: Quickie

by Albion

(Originally written for the entertainment of the lady)

F/M/b/bond/SM

A work of fiction for the entertainment of adults only.  All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without permission (Not that will stop anyone, but if you must, please do not edit)

You come out of the place you work already looking a little flushed.  You received my text message two hours ago, telling you what I had arranged this lunchtime.  As it happened the message interrupted you in a meeting: your colleagues must have wondered why you had suddenly become flushed when you read it.

'pick u up for treat @1' the message said, and you had two hours to dwell on what it would be this time.  But then, I like to keep you waiting. On the edge, as it were.

As always you look very professional for your smart dark blue business skirt suit and white blouse.  You work in an office and always have to make the right impression.  I notice as you hurry to the car, that you have modest heels on: not as high as I prefer when I am using you but a couple of inches to enhance your legs' great shape.

You hesitate fractionally as you open the car door but climb in anyway.  You have seen the small rubber mat on the seat -- a grey bath mat with small rubber dimples.  I like to put this on the seat so when you sit, you feel the dimples through your skirt and have to endure a fairly uncomfortable journey.  I also notice you wince slightly as you settle into the seat, and not just because of the dimples pressing up.  I had a small boy cane you last night during sex and I imagine your rear is still a little sore.

I greet you with a kiss and tell you that I love you.  You whisper back that you love me as we set off,
wanting to know where we are going.

"You'll see," I tell you and I start to give you your instructions.  First, to both increase the discomfort
in your backside and humiliate you, I tell you must  ease yourself up, lift your skirt round your waist and slip your knickers off.  As it is summer you aren't wearing tights or stockings: not something I approve off as I see no reason why you shouldn't be uncomfortable in tights or (better still from my point of view) stockings and suspenders on a hot day, but the day isn't hot enough for such a discomfort.

You do as your told and settle back on to the cold rubber mat, giving a little gasp as you do so.  "Now," I say.  "Ball your panties up and wedge them in your mouth."

You do this without thinking: I often require you to wear panties in your mouth even when we are doing something everyday like going to the cinema, watching TV or just strolling in some quiet place.  I like the puffed cheek look, you understand.

"In the glove compartment there is a pair of cuffs and a piece of clear tape," I tell you.  You find them and smooth the tape over your mouth as instructed and then, using the vanity mirror, apply lipstick over the top where your lips are.  Anyone looking at you (unless they were very close) wouldn't see the tape.  Just a woman with bright red lips and slightly swollen cheeks.

"Good," I say when you have finished and I pull the car over.  "Now you're gagged, cuff your hands behind yourself."

You do as you are told, clicking the cold metal round your wrists behind you.  It is more uncomfortable for you to sit, hands locked behind you, on the rubber mat and I fasten your seat belt for you –- giving it an extra tug to make sure you are held firmly to the seat and the strap across your chest divides your bust nicely.  I reach up and toy with your nipples through your stretched blouse, to make them stand out a little.

Satisfied you are both uncomfortable and aroused, I resume driving while you sit in frustrated silence.

Before long we arrive at a small park.  Although it is lunchtime there are only a few people about: some mothers with prams, young children running around the slides and swings.  I help you out of the car, tugging your skirt down for you, and steer you towards some bushes away from where the mums are sat.

There is an eleven year old boy standing among the bushes, looking anxious and intrigued.  "This is the woman, Harry,"  I tell him.  "You can fuck her as I promised."

The boy stares at you, astonished at the fact you are gagged and cuffed, but equally aroused that I had really delivered as I said I would.  Ah kids -- they should have more faith.  After all I paid him ten quid to be there.

Harry is aroused enough to have a pre-teen erection, swelling out at the front of his shorts.  He even
gulps when I pull your skirt up and show him your shaved pussy, a hint of moisture on your nether lips.

We haven't got much time, so I turn your round, bend you over and invite the boy to "get on with fucking her."  Harry, to his credit, has his small, pencil thin cock out of his shorts in a second and I hear you moan in frustration at not being able to see it – or suck it for that matter.

"She's been whipped," says Harry in awe. 

"Caned," I correct him.  "A boy last night did it to her, after he screwed her."

"Cool," he grins.  Without prompting he seizes your cuffed wrists to give himself purchase, and slips his stiff cock into your wet snatch like a homing missile. There is a faint slurp as it goes in and you give a muffled shriek at his first hump.

Immature boys fucking you always excites you more than anything: you will endure any amount of pain and humiliation to feel a small, rigid cock in you.

One of the joys of watching a small boy fuck you like this, when you have a sore bum, is that as he slams into you from the back you suffer.  Filled with boyish enthusiasm – no, let's call it lust – it causes you pain on your still bruised bottom when his slim hips hammer against you.  I crouch by your face and see the look of delight and pain and desperation in your eyes: it hurts, it's an incredible pleasure and you desperately want more.

But this is a quickie, and you have to endure in silence.  or should do: I hear you moaning a "please,"
and imagine you are trying to beg for the gag to come out and you to take him in your mouth before he chooses a hole to fill.

