Blood in Your Hair: Our First Hands-Free Fuck
Head throbbed like a vice. Cold air bit my skin. Woke chained, arms yanked high, wrists raw in rusty links. Toes scraped dusty floor. Cock dangling, exposed. Across from me, Polly. Naked, tee shoved up her neck, panties tangled at thighs. Bruises bloomed on her tits, blood crusted her temple, matting platinum strands. ‘All that blood in your hair,’ I whispered. She leaned in, lips met mine. Sweet, alive. Heart hammered. Where the fuck were we? Underground hole, dim bulb overhead, shadows swallowing walls. No sirens, no cells. Torture pit maybe. Escape? Zero chance. But her eyes sparkled, needy. She flexed, knees grinding sand, tongue flicked my cockhead. ‘Not now,’ my glance said. Hers pouted, devastating. That giggle, that yawn. Fuck, I was done. ‘Come on, baby, we’ve never done it without hands.’ Cock twitched hard. Betrayed me. Fear twisted with lust. No turning back. Adrenaline surged, mixing terror and throb. Her mouth hovered, breath hot. My pulse raced wild. This was it—first time helpless, pure instinct. Balls tightened. She was my everything, even here.
Lips sealed around my shaft. Warm volcano. I bucked, abs clenched. No hands, just hips thrusting into her throat. She gagged soft, eyes locked—pure submission, my slut. ‘Suck me, you whore,’ I growled. She hummed, slurping deeper. Saliva dripped, lubing me slick. Minutes blurred, her head bobbing frantic. Breath ragged, she pulled off, string of spit connecting us. Cock slapped her cheek—playful, urgent. She grinned wicked, shimmied panties off one ankle. Hips rolled, legs hooked my waist. Heat pressed my tip to her wet slit. First push—home. She impaled, chains rattling. I braced feet, thrust up slow. She screamed, body convulsing. Orgasm hit her instant, tits smashing mine. Kiss devoured, teeth nipping. I plunged tongue deep, balls emptying. Cum flooded her. She arched, howling. Slid down, spent. But not done. Tongue lapped my dripping cock, then swallowed whole. Frenzy sucked second load out. Raging bliss. New world—bound, animal raw. Sensations exploded: her throat milking, chains biting, heart exploding.
The Approach
Cum trailed her chin, smeared tits. She savored every drop, eyes shut in worship. Eternity in that suck. Then—voice boomed from dark. ‘What a slut you are, Polly Jean Westwood.’ Giant shadow rose—two meters, muscle mountain. Whip in fist, sheriff’s badge glinting. She didn’t stop, glancing defiant, lips full of me. Heart slammed—ecstasy or dread? Whip cracked her ass. Muffled yelp, but she nursed on. Fury boiled him. Lashed harder, hurled her down. ‘Fuck you!’ she spat, cum bubbling. ‘I’ll skin you for touching her!’ I roared. Fist smashed my neck. Stars burst, world spun. Nausea churned. Blackness clawed. Last words: ‘Come to daddy, Polly Jean… you been bad.’ Fade out. Waking to that memory now—innocence shattered. That chained fuck opened doors to chaos bliss. Blood, cum, bullets. Adulthood’s mark: love in the abyss, no regrets. Her wild eyes, forever burned.
