My First Surrender: The Electrician Who Broke My Innocent Bourgeois World
I was nineteen, a sheltered bourgeois virgin, pulling weeds in the vegetable garden to calm my racing heart. The day before, he’d mocked me—our parents’ rough electrician, with his crude words and arrogant stare. His laugh chased me as I fled. That night, feverish sweat soaked my sheets. Firing him? Unthinkable. I craved the chaos he stirred.
I’d dodged him all day. But evening came. He snuck up behind me in the dirt. Hands on my shoulders, pinning me on my knees. ‘Lift your skirt, show me your treasures, you little slut.’ Heart pounding, cheeks burning, I froze. He pressed harder. ‘Your dad’s praising my work. You want me to stay? Obey me, bourgeois bitch.’
The Approach: Trembling Anticipation in the Vegetable Garden
Pressure built. ‘Lift it. Show your ass, virgin. Or I’m gone forever.’ Panic surged. Him leaving? My body screamed no. Trembling fingers hiked my skirt. Exposed panties to his piercing gaze. ‘Panties off. Bare ass now.’ Shivers ripped through me. I obeyed, savoring the thrill of first submission.
‘On all fours. Show your hole.’ Terror mixed with fire. ‘Someone might see—a pious girl like a whore.’ He laughed. ‘That’s what you are. Submit or goodbye.’ Humiliation burned sweet. I dropped forward, ass up, hole bared. His eyes devoured. ‘Good bitch. Submit fully?’ ‘Yes, Master,’ I whispered, hooked.
Silence. Then—crack!—his hand slapped my ass hard. Pain exploded. I spun, tears blurring; he was gone. That night, dreams swirled: him whipping me on the church square, beer bottle in my ass, villagers jeering as rough fingers claimed my virgin pussy. Fingers slick with cream, I probed my tight hole, tube sliding in, mimicking the fantasy. Pain and ecstasy blurred.
Next day, garden chaise, exhausted. Mom gone. Him: ‘Morning, bitch.’ Heart slammed. ‘Morning, Master.’ Orders flew: blouse off, skirt, bra. Naked, rolls exposed, nipples pinched raw. ‘You’re my fat sow slut.’ Bent over, ass up. ‘Time to pop your cherry.’ His hard cock slammed in. Chair collapsed; I hit dirt. He yanked me back, pounding brutal. No rape—pure consent. Gagged moans escaped. Slaps rained. ‘Shut up, whore.’ Pinch, bite—pain-torn orgasm crashed. He pulled out, spermed my ass. Gone.
The Instant: Brutal Deflowering and First Anal Surrender
No regrets. Pussy bloody-wet, ass coated, bites throbbing. I wept—for more.
Church day. His whisper under window: no panties, expose tits later. Mass dragged, pussy dripping thighs. Checked roughly at church door—fingers in. Home, shirt gaping, nips teasing air. Him and friend waiting. ‘Strip, show your fat ass and udders.’ Slap for hesitation. All fours. Fingers probed ass—first anal stretch, gel-slick now welcome.
Friend begged to fuck. Master front: tits in hands, door open. ‘Scream your slut pain.’ Cock invaded ass—lube helped, but tore screams. Master’s tongue on clit, teeth nibbling, pinches twisting. Insults flew. Clit clamped. ‘Want to stop?’ No—craved it. Twerked ass back, howling. Pinches on nips. Master jerked over face. Friend came deep; Master flooded throat, yanking clamps. Left wrecked: clamps biting, ass gaping, face sticky.
Showered clean. Innocence shattered. His property now. Voluptuous path opened.
