Dear friends, if you haven’t started this series yet, click the image below, and then, next week, I’ll post a summary with all the links as we close Season One and move on to Season Two.
When he stepped into the shower, I instinctively dropped to my knees. How it was instinct after just two — or was it three? — days, I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. It just was. It just was. And I accepted it as I reached up and touched his cock. It hung there half-erect, lingering in front of my face as if it was meant to be there, and I couldn’t not reach up and run my fingers over it, cup his balls, press my lips to the swelling tip.
I sucked him into mouth as he began to wash himself, his hands attacking the day's grime and sweat while I pleasured him, pleasured myself with his cock. Who was I kidding? I’d thought about it all day, and I knew that my entire summer would be based on that singular thought — his cock. It stood at attention for me, responding as I responded, begged for and demanded my attention. His beautiful, young cock, thick and veiny, the skin around his balls smooth and hairless so I could feel all of him, run my tongue over his flesh freely.
Suds dripped down onto my head, water cascading over my face as I sucked him deeply, taking every inch of his thick, wondrous dick down my throat. After a long day, exhaustion was setting in, my muscles already stiff from building the wall, my tits and legs stinging from the red welts he’d painted across my skin in the barn. But all I wanted in that moment was his cum, to hear his low growl, to feel his body shudder in my hands as I fulfilled my duty, my promise, my midsummer’s dream of worshiping and serving him. The others, whoever they were, would have me, there was no doubt, and I would do what I was told, but deep down inside what I really wanted was his smile and his cum. And his approval.
To be owned. This was the man to own me, even if just for the summer.
I tongued his balls, sucking him deep, as far as I could, past all my inhibitions and reflexes feeling that first twitch telling me my master, my owner, my lover was about to cum. My lover. My god, the thought of it made my heart flutter, my cunt clench, my clit throb. All those months of dreaming about having an owner, a master, a lover, a love — and here they were all combined into one flawless young man I would never have noticed on campus or in a coffee shop. Maybe notice, but never once would I have given a thought to fucking him, letting him fuck me, much less shave my head, collar me and make me his all-too-willing dumb cunt.
The thought of it, the words “dumb cunt” in my head made me moan around his cock. After all I’d been through, all I’d worked for, all I’d sacrificed in my career, this was the fantasy that I wanted, the fantasy that I could live. I’d be his dumb cunt all summer, and — it hit me then, like a bolt out of the blue — even beyond the summer if that’s what he wanted.
I held him there in my throat until I felt the first twitch, that initial spasm, the telltale sign. Then I pulled back, stroking him, jerking him onto my face. His hot sticky cum splattered across the forehead, my cheeks, the top of my head. I held my head up, mouth open, tongue out as his hot cum splashed over me, my whole body trembling suddenly, uncontrollably. Then I felt his fingers on mine, pulling his cock out of my grasp, heard his low voice as he wiped his cock across my outstretched tongue, the salty sweetness of his cum mixing with the warm rain of the showerhead. “What a good little cunt you are. Maybe I’ll keep you when the summer is over.”
I shuddered. Yes, Daddy, yes, I thought as I felt his softening cock slide into my mouth.
“Hold it there, cunt,” he said, and stood over me, his cock resting in my mouth as if that was its new home. I luxuriated in the taste, the texture of him, the scent of his cum as it washed away, the soft drum of the shower on my head and shoulders. Could I do this day after day? Did I have a choice? I’d sold myself into slavery for the summer. I didn’t even know where I was. No phone, no email. Nowhere to go if I suddenly just couldn’t. What if I couldn’t take it? What if I begged to go home? What if they hurt me? I felt my heart leap into my chest as I held his cock against my tongue.
