All Chapters of Punished By Passion: His Dirty Submissive: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

— AUTUMNI hear the same metallic sound from before and realize that the man’s unbuckling his belt. An image of Axel undoing his belt and feeding me his cock fills my mind. My cheeks redden, even though I know no one can see my face.The man strokes his cock up and down my slit. He stops near my clit and spreads my folds. I hold my breath as he rubs the tip of his cock around my button. I whimper as pleasure rockets through me.He laughs and then stops.He moves his cock towards my pussy and lines it up at my engorged entrance. He reaches around and grabs my left breast. As he squeezes my nipple between his fingers, a sharp jolt of satisfaction runs through my body. I moan, and before I know what I’m doing, I reach down with one hand to start touching myself.The man enters me in one smooth stroke. He starts pounding into my cunt, pinching my nipple harder and harder with every thrust.My nipple starts to ache, but it feels good. I rub my clit harder, relishing the pain.“How does it

— AutumnThirty minutes later, Axel and I are sitting across from each other at a diner. I’m munching away on pancakes smothered in strawberry syrup, while he’s eating oatmeal. I’ve been ribbing him about it throughout our entire meal, but he’s refused to budge on his stance that it’s ‘the breakfast of champions’.“My grandma still eats oatmeal for breakfast, you know. She’s eaten it every morning for 15 years,” I say, smirking.“Is that so?” Axel asks, cocking an eyebrow. A mischievous grin crosses his face and I get a small flutter in my stomach.I nod.“That explains it, then,” he says as he takes another heaping scoop of oatmeal.“Explains what?”“Where you get your talent from.”I burst out laughing and clap a hand over my mouth to keep from spitting out my orange juice. Once I recover, I glance at Axel and look into his gray eyes.“So,” he says. “Did you enjoy yourself during my race?”He smirks, and a combination of rage and desire courses through me. Of course, it makes no sen

— Autumn“Get on the bench on all fours,” the blonde man says to me, pointing at a pew.I shift my position so that I’m kneeling. It’s tough because the pew is quite narrow, but I squeeze my legs together tightly and just barely manage to fit.The blonde man walks behind me and I hear him undo his belt. The other man, a brunette, approaches me from the front. He makes eye contact with me while he undoes his pants and unleashes his cock.“Suck,” he says.I open my mouth obediently and take his cock. He grips the sides of my face and starts to thrust in and out of my mouth, using it like a hole. Meanwhile, the man behind me slaps my left ass cheek and then pushes his cock up against the puffy lips of my cunt.I instinctually arch my back and thrust my bum into the air. He smacks my right ass cheek. “Such a dirty little slut. You’re just dying to get fucked, aren't you?”He enters into my pussy and all I can do is suck the cock in my mouth as a response. The blonde man digs his fingers

— AutumnTate and I are standing in front of what appears to be a normal bar. I peek through the windows and notice women in their thirties drinking wine and men chugging beers.I smooth my hands over the front of my forest green silk dress. The dress shimmers under the streetlights and brings out the emerald flecks in my eyes. My formerly auburn hair is dyed golden blonde and falls in loose curls down my back. My makeup is light, but it accentuates my features.“How do I look?”“Amazing,” Tate says. There’s no sarcasm in his voice, and for once, I appreciate him not turning everything into a joke.“Ready?”I nod, feeling a lump in my throat.Tate opens the door.“After you.”I step into the bar, and I’m accosted by sounds and smells. Top 40 music is blaring over the loudspeakers, camouflaging laughter and sounds of the various TV screens. The air feels heavy, and the room is permeated with a sickly stench of stale beer, outdated perfume, and cigars.“Do you smell that?” I whisper to

— Autumn I look around, taking in our surroundings, but Tate interrupts me. “Put these on.” I take the large glasses and baseball hat he’s holding out towards me. In any other situation, I’d feel ridiculous to be pairing a designer dress with a tourist hat and oversized shades, but seeing that I’m not the only one here doing the same, I feel like I fit right in. “How do I look?” “Like a different person. Me?” I scan Tate. Axel’s only met him once, so he’s less likely to recognize him in the first place, but even so, he’s done a good job. He’s grown out his facial hair so that instead of his normal clean-shaven self, he’s now a bit scruffy. He’s similarly wearing a baseball hat — although he's from Paris, while mine is from Mexico — and large shades. He’s wearing long sleeves that cover up his distinctive car tattoos. I spin on the spot, looking around. “Tate? Where did you go?” He laughs. “Glad I pass. But remember to call me Tim.” “Right. And I’m Allie.” He nods. “And we