Naked Thrill: My Raw Submission in Sarrebourg Forest

Train pulls into Sarrebourg station at 2 PM sharp, May 6th. My heels stab the platform—killer stilettos making me wobble like a drunk duck. Light button-up dress clings to my skin, tiny bag slung over shoulder with just 24 hours’ worth: lube, toys, fresh panties I know won’t last. Heart hammers. Days of flirty chats, edging around our real hunger—fantasies of total surrender. Finally, his question: Why are you here? To give myself body and soul. Now it’s real. I spot the bistro terrace across the street, order a coffee. Hands shake. Phone buzzes. ‘You’re gorgeous. Ready? Safeword: bee.’ Fuck yes. ‘All yours, Sir.’ He emerges from a blacked-out car, strides over. Relief floods me. His lips crash mine—claiming kiss, tongue invading. ‘That coat? Not agreed.’ Shit, it’s chilly. ‘Remove the dress. Coat covers you.’ Toilets. I strip fast, pulse racing, emerge clutching the dress in a bag. Terrace eyes on us. Couple next table perks up. I sit without permission. ‘Second mistake.’ Voice low, mortified: ‘I feel naked.’ ‘Speak up.’ Neighbors stare. ‘Almost naked, Sir.’ Louder now. He smirks. ‘Unbutton top two. Stand.’ Wobble up, legs apart, ass out. ‘Turn for me.’ Spinning, tits nearly spilling, that woman slips me a note—’Call me’ scribbled. Pocket it quick. He doesn’t see. Sits finally. Gift: fabric collar. ‘Wear it. You’re mine till I say.’ Snap it on. Obey without question. Into his car, back seat. ‘Coat off.’ Fingers fumble buttons. Teased lace bra, sheer, nipples poking. Matching thong, trimmed bush peeking. He glances in mirror. ‘Beautiful. Bra off too. No undies from now on.’ Toss it forward. Firm tits free, hard peaks begging. Forest edge. Car bumps down dirt path. Stops. ‘Everything off. Naked outside.’ Door opens. Birds chirp, sun warms skin. Five meters front, heels sink. Peel thong—wet already. Garters, stockings slide down. Barefoot now. Heels handed over. ‘Walk ahead to the cabin. Naked punishment for hesitating.’ Gravel bites soles. I yelp, twist, ass jiggling. His engine hums behind, eyes burning me. Phone vibrates again—ignore. His cologne hits when he parks earlier than expected. Can’t wait.

He bolts from car, grabs my waist. ‘Enough teasing, Myelle.’ Slams me against hood—cool metal on hot skin. Days of chat filth unleashes. ‘Beg for my cock.’ ‘Fuck me, Sir. Own this slut pussy.’ Rough hands yank thighs wide. Fingers probe—dripping. ‘Soaked whore.’ Zipper rasps. Thick cock springs free, veins pulsing. No condom—raw as promised. Thrusts in brutal, stretching me full. Gasp rips out. ‘Take it!’ Pounds deep, hips slapping ass. Forest echoes our grunts. Leaves crunch under shifting weight. Sweat mixes with my perfume—vanilla musk he inhales deep. ‘Smell that cunt?’ Fingers twist nipples hard. I buck wild, heels forgotten, toes curling in dirt. ‘Harder! Break me!’ He flips me face-down on hood, legs spread eagle. Re-enters savage, balls smacking clit. Orgasm builds fast—adrenaline rocket. ‘Cum on Master’s dick.’ I shatter, walls clenching, scream muffled by his palm. He roars, floods me hot—cum dripping thighs. Collapses over me, breath ragged. Cock twitches inside.

The Approach: Tension Ignites at the Station

Panting slows. He pulls out, plug of cum leaks. ‘Good girl.’ Hands towel from car, wipes me gentle. Collar stays. But cabin waits—24 hours more? No. Safeword tempts, but nah. He dresses me minus undies, bra gone forever. Coat back on. Note burns pocket—secret thrill. Drops me station. ‘Till next chat?’ Kiss soft now. Train whooshes in. I board, thighs sticky, feet sore. Back to screens, anonymous again. Just a ghost with forest dirt under nails. Phone buzzes—his text: ‘Perfect sub.’ Smile fades. Stranger once more.