Page 98 of The Naughty List

It feels like a lifetime until I see a looming building in the distance. It looks like a barn. I’m shaking like crazy as we reach the place. He pulls up in a cobbled yard, turns off the engine and gets out of the truck.

The doors open behind me and the smell hits me – cattle. It’s a farm.

User 706 doesn’t hesitate as he climbs up into the back and hauls my wrists up and over the headrest. I kick out on instinct, but he doesn’t give a shit, just grabs me by my ankles and tugs me backwards so hard I drop out of the truck onto the cobbles with a yelp.

He puts a foot on me and shoves me onto my back, placing his boot on my stomach like I’m nothing but shit. He towers over me, his bulk lit up by the moonlight.

“Here, you’re mine. Scream all you like. Fight all you like. Run all you like. It won’t fucking matter. Nobody will hear you, nobody will save you, nobody will come running.”

I look around, frantic. I can’t stop the whimpers.

Flag.I could say it. It’s in my throat. But I don’t. I don’t say it… because there’s something else in the pit of me now… something familiar…

Something like being on a rack bench at someone else’s mercy.

The beauty of pure submission.

He lifts his foot off me and I struggle to crawl away. He laughs as he watches, and I feel so cheap it’s disgusting. But so fucking dirty that my pussy is wetting my thighs.

Submission, I tell myself.

I love submission.

I adore the sensation of giving up everything… my fate someone else’s to control.

“Keep crawling all you like,” he says, still laughing. “You’re not going to get very far, and there’s cow shit over there, so unless you want a face full of it, I’d think fucking twice.”

My knees keep crawling regardless, my bound hands keep shuffling along. And it’s not because I want a face full of cow shit, it’s because I want him to come and take me. Come and grab me, and force me, and pin me to the ground with a big muddy boot, at his whim.

“I’m going to give you to the count of three,” he shouts. “If you’re not turning your pretty ass back towards me by then, you’ll pay for it, you stupid bitch.”

I want him to make me pay for it.

“Three!”

I keep crawling, like a warped, clumsy caterpillar in my bonds. I lose one of my heels, but stand no chance of getting it back, so keep on going.

“Two!”

I whimper as I squirm, scuffing my palms as I fall, and there goes my other heel.

“One!”

I’m still trying to get back onto all fours, frantic when he approaches. I scream and lash out and flail on the floor beneath him as he lands his boot back on me. Only this time he flips me onto my back with a thump of his toe, and his cold, muddy sole presses against my heaving chest, right on my tits.

“You’re a feisty little fucking cow, aren’t you?” he laughs again.

“Fuck you,” I say, the words coming so naturally.

“No,” he replies, his voice serious this time as he hauls me up to my feet, his masked face in mine. “Fuckyou.”

I’m trembling so bad I can barely stand as he unbinds my wrists. He takes a fistful of my hair and drags me back to the truck, slamming my back against the side. He tears my coat open, slapping the mud off my tits, rough enough that I cry out at the pain. Then, oh fuck, his eyes meet mine once he sees the points of my nipples.

“I knew it all along. You’re a desperate horny slut,” he says, and pulls my cami top and bra down so my tits are bare. My nipples are so hard in the cold, they’re like freezing bullets – so much more sensitive when he slaps them.

“Harder,” I say to him, with the backchat he wants from me. “If you think I’m such a cheap little slut, then at least slap me like you mean it. Take your gloves off.”

“You’re asking for fucking trouble,” he says, but I raise my arms over my head, like I’m ready for it.

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