“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He sighed, frustrated.
“He had to have told somebody.”
“Why don’t you try asking one of his business partners? He doesn’t tell me anything.”
“Where do you think I went before I came for you?”
I felt an icy grip of fear on my heart. If he’d already got to my husband’s closest friends, this man was more formidable than I could have imagined. The cold feeling shivered through my whole body, coming to settle between my legs, of all places, and I realized belatedly that my cunt was throbbing.
I licked my lips and regarded the driver. He was as handsome as ever, little beads of sweat travelling down the sides of his face. Obviously, my husband had done him wrong. Even within the world of organized crime there were still rules, expectations, and I’d always known that my husband tended to do whatever he wanted regardless of what was expected of him. But with the driver, it seemed like he’d finally crossed the wrong man.
I scooted my hips forward. I was only wearing a nightgown, flimsy and lace-trimmed, and soon my pussy was pressed directly against the fabric of his jeans. I rubbed against him shameless, not quite sure if I was just trying to distract him, or if this was really what I wanted. To fuck this man, this mysterious driver with no name, who was holding me for ransom in the middle of the woods as leverage against my no-good husband who didn’t give a shit about my happiness.
There was a moment where he was thrown off-balance, looking at me like he just wasn’t sure what the fuck I was doing. Then he was there with me, leaning down, his hand still pressed against my throat, his tongue flicking out to run up the length of my face, marking me. I felt a chill there as his saliva dried on my cheek.
When he released me and stood, I made a move to come after him, but he put his hand on my chest and pushed me back down.
“Stay.”
He came back with the ropes, but this time it excited me, the idea of feeling the fibers against my skin. He grabbed me by the hips and roughly flipped me onto my stomach, lashing my hands behind my back and pulling me up so that my ass was in the air, my face pressed into the musty pillow. I moaned aloud, not even caring if he knew how much I’d wanted him, and for how long. He pushed my nightgown up past my waist, exposing my ass and pussy to his penetrating gaze. Then, to my surprise, instead of the hot hard press of his cock, I felt his tongue flick underneath me and lick a hot wet stripe from my clit to the back of my cunt.
I shuddered and almost collapsed, but he held me up, his fingers keeping a bruising grip on my hips as he lapped at my cunt like his life depended on it. I clenched fistfuls of the blanket and cried out wordlessly, shuddering and clenching, coming within minutes on his tongue, spurts of fluid coming out of me and pooling on the bedclothes.
When he withdrew, the first words out of his mouth were:
“Shut up.”
He leaned forward, slamming his cock into my hot, dripping pussy and clenching his hand around my mouth in one movement. I bit at his fingers as he thrust into me again and again, fucking me ruthlessly with his hot, hard dick, slamming deeper than I’d ever felt it in my life. His other hand left my hip and grabbed onto my hair, jerking my head back, sending shivers of pleasure up and down my spine. Every breath was a grunt as he fucked the very breath out of me.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been fucked like this, or if I ever had. I could hardly remember my own name. After a while, he released my hair, and I was almost disappointed until I felt his hand come down with a loud smack on my ass.
I moaned my pleasure into the pillow and he hit me again, again and again, every strike reverberating in my clit and making me breathless. Impossibly, I felt spirals of pleasure building again, and every smack of his hand against my reddening ass cheeks just made them spiral higher.
“You like this?” he said, finally.
I managed a quiet “mmhmm.”
He just spanked me harder, spurred on by my moans, which soon grew into hoarse yells as I felt myself come again, going vice-tight around his huge cock. I would have screamed his name if I knew what it was.
He slipped out of my sopping cunt after I was done, giving me one more smack just for good measure. For a minute I didn’t know what he was going to do; then, I heard him spit onto his fingers and I didn’t know whether to feel frightened, or elated.
He jammed two fingers inside my asshole without any preamble, shoving into me ferociously, scissoring them open against my tight muscles and ignoring my pained noises. I never told him to stop, although I felt like he would have obeyed me, and soon the burn of pain became something a little more ambiguous. I had never granted this to any man, always told myself I was saving it for someone special, and if this wasn’t the occasion then I didn’t know what was.
Just as I’d grown used to his fingers, he slipped them out and replaced them with his cock, still rock-hard and bigger than I’d ever had. It pressed insistently at my ass, refusing to take no for an answer, and I tried to relax and bare down on him. Inch by agonizing inch, his cock slid into my asshole, filling me so completely and I felt I might burst in two. When he was buried to the hilt, he stopped for a moment, giving my body a moment to adjust. I struggled to breathe.
