Messages

Amber's face was a mask of concentration as she stared at her phone, the glow from the screen casting an eerie light on her pale skin. Her emerald eyes were wide with a mix of curiosity and dread as she scrolled through her Instagram messages. She wore the same outfit from last night—the tight black corset that hugged her curves, the short leather skirt that accentuated her long, pale legs, and the boots that made her feel powerful yet ****. Her shoulder-length red hair framed her face, the strands catching the light like flames in the dark.

Her breasts, firm and full, strained against the fabric of her corset, drawing her own gaze as she remembered the way they had been ogled by men in the bar. Her ass, round and pert, swayed slightly as she shifted on her bed, the memory of Hugh's unwanted touch sending a shiver down her spine.

The first message popped up on her screen: "Hey Amber, it's Hugh. I just wanted to apologize for my behavior last night. I blame the beer. I hope you can forgive me."

Amber's heart skipped a beat as she read the words, her fingers trembling slightly as she held the phone. She didn't respond, her mind racing with thoughts of the previous night's encounter. The way he had touched her, the things he had said... it all came flooding back, making her stomach churn.

She lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling as she tried to push the memories away. But they lingered, taunting her, making her think of the way she had touched herself later that night, the way she had imagined his hands on her body, his mouth on hers. The shame washed over her, but so did something else—a strange, twisted sense of arousal.

Another message arrived: "Amber, are you there? I hope you didn't block me. I just want to talk."

She ignored it, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. But then another message came through, this one more insistent: "Amber, if you don't answer, I'll assume you blocked me. And if you did, well... I guess you won't be able to see what I have to say next."

Amber's curiosity got the better of her, and she unlocked her phone, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She didn't type anything, just watched as the messages continued to pour in.

"You know, Amber, I've been thinking about you all day. About your body, your curves, your perfect little ass."

Amber's breath hitched as she read the words, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. She could feel her nipples hardening beneath her corset, her body responding to the crude remarks despite her better judgment.

"I bet you have a tight little pussy, don't you? I bet you love being filled up, taken hard and rough."

Amber bit her lip, her fingers twitching as she read the message. She could feel her panties growing damp, the heat between her legs intensifying with each word. She told herself to stop, to put the phone down and walk away, but she couldn't. She was trapped, ensnared by the dirty fantasies playing out in her mind.

"I would fuck you so hard, Amber. I would make you scream my name. I would fill you up with my seed, watch you writhe in pleasure as I impregnate you."

Amber's hand slipped under her skirt, her fingers finding the wetness between her legs. She closed her eyes, imagining Hugh's hands on her body, his mouth on hers, his cock thrusting inside her. The thought made her shudder, her body arching as she pressed two fingers against her clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles.

"I would make you mine, Amber. You would be begging for more, begging for my cum."

Amber's breath came in ragged gasps, her fingers moving faster as she read the messages, each one more explicit than the last. She could feel her orgasm building, the pressure between her legs becoming unbearable. She needed release, needed to escape the torment of her thoughts.

"I would take you right here, right now. I would make you forget everything else, make you remember only me."

Amber's hips bucked against her hand, her fingers sliding into her wet folds, thrusting in and out as she imagined Hugh's cock replacing them. She could feel the tension coiling in her belly, the need for release overwhelming her senses.

With a final, **** cry, Amber came, her body convulsing with pleasure as her orgasm ripped through her. She lay there, panting, her fingers still buried inside her, the aftershocks of her climax making her tremble.

As she slowly came down from her high, she realized she hadn't responded to any of Hugh's messages. She felt a pang of guilt, but also a strange sense of satisfaction. She had taken control, even if only for a moment, and that gave her a small measure of comfort.

But as she lay there, her phone buzzing with another message, she knew that this was far from over.