The afternoon sun warmed the hood of Christopher's pickup truck as Lacy approached him outside the school gates, her pulse quickening at the sight of his calloused hands gripping the fence while he waited for his nephew. She smiled, the invitation tumbling out before she could second-guess it. "Coffee? There's a quiet spot just down the block." His eyes, steady and intrigued, met hers, and their fingers brushed accidentally when she handed him the directions scribbled on a scrap of paper—his rough skin sending a jolt straight through her.

Inside the dim café, the rich aroma of fresh espresso mingled with the low hum of conversation, but Lacy leaned closer, her voice dropping as flirtation turned explicit. "I've been in this dry spell for a year, Chris—touch-starved, aching for someone to fill me, to fuck me properly until I can't think straight." His gaze darkened with interest, the air thickening between them as she described her craving for his hands on her breasts, his cock stretching her pussy after all those lonely nights. They stepped outside to his truck, where the first kiss ignited everything: his mouth claiming hers hungrily, tongues tangling while his palms slid under her blouse to cup and knead her soft breasts, thumbs circling her hardening nipples. She moaned into him, fingers tracing the hard line of his erection through his jeans, grinding against his thigh as heat pooled between her legs.

Breathless and flushed, they pulled apart just enough for Chris to murmur against her lips, "My place tomorrow night—alone, all night. Small tight sundress thong panties. Tell me who do you belong to." Lacy nodded, her body still humming with the promise of more, the taste of him lingering as they agreed on the details.

Lacy nodded, her body still humming with the promise of more, the taste of him lingering as they agreed on the details. The next morning stretched out in a haze of anticipation as she moved through her apartment, every motion deliberate and charged. She slipped into the tightest sundress she owned, the thin fabric clinging like a second skin to her curves, the hem riding high enough to hint at the sheer black thong beneath. Nylons whispered against her thighs as she smoothed them on, the silky restraint heightening every brush of her own fingers, while she painted her face with careful precision—smoky eyes and glossy lips that promised surrender. Her hands trembled slightly at the thought of Chris claiming her, his calloused palms owning every inch; she needed this, craved a master to guide her through the ache that had built for so long, to make her his in every way.

By evening, her pulse raced as she knocked on his door, the sundress shifting against her hardened nipples with each breath. Chris opened it with that quiet intensity, his gaze sweeping over her like a brand, and the air thickened instantly. He pulled her inside without a word, his mouth finding hers again as his hands roamed beneath the hem, fingers tracing the edge of her thong before cupping the heat of her pussy through the damp fabric. She gasped into the kiss, pressing closer, her body already arching for more as he murmured approval against her throat.

"Such a good girl, dressed just like I asked," he said, voice low and rough, guiding her toward the bedroom with a firm hand on her ass. Lacy's heart soared at the dominance in his touch, hoping desperately he'd accept her fully as his submissive, the need to belong to him burning hotter than the dry spell she'd endured. His fingers dipped lower, brushing her slick folds, and she moaned, grinding against him as the promise of the night unfolded.

The following evening unfolded at his quiet cabin just outside town, where Lacy arrived in the tight sundress and thong panties he'd demanded, her heart racing with anticipation. Chris welcomed her inside with quiet intensity, his calloused hands moving over her body like she was a delicate gift he was unwrapping with deliberate care and love—slowly peeling away the fabric from her shoulders, kissing each inch of exposed skin, his breath warm against her collarbone as he savored the moment. But when he slid the thong down her thighs and saw the dark bush between her legs, his expression darkened with anger. He bent her over the edge of the bed without a word, his palm cracking hard across her bare ass more than twenty times in rapid succession, each strike leaving a stinging heat that made her cry out and squirm, tears pricking her eyes even as her pussy throbbed in response.