He finally began to move, very slowly, and I felt as if every nerve ending in my body was on fire. Every little thrust of his cock was sending shocks of sensation through me. I was beginning to understand why people liked doing this; it was unlike anything I’d felt before, more intense than the best sex I’d ever had. It was almost too much to handle, but I gritted my teeth and moaned my way through it, moans becoming screams as he began to thrust harder and faster into my ass. Before I realized what was happening I heard myself yelling at him, urging him to fuck me harder, my hand drifting down to my swollen pussy to stroke my needy clit while he fucked me in the ass. He slapped my hand away, growling wordlessly, and I understood. I was only to take the pleasure that he gave to me.
He made a surprised, pleased little noise at reaching between my legs and finding me still so wet, so ready for him. He stroked me steadily, in rhythm with his hips, until I came again, screaming myself hoarse as I closed my eyes and saw starbursts. I wrenched my head around to look at him, and he brought his hand up to his lips and licked my fluids off of his fingers.
After what felt like forever, he began to lose his rhythm, his hips jerking of their own accord, and I felt the head of his cock flare and swell inside my ass. I cried out at the sharp sensation, and he stopped, exhaling harshly as his cock pulsed and spurting hot come inside me.
He pulled out, stepped away, leaving me cold and alone on the bed. I heard him go over to the wash basin and splash some water on himself; he returned a few moments later, with more rope, binding my ankles together and lying on the bed beside me.
“Don’t you trust me?” I asked.
“Would you?” he said, a spark of humor in his eyes that I had never seen before.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll give you that.”
His smile had an impish quality that was also strange to me. It seemed like he was enjoying having me like this, helpless and at his mercy, in a way that he hadn’t been expecting. But he welcomed it all the same, and hell, so did I. My husband had never made me feel like this. No man had.
We slept together on the cot, curled up like lovers.
The next day came and went, and still my husband hadn’t come for me. The driver still kept me tied up most of the time, but he was at least giving me real food now, jerky and cheese and crusty bread. That night he tied me up securely and laid beside me again, but I could feel the hard insistent press of his dick against my ass.
“You want me,” I said. A statement, not a question.
“Of course,” he said.
“What do you want?”
He seemed to consider this for a while.
“Suck my cock,” he said, finally, getting to his feet and standing at the edge of the bed.
I maneuvered myself into a seated position as he pulled his dick out of his jeans. It was the first time I’d gotten a good look at it; it was as big as it had felt in my pussy and ass, long and stiff, and as he pushed it towards me I opened my mouth as far as I could and swallowed him down. He guided himself in, his other hand coming around to grip my hair. I moaned around the mouthful of his cock as he held my head steady, fucking my mouth, his cock hitting my back of my throat with every thrust. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes and I could hardly breathe, but I loved every second of it, being helpless in this man’s hands.
Before long his breathing grew almost as harsh as mine, and I knew he couldn’t last. Saliva leaked from my mouth as I kept it slack for him, my tongue caressing the head of his cock every time it passed. My jaw was beginning to hurt, and I felt lightheaded, when he mustered a few more sloppy thrusts and filled my mouth with long hot spurts of jizz. I swallowed obediently, licking him clean as he withdrew.
I swore I could see fondness in his eyes as he touched the side of my face. But I’ve been wrong before.
After that, he lay down beside me and told me about the job he’d gone on with my husband. How he’d been promised a share, how my husband had turned on him, tried to kill him, and failed. He needed the money — for what, he wouldn’t say. But I could tell from the sad haunted look on his face that the cash wasn’t for him — not really. Maybe he had kids somewhere, or a friend who needed help. I didn’t want to ask him. I didn’t feel that it was my place.
That night, as I lay awake next to him, I tried to imagine my husband bursting into the room, guns blazing. I tried to imagine myself going with him, going back to our home, and I couldn’t quite picture it. Instead, when I pictured my immediate future, I saw myself and the driver going back there together, with an aim to steal back what was rightfully his. And after he took his share, and then some, I would taunt my husband just like I’d dreamed. I’d remind him of everything he was missing, everything he’d chosen to ignore.
And the driver and I would leave together, for Spain, or Australia, or Japan. Some place where we could have a life together.
Some place where he would never find us.
If you’ve enjoyed this story, check out the sequels:
Kidnapped by her husband’s sexy driver, an unhappy mafia wife has started to fall for her captor. But when they return to her husband’s house to steal the driver’s share of the big take, the driver seems hell-bent on doing a hands-on demonstration of how much she prefers his touch to her husband’s. How far is she willing to let it go? Warning — this story contains 4,306 words including hot m/f anal sex, frottage, exhibitionism, and cuckolding. For the mature reader only!
Tamed by the Driver (M/F Breeding)