Punishing My Mistake [MF] [CNC]

My mistake was in thinking I was replaceable. I laugh now. What a joke it is. I squint against the headlights reflecting off the rear view. He’s following too close again. This is the 11th time we’ve done this and he still thinks I’m going to run away. Or maybe this is just part of the game for him. Makes it seem more real. Not necessary. I don’t think I could hate him more.

That’s the point of it all, of course. To punish myself for thinking I mattered. For thinking I was special. Nothing reminds you how insignificant you are more than submitting to the abuse of a man that you despise. I approach the turn and flip on my blinker out of habit. Of course it’s not needed, we’re the only two cars out here tonight. He always chooses the location perfectly.

My tires crunch on the gravel as I pull to a stop in the dirt parking lot, right by the sign that reads *Devil’s Ridge Open Space*. He drives on once he sees that I’m here and not leaving. I glance at the dash and notice the temp reads 47°. Great. I shiver just thinking about how cold it’s going to be tonight. I tug on the short red dress he insisted I wear. “I’m done with the practical jeans and tennis shoes look. If I’m going to follow someone out into the woods, she better be hot. Wear heels.” Jokes on him, I’ll be ditching them as soon as possible.

I notice headlights approaching from the opposite direction than I came. The game’s afoot. I slide my phone into the glove box, step out of my car, lock it, and hide my keys on top of the front driver side tire. I don’t take them with me in case they get lost. Did that dance before. Trying to explain to the locksmith that I went for a walk in a dark park at 2 in the morning and fell and ripped my shirt as he eyed my bloody, cracked and swollen lip wasn’t the most convincing I’d ever been. As I pick my way across the uneven parking lot, my feet scream in my 4 inch black stilettos, and my legs tingle with goosebumps.

I head down the trail a little ways until I reach a small wooden bridge. I stop here and look up at the moon, just as instructed. I’ve gotta hand it to him, he crafts these scenes to near perfection. I remember his ad on Reddit. I’d read it enough times: “M4F looking for believable role play CNC”. The first time I read it was just days after I realized that I had sold myself a lie. Broke my own heart by believing in a fairy tale. It was the first thing that had caught my notice in the bitter numbness that followed. I quickly discarded the thought, though.

It took a few more weeks and several read throughs before I finally messaged him, DarkMaster0690. I rolled my eyes hard at the username. Even more so after I checked his profile. He spent his days commenting ratings on girls photos. He loved tearing them apart. He seemed to have a chip on his shoulder, thought that women owed him simply because he was born with a dick. He disgusted me. When he told me what he wanted, it was even more clear exactly what he thought of women. Well, he wanted believable. I wouldn’t have to pretend to not want him.

A crunch on the path shook me from my thoughts. I looked towards the parking lot and could see his shadowy outline headed my way. I fixed my gaze back on the moon like I’d been told. He started whistling. So much for “sneaking up on me”, between his eerie tune and his heavy footfalls on the cold dirt, it was all I could do to pretend to be the naive damsel who was too caught up in the pretty view to sense the danger that approached.

“Evenin’ darlin’” he drawled as he stopped behind me, his hand bracing on the rail on my right, leaving only one path of escape. I nervously smiled at him as the stench of turpentine and sweat flooded my nostrils. He must’ve come straight from work. Lovely. He leaned in closer, dark eyes glinting ominously under the brim of his hat.

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing out here all alone at night? It’s not safe, you know. You never know what a man might think to do to a woman in your… predicament,” he spat out that last word, as if he needed to be more clear what he meant. Trying not to gag at the smell of Dr. Pepper and Doritos on the spittle that hit my face, I mustered a fake laugh. “Good thing you’re here now, then isn’t it?”

Just then, his hand on the rail next to mine gripped my wrist like a vice and he pulled it towards him, spinning me around to face him. He backed me up against the rail and trapped my arm between us. “Is it, now? Am I going to keep you safe? Or are you just a slut asking to be used like the fuckmeat you are and you know I’m just the man for the job?”

“Let go of me,” I pleaded. “Please. I’m a mom. Please.”

“Don’t worry, *mommy*,” he said with disgust, “I’m not going to hurt you, much. Hell, if you’re lucky, you’ll end up with another baby to care for.” Then he leaned into me and crushed his mouth against my tightly closed lips. His tongue traced the seam of them, trying to find his way in, and I tried to yank my hand from his grip. He brought his other hand up and hooked his finger in my mouth, dragging my jaw down, and spat directly onto my tongue. I shuddered and tried to force his spit out of my mouth over his finger.

“Stop pretending a slut like you doesn’t want this.” He growled then smashed his lips against mine again. I let his tongue invade my mouth as I shifted my weight to my right foot and lifted my left foot up. I reached my free hand down to meet my foot and pulled off my heel. Guess we’ll see if he likes the heels now. Holding my shoe by the heel, I slam the platform against the side of his head, just above his ear.

He drops my hand to cradle his head and I waste no time kicking off my other shoe and running as fast as I can down the trail. I’m not supposed to run my full speed. We learned the first time that he can’t keep up, but I’ve never hit him like that before. I figure he can use some time to burn off his anger before he catches me. Plus, I’m barefoot, I won’t be able to keep this pace long.

“You BITCH!” He calls after me as he begins to chase me. “I’m gonna make you hurt for that.” I full out sprint down the trail, thankful for the light of the full moon. I feel a rock slice into the pad of my foot but I don’t dare stop. I can hear his heavy panting not too far behind me. I glance back just in time to miss a tree root growing across the path. I trip and fall flat on my face, my chin all but bouncing off the cold, hard trail.

