The text came a week later, on a quiet Sunday morning.
Wear my favorite color today. Red. Something light, with an overcoat. Be ready by four. Our day, sweetie.
My heart hammered against my ribs. A date. A real date. I spent the day in a haze of nervous energy, obeying his other, standing command. Every morning and night, I'd used the small suction device on my clit, and now, as I moved, I could feel it. The little bead of flesh was perpetually swollen, puffy, and sensitive, peeking out from its hood and rubbing against any fabric with a delicious, constant friction.
I stood before my wardrobe. His favorite color. Red. I found it tucked in the back—a dress I'd bought on a whim and never worn. A knitted black crop top that plunged low, meant to be worn with a red lace plunge bra underneath. A tiny, pleated mini skirt. I paired it with the red lace thong and sheer black thigh-high stockings, finishing with sharp black heels. I looked at myself. The red lace of the bra was visible through the loose knit of the top, a promise of what was underneath. I slicked on red lipstick, the final touch. I was a wrapped present, just for him.
At four sharp, my phone buzzed.
Now.
I slipped on a long, black overcoat that covered me from neck to ankle and walked out. His car was idling at the curb. I slid into the passenger seat, the leather cool through my stockings.
He didn't look at me. He put the car in drive. "Take the coat off, sweetie. Let me see you."
My fingers fumbled with the belt. I shrugged the heavy coat off, letting it pool on the seat behind me. The chill of the air conditioning swept over my exposed legs, my arms.
His eyes flicked from the road to me, a slow, hungry drag. "Fuck. Look at you. My good little slut, dressed just for me." His hand left the gearshift and landed high on my thigh, his rough fingers pushing the hem of my skirt up. He didn't look, he just felt, his palm skating over the bare skin of my inner thigh, higher, until his fingertips brushed the lace of the thong. He hooked a finger under the elastic and gave a sharp, testing tug. "No panties would have been better. But this red lace… it's like a fucking flag on my property. Good girl."
The way he said it—low, dirty, approving—sent a jolt straight to my already-throbbing clit. I bit my lip, blushing, as he put his hand back on the wheel.
He drove out of the city, the buildings thinning into trees. We turned onto a narrow, unpaved road, deep into a forested area. It opened up into a secluded clearing by a small, still lake. Grassland stretched around us. No one. Nothing. Just the late afternoon sun filtering through the leaves.
He parked, the engine cutting into a profound silence. "Back seat. Now."
I climbed awkwardly over the center console, my skirt riding up. He followed, a dark, possessive shadow. The moment the door shut, he was on me. His mouth crashed down on mine, a kiss of pure ownership, his tongue claiming every inch of my mouth. I melted into it, a soft whimper escaping as I felt the instant, soaking rush between my legs.
He pulled back, breathing hard. "Let me see what I'm working with." He pushed my skirt up to my waist, his eyes burning as he took in the red lace thong stretched over my plump mound. "Look at that. Your little clit's making a fucking tent in the lace. All puffy and needy from doing what I told you." He leaned down and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss right over the damp spot. I jerked, a gasp tearing from my throat. He grinned against me. "So wet for me already."
He hooked his fingers into the sides of the thong and peeled it down my legs, tossing it aside. The cool air of the car kissed my exposed, swollen flesh. He reached into the back seat pocket and pulled out a small black box. Inside, on a bed of velvet, lay a delicate silver ring and a length of fine chain.
"Hold still," he murmured, his voice a thick, sexy command. He parted my slick folds with his thumbs, exposing my swollen, protruding clit. The metal of the ring was cool as he carefully guided it through the piercing I already had. The click of the clasp closing made me flinch. He attached one end of the chain to the ring. He gave it the gentlest tug.
Sensation. Sharp, bright, electric. It pulled on the most sensitive part of me. I cried out, my hands flying to his shoulders.
"Shhh," he soothed, kissing my inner thigh. "Just getting started." He deftly unclasped my bra, pulling it off and freeing my heavy tits. He produced two more small rings, clamping them onto my nipple piercings. He connected the same chain to them, creating a delicate, cruel web of silver linking my nipples to my clit. He held the chain in the middle and pulled, just a little.
