First Surrender: My Girl’s Basement Awakening with the Tailor
In the dim basement of the tailor’s shop, 6th arrondissement, Paris. Late afternoon, June 2007. All interns gone. Heart pounding. Maribel alone with J., her boss. The air thick, cool on her skin. She descends the stairs, pulse racing. He said stay after five. No turning back now.
Nerves twist in her gut. Fear mixes with that electric pull. His game all week—harsh words up top, hungry eyes alone. She craves it, our twisted plan. My voice echoes in her head: submit, but it’s our game. Door clicks shut above. Vulnerability hits hard. Wet already, thighs slick. What if he pushes too far? Excitement drowns doubt. She waits, breath shallow.
The Approach
He appears behind her. Strong hands grip her waist, pull her back. Hard body presses in. She gasps, arches instinctively. That first real contact—his bulge against her ass. Heart hammers. No words yet. Just heat, pressure. She moans soft, pushes back. Game on.
He spins her, sits her down. Black dress hikes up. Red silk thong slides off. Finger brushes her wet slit. She shivers. Exposed. He kneels, tongue dives in. Hot, greedy laps at her pussy. Delicious, he growls. Fingers in her mouth—suck them. She does, eager. Hand fumbles his zipper, feels his thick cock throb. He’s dressed, she’s bare. Power shift thrills her.
Up now, to the table. Dress gone, fully naked. Bent over, ass high, legs spread. Two holes offered. Tongue probes everywhere—pussy, ass. Fingers too, deep. Smack! Hand cracks her cheek. Harder. Skin burns red. She cams more, obeys. Fingers twist in her ass, three now. Pain spikes pleasure. Cries muffled by his palm. Hair yanked back. Body on fire, sweat-slick.
She stops it there. First time limit. Dresses quick, flees to me. But the seed’s planted.
The Instant
Home, she recounts every detail. I lick her still-swollen pussy while she speaks. Cock aches. Love her more. But shadows in her eyes. Next day, dreads work. We agree—maybe more, but no penetration.
Two days later, he calls her back. 2pm plea. She hesitates, calls me. Wants it. I set rules: mouth only. Evening, she texts—leaving interns, heading back alone. Voice determined. Mine uneasy.
Eight pm call. Two hours felt eternal. Back home, blindfold tale first. Naked wait, skin prickling cold. He returns, ties eyes. Hands ghost her body—belly, bush, back. Grip hair, forces knees. Cock rams throat. No prep. Deep, relentless. Gags her hard. Long minutes of sloppy suck.
Four paws next. Ass up, head down. Smacks rain. Then—bam—cock slams pussy. Blind, she takes it. No resistance. Pounds brutal, hand pinning. Flips to table, legs wide. Fingers ass again. No, she begs. Not yet, he smirks. Fucks harder, fills her with cum.
Days later, she ghosts. Denies it all. Violent rejection. Did she run to him? Hate me for offering her? Couldn’t face the slut awakened? Innocence cracked wide. Our game ended her. Mine forever scarred.
