The Stranger Dominated Me in the Car

Hello everyone. I’ve been reading silently for a long time, keeping stories to myself that still turn me on even when I only remember them in passing. This was one of those times when I left home thinking I was going to study and ended up obeying a woman I didn’t know at all, as if she had chosen me out of everyone in that library.

I was around thirty and dragging along the last exam of a degree I was already sick of. It was a July Monday, one of those days when the city seems empty because half the world is at the beach and the other half is hiding from the heat. Even so, the library was still full of bodies sweating beneath light clothing, sandals, bare legs, and the sort of details that always get me hard far too quickly.

I have a weakness for plenty of things, but two of them undo me effortlessly: a beautiful ass and well-kept feet. I need nothing more to get hard, and that day I was especially sensitive, maybe because of the heat, maybe because of the stress, maybe because I’d gone too long without unloading the way I like to. The moment I crossed the entrance, I already knew concentrating was going to be a lost cause.

A foreign woman, clearly an adult, asked me for help getting in with my ID because she didn’t really understand how the turnstiles worked. I told her to come through with me, and she thanked me with a brief smile, the kind that means nothing and yet leaves you staring too long. She went up the stairs ahead of me, and I stayed one or two steps behind, watching the edge of her shorts reveal the curve of her buttocks as she climbed.

It wasn’t much, barely a flash of dark fabric pulled tight between her thighs, but it was enough for my cock to respond. Not the best start to a morning of studying. I clenched my jaw, kept walking, and forced myself to find a secluded table so I could try to behave like a functional adult.

I managed it for a while. I opened my notes, highlighted paragraphs, got through a few pages, and even managed to convince myself that maybe I really could make it through the morning without embarrassing myself. Then I looked up during a break and saw her.

Two tables ahead, a brunette in a dark blue dress was sitting, slim, with soft features and a focused expression. She wasn’t wearing anything eye-catching, and yet it was impossible not to look at her. Her hair was carelessly tied back, her shoulders were bare because of the cut of the dress, and she wore simple sandals that left small feet visible, their toenails painted burgundy.

I was transfixed. I knew I’d been staring too long as soon as I started imagining what I would do with those feet. It wasn’t some vague fantasy; it was direct, dirty, immediate. I imagined kissing her toes, smelling her sole, rubbing my cock between her feet until I came all over them. My erection rose so quickly that I had to move my backpack onto my lap.

Fuck, behave yourself.

I tried to return to my notes, but I couldn’t see the lines anymore. Every few seconds I ended up looking at her ankles, the arch of her foot, the slightest movement of her toes inside the sandals. I needed to go out for a cigarette or I was going to end up in the bathroom jerking off like an animal, and I didn’t want to get to that so soon. I picked up my phone, stood carefully so the bulge wouldn’t be too obvious, and went outside.

The heat hit me hard, but at least I could breathe outdoors. I lit a cigarette, sat on a bench in the shade, and tried to distract myself with my phone. I’d been staring at the screen for barely a minute when a shadow stopped in front of me and blocked the light.

I looked down first. Simple sandals. Burgundy toenails. The same feet.

I slowly raised my head, and there she was, watching me with a calmness that threw me off. Up close she looked even better: brown skin, full lips, dark eyes, and an almost amused expression, as if she knew exactly what she was causing.

“Do you have a light?” she asked.

I held out the lighter, and when she leaned over to light her cigarette, the neckline of her dress opened a little. It wasn’t a deliberate gesture—or at least that was what I wanted to believe. She took a short drag, blew the smoke to one side, and instead of leaving, sat down beside me.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied, trying to sound normal.

A few tense seconds passed. I could still feel my erection, half-alive and trapped beneath the fabric. She looked ahead, then at me, then lowered her eyes without the slightest attempt to hide it toward my crotch. She barely smiled.

“You liked my feet,” she said quietly.

My mouth went dry.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do. I saw you in the room. First you looked at my legs, then my feet, and then your cock started pushing against your pants.” She turned slightly toward me. “I don’t blame you. It turned me on quite a lot.”

I couldn’t find an answer. She was sitting there beside me, saying that with obscene naturalness. While I was still trying to process it, she crossed one leg over the other and let her foot swing a few inches from me.

“Do you have a car with air conditioning?”

The question hit me like an order.

“Yes.”

“Good. Mine’s like an oven. And ever since I saw you getting hard from looking at me, my pussy’s been soaking wet.” She crushed out her cigarette with the sole of her sandal and held my gaze. “I want you to take me to the parking lot.”

I swallowed. There was no hesitation, no testing the waters. She had been setting the pace from the very first second, and I was already following behind without resistance.

“Wait here,” I said. “I’ll get the keys.”

“Don’t take long.”

I went back inside with my pulse in my throat. I packed up my notes as best I could, shoved everything into my backpack, and went out again. When I crossed the door, she was still there, standing beside the bench, but there was one difference that left me rooted to the spot.

She was holding her panties in her hand.

She held them by one side, black and tiny, the fabric in the middle clearly wet. She waved them in front of me as if they were a leash she intended to put around my neck.

“Here,” she said. “I want to see whether you smell as desperate as you look.”