All three points of exquisite tension fired at once. My back arched off the seat, a ragged moan ripped from my chest. My tits jiggled with the motion. "Oh god."
"Mr. Callahan," he corrected, his eyes dark with lust. He pulled again, a slow, steady pressure that made my vision swim. He leaned in and sucked a nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking the ring, his teeth gently scraping the chain. The dual sensation was unbelievable. He kissed his way up my chest, my neck, to my mouth. "My beautiful, decorated slut. All trussed up for me."
He pulled a final item from the box—a slim black velvet choker. He fastened it around my neck, then clipped the central point of the chain to it. He gave the chain a firm upward tug. It pulled my nipples up, and sent a deep, aching pull straight to my clit. I saw stars.
"Fuck," I sobbed.
"I know, sweetie. I know." He kissed me, deep and passionate. "Now. Top and skirt off. You're wearing just the chain and the choker."
With trembling hands, I pulled the knitted top over my head, wiggled out of the skirt. I was naked except for the stockings, heels, and the silver chain connecting my throat, my tits, and my cunt. He produced a soft, red leash from the basket and clipped it to the choker.
"Out of the car."
He held the picnic basket in one hand, my leash in the other. He led me, naked and blushing, into the sun-dappled clearing. Every few steps, he'd give the leash a little tug. The chain would pull, and a bolt of pleasure-pain would shoot through my core, making me gasp and stumble. He'd steady me with a hand on my ass, his fingers digging into the soft, jiggling flesh.
"Such a good bitch on a walk," he commented, his voice casual, nasty.
He spread a blanket on the grass. "Sit. On my lap. Facing me."
I straddled him, the rough fabric of his trousers against my inner thighs. He kissed me, his tongue fucking my mouth in time with his hand sliding between us. His fingers found my soaked, swollen lips, and pushed two inside with no preamble. I was so wet they slid in to the knuckles. He fingered me with deep, curling strokes, his thumb rubbing tight circles on my chained clit.
"You like being my little forest whore?" he growled against my lips. "My naked, chained-up sweetie, getting fingered in the middle of fucking nowhere?" He pinched my clit through the ring, making me scream into his mouth. "Answer me."
"Yes! God, yes, Uncle!"
"Good." He laid me back on the blanket, the cool grass tickling my skin. He pushed my thighs apart, his eyes devouring the sight of my meaty, glistening pussy, the silver ring glinting amid the dark, swollen folds. He didn't speak. He just lowered his head and ate me like a man starving.
His tongue was brutal, passionate. He french kissed my cunt, plunging deep, then sucking my inner lips into his mouth, his nose mashing against the chain and my clit. He licked and slurped, the sounds obscenely loud in the quiet forest. I came almost immediately, my hips bucking, my juices flooding his mouth. He didn't stop. He drank me down, then moved to cover my body in dark, possessive hickeys—on my tits, my stomach, the insides of my thighs.
He sat up, pulled a camera from the basket, and took pictures. The shutter clicked, capturing me splayed and debauched on the blanket, the chain glinting, my body marked. He put the camera down and pulled out a sleek, pink vibrator. He turned it on and held it against my chained clit.
The buzz vibrated through the metal, amplifying it tenfold. I shrieked, my body bowing off the ground. He teased me with it, tracing my swollen outer lips, circling my entrance, but always returning to that unbearable, vibrating pressure on the ring.
"Please," I begged, incoherent.
"Please what, sweetie?"
"I… I need…"
He stood then, stripping off his own shirt and pants. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy. "Get my underwear off. With your mouth."
I pushed myself up on shaky arms, leaned forward, and gripped the waistband of his boxers with my teeth. I pulled them down, my face brushing against his hot, hard length. The musky scent of him filled my head.
"Good bitch," he praised, his hand in my hair. "Now suck it. Make it wet."
I took him into my mouth, sucking greedily, my tongue working the thick vein underneath. He fucked my face with slow, deep thrusts, groaning. "That's it. Take all of me. You have the prettiest fucking mouth."
