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Heartbreakers III

Little Miss Fuck And Run

Little Miss Fuck And Run

It’s the cruelest thing I do. I can’t help it, I totally get off on it.

Little Miss Fuck and Run is on her back, her arms over her head, handcuffed to the bedposts. She is only wearing these lacy black panties. I’m fully dressed, suit and tie, no shoes or socks. I’m just walking around the bed looking at her. She’s staring at me.

“Ssh. No talking. Keep your eyes open.”

“Uhh,” she groans.

I walk out of the room, down the hallway to the kitchen. I open up the freezer, get out a bottle of champagne and a hunting knife. Why do I have a hunting knife in the freezer? Because I prepared. Because I care.

So I’ve got the bottle of champagne in my left hand at the hunting knife in my right. I walk back in the room, she looks over at me. She flinches.

“Ooh,” she groans.

“Ssh ssh ssh. No talking.”

I just sort of casually walk around the bed for a bit, looking at her. Her eyes are wide, she is wriggling around a bit. Her breath is getting heavy and she keeps pulling her arms, straining against the cuffs. She looks beautiful. Her skin is flawless, her body divine, stunning. I put the hunting knife on the bed, next to her right arm. She’s panting now. I smile at her, reach my right arm out and brush her lips with my finger.

“Precious. Little. You’re so so cute.”

“Mmmh.” She is pressing her lips tight, she kind of squeals, like a whine. “Mmmmh.”

“Ssh ssh shh, no talking.”

I rip off the foil, twist the wire and pop the cork off of the champagne. I hold the bottle over her face. She gets this hot look, looks in my eyes, smiles for a second, then sticks her tongue out at me. The little brat.

“Open.”

Game In Progress

Game In Progress

She opens her mouth as wide as she can. I pour just a tiny bit of champagne in her mouth. Her eyes reflexively close, she closes her mouth and swallows. She licks her lips. Looks up at me with that hot look again, sticks her tongue out out me again. “Mmmmmmh.”

“Ssh, no talking.”

“Open.”

She opens her mouth wide, closes her eyes. I pour a tiny bit more champagne in her mouth, but keep pouring. She snaps her mouth closed. I just keep pouring the champagne all over her face. She starts jerking her head to the side. It’s cold. I just keep pouring it down her front, starting at her face and moving down her body and pour the rest all over her. She shivers. “Mmmmmh, uuuh.” Her nipples are hard now, she’s getting goosebumps on her skin.

“Ssh ssh, no talking. Open your eyes.”

I pick up the knife. I place the flat part across her stomach. It’s cold. She moans again. She’s jerking around a bit now. I drag the knife down her stomach to right at the top of her panties. With my other hand, I grab the waist of her panties and pull them up, take the knife, and cut the right side, then the left, and snatch them off. I throw the knife across the room, it clatters on the floor. I bunch up the panties and tell her, “open your mouth.” She keeps opening then closing her eyes, pulling against the cuffs. I start putting the bunched up panties in her mouth until her mouth is full and they are sort of half in, half out.

“Open your eyes.” She does, wide. I take my finger and put in on her chin. I slowly trace down her chin, down her neck, down to her chest, then follow it up her breast to her nipple, and squeeze hard. She moans, “mmh mmh mmh.” Closing and opening her eyes. I run my finger back to the middle of of her breasts and keep tracing down the middle of her stomach, past her bellybutton, to right at the top of her pubic hair. She opens her legs in anticipation, “mmmh mmh.”

“Not yet, little.”

I trace my finger to the left side of her to the top of her thigh. Then I trace the front of her leg, down her thigh, to her knee, then under her knee, keep going down the front of her calf.

She figures it out.

Sweet Torture

Sweet Torture

She screams, well, as well as she can with her mouth full. Her leg jerks so I grab her ankle and hold it down. She starts kicking her other leg, trying to force my hand off her. She’s moaning, her nostrils flaring, kind of panting. “Mmmmmmh!” I pull her foot up and start.

“Tickle, tickle!”

She flips out.

A few months later I’m talking to Mr. Spooky on the phone and I couldn’t believe what I’m hearing. A quarter million, over the course of a year, for what would seemingly be a pretty simple job. Hey, if the customer wants to over pay, I’m certainly not going to stop him. The timing is crucial, he says. He’s on a tight, tight deadline. I’d have to start immediately, work through the rest of August and all of September.

Plus, he wants me up there. In the office. The last thing I want is to go to fucking Jersey, but $250,000 is a lot of green.

To Be Continued.

K. FlayDoctor Don’t Know

sssh

6 comments on “Heartbreakers III

  1. Hipster Racist
    October 11, 2013

    Reblogged this on Hipster Racist.

  2. PushingOurLimits
    October 11, 2013

    very interesting!

  3. lionsgate1890
    October 12, 2013

    Wonderful post. Like the story line…I like the way you went with the champagne. Interesting mind. Jersey! Really! hmmm

  4. FemaleSexWriter
    October 12, 2013

    I over this storyline. It made me very wet. I am honored to have read it.

  5. friendlyhipster
    October 12, 2013

    I cannot watch this video without cracking up!

  6. Pingback: The Life and Times of Hipster Racist | Hipster Racist

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