High Point

And, at his whim, he stopped. Her heartbeat was in her clit, begging him for penetration.

"Ready?" he said.

His fingers tracked back, stroking her inner labia, then one slipped inside her embarrassingly easily, slowly teasing her, pressing on her inner front wall and making her clench. Within a few presses a second finger joined the first. This was tolerable, but the ache of penetration being only partially satisfied keyed her up even more. Despite her initial fear she now craved his cock with every fibre of her being.

But outright asking to be fucked would lead him to tease and then deny her. She could only hope she'd get what she needed.

He stroked her G-spot with force, the pressure rising with every curl of his fingers. Waves of pleasure rippled through her body. She could feel her own slickness, and if it wasn't for the clattering trees around them she knew she'd be able to hear it, too. There wasn't the time between those sweet presses for her to recover. The tension was growing, growing

"Enough playing." He withdrew stimulation again, and she whined. He kicked her legs together just enough to roughly tug her jeans down to the knees. She felt a gentle touch on her behind and she could picture herself; hips-up head-down, presenting her round ass to him, all her decorum long gone and him admiring her submission with that possessive caress. Her warmth starting from between her legs had spread to such a point her only shivers now were in anticipation.

She heard every slow click of his zip being pull down. He was teasing still, but playing with fire - every second he waited was a second they could be discovered. Being caught in the act would be the death of her, but being denied at this very needy moment by some unsuspecting rambler would be even worse.

A fumble, his jeans being pulled down his thighs, then he pressed his erection against her tailbone, one hand tight on her hip. The skin-on-skin contact was a relief. He wouldn't keep it from her, not now, else he'd be teasing himself. With her eyes closed she focussed on his hot cock finding its way down to her pussy, the subtle thrusts from his hips bringing him lower.

His free hand snaked up into her hair again and tugged back, making her arch her neck, her eyes opening onto the bushes, the path, and the rolling hills beyond. In surprise she remembered just how exposed they were.

And with that sharp intake of breath he found home, thrusting halfway inside her teased and engorged pussy.

She near-shot forward in shock, though he held her in place.

"God, you're wet." He sounded pleased with himself. "I should have done this earlier. Clearly you want to be watched."

With every tiny thrust of his cock a satisfied heat flushed through her pelvis. He was right, she was soaked, and the ache that he'd built up inside her was finally being dealt with. Every slow draw out was a disappointment, every rock back in a fulfilment, growing as he found his way in with ease.

"Should have let you run," he said, "maybe you wanted to be taken by the road."

"No... Ah!"

He bottomed out, a tiny ache that blossomed into pleasure at being taken so deeply so soon.

He drew out the length of his cock, an emptiness in his wake. A drip she knew would be from the head quickly cooled on her thigh in the wind, his tip barely touching her lips... then he pushed back in, his entire length, leaning into her and pushing her against the bench, fist still balled in her hair. She squirmed, hands clenching again and pulling her underwear up.

The tug must have touched him as friction against the base of his shaft, as he pulled out quickly, wrenched her hand away and tore her underwear down, kneeing them further away from them both. He pinned her momentarily free hand behind her back.

"Better." His returning thrust was more violent. With no support for her hips now he'd shoved her against the bench, making her whimper. The deep ache returned. She wanted him deeper, more and more, and she tried to push back against him but he overpowered her, forcing her against the bench instead, pinning her, every thrust forcing her hips and waist against the wood's edge, scraping, grazing, the pain mingling with the radiating pleasure from being fucked. She winced and hissed, but he took her without regard, sacrificing speed for pure force. She had no say in the matter, sprawled across the bench. If anyone were to walk past and hear her muffled cries...

"You want it harder, don't you?" He slammed into her, her pussy barely keeping up with the space his cock demanded, her whole body thrown forward again and again. She bit into the pad of her thumb to silence herself but the gap between slats on the table pinched and grazed her hips again. The soft, damp wood was still more than solid enough to leave ugly pressure bruises, the prospect increasing with every thrust.

"Wait, stop..."

He didn't hear her, chose not to hear her, lost in taking her, lost in his own pleasure. Her fingernails dug into the wood. The pain on her hip bones began to sear beyond tolerance—

"Yellow!" she choked out.

His thrusts stopped. He gave no direct recognition of her warning, instead withdrawing a little and loosening his grip on her hair and wrist. He waited.

She wriggled her hand out from his grip and groped for her coat on the bench seat, but it was just out of reach. He grabbed it instead, and following her train of thought helped thread the coat under her hips, giving her space enough to lift and fold it just-so, all without withdrawing his cock completely. She pressed herself into the makeshift padding to test. Finding it soothing her roaming hand went back to its restraint and, after a pause to reassure herself there were no footsteps, no one running toward her yell, she nodded.