He pulled out suddenly, his cock glistening with my spit. "On your knees, Finish me with that pretty mouth."
This cunt is mine," he growled. "You understand? This wet, hungry hole belongs to Mr. Callahan."
"Yes! It's yours, please!"
took him into my mouth, sucking frantically. He gripped my hair, his hips jerking. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum, sweetie. Swallow it. Swallow every fucking drop."
He erupted, hot and salty, flooding my throat. I swallowed convulsively, milked him with my tongue until he was soft.
The sun was lower, the light turning a deep, dusky gold. He dressed quickly, then gathered things, putting them in the basket. He unclipped the leash from my choker, but left the chain and piercings in place.
"Up," he said, holding the leash again. "We're going for another walk. Just like this."
I was naked, covered in bites and marks, as he led me by the chain through the darkening forest. He'd tug me close, grope my tits, squeeze my ass. "Who's your loving master, sweetie?" he asked, his voice a dark caress.
"You are," I panted.
"Who?"
"Mr. Callahan."
"Good girl." He stopped by a large oak tree. "Now, mark this place as my good bitch. Lift your leg."
My eyes went wide. He hooked my left leg over his arm, exposing me completely. He took the vibrator from the basket and pressed it against my chained clit. "Go on. Pee for me. Like the bitch you are."
The vibrations tore another orgasm from me, and with a shuddering cry, I let go. A hot stream arched onto the base of the tree, my body convulsing with the force of my climax. He watched, his eyes burning with possession.
"That's a good bitch," he said, his voice full of dark, nasty pride. He cleaned me with a wet wipe, his touch surprisingly gentle, then kissed me with a passion that stole my breath.
He led me back to the car, made me sit naked in the passenger seat. He turned the AC on high, the cool air pebbling my skin. "Control your climaxes on the way home," he ordered, his hand on my thigh. As he drove, his fingers would drift, rubbing my clit through the chain, pinching a nipple ring. Each touch was a lightning bolt, making me jump and whimper, trying desperately not to cum.
It was fully dark when we pulled up to my building. He took my clothes from the basket. "Just the coat. Come."
I slipped the long overcoat on, belting it. It covered me to mid-thigh. We walked into the building, the lobby empty. Under the stairwell, in the shadowy dark, he pushed me against the wall and kissed me one last time, deep and desperate. "Go upstairs," he breathed. "I'll be right behind you."
My heart was a wild drum as I rode the elevator alone. I'd just unlocked my door when I felt his presence. He followed me in, locked the door, and sat on my couch.
"Come here, sweetie. On my lap. Facing me."
I shed the coat, standing naked before him, my body a canvas of his marks. I straddled him. His hands roamed over me, worshiping every curve, tracing the hickeys. "So beautiful," he murmured, before his expression turned serious, intense. He kissed me, slow and deep. "Marry me, Mia."
I blinked. "What… what about your wife?"
"She doesn't care about me. Not like this. And secondly… it's a play marriage, sweetie. I wanna fuck you so bad, not as your neighbor, not as some uncle… but as your husband. I want to own you completely. Can we get married?"
As he spoke, his thumb rubbed my swollen clit, his mouth latched onto my nipple, sucking hard. The sensations, the filthy, beautiful words, swirled in my head.
"Such a beauty you are," he mumbled against my breast. "My perfect, plump little wife. Say yes."
I was nodding before I even formed the word. "Yes."
He kissed me, a triumphant, passionate kiss that tasted like forever. "I'll tell you the date. We'll have it right here. Just us." He stood, lifting me with him, then set me on my feet. He leaned close, his lips brushing my ear. "I wanna own you so bad, sweetie." He gave my ass a final, gentle spank that made me blush. A soft, goodnight kiss. "Sleep well, my future wife."
He was gone.
I stood naked in the center of my living room, the chain still connecting my most intimate parts, my skin humming, my cunt aching and wet.
Marriage. The word echoed, a secret, thrilling promise in the dark. A blush spread across my chest, warm and endless. It wouldn't be a bad thing, I thought, my fingers drifting to the ring on my clit. Not bad at all.