He flipped her onto her back next, spreading her legs wide before delivering several sharp slaps directly to her exposed twat, the wet sounds echoing as her folds swelled and slicked under the punishment. "You'll be hairless from now on," he commanded, voice low and firm, "smooth and ready only for me—no one else touches what's mine." Lacy gasped and nodded, arousal flooding her despite the burn. Chris then claimed every part of her, first thrusting his thick cock into her mouth until she gagged and drooled around him, then burying himself deep in her pussy with powerful strokes that had her screaming through multiple climaxes, her juices squirting across his thighs in hot pulses. He didn't stop there, lubing her tight ass next and fucking her relentlessly in that third hole too, stretching her while his fingers worked her clit until she came and squirted again and again, her body shaking uncontrollably under the onslaught of pleasure and ownership.

Hours later, as she lay limp and spent in his bed, sweat-slicked and marked from his touch, Lacy turned to him with raw need in her eyes, her voice trembling. "Claim me, Chris—make me yours forever. I want to be yours as long as you treat me like this, owning me completely." She begged him to take her as his, agreeing right then to serve him twenty-four seven as his homemaker and wife, her body and heart surrendered entirely to the connection she'd craved.

The morning light filtered softly through the cabin curtains as Chris stirred first, his body still pressed close to Lacy's in the tangled sheets. Without a word, he slid his hand between her thighs, fingers parting her slick folds to find her pussy already warm and responsive from the night's exertions. He worked two thick digits inside her with slow, deliberate strokes, curling them to press against that sensitive spot deep within while his thumb circled her clit. Lacy gasped awake, her hips bucking instinctively into his touch as he drove her higher, the wet sounds of his fingers pumping filling the quiet room until she shattered with a cry, her walls clenching around him in pulsing waves of release.

He withdrew only to dress her simply in the sheer black thong from the night before, nothing else, leaving her breasts bare and her ass exposed as she began her day. As she moved through the cabin trying to tidy up—wiping counters, folding linens, sweeping the floor—Chris followed close behind, his calloused hands never straying far. He cupped and squeezed her breasts whenever she bent over, pinched her nipples until they ached, and slipped his fingers under the thong to tease her pussy and ass, rubbing her clit or dipping inside just enough to keep her dripping and desperate. By midday she was a trembling mess, thighs slick with her own arousal, the constant touches leaving her clit swollen and throbbing, her body craving more but denied any real satisfaction.

By supper time, as she stood at the stove stirring a simple meal, Lacy could take no more. She turned to him with pleading eyes, her voice hoarse and needy. "Please, Chris—fuck me. I'm so wet, a sopping mess for you. I can't stand it anymore." He bent her over the table right there, yanking the thong aside to thrust his hard cock deep into her pussy in one smooth motion. She moaned loudly, pushing back against him as he pounded into her, her juices squirting around his shaft with each powerful stroke. "More, please, harder—own me," she begged again and again, cumming hard and soaking the floor beneath them, her body convulsing through orgasm after orgasm as he filled her completely, driving her to squirt repeatedly until she was limp and utterly spent in his arms.

As their breathing slowly evened out, Chris eased her upright and turned her to face him, his hands steady on her hips while her thighs still trembled from the aftershocks. "Now tell me what kind of life you want, Lacy," he said, voice low and commanding as he brushed damp strands of hair from her flushed face. "Tell me how you want our relationship. What will you wear for me and do for me every day?"

Lacy's eyes lifted to meet his, dark with lingering arousal and a desperate, glowing need. "I want this," she whispered, pressing her bare breasts against his chest as her fingers traced the hard muscles of his arms. "A life where I'm yours completely—your wife, your homemaker, your submissive. Every morning I'll wake you with my mouth on your cock, sucking you deep until you decide how you want to use me. I'll wear whatever you choose: tight sundresses with nothing underneath some days, or just the sheer thong and heels so you can bend me over anytime, anywhere, and fuck my pussy or ass while I cook or clean. I'll keep the cabin spotless, prepare your meals, and present myself on my knees when you come home, spreading my legs so you can check how wet and smooth I am for you. No hair, no barriers—just your property to tease and claim whenever the urge strikes. At night you'll own me fully, tying me down or holding me open while you pound into me until I squirt and beg for more, filling every hole until I'm dripping with your cum. I want to serve you like this forever, feeling your hands on me constantly—pinching my nipples, fingering my pussy while I work—so I'm always aching and ready, your good girl who lives only for your pleasure and ownership." Her voice cracked with emotion as she sank to her knees right there on the kitchen floor, nuzzling his thigh. "Please, Chris, make it real. Let me be yours in every way."