His fingers re-tightened in her hair and around her wrist, and she relaxed back to her cloud. After two gentle thrusts to reassert himself he slammed his cock into her again.

The pain was back but this time dulled to a pleasurable ache, and a soft moan escaped her lips. It didn't carry far, what with the wind battering through the leaves, but he heard and twisted it to suit his purpose.

"So you do like it."

"No..." Her voice was weakening, her pussy now aching for him to thrust harder, deeper, to stretch her more. With pain ebbing his thick cock drew her attention only to her helplessness and how good her vulnerability felt. Another wave of pleasure hit at the imagined voyeur's view of them both, her servicing him like this, and her outward pretence began to slip. "I..." She couldn't protest, and her lips parted in a tiny gasp.

A laugh of triumph erupted behind her. "There she is, my little whore." His little whore. He pulled out and she whimpered, her eyesight lazy and blurred. He released her head to stroke her exposed thigh. "You won't fight me, right?" The restraint on her wrist became a gentle caress of the forearm.

"I..." The further relief at her freed head flooded her, and the tender way he touched her in their stillness made the tension she'd rebuilt sag. "No..."

"Because good whores want to be fucked." His warm hand wandered up from her thigh to cup her ass. "Say it."

"Good whores want to be fucked..."

"And what are you?"

Her head was swimming, foggy, floating. "A good whore." Admitting it was further release, and she sighed away her stresses. He stroked her sopping wet slit with the back of a finger to goad her further. It worked. She shivered under him. "Your whore."

"Good girl."

She sank into the praise, and her eyes fluttered closed again in expectation.

But still at her self-humiliation he didn't reenter her, not even with that finger. Her impatience grew. She shifted her weight side-to-side for some vain stimulation on her hot clit.

An abrupt sting on the ass-cheek took her by surprise and she lurched forward at the open hand. The smack carried in the glade.

"Stop that." he said. "Your pleasure comes only when I want it to. And what is it you want?"

That was a trick question. She wasn't supposed to want anything. "To please you." She held still again, trying to demonstrate her willingness and self-reproach.

Another sting, harder this time, and she yelped, biting down on her knuckle.

"That's not true, is it? What do you want?" God she was getting desperate, anything. Images of every scene flashed through her mind as she grasped for something specific and permissible but it only made her arousal keener. His searing frustration would be growing with every passing moment but thinking was too difficult to her. Under the pressure her filter broke. She'd have to live with the consequences.

"I want to be fucked. To be used. I want your cum inside me. Use me, please, Sir."

She winced in expectation at another hand, knowing the tacked on honourific would not cover her misdemeanour but he only leant on top of her to whisper in her ear.

"You slut."

She shuddered at the accusation, pussy aching and being wound ever tighter by his voice, breath coming in gasps as his full weight pressed into her lower back and crushed the base of her ribcage.

"You disgust me," he spat. "We're outside where anyone can see and you really want me to fuck you?"

Her head swam. She was past caring. Anything, do anything. "Yes..."Let them watch. Let them join in and fill me more. "Please, just fuck me!"

That yell carried.

He stood back again and laughed, his free, cold hand snaking up below her top to stroke her back. She shivered under his playful touch.

He slapped her behind again, this time a warm cupped thud of ownership, like one would an animal.

"Good slut..."

She was his. His growl melted into the cacophony of the trees above until it felt that the remnants of the storm repeated it back, reinforcing his praise.

Her heart swelled, her knees almost giving way in pure submission. He lined himself back up behind her, teasing the head of his cock along her slick slit. She was unable to speak, unable to protest. But why would she? She needed to be used. He'd left her hands and head free. She didn't need to be held anymore. Because good sluts don't need to be held.

"Whatever happens, slut, keep your eyes shut."

He didn't wait for an answer. One easy - too easy - press, and he was inside her again.

She gripped the bench and leaned back, his thrusts now bouncing off her, the slaps sounding round the clearing. God the force felt so good. They built a zen-like rhythm, each of his gyrations running against her G-spot and making her clench. She yelled out again, knees shaking and she fell forward onto the bench. She couldn't keep upright, she was too far gone to manage it. Her fingers curled in her jacket.

She heard a brush against against branches, against a bush. The bushes in front of them. She fell out of rhythm straining to listen. A sharp snap? Her breath caught.

He noticed and slowed, movement from only his pelvic floor twitching his cock inside her.

"Looks like your whoreish moaning finally brought us company," he said, "eyes shut!"

She hadn't opened them. She didn't need to be told again. Her heart hammered but she held her breath, as if she couldn't be seen if she froze. Someone had finally come. Shit.

