Tied Up and Ravaged: My Raw Night with the Stranger Burglar

The silence in that isolated farmhouse at 1395 chemin de la Rose-Raie was deafening. Night had fallen hard, frost biting outside. I’d come here with Fesse-Mathieu, that surgeon prick from the congress. Chatted online after, same city vibe. He promised thrills: tie me up, fuck me helpless. I stripped, let him cuff my wrists to the bedposts, ankles spread wide, knees strapped open. Ball gag in, exposing my red bush and slick slit. Modern girl like me craves that rush—no games, straight to raw cock after screens. But he vanished. Phone dead. Hours ticked. Then… door creaks. Cold draft hits my skin. No car crunch on gravel. Footsteps soft, cloth whispers on furniture. Stair cracks. Torchlight sweeps the room, freezes on me.

‘Nom de Dious,’ he mutters, male voice rough. Tall shadow. Heart hammers. Panic? Nah, pussy twitches. This burglar—ripped jeans, dark hoodie—stares at my heaving tits, spread thighs. Removes gag gentle, fetches water. Eyes devour: green feline stare, he says. Hands still cuffed pink fur. He teases toys on the table—whip cracks bed, vibe buzzes, nipple clamps glint. ‘Your host a sick fuck.’ Frees wrists slow, palm ghosts my tits. Nipples harden instant. I’m soaked, no bullshit foreplay needed.

The Approach: Heart Pounding in the Dark House

His fingers brush deliberate now, pinching peaks. I gasp, arch. ‘Tell me how.’ Voice cracks explaining the fantasy gone wrong. He smirks, sucks one tit deep. Tongue flicks, teeth graze. Electricity shoots straight to clit. Body betrays—orgasm builds from boobs alone. ‘Vouiiii!’ I scream, thighs quake. Frees ankles, blows hot on my dripping lips. Teases toes, soles—tickles rip laughs, then moans. Fingers trace inner thighs, graze peach lips. Tongue dives in, laps folds, sucks clit hard. Fingers curl inside, hit spots I forgot. I shatter again, convulsing.

The Explosion: Fucked Wild and Begging

Naked now, condom on, he grinds tip on my entrance. Eyes lock—consent? Legs wrap his waist, pull him in. ‘Fuck me hard.’ Cock spears deep, fills raw. Slow thrusts first, eyes burning. Then savage—hips slam, skin slaps wet. ‘Your cunt’s gripping like vice, slut.’ ‘Harder, wreck me!’ Tits bounce, nails rake back. Sweat mixes, his stubble scrapes neck. Pace frenzied, grunts animal. I cum screaming, walls milk him. He kisses fierce, unloads pulsing.

Twice more—stocked condoms. Orgasms blur. Dawn hints, he wraps me in jacket, carries to car. Drops at my office: Cléophée Sagard, Psychiatrist. ‘Change locks.’ Kisses gone. Jacket back, watch ass sway away. Strangers again. Phone silent. That adrenaline hit perfect—no names swapped deep, just brutal bliss. Life spiced, back to suits tomorrow.