I took them with clumsy hands, and the first thing I did was bring them to my nose. The smell hit me hard: sharp, hot, completely feminine. I closed my eyes for a second and inhaled more deeply. She didn’t look away.

“Put them in your mouth.”

She didn’t raise her voice, but it was a clear order. And I obeyed. I pressed the damp part against my tongue, sucking lightly. The fabric tasted of her pussy, summer sweat, and pent-up need. I felt my cock tighten again with such force that it almost hurt.

“That’s what I thought,” she murmured. “You’re one of those who obey when they’re spoken to plainly.”

With one hand she caressed a nipple through her dress, barely pressing the fabric. I was still holding her panties against my mouth, staring like an idiot. She gave me a sideways smile.

“Come on. I want to see you on your knees, but not here.”

The walk to the car was short, and still it seemed endless. She walked one step ahead of me, moving her hips with irritating confidence. I followed behind, keys in one hand and her panties still clenched in the other, already feeling half dominated before anything had happened.

We got into the car and I turned the air conditioning up all the way. I shut the door, and before I could say a word, she grabbed me by the back of the neck and kissed me. It wasn’t a shy or romantic kiss; it was pure hunger. She shoved her tongue deep into my mouth, bit my lip, and made me moan against her lips as if she’d been waiting for me for hours.

I put my hands around her waist, but she pushed one away.

“You don’t touch wherever you want yet. First, get in the back.”

We hurried into the back seat. As soon as I settled in, she pushed me down with a firm hand on my shoulder. I ended up on my knees on the floor of the car, between her spread legs. She lifted her dress to her waist, and the sight left me breathless: a shaved pussy, glistening with wetness, open and trembling lips, the inside swollen and genuinely soaked.

“Look what you did to me,” she said. “Now fix it.”

I went at her without needing another instruction. I ran my tongue from her opening to her clitoris, and she let out a sharp moan, gripping the backrest. Her taste was strong, salty, and hot, even more intense than that of her panties. I opened her thighs wider and thrust my tongue deep, eating her pussy eagerly, hearing her breathing break apart above me.

“That’s it, fuck... just like that,” she murmured. “Don’t stop.”

I licked her clitoris in circles, then from side to side, sucking it between my lips before going back down to her opening. She was drenched, truly dripping, and every time I pushed my tongue inside, I felt her body tense. She grabbed my hair, and instead of pulling me away, pressed me harder against her pussy, using my face exactly as she wanted.

“If you stared at my feet so much, you’re going to have to earn them,” she said between gasps.

Her hand slid from the back of my neck to my face and pushed me even deeper. I breathed through my mouth, eating her without tenderness, letting her soak my entire beard. I inserted two fingers and moved them inside while continuing to suck her clitoris. She arched her back and gave my hair a brutal tug.

“Harder. Don’t treat me gently.”

I obeyed. I pushed my fingers all the way in, curling them inside her, and sped up my tongue. The wet sound filled the car, mixed with her increasingly indiscreet moans. When she began moving her hips against my mouth, I knew she was close. I stayed there, swallowing her wetness, until she came with a spasm that shook her entire body.

“Fuck... fuck...” she moaned, pressing me against her. “Don’t pull away yet.”

I kept licking more slowly, gathering everything, while her breathing gradually settled. Then I felt something brushing against my crotch. I looked down and saw her right foot searching for my cock through my pants.

“Now,” she said. “I want to see how hard you are.”

She sat up a little and, with a skill that drove me crazy, unbuttoned my pants while remaining stretched out. I leaned back to give her room. She pulled out my completely rigid cock and gave a brief laugh when she saw it throbbing.

“All this from silently staring at my feet. What a pervert.”

She pressed the sole of one foot against the shaft and began rubbing slowly, using the wetness from her own pussy, still shining on her fingers, to spread it over my cock. The contact was brutal. I closed my eyes, and a moan escaped me that I tried to bite back.

“Don’t be quiet,” she ordered. “I want to hear what I’m doing to you.”

She brought in her other foot, trapping me between both soles and sliding up and down with a slow, steady, exquisitely cruel rhythm. Her toes squeezed the base and the tip at intervals, brushing the glans just enough to drive me crazy without letting me finish. I had my hands braced against the seat, trembling like an idiot.

“Look at me.”

I forced my eyes open. She was watching me with a mixture of pleasure and authority that finished breaking me. Her dress was still raised, her pussy still open and glistening, and my eyes went from there to her feet covering my cock.

“Say what you want.”

“I want to fuck you.”

“No. Tell the truth.”

I clenched my teeth.

“I want to come on your feet.”

She smiled, satisfied.

“That’s better. But first you’re going to fuck me the way I tell you.”

She withdrew her feet, and I exhaled as if a punishment had been lifted. She turned around on the back seat, bracing her hands against the door. Her dress bunched at her waist, presenting me with her open, wet ass and pussy, inviting me inside.

“Come here. And don’t be gentle—I didn’t bring you here for that.”

I positioned myself behind her, spat into my hand, and spread it over my cock, though it wasn’t really necessary with how wet she was. I parted her buttocks and brushed the tip against her entrance. She glanced over her shoulder at me.