Her master leaned back to address the stranger.

"You can watch me fuck her if you like?"

She strained to hear the reply over the clatter of the branches. Nothing, a low murmur maybe? And then her master was sprawled on her again, stroking her hair back, lips brushing against her ear as he whispered.

"Guy's jaw's on the floor, can't say a word. Looks like he's staying put, though. Lucky for you he looks your type."

She wrestled with the fear, adrenaline trying to shake her from submission, to bring her back to hide in shame. But why? Didn't she want this? Her battle to stay under must have played across her face as a grimace.

"And you're still going to lie there, fuck toy?"

She bit her lips together and nodded.

"Good girl." With those two words she was back under again, mind wiped. There was only the cold bench, her aching pussy, her master's hot cock playing the tease, and the stranger. The stranger watching her pinned to the bench and fucked until her knees caved.

"Maybe I should ask him to help keep you quiet." Her master said.

He didn't, though the threat hovered above her, and she could feel the tension between the two men. Her master grabbed her hips and re-found his stride. The force of it made it apparent he was making hard eye contact with the stranger, asserting his ownership over her, letting the stranger know she was his, and his to share.

In all the excitement her arousal had reached another level, it dripping on her thighs with his messy and uncaring thrusts. She was so wet she could hear herself, a slick sound every time his hips wound back for another pump.

His depth and vigour made a tight spot inside her ache, but it's what she deserved for causing them be discovered. Fuck toys don't complain, they enjoy whatever bone they're tossed and right now despite everything she was loving it.

"Touch yourself."

He pulled her back at the hips onto him to give her room. She eagerly reached down, two fingers pressing and rubbing her clit, fingertips cold from exposure. To her frustration she found it wet from the teasing head of his cock, her grip slipping. But it didn't matter. The force of each thrust was enough bring her close, fogging her head, her focus now inward, needing to come.

She roughly groped one breast through her blouse, the added sensation helping, picturing the shadowy voyeur through the trees, horrified, disgusted, impressed and aroused in equal measure yet silenced by his confusion, wishing he could join in. She wanted her master to carry through with the threat, she wanted him, too.

She slipped her fingers beneath her blouse and bra cup to tug a nipple, moaning in satisfaction as she did so, speeding up her assault on her clit. Her forearm ached.

She wanted to be between her master and this new man, to feel the heat of his cock hovering by her lips, precum stringing between them both, to take him and be forced on him by a dominant hand until she couldn't help but cry but needing it all the same, as her master continued to use her from behind like the fuck toy she was.

Wracked with pleasure, she would have been blind even if she opened her eyes, ears tight and tuned to her own heartbeat, muscles beginning to wind all over, toes curling, pressure building... She couldn't stop, never wanted to stop—

"I'm, I—!"

"Then come."

At his command the tension in her cranked a notch more than she could have hoped, before crashing down with an unheard cry. Her shuddering orgasm squeezed his cock in turn until he fell onto her with his own groan, panting. His thrusts weakening with every pulse of his own orgasm, the pressure of every twitch inside her making her giddy with her sensitivity. So strong were her convulsions his cum was leaking from her already, its cooling touch felt as a keen loss.

They panted together, his cheek against hers and slick with sweat, before he rolled off her, leaving her empty and longing for the intimacy once again.

He lifted one of her limp arms over him to snuggle in closer, and they lay breathing the other in, cocooned in the near silence and isolation. She eventually opened her eyes, vision foggy at first as her pleasure subsided to a glow. Rational concern touched the edge of her mind.

"Is there someone—"

"Only the wind." He said. "How're you feeling? How's your hip?"

"Floaty. And scratched up but it'll be okay."

As her clarity of thought returned and her sight resharpened he widened his smiling eyes and pressed his lips together, desperately fighting back a true grin - the simultaneously guilty and disbelieving look of a cat that's won a bathtub of cream.

"What?" she said.

"We had sex outsiiide..." He waggled his eyebrows to the beat of his song and landed a sloppy kiss on her forehead.

She batted at him. "You arsehole..." she said, but she pulled him closer with a laugh.

-

Redressed and feet steady they left the glade hand in hand, finding their way through the tunnel of trees to the far side of the copse, where their park bench with the view had been patiently waiting for them. No one crossed their path.

He nuzzled into her neck to kiss her collarbone, and she found herself giggling at his cold nose and the vivacity of his sweetness. A dopey, cosy grin was plastered on his face.

"Thank you," he said.

In lieu of words she returned the smile, cupping his cheek and giving him a drawn out and tender kiss. To her great satisfaction, when she pulled away he had to stop himself chasing her.

The wind picked up again and they huddled even closer, watching the long shadows stretch across the valley as they savoured the scene from High Point.