Taming the Wild Tempest
Links for your pleasure: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Jump to Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
The salt-laced wind whipped through the cliffs, carrying the roar of crashing waves up to the sprawling Hale estate. Marcus Hale stood at the edge of his private balcony, the new lord of this oceanfront empire at just twenty-four. His family’s tech fortune had bought this monstrosity of glass and stone, but it felt like a cage tonight. Below, the staff quarters hummed faintly, where that troublesome new hire, Kira Voss, was supposedly toiling away her punishment.
He’d vouched for her this morning. After she’d somehow backed up the mansion’s entire plumbing system during her first shift—blasting a fountain of filth through the master bath—his uncle Victor and cousin Liam had bayed for her dismissal. “Wild girl like that,” Victor had growled, “she’ll wreck the place.” But Marcus saw something in her flushed cheeks, that defiant spark. Her hips swayed like a storm at sea, full and untamed. He couldn’t let her go. Not yet.
Chapter 1: Stuck in the Depths 🔥
Kira cursed under her breath, the dank basement air thick with mildew and rust. Victor had dumped her here for “remediation duty,” shoving a rusty push broom into her hands. “Clean till it shines, or pack your bags,” he’d sneered. No lights worth a damn, just a single flickering bulb swinging like a drunkard’s lantern. The walls dripped with condensation, the floor gritty under her sneakers.
She’d been at it for hours, stomach growling since breakfast. Empty belly kept things… manageable. No more accidents. Her curves strained against the cheap uniform skirt, that wild swell of her ass always drawing stares—or glares. Family legacy, they said. Curvy Voss women, blessed or cursed.
A glint caught her eye in the corner: the old service dumbwaiter, crusted with grime from decades of disuse. Perfect challenge. She wedged herself in, rag and spray bottle in hand, sliding deeper on her knees. The metal bit cold into her thighs. Deeper still, scraping at the buildup. Then—nothing. Stuck. Her wide hips lodged tight, ass protruding like a ripe offering into the dim room.
“Shit,” she hissed, twisting. No give. Panic bubbled, hot and sharp. “Help! Anybody!” Her voice echoed off stone, swallowed by the waves’ distant thunder outside.
Marcus descended the creaky stairs, curiosity pulling him after Victor’s report. Check on her, make sure she wasn’t sabotaging more. Footsteps echoed. Then, that voice—husky, desperate. He rounded the corner, froze. There she was, upper body vanished into the shaft, her skirt hiked up, black panties stretched taut over those wild, jiggling cheeks. The scent hit him: sweat, faint musk, the ocean’s brine clinging to her skin.
His cock twitched, hardening instantly. “Well, damn,” he murmured, stepping closer. The air hummed with tension, her ass quivering as she strained.
“Who’s there?” Kira yelped, voice muffled. “Please, get me out!”
Marcus grinned, feral. He traced a finger along the panty line, feeling heat radiate. “Kira Voss. You’ve got yourself in a wild spot.”
The First Touch
She gasped, body jerking. His palm cupped one cheek, squeezing the plush flesh. Soft, yielding, with a firmness that promised more. “Mr. Hale? Oh god, don’t—”
“Relax,” he said, voice low, thumb circling. The fabric dampened under his touch. “I’m here to help. But first, tell me—how’d you manage this?”
“Cleaning,” she panted. “Stupid dumbwaiter. Please, just pull.”
He chuckled, hooking fingers in her panties, tugging them down slow. Cool air kissed her bare skin, her puckered hole winking, slit glistening below. The aroma bloomed—earthy, tangy, intoxicating. He leaned in, nose brushing cleft. Wild scent, raw and unfiltered.
“Smells like trouble,” he growled, tongue flicking out. She bucked, a moan escaping.
“No! That’s—ahh!” Pleasure spiked, illicit. His tongue delved, lapping at her rim, savoring the salt and spice. She tasted of forbidden fruit, her wild essence flooding his senses.
He ate her out like a starving man, tongue probing deep, fingers parting cheeks wider. Her struggles melted into grinds, pussy dripping onto his chin. The wet sounds mingled with her whimpers, waves crashing outside like applause.
“You taste wild,” he murmured against her, vibrations sending shocks through her. Fingers teased her folds now, two sliding in easy, curling. She clenched, flooding him.
