Hunting Amber
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Last night lingers in my veins like a storm that hasn't fully passed. Raw, primal energy still humming through every nerve. We had connected about a week ago when she reached out to me as a client, drawn to my services after seeing my escort profile. We'd been talking every day since, her words pulling me in deeper each time as she laid bare her cravings: that aching need to submit, to be overwhelmed and dominated completely. As her provider, I listened carefully as she explained how these dark fantasies were her way of exploring and uncovering the trauma she'd buried out of sight for so long, old wounds from her past that she wanted to confront in a safe, controlled space. Together, we shaped the scenario that set her on fire: the hunt, where she's prey in the dark, chased down, captured, stripped, and taken with no holding back. But we built it on trust: safe words whispered, boundaries drawn clear, and an agreement to practice safe sex, so the intensity could unfold without crossing lines. When she said she was ready to step into it as part of our session, I mapped out every shadow, every move, to make it real and secure.
She followed my pin to that quiet beach around 8 PM, the night thick and black, waves crashing like a heartbeat in the distance, the sand empty under a sky without stars. She texted on arrival, just as I asked, and I sent the next pin, drawing her closer. From the shadows on the boardwalk, I watched her car pull up, her figure emerging, skirt clinging to her thighs, boots tentative on the uneven ground, that subtle tension in her posture screaming anticipation. I guided her via text to the park sign, then shared the video I'd recorded earlier: silent footage of the path through the dim boardwalk, leading her step by step to the beach's edge.
She moved into it, phone glowing softly against her face, mirroring my route as the wind tugged at her hair and the darkness swallowed the world around her. Imagine it... the salt air sharp on your skin, the boardwalk creaking underfoot, that growing sense of isolation as you leave the safety of your car behind. I slipped down to the dunes, hidden, my eyes locked on her as she turned right onto the soft sand, heels sinking, making each step a little more vulnerable. She passed so close I could hear her breath quicken, feel the shift in the air, the fear starting to coil in her gut, mixing with the thrill she'd confessed to craving as a path to healing.
She paused once, glancing back over her shoulder, her body rigid with that electric panic, heart pounding loud enough to drown out the waves. But she kept going, about a hundred meters out, her guard slipping just enough. That's when the predator in me stirred. Barefoot, I sprinted across the sand, silent until the grains betrayed a faint squeak in those final strides. She froze... body locked, instincts failing her as I crashed into her from behind, my hand firm over her mouth to catch the gasp, pulling her down hard into the cool, yielding sand.
Flipped her over in one motion, pinning her wrists above her head, her chest rising and falling in rapid bursts, eyes wide with that raw terror, yet her body already softening into surrender. Feel it: the weight pressing you down, the sand gritty against your back, every sense heightened as fear flips into something hotter, deeper, unlocking those hidden layers of trauma. I pulled the leather hood from my pocket, slipping it over her head to plunge her into blindness, amplifying the rush. Flipped her again, hiked her skirt up roughly, exposing her to the night's chill, and dragged her deeper into the dunes, the sand shifting beneath us, waves muffling everything but our breaths.
With her pinned beneath me, body trembling from the adrenaline, I ripped her top open... seams tearing, skin flushing under my touch as she arched up with a soft, broken whimper. No scream; the fear had her too tight, too deep in the moment, her sounds turning to pleas of need. Pushed her thong aside, slipped on a condom and thrust into her, deep and unyielding, feeling her clench around me, her form giving over completely to the primal take. It was rough, animalistic... fucking her right there in the sand, our rhythm syncing with the pounding surf, that dark dominance surging while I stayed attuned to her, riding the edge where terror melts into ecstasy and buried pain begins to surface.
When the wave crested, I exploded inside her, both of us ragged and spent. I helped her to her feet, legs unsteady, hood still on, and guided her back to the beach shower, my touch steadying now. Ordered her to strip everything off, to let the cold water cascade over her bare skin, rinsing away the grit and the intensity. She obeyed without a word, standing there as the stream washed her clean, leaving her shivering but serene, that afterglow settling like a quiet fire, with hints of emotional release from the trauma we'd started to unearth.
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