The woman downstairs

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

"When the heart is weary, the tears are dry. This deep affection is hard to let go. Once we had it, until the end of time. Now I no longer see you, day and night.

This love will never end. I wish we could embrace again in the next life. How can one love someone and stay together until old age?

How can one face everything? I don't know."

At night, when I close my eyes, I can sometimes hear the melody of this song coming from the room downstairs. It's a little low, sung repeatedly in a very soft tone.

The owner of the voice is a beautiful woman. Her beautiful black hair is always tied in a princess style, her face is fair, and her lips are thin and tender. She is the kind of beauty that is unforgettable at first glance. I often wonder how the world could create such an untouched beauty.

Our meeting was by chance on the stairs of an apartment building. She moved her feet quickly with her head down, but she couldn't hide the glistening tears falling. I know how much grievance and sadness those crystal tears contained.

There's a saying: "It takes time to believe in someone. It takes courage to fall in love with someone." I think I had an excess of courage back then. I embraced her, who was heartbroken, letting her struggle in my arms subside, her anger turning into sobs. Then we kissed passionately in the stairwell, roughly removing each other's barriers, like two animals in heat mating, establishing a complicated and entangled affair.

A strange relationship between us was born in this desolate city.

In the dimly lit living room, I gently closed my eyes, listening to the familiar, smooth sound of a lock being opened outside, my mind filled with her movements and expressions. A strange fire burned within me; I knew why, but I didn't understand why I cared so much, even to the point of madness.

"Ah!" I felt the living room light turn on, followed by her startled cry. I opened my eyes and stared at her sharply, which made her stand there motionless, as if electrocuted.

Weariness clung to her jade-like face, yet her pearly eyes reflected guilt. A faint, unfamiliar scent emanated from her purplish-blue suit. I spoke, my tone incredibly gentle, "You went on a date with him?" She didn't reply, but she understood my anger and jealousy. She walked to my side, lowered her head, and covered my lips with hers.

The faint taste of alcohol in her breath teased my senses; her small tongue licked my gums, as if seeking forgiveness. Her delicate hands caressed my face, trying to smooth away my angry, conflicted expression.

I didn't accept; instead, I said, "Put it on!" I hooked a black leather choker with my index finger, placing it before her as an invitation.

Her eyes were fixed on the choker in my hand, then on me. My resolute expression and her hesitant, aggrieved look created a subtle atmosphere in the living room.

She looked at the choker, then at me… and then slowly, with slightly trembling hands, she took the choker from me and slipped it around her fair neck.

I watched as she slowly put on the collar, observing the constant shifts in her expression, oscillating between reluctance and obedience. She knew that only humiliating submission could quell my anger.

Time passed slowly, and I derive considerable satisfaction from her actions, but it wasn't enough to forgive her.

After she was dressed, she knelt on the ground, her hands resting uneasily on her thighs clad in a tight skirt, her head bowed, filled with fear and helplessness. Because of me, I always inflict the greatest punishment and reward on her soul, making her unable to leave me despite having a boyfriend.

I took out the next tool to humiliate her and said, "Put this on yourself too." My command was not to be disobeyed. She only gave me a slightly resentful look, then looked at the red hollow pliers in my hand. I sensed the struggle and shame within her; after all, forcing herself to put something in her own mouth was not something an ordinary person could do. Moreover, once it was in, the next thing that followed was the abuse from a man.

Finally, she obeyed my command, opening her small mouth wide, stuffing the gag into her mouth and pressing it against her teeth, then fastening the buckle behind her head. Her lips were stretched wide, leaving only her tongue free.

"Take off the stockings." I stood up from the sofa, and under her puzzled gaze, took the black stockings she had taken off, walked behind her, handcuffed her hands behind her back, wrapped the stockings around her neck, and then tightened them around her wrists.

This simple action turned her eyes from confusion to terror. This deprived her of the freedom of her hands, and she also had to constantly pay attention to the position of her wrists, otherwise the suffocating feeling of the stockings tightening around her neck would immediately appear.

"Want to see what I look like?"

She shook her head frantically, but it did not elicit any pity from me. I grabbed her wrists and dragged her to the entryway. There was an exquisite full-length mirror there, which I had bought with her, and now it had become an important tool for my defilement of her.

She leaned against the entryway, her real appearance and her reflection in the mirror both displaying a pitiful look, which only intensified my burning desire. I felt no pity, only a deeper, more brutal lust.

"Do you want my forgiveness?" She nodded. I lifted her chin and said with a wicked grin, "Then give me a blowjob right here in front of this mirror." I pulled down my pants and inserted my long-held penis into her mouth.

The moment it entered, I felt my penis sink into a warm, moist area, a suction force drawing at the glans, and a soft, tender tongue swirling and licking the shaft, not to mention the pubic hair brushing against her face, giving me the pleasure of humiliating her.

"Chirp... chirp chirp... chirp chirp..." lewd sounds began, watching her move in and out of my penis, intently serving me with her lips and tongue. In the mirror beside us, the same erotic scene was playing out, making my penis even more swollen, and her movements became somewhat difficult.

"Tell me what you were thinking when you were giving me oral sex?" I've always believed that words are the best form of discipline.