Chris looked down at her with that steady, commanding gaze, his fingers threading through her hair to tilt her face up toward him. "What will be off limits, Lacy? How far can I humiliate you? Tell me what a dirty whore you are for me. Beg to submit to me." His voice was low and rough, thick with the same hunger that had her thighs slick and trembling on the floor.

Lacy's breath hitched, her nipples tightening against the cool air as the words spilled from her lips without hesitation, raw and aching. "Nothing's off limits, Chris—nothing. Humiliate me as far as you want, call me your filthy little cumslut, make me crawl and beg while you watch my holes drip for you. I'm a dirty whore, your dirty whore, desperate to be used and owned, to have my pussy and ass fucked raw until I'm sobbing your name and squirting all over the floor like the needy slut I am. Please, please let me submit—I'll do anything, wear anything, take any punishment or teasing you give, just make me yours completely, your wife and homemaker who lives to serve your cock and feel your hands claiming me every second of the day." Her voice broke on a moan as she pressed her cheek harder against his thigh, the heat of his erection straining through his jeans brushing her lips, her body arching instinctively toward him while fresh arousal trickled down her inner thighs.

Chris's fingers tightened in her hair, tilting her face upward as his voice rumbled low and commanding. "What will you wear for me to teach in or your every day wear? What will you wear to go to town or church?"

Lacy's lips parted against the denim straining over his cock, her tongue flicking out instinctively to taste the heat through the fabric while her thighs trembled and fresh slickness coated her bare skin. "For teaching, I'll wear tight pencil skirts that hug my ass and end just above my knees, with sheer blouses unbuttoned low enough to show the tops of my breasts—no bra, so my nipples stay hard and visible when I bend over the desk. Underneath, only the sheerest thong you choose, already soaked from your morning fingers inside me, so every step reminds me I'm your property. For everyday around the cabin I'll stay in just that thong and heels, or a tiny sundress with nothing beneath so you can lift it anytime and slide your cock into my pussy or ass while I cook or clean. To town or church I'll wear modest dresses at first glance, knee-length with sleeves, but always with no panties or the thinnest lace that leaves my smooth folds exposed beneath, ready for you to bend me over in the truck afterward and fuck me until I squirt down my thighs on the way home. I'll present myself each morning on my knees, mouth open for your cock, and spend the day aching, wet, and marked by your hands so everyone senses I'm owned without a word spoken." Her breath hitched as she nuzzled higher, pressing desperate kisses along his length through the jeans, eyes glassy with need and devotion.

Her breath hitched as she nuzzled higher, pressing desperate kisses along his length through the jeans, eyes glassy with need and devotion. Chris's grip tightened in her hair, pulling her back just enough to meet his gaze as his voice dropped lower, laced with that commanding edge. "What happens if I get you pregnant? Does this end or are you still mine?"

Lacy's lips parted on a shaky moan, her bare breasts heaving against his thigh as fresh slickness coated her inner thighs. "It doesn't end, Chris—never. I'm still yours, even more so. Fill me with your cum until my belly swells and everyone knows I'm your breeding slut, your wife who carries your child while I serve you on my knees. I'd wake you every morning with my mouth sucking your cock deep, my swollen breasts heavy and leaking as I ride you or take you in my ass, my pussy always smooth and dripping for your claim. Nothing changes except I'm bound tighter to you, body and soul, still presenting myself for your fingers and your thrusts while I cook and clean with your baby inside me. Humiliate me, own me—call me your filthy cumdump who gets knocked up and keeps begging for more. Please, make me yours like that forever."

His cock throbbed harder against her cheek at her words, and he hauled her up onto the table, yanking his zipper down to free himself. She spread her legs eagerly, guiding his thick shaft into her soaked pussy with a desperate whimper as he thrust deep, her walls clenching around him while he pounded relentlessly. Her juices squirted with each stroke, soaking his balls and the floor, her nipples pinched between his calloused fingers until she screamed through another shattering orgasm, body convulsing in total surrender.

