Dressed as His Maid Slut: My Third Surrender to Cock

Friday night. Friends over, beers flowing, controllers clicking. My laptop on the table. Buddy grabs it for a search. Window pops: ‘Hey, my little slut!’ My heart stops. It’s him. I yank it back, face pale. No way they saw. I duck to the corner, type fast: sorry, with friends, can’t talk. His reply: be free in two hours exactly, or else. I log off, hand it back. Clock hits 10 PM. Nights like this drag till dawn.

First hour, I wrestle it. Stay with bros? Fuck him off? Alcohol buzzes, cock twitches. Excitement wins. I fake yawns, ‘Guys, beat, early meeting.’ Last cigs, last games, last drinks. They drag ass. Finally alone at 12:30. Dive on laptop. He’s offline. Gut drops. Wasted the night.

The Approach

Pour whiskey, light smoke, surf porn. Window flashes. Him: ‘Waited for you, slut. What took so long?’ Apologize like hell. ‘Available now?’ Yeah. ‘Come over. You’ll be my maid. Clean, serve. Suck under desk. Bedroom: tied, suck more, I’ll grind your ass till I cum.’ My fantasy. Told him online: wanna feel like his bitch, tied, humiliated, fucked slow. No kisses, no piss shit. He paces perfect.

‘OK, stick to it. No surprises.’ ’30 mins.’ Gone. Fear spikes, but buzz pushes me out. Door buzzes open. Stairs up, dick hard. Door ajar. Dim living room, him on couch, TV glow. ‘Bathroom. Dress. Can’t stay like that.’ Sharp. No questions. Chair: black stockings, pink corset-garter, red lace thong, black silk maid dress with white lace. Sissy gear. Too late to bail. Thrill hits.

Stockings slide on smooth, hide my leg hair. Thong string bites crack, reminds last suck. Corset fights, hooks strain my gut. Garters: three per leg, fiddly. He bursts in. ‘What the fuck?’ Sorry, new to this. ‘Get used to it. Hurry.’ String strains harder. Dress hugs tight—I’m 5’7, soft belly, but ass pops. Heels next: glossy black, 4 inches, size 41 too snug for my 42.5. First foot in. Second: wobble, crash on couch. Balance hell. Up shaky, tower tall. His pants bulge. My work.

The Explosion

‘Serve whiskey. No ice.’ Stumble to cabinet, pour, set down. Sit beside. His hand thighs me. Mine on his zip, feel the heat. Crave it. Glass empty: ‘PC time. Follow.’ Grip my hand, drags. Corridor: he behind, heels sway my hips slutty. Pins me to wall. Cock grinds ass through silk. Neck kisses, hot breath. ‘Good slut.’ ‘Your ass kills me, whore.’ Spins me, bulges clash. Hands on hips—then lips crash. No! Limit broken. Tongue pries. I resist… cave. Deep, wet. Lifts thigh. Owned. Stops abrupt. ‘Office.’

Under desk, tight spot. Zip down, cock out. Suck slow. Familiar musk floods. Keys clack above. Pulls pants off, balls dangle. Lick, suck ’em. Cock slaps face. Rhythm rough. Shoves head aside—screen: stranger jerks watching me. Humiliation peak. Cums fast. He types. Up: ‘Bedroom.’

On back. Straddles chest, feeds cock. ‘Say you love it.’ ‘Love… your… cock.’ Ties wrists to headboard with ties. Balls on lips: lick, suck each. Cock smears face. Phone flash—pic. Deeper throat. Jerks, unloads ropes on face. Eye, nose, mouth coated. Lips pinch shut. Spit drools in. ‘Stay. TV first.’ Gone.

Minutes tick. Nose clogs. Mouth opens—semen slips down. Salty-thick, not bad. Tied, raging hard-on untouched. 20 mins drag. Returns, unties. ‘Can’t reload fast. Wash face. Salon.’ Evening far from done.