And yet he’d hurt me today — a brutal beating that I’d screamed through for no telling how long, taking each blow with the switch as I danced on my toes, blind and gagged like the beautiful women on the internet I’d dreamed of being. The rope held me fast, dangled me before his whip, my body writhing, trying to avoid the blows until I just gave out and accepted them, surrendered to them, became one with my punishment. I’d deserved to be punished. Every cunt I’d watched had been punished, and every one of them begged and pleaded and ultimately accepted their fate, their position, their role. And when the blows stopped, I knew I could do that, too. When it was done, when it was over and I’d felt his hands on me, my breathing ragged, my eyes full of tears, every nerve firing as I dangled there in a daze of pain and ecstasy, when he’d pulled the hood away and I saw the lust in his eyes, when he slipped his cock into me, my whole body rang with acceptance, submission, everything I’d ever dreamed of.
Beat me, fuck me, own me and make me love it above everything else. I want to be the subject of your cruelty and your tenderness.
His hands again, pulling me up, pulling me out of the fog, his cock sliding out of my mouth. I blinked up through the splashing water at him, watching him, a smile crawling across my face as he gazed down on me. He kissed my forehead and turned me around and began to wash me. I stood there, eyes closed, hands dangling at my sides, a helpless, satisfied doll leaning into his warm chest as his soapy hands caressed my body. Tears were swept away as quickly as they formed. He washed away the cum as easily as he washed away every worry, every fear, every atom of resistance. Warm fingers through what was left of my hair. I could feel the stubble there, and I wondered if one day I would feel a razor sliding over my skull, stripping away each strand of hair until my head was bald and bare and ready for his cum.
Soap suds covering me as he scrubbed and caressed, his hand cupping my breasts, his fingers tweaking my nipples. I moaned again, giggled when his fingers traced a line down my belly, then a short intake of breath when he found my clit. Sore, tender, aching, throbbing, swollen, it hurt when he pressed against my delicate little nub, the thrill of it sending pulses of lust through my body. Words formed in my head, words I couldn’t speak even if I’d wanted to say them. Instead they came out as moans, whimpering, little sounds formed out of nothing but unbridled pleasure. Hurt me, love me, own me, take me, fuck me, break me. The words poured out in broken syllables, incomprehensible to anyone but Daddy.
He dried me as gently as he washed me, laid me bare on the bed, my back on the cool sheets, my legs a little open - not because he demanded it, but because I wanted him to see my swollen pussy, aching from his teasing, needy, drooling again. All the women I’d watched in clips were desperate little sluts like me, but they were also getting paid, acting, performing. I never got the sense of their feelings, the way emotions ebbed and flowed, how sensation played over the body, how the slightest touch, painful or pleasurable could send you soaring or crashing or both at the same time and how that all rolled up into what I was feeling now. It was impossible, I told myself as he crossed the room, his cock semi-erect, the muscles in his legs and shoulders and chest overwhelming my ability to process everything. The way he bent low and pressed his lips to my toes and then spread the oil into his hand and began to caress my calf.
I shuddered as he worked his fingers over my calves, eyes closing as he applied more oil and massaged my thigh, working his way north towards my hot, molten center, the center of my existence, the center of my universe now that he’d unlocked it. A touch at my hip, and I rolled over without even a word from his lips, presenting my ass, feeling his thumbs grinding down the center of my back and spreading the warm oil in broad, sweeping strokes, like forming a being out of clay. His hot breath played across my pussy, sending shivers through my body. A tease from his tongue and a desperate moan poured from my lips. His strong hands worked the aching muscles in my back, slid across the tender welts from the whip, glided between my shoulder blades and down to my hips, and then with another liberal application of oil, his thumb pushed into my pucker, and I clenched my cunt with a groan, just on the verge of cumming.
In and out, in and out, he fucked my asshole with his thick digit, nothing like his cock, which had filled me beyond anything I thought possible time and time again already. But the feel of it, the single touch point, nothing connecting the two of us beyond his invasion of my ass was almost more than I could handle. Grab me, choke me, pull on my nipples, let me feel your body weight, your hot breath, your cock deep inside me. Yes yes yes. But this, the simplicity of it, the way my entire body trembled with the connection, pleasure radiating through my body from that single digit gliding in and out of my ass. I clenched the sheets, bit down on my lip as the sensations built one on top of the other in a crescendo until I was panting, my ass grinding against him.
“Please,” I groaned, my face buried in the sheets. Please use the words, Daddy. Please. Make your dumb cunt cum. Make your dumb cunt cum. I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yours.