“Put it in already.”

I obeyed with one thrust. I entered all the way, and she let out a muffled cry, pressing her fingers against the door panel. I stayed inside for a second, feeling her squeeze me, and then began to move. Slowly at first, deeply, savoring every inch. Then harder.

The entire car filled with the sound of the thrusts, our panting, and the leather creaking beneath us. I gripped her hip with one hand and her hair with the other, pulling just enough to make her tilt her head back.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” I murmured in her ear.

“Yes, asshole, just like that. Fuck me.”

The word aroused me even more. I increased the pace, driving into her eagerly, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in. She answered by thrusting her ass backward to receive every stroke. Her pussy was so wet that my cock slid in and out with an obscene noise, and far from calming me, it made me even more frantic.

“More,” she demanded. “Don’t hold anything back.”

I gave her more. I pressed her farther against the door and fucked her hard, without embellishment, feeling our thighs slap together with every thrust. I lowered one hand to her clitoris and began rubbing it in the same rhythm. Her whole body trembled.

“Fuck... there, there... don’t stop.”

I licked her neck from behind while penetrating her, then bit her shoulder. She gave a breathless laugh.

“That’s it. I want you to use me.”

The words completely unleashed me. I began fucking her faster, almost savagely, until I felt orgasm rising from my balls. I tried to hold back, but she noticed it in my breathing and in the way my hips were losing control.

“Don’t come inside me yet,” she said firmly. “Pull out.”

It was difficult to obey because I was on the verge, but I pulled out in time. My cock throbbed, glistening with her fluids. She turned around again and dropped onto the seat, panting, her legs spread.

“Come here. Hands behind your back.”

I looked at her for a second and then obeyed. Between her legs, hard and trembling, I was exposed before her. She held my cock with one hand and, with the other, gave me two gentle slaps on the cheek, like someone rewarding a well-trained dog.

“Good boy. Now you’re going to come the way I told you.”

She raised both feet and pressed them together around my cock, this time completely slippery. She began sliding them from base to tip with exact pressure, squeezing my glans between her soles and using her toes to play with the tip. I couldn’t touch her, couldn’t touch myself; I could only endure and receive.

“Look at it carefully,” she said, watching herself milk me with her feet. “All hard over a pair of feet. I love seeing you this completely surrendered.”

The movement grew faster. Her feet wrapped around me and released me in a perfect rhythm, becoming more smeared with my pre-cum and with the pussy still dripping down her thighs. Every pass drew a louder moan from me than the last.

“Ask for it.”

“Let me come.”

“More clearly.”

“Let me come on your feet, please.”

She smiled with delicious cruelty and squeezed a little harder.

“Come.”

I needed nothing else. Orgasm exploded out of me all at once, hard and prolonged. I came between her feet in violent spasms, shooting hot jets that splashed her ankles, legs, and the edge of her raised dress. She didn’t move her feet away; on the contrary, she continued sliding them slowly throughout my ejaculation, milking me until she left me without strength.

“Fuck...” I moaned, my head thrown back.

My cum ran down her brown skin, mixing with the wet shine she already carried from her pussy. Seeing her like that left me nearly dizzy. She lowered her feet, calmly surveyed the mess, and gave a satisfied laugh.

“Now you look the way you imagined, don’t you?”

All I could do was nod, still breathing in gasps. She gathered a little semen from her ankle with two fingers and spread it over my lips.

“Clean yourself.”

I did it. Her gaze never left my face for a second while I obeyed. There was something about the scene that felt like gentle, precise humiliation, exactly at the point that drives me wild: not degrading me completely, but making me feel used and pleased at the same time.

She straightened her dress, though her legs and feet were still stained. I found a box of tissues in the rear glove compartment and offered it to her. She shook her head.

“No. I want to walk around like this for a while. I like feeling it dry.”

The mere sentence sent another lash of arousal through me, even though I was already sensitive and nearly empty. She noticed and leaned over to kiss me again, this time more slowly, savoring the moment.

“I’m done here tomorrow,” she said. “If I see you again, it’ll be by chance. But if it happens, you already know how this works.”

“How does it work?”

She held my gaze as she opened the car door.

“You look. I command. And you end up a mess again.”

She got out with insulting calm, as if she hadn’t just left me trembling and empty in the back seat. I watched her walk away through the parking lot, her sandals still stained, her dress clinging in places, and carrying herself like someone who knew perfectly well what kind of effect she left behind.

It took me several more minutes to pull myself together. I cleaned up as best I could, straightened my clothes, and sat staring at the roof of the car with the cold air blowing against my face. I had barely studied anything, and yet I felt that I would remember that July Monday much better than any exam.

Since then, I’ve fantasized many times about seeing her again in the library, hearing the sound of her sandals approaching once more, and feeling that same mixture of embarrassment, desire, and obedience. Because the strongest part of it all wasn’t fucking her or coming on her feet. It was realizing how quickly she bent me, how naturally submission came to me with a stranger who knew how to read me in a single glance.

And if one day she stands in front of me again with those burgundy-painted toes and that calm voice, I know exactly what I’ll do. Lower my head, follow her to the car, and wait for the next order.