Mark stirred Sarah from sleep with a firm slap on her curvy ass. "Rise and shine, birthday girl. It's time for Slave 52 to report for duty."
Sarah sat up, her size 12-14 curves spilling over the sheets, eyes flashing with that familiar mix of dread and defiance. "One day a month, remember? Don't push it, or I'll renegotiate the whole damn deal."
He grinned, handing her clothes. "Get dressed in your favorites. We're heading out."
She chose her modest mid-thigh dress, black tights, boots, cardigan, and matching lace underwear, muttering, "This better not end with me regretting every stitch."
At the park, he made her ditch the bags into the skip. When it split revealing towels, relief hit, but anger followed. "You bastard, testing me already?"
"Strip. Describe every inch you're exposing," he ordered, phone out.
Sarah peeled off her boots, then tights, dress, bra, and panties, voice sharp: "First the boots—exposing my legs. Now the dress, showing my ass and the curve of my hips. Bra off—my tits are out, nipples hard from the chill. Panties last, revealing my wet pussy already dripping despite myself. Happy, Sir?"
He marked her: 52 on breasts, buttocks, thighs, shoulders, ankle, and shaved pubic patch. "Ten marks for your insolence."
In the shelter, tension exploded. Sarah shoved him against the wall, strong hands gripping his hard cock. "You want control? Fine. But I'm taking this." She dropped to her knees for a sloppy blowjob, tongue swirling as he groaned. Panting, she stood, pushing him down. "Fuck me hard—now."
He thrust into her dripping pussy, sweat beading as they fucked wildly. She rode him, ass slapping, moaning, "Yes, Sir—make me cum!" They came together in a shuddering climax, bodies slick and horny, vowing the day's humiliations would only fuel more.
Want to know how it ends?
This is just the opening chapter. Continue the saga — or write a steamy tale starring you.