Quickies aren't like that, and it pleases me that you are both aroused and suffering.  I take your hair in one hand, lift your head and with my free hand gently stroke your face, whispering that the boy looks so happy to be fucking you.

"Can I cum in her, mister?" Harry asks, grunting as he bangs you. There is no other word for it.

"Can he cum in you, darling?"  I ask, and you nod eagerly, whimpering into your gag.

"Fire away," I grin at the boy, and he must have let fly immediately because both you and he groan as one the instant the words leave my lips.

I would like the boy to do more to you, but it is lunchtime and we have to be quick.  And yet, the temptation is strong;  I tell the boy to smack your sore bum with the flat of his hand.  You yelp into your gag even though he is unnaturally cautious.  I say if he can smack harder (and make you cry) I will give him another ten pounds – or rather you will, from your purse.

Harry grins and does indeed smack harder.  In a minute you are howling into your gag as the boy warms to his task.  I have to stop him as he is in danger of getting carried away.  I give him ten pounds and send him on his way, telling you that you will give me the money from your purse back in the car.  You stand and nod, tears dripping off your nose.

I am about to straighten your skirt and lead you back to the car when a woman pushes her way through the bushes:  by the look of her she is one of the young mothers from near the swings.  "I was going home when I heard all that noise from these bushes," she says, eyeing you with your skirt bunched up round your waist. "And I saw that boy come out of here," she adds.

"This is Sarah," I say to the woman as I indicate you. "She likes to be fucked by boys," I say as if that should explain it all.

The woman laughs as she looks at your face.  "Likes to be gagged too.  Tell me, does she do tricks?"

"She does a lot of things," I say.

"Good," grins the young woman, "then she can lick me out."  Without waiting for any agreement she hoists up her skirt, drags down her knickers, turns and bends over.  Her somewhat fat bum – pale and spotty – is on offer.  Between her legs we can see her hairy snatch.

"Of course," I say as I rip your tape gag off and pull the sodden ball of panties from your mouth, before I push you to your knees and press your face up to the woman's rear.  "But we have to be quick: she's due back at work soon."

"Then she better get licking fast," smirks the woman over her shoulder.

I hear a faint roan from you as I press your face deep into the woman's sex.  The young woman catches her breath as your tongue finds her slit and clit.  I hear slurping noises as you work away with your tongue and mouth and the young woman is soon gasping.

I flip my hard cock out and step in front of the woman, who has no objection to taking my stiffie in
her mouth.  She isn't very good at oral sex – nowhere near as good as you – but I don't care.  This woman will drink my cum and just as she comes, so do I.

"Nice," says the woman as she straightens and sorts her panties and skirt out.  "Tell me, do you bring this one here often to do this kind of thing?"  She nods at you as if you are there solely for people's pleasure.

"Sometimes," I say as I put my cock away.  You are still kneeling, your makeup smeared and looking flushed.  There is the woman's cream on your face and she and I both laugh at how you look.

"Good," the woman smiles, turning back to me.  "I have a little brother.  Eleven... he's ready for sex
because he keeps trying to look up my skirt if he isn't squinting down my top."  The young woman brushes her hair from her face.  "he'll love playing with her... what's her name, Sadie?"

When I tell her you are Sarah and not Sadie, she nods. "Guess I had better get back to my kids... a friend's looking after them.  I could of course come back here tomorrow, if you think this Sarah is up for another bit of pussy-work tomorrow I could be here."

"I think she would like your kid brother at her rear while she licks you," I say.

The young woman grins.  "I'll see what I can do," she says and leaves the bushes.

---

On the way back to work you are trying not to wriggle on the rubber dimple seat, but your still wet panties are uncomfortable to wear.

I ask you if you enjoyed your lunch-break and you smile at me.  Although I had allowed you to repair
your makeup your hands are re-cuffed behind you for the drive.  "Yes, it was wonderful," you say.

I know you are desperate to bring yourself off (the boy's eager though inexperienced fucking wasn't enough on its own to allow you time to climax) which is why I have secured your hands again behind you.  I have also told you to keep your legs apart – and to make sure you do I placed a biro pen between your thighs so you must keep them apart and not allow the pen to fall.  As we bounce over a few speed bumps leaving the park the pen dug into your thighs.  I expect you are glad you are not wearing stocking or tights as they would certainly be laddered.

We both know that you won't be able to frig yourself to an orgasm until you get back into the office,
either behind your desk or make a dash for the toilet. It's good to keep you waiting for satisfaction, I remind you.

Outside your office I release you from the cuffs, allowing you to pull your skirt back down.  You go into your purse to get the £10 I had given the boy, and I tell you that you seem to have forgotten the original tenner I gave the kid.  You hand twenty pounds over, lean across and give me a small kiss and whisper "Thanks."

"Same time tomorrow?"  I ask, and you smile as you get out of the car.

Same time tomorrow it is.