Her body trembled, and the movements in her mouth stopped abruptly. I was somewhat dissatisfied, so I pulled my penis out of her mouth, covered in her saliva and the secretions from my glans, and slapped it across her face twice. Her eyes immediately filled with tears of humiliation, but quickly, she lowered her head and put my penis back in her mouth, because disobeying me would have worse consequences.

I brushed aside her slightly disheveled bangs and said lewdly, "Are you complaining about my strong smell...? Let me tell you, this is my smell all day." I roughly pulled her hair, staring intently at her. "But your body felt really good, didn't it?" Her body flushed a hot, aroused red under my words; I knew she was starting to get aroused. Suddenly, with a sudden burst of strength, I grabbed her cheeks and shoved my penis all the way into her mouth, cursing, "You're such a slut, you can even enjoy this!" The head of my penis plunged deep into her throat, a suffocating sensation swirling and rubbing at the tip. Her chest heaved faster, her face contorted with sobs and a rosy blush. Like pink paint splashed onto a white canvas, it appeared even more alluring.

"But, that's why we're attracted to each other, isn't it..." I chuckled to myself. I slipped my toes under her tight skirt, scraping back and forth with my big toes. My hands weren't idle either, gripping her head tightly, allowing my penis to rotate clockwise in her throat, enjoying a pleasure different from vaginal penetration.

Hot, suffocating breath sprayed onto my lower abdomen, my toes becoming sticky from the friction. Her pupils became moist and alluring, her body exuding a sweet, hormonal scent.

I released my hands from her head and bent my hips, thrusting deeper into her mouth. He pulled open her suit jacket and onto her bound hands, then removed her scarf and shirt, making her look as if she had been raped.

She cooperated with me, her face contorted in humiliation as I ravaged her mouth. Then, while teasing her senses, I asked, "Do you want it?" She blushed and nodded, gazing at me with pleading eyes. Next, I pulled my erect penis from her lips and commanded, "You know what to do next, right?" The highest level of discipline is when the subject is accustomed to being ordered around, yet still retains a sense of shame. Especially the woman before me; playing with and bullying her always excites me.

She turned her head away, unable to look at me, as if burying her head in the sand, shifting from her kneeling position to my favorite M-shaped stance, revealing her wet lace panties.

I again used the back of my foot to wantonly play with and caress the lustful woman's genitals before me, turning her chin back with my fingers, continuing to humiliate her, saying,

"I really want your boyfriend to see you being disciplined like this,"

and as soon as I finished speaking, I touched her clitoris with my toes. A warm liquid immediately soaked my feet, and the air was filled with a pungent, erotic scent, which enraged me.

"Slap!" I slapped her across the face. "You slut! You've dirtied me!" She quickly looked at me apologetically, the slap mark still visible on her cheek.

"Hmph! No need to apologize!" I said, pulling down her panties. "Anyway, these panties are useless to you, so you can enjoy your own taste!" Before she could react, I forcefully stuffed the panties into her mouth.

I opened the door, dragged her outside, and pinned her down from behind. She shook her head violently in pain and fear, seemingly blaming my audacity. Or perhaps, she never expected me to do this.

"We'll do it outside today." I spread her buttocks and slowly inserted my penis into her vagina. Then, I said to her mockingly, "Remember to scream louder and be more horny later, so everyone in this building can see how slutty you are!" I ripped open her bra with both hands, squeezing and kneading her snow-white breasts until they turned a purplish-red color. My lower body wasn't idle either, moving in and out of her body. I even deliberately pulled out a little more when I withdrew, so that her juices would spray out.

"Mmm...oh...uh-huh..." She swayed her body, letting out soft moans. Like her singing voice, it was very soft, a little deep, but very moving.

I slowly slowed down the speed of my thrusting. To be honest, this time her vagina was tighter than before, squeezing me a little painfully. I stuck out my tongue and licked the back of her ear, saying sarcastically, "Tighter than usual...is it because someone might walk by at any moment? This makes you feel better, right?" I increased the speed of my hand movements and asked, "You say you're very slutty? Aren't you!?" She nodded vigorously while enduring the verbal stimulation. I thought, if it weren't for my support, she would have collapsed by now.

And then, an even more wicked idea came to me: I pulled up her coat and covered her head, blocking her view.

Suddenly, she seemed to reach her first orgasm of the night!

A torrent of what I couldn't tell was either vaginal fluid or sweat, gushing out and soaking my lower body.

Her body reflected the colors of her orgasm, then trembled uncontrollably.

Infected by her, I quickened my pace. Her ecstatic orgasm only fueled my latent desire, and I thrust wildly into her body. Her unfocused, dazed eyes, her lewd, lost expression, her delicate, flushed skin—all perfectly captured the image of the beauty before me in orgasm.

"Mmm...mmm...oh..." Her moans grew more intense, as if she were about to reach another climax.

"Ah!" This was her loudest cry of the night, the sound of my ejaculation. Thick semen shot from my body, pouring into her vagina without a trace. I held her tightly, savoring the afterglow of our climax… In the night, I faintly heard her singing again, repeatedly:

“Recalling the past, the painful longing is unforgettable. Why do you come again, stirring my heart? How can I stop loving you? You should understand tonight.

Fate is hard to end, love is hard to end.”

[The End]

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