I push myself up to my knees but before I can get on my feet again, he catches my foot and pulls me back towards him. I claw uselessly at the trail, he’s simply too strong. He flips me over onto my back and smacks me hard across the face. It stings and I can’t help but gasp. I try to kick my legs but he settles his weight onto them, right at my knees, and I can’t move them. He grabs my hands and brings them together so he can hold them with one of his. He pulls a bandana out of his back pocket and binds my wrists together. Satisfied I can’t free them, he turns his attention to my dress. He grabs the bodice, pulling it in open, and the cheap fabric rips easily. He rips it all the way down until I’m laying on the ground with nothing on but the tattered remains of a dress hanging limply at my sides and a lacy, black thong.

“Look at those big tits, you slut! Your body was made to pleasure men. You should thank me for using you for your true purpose.” He grabs one tit by my nipple and squeezes hard.

“Ow!” I yell. “Please don’t.”

He bends his head to hover just above my other tit, “Thank me,” he commands. I’m silent and he bites down on the flesh of my breast. It hurts so bad. I begin to cry. “Thank. Me.” He orders as he pulls back.

“Thank you,” I whimper.

“Good girl.” His hand slides down my stomach until it reaches my thong. He pulls it to the side and grabs my pussy, squeezing my lips together as his thumb slides between them. “You’re so wet,” he exclaims. “I knew you wanted this.”

Suddenly I’m transported back to a seedy hotel room, another man on top of me, one I despise just as much, telling me how wet I am. I start thrashing at the memory. My body always did have a way of betraying me. Eager to welcome any cock, whether my mind wanted it or not.

“That’s right, fight me. So you can tell your husband you were a good wife. As if he doesn’t know what a whore he’s married to.” He grabs my hands and finds my wedding ring. He spits on it. “His wife is my fuckmeat tonight!”

He leans back to unzip his pants. I buck my hips and swing at him with my hands. He chuckles as his cock springs free of his jeans. “I’m going to love every second of this.” He leans forward and hovers over me. “Now,” he says as he slides just the tip of his cock inside my soaking wet pussy and grips my nipple again, “thank me again. Thank me for raping you.”

I respond with sobs as his fingers clamp down on my nipple, squeezing relentlessly. He doesn’t move otherwise. Just squeezing harder, and harder still, cock resting just inside my pussy. Through my tears, I can see his manic grin. He is loving this. The pain in my tit becomes unbearable. “Thank you. For raping me,” I squeak out between sobs.

“That’s right, you fucking slut,” he grunts as his hand slides from my tit so he can brace his weight with both hands, “you’re welcome for raping your wet little cunt.” He starts to drill into me as hard and fast as he can. His big cock is ravaging my pussy. “You good for nothing but fucking little slut. Take this cock. Take it like you were meant to. Never forget that this is all you’re good for.” He keeps hammering into me, talking the entire time. I think I’m still crying, my face is wet and cold, but I zero in on the moon over his shoulder, hoping it won’t happen this time.

That hope was in vain. Before long, I feel my pussy clench around him. Feel the climax take over me. It’s happened every time, without fail. No matter how harsh he is with me, not matter how much I hate him, I always cum with him. And I cum hard. “NO!” I scream as it happens. “No, no, no…” I whimper.

I cry anew as wave after wave of release washes over me. “Look at that, you whore. Your body knows exactly what it’s for. You were meant to serve the better sex. This is what you’re good for. Making. men. cum.” The last bit uttered between hard, deep thrusts, followed by a long groan as he finds his own climax. He collapses onto my shaking, sobbing body. I let every wail escape, knowing no one can hear me. Knowing I’ll feel better for it tomorrow.

After a few moments, he stirs and moves off of me. Without a word, he zips up his pants and reaches for my hands. He doesn’t look at me as he undoes the bandana. He puts it back in his pocket, stands up, and walks away. It’s always the same. He never makes eye contact after. Never says a word. I wonder if he feels ashamed of what he just did. Even though he has my permission, in writing in fact, I wonder if he regrets giving into that dark impulse. Regrets being brutal with me. I know I do. Every time I think, this is it, this is the last time I let him do this. But the next week I find myself headed to the next destination he has planned for us.

I lay on the ground, shivering and crying until I run out of tears. My teeth chattering until I’m sure they might break. I finally convince myself to move, and take inventory of the aches in my body as I find my way to my feet. I try to hold the jagged edges of my dress together against the cold, but it’s no use. It barely contained me before he ripped it. I realize how far I am from the parking lot and curse myself for running so far. The journey back is slow as I limp on the cut foot. I feel his cum leaking out of me as I walk.

Finally I make it back to my car, slump inside and blast the heat. I pull on the sweats and sweat shirt I bring just for these nights and relax into the seat heater on full power. I pull my phone out and see that I have a message from him. Was he already eager to set up the next meeting?

“Things have gotten stale. I found a new girl. I won’t be calling on you anymore.” My mouth falls open in horror. I did it again. I thought I was safe this time. I thought I held the power. I thought if I gave him everything he ever wanted, he wouldn’t replace me. My mistake was in thinking I was replaceable. You see, you can’t be replaced if you were nothing to begin with.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jtz5hd/punishing_my_mistake_mf_cnc