Her breath hitched as she nuzzled higher, pressing desperate kisses along his length through the jeans, eyes glassy with need and devotion. Chris's grip tightened in her hair, pulling her back just enough to meet his gaze as his voice dropped lower, laced with that commanding edge. "What happens if I get you pregnant? Does this end or are you still mine?"

Lacy's lips parted on a shaky moan, her bare breasts heaving against his thigh as fresh slickness coated her inner thighs. "It doesn't end, Chris—never. I'm still yours, even more so. Fill me with your cum until my belly swells and everyone knows I'm your breeding slut, your wife who carries your child while I serve you on my knees. I'd wake you every morning with my mouth sucking your cock deep, my swollen breasts heavy and leaking as I ride you or take you in my ass, my pussy always smooth and dripping for your claim. Nothing changes except I'm bound tighter to you, body and soul, still presenting myself for your fingers and your thrusts while I cook and clean with your baby inside me. Humiliate me, own me—call me your filthy cumdump who gets knocked up and keeps begging for more. Please, make me yours like that forever."

His cock throbbed harder against her cheek at her words, and he hauled her up onto the table, yanking his zipper down to free himself. She spread her legs eagerly, guiding his thick shaft into her soaked pussy with a desperate whimper as he thrust deep, her walls clenching around him while he pounded relentlessly. Her juices squirted with each stroke, soaking his balls and the floor, her nipples pinched between his calloused fingers until she screamed through another shattering orgasm, body convulsing in total surrender.

Her body still quaking from the force of her release, Lacy clung to him as the last tremors faded, her slick thighs glistening under the kitchen light. Chris eased out of her slowly, his cock slick with her juices, and guided her down from the table with a firm hand on her hip. "Clean me up first," he ordered, voice thick with satisfaction. She dropped to her knees without hesitation, taking him into her mouth, licking and sucking every trace of her own arousal from his length until he was clean and hardening again against her tongue. He watched her with dark eyes, fingers stroking her hair as she worked, then pulled her up and led her through the cabin.

The rest of the day blurred into devoted service. Lacy followed his every command, fetching his tools from the shed, preparing his lunch with her bare breasts swaying as she stirred the pot, and kneeling to massage his sore shoulders after he returned from a quick errand. Whenever he wanted her, she presented herself instantly—bending over the counter so he could slide two fingers into her dripping pussy while she washed dishes, or spreading her legs on the couch so he could fuck her ass with slow, deliberate thrusts while she recited how much she belonged to him. She cooked his dinner naked except for the thong, presenting each plate on her knees and waiting for permission to eat from his hand. By evening, her body hummed with constant arousal, her smooth folds swollen and glistening from repeated touches and denials, every nerve alive with the thrill of total submission as she waited for whatever he desired next.

By evening, her body hummed with constant arousal, her smooth folds swollen and glistening from repeated touches and denials, every nerve alive with the thrill of total submission as she waited for whatever he desired next. When the hour grew late, Chris led her to the bedroom without a word, stripping away the thong and guiding her onto the mattress on her back. He bound her wrists lightly to the headboard with soft rope, spreading her thighs wide as he settled between them, his calloused hands parting her slick pussy lips to inspect how ready she remained. Lacy's breath caught at the vulnerability, her heart swelling with the knowledge that she didn't deserve a man as patient and commanding as him, yet she arched eagerly when his thick cock pressed against her entrance.

He took her slowly at first, sinking deep into her soaked pussy with deliberate thrusts that made her whimper and clench around him, her breasts heaving as he leaned down to suckle each nipple until they throbbed. Her total submission unfolded in every gasp and roll of her hips, offering herself completely as he shifted to claim her ass next, lubing himself and stretching her tight hole while his fingers circled her swollen clit. She begged softly for more, tears of gratitude pricking her eyes because she knew she wasn't worthy of this endless attention, this man who owned her so thoroughly, but she surrendered anyway, cumming hard around him as he filled both holes in turn and marked her with his release. He untied her afterward only to pull her against his chest, his hands roaming her marked skin as she drifted into exhausted sleep, still aching and utterly his.

The Gunsmith's Touch