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Dicked Down At The DMV

Hardcore Bondage

Mindlessly, I shifted and tugged my micro skirt down. Damn it was hot, but I was dressed extra slutty to be in public. I was minding my business and waiting in line at the DMV, yes still six feet apart. The man behind me, however, had been coming closer and closer to me as the line move up, leading into a dark hall with a door at the end.

Now that we stood in the hallway, at the end of the line as the last clients for the day, I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. My cunt spurted in excitement. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” He growled in my ear. My slit really started to drip. I knew that voice.

It was possible he’d seen me around town, but the quiver in my pussy knew what he meant. He’d used me, or rented me before when I was a trafficked sex slave. “What are you doing off your leash, chicklet?” He grabbed me hard around my wrist, and dragged me out to his vehicle like a sloppy little rag doll. No one tried to stop him while he manhandled me. He shoved me into the back of his van, and climbed inside with me.

He choke slammed me into the floor, pulling out a little burner phone as he dialed my old pimp; the one he was known me with. I’d been sold and rebought several times over. But! He was going to try and take me back to sexual slavery where I would be used like a whore day in and day out. Suddenly, with a second thought, he broke the phone in half and move on me like a starving tiger.

“I came to get my tags renewed and snagged a hot little slut instead.” He was laughing as he clamped the steel, barb wire collar around my neck. As it bit into my tender flesh, I screamed.

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