And then his thumb was gone, my ass and pussy clenching around nothing.
“Roll over, cunt,” he said, and I felt his finger hook the ring in my collar, pulling me around until I was on my side, my face inches from his erect cock. I panted, riding the edge, my legs parting so he could see my clit dancing in the lamplight. His eyes devoured me while mine fixated on his erection. I licked my lips, waiting to taste his cock again. “Open wider, cunt.”
I did as instructed, my breaths coming hot and heavy now. Legs open, awaiting whatever.
“Who do you belong to, cunt?”
“You, Daddy.” The words came out automatically, before I even thought them. Yours, Daddy. I’m yours. All yours and no one else’s, please.
“And who owns your holes?”
“You, Daddy, you.” There was no other response. Each word dripping from my tongue sparked a throbbing in my cunt. Please fuck me, Daddy. He felt so good in my mouth, in my ass, but please, Daddy, my pussy. Please.
“Starting tomorrow, and all summer long, other men will be here on the farm, and maybe even a few women. They will want to fuck you, to use you, to play with you, and they will, and I won’t stop them. You belong to me, but you serve the farm. Do you understand?”
I nodded, a spark of fear rising up in my chest. Fucked and owned and tortured by Daddy, yes, but used by everyone else — I knew it would happen. I understood when I signed up. But after two days of intimacy, of having Daddy all to myself, of his being my place of devotion, having to be shared — well. I swallowed. “Yes, Daddy. I understand.” I didn’t want to say it, but there was no choice.
“There is a single exception for them. No one is allowed to fuck your pussy, and they all know it. I’ve explained the rules, and I will reiterate the rules to them as they begin to arrive for work. Your pussy belongs to me. I’m the only person who will be fucking your pretty little pussy, cunt. You will awake with me. You will fall asleep with me. I will feed you, bathe you, shave you, care for you after a long, hard day, but at the end of the day, your pussy is my property, and I’m not sharing it with anyone. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Daddy, yes,” I said, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Thank you, Daddy. It’s yours. All yours.”
“Now, one last little thing, my pretty little cunt. We've been over the rules. I’ve shown you only a single way you will be punished for disobedience. But there’s one last thing,” he said, and he raised his right hand, and I saw what he held. I swallowed, eyes locked on the short, black leather paddle in his hand. “They cannot fuck your pussy, so we will give them something in exchange.”
Before I could react, before my legs could even come together, the paddle thudded against my cunt. I screamed, slammed my legs shut, the pain radiating outward like a shockwave. I blinked, couldn’t see past the stars. I couldn’t breathe, gasped for air. “Open cunt.” His forceful words centered me, and my legs flew open, despite the fear of what was coming next. The paddle again. It cracked against my swollen lips, my sore clit, and I screamed again.
“My dumb cunt, obedient and ready to serve. To suffer. To surrender. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I cried, trying to find my center.
“You will cum for me. You will suffer for them. Do you understand?”
I cried out as the paddle found my throbbing cunt again and again and again. Five strokes and I was a sobbing, desperate mess, focused solely on keeping my legs open. Anything for Daddy. Anything for him. Anything.
“Show me how a dumb cunt comes,” he growled, and I exploded into a million pieces, shattering myself against his words as his lips found mine, kissing me, his hands on my face, pulling me in until I was wrapped up in everything that was him. His and his alone.
Author’s Notes: By popular demand, we’ll move on to Season Two next weekend. I haven’t written a single word of it, but I know exactly what’s going to happen. Everything is about to change for our beautiful main character, and the struggle to obey, to surrender and to accept her choice is going to be stressed to the point of breaking.
We’re literally only 2-3 days into the summer of surrender. There’s so much left to happen. Are you ready?
And what, dear reader, did you like about this story? I would love to know.
WOW…I could sense the love and willingness to surrender all the yearning she had held for a long time within her. By this point, she knew her submission was his dominance. Being his cunt was her fantasy, her desire to be whatever he wanted from her. She only desperately wanted one thing from him, his love.