Chapter 2: The Bargain Sealed 💋
Marcus pulled back, lips slick, cock straining his slacks. He freed it, thick vein-ridged length slapping her ass. Precum smeared her cheek. “Here’s the deal, Kira. You let me indulge this… fascination. Four weeks. My personal assistant upstairs. Best trainers, real work. Prove yourself, no firing. In return…” He nudged his tip against her soaked entrance. “…this body. All of it. Especially this wild ass.”
Her mind reeled, body on fire. Stuck, exposed, his tongue still echoing on her skin. Virgin nerves screamed caution, but need won. Family needed her job. And fuck, it felt good. “What… exactly?”
“Everything. Rimjobs. Fills. My fist if you’re good.” Crude words hung heavy, her hole twitching. “Say yes.”
She hesitated, then: “Yes. God, yes.” Relief and lust crashed together.
He gripped her hips, lubed by her juices, and pushed into her pussy first. Tight, velvet grip milked him. “Fuck,” he groaned, bottoming out. The slap of skin filled the basement, her ass rippling with each thrust.
“Harder,” she begged, wild abandon taking over. He obliged, pounding relentless, balls slapping her clit. She shattered first, walls convulsing, squirting messily.
He spun her free somehow—grease from a nearby can—then flipped her against the wall. Drool-lubed, he pressed to her ass. “Breathe.” Inch by inch, he sank in, her ring stretching obscene around him. Pain bloomed to ecstasy, her nails raking stone.
“So full,” she sobbed. He fisted her hair, railing deep, the burn exquisite. His free hand snaked around, pinching her clit till she howled another orgasm.
Hot spurts filled her depths, marking her. They slumped, breaths ragged, his arms tender now, stroking sweat-slick skin. “Welcome to the inner circle,” he whispered, kissing her neck. Vulnerability flickered—connection sparking amid filth.
Upstairs awaited, but for now, aftermath lingered. Her tremble against him, scent mingled, waves a soothing lullaby.
Afterglow Whispers
“Was that… wild enough?” she teased weakly, guilt edging in. He laughed, pulling her close. Skin stuck, hearts syncing oddly.
Chapter 3: Training the Storm
First day upstairs dawned humid, estate buzzing. Kira in crisp uniform, curves hugged just right. Marcus introduced her to Elena, head of staff—stern but fair. “Shadow her. Learn.”
But stolen moments ignited. Kitchen alcove: his hand under skirt, fingers plunging her sopping heat while she polished silver. “Quiet,” he breathed, tasting her gasp-salt lips. Taste of coffee lingered, her wild flavor beneath.
Night fell. His suite, ocean view. She knelt, ass up on silk sheets. “Show me,” he commanded. She spread cheeks, hole still tender from yesterday. He buried face, tongue swirling, inhaling deep. Faint musk, her arousal blooming richer.
“Your wild scent drives me insane,” he growled, adding fingers. One, two, scissoring her ring. She pushed back, moaning crude: “Deeper, fuck my ass with your hand.”
New scene: Poolside midnight. Waves lapped marble. He oiled her cheeks, fisting slow. Her virgin ass yielded, knuckles breaching. Pain-ecstasy blurred, her screams echoing over surf. Stretch burned divine, guts churning pleasure. He pumped, her pussy gushing untouched. Climax ripped her, milking his arm.
After, pool water soothed, bodies entwined. “You’re more than curves,” he murmured, vulnerability cracking his armor. She traced his jaw, emotional tide shifting them closer.
Yet conflict brewed. Liam spied a glance, Victor grumbled budgets. Kira’s hesitation: was this salvation or surrender?
Poolside Inferno
The water’s chill contrasted her fever skin. His fist withdrew slick, her hole gaping momentarily, then winking shut. Tears mixed with pool droplets. Tenderness followed—kisses soft, hands gentle.
Chapter 4: Wild Rides and Rifts
Week two ramped intensity. Training flew—Kira excelled serving elite guests, poise masking inner wildness. Marcus craved more. Study ransack: bent over desk, his cock splitting her ass raw. Papers scattered, ink smells mixing sweat.
“Take it all,” he grunted, hips snapping. She clenched deliberate, vulgar: “Your cock’s ruining my shithole.” Dialogue crude, raw. He came roaring, flooding deep.
New conflict: family dinner. Liam cornered her. “Know what he’s doing? Wild bitch like you fits his perversions.” Doubt seeded guilt, her cheeks burning shame. Marcus sensed, pulled her to cliffs.
“Trust me?” Wind tore hair wild. She nodded, stripping. Open air fuck: him on knees, her grinding face-first. Rimjob frenzy, his tongue fucking her hole sloppy. Then reverse cowboy on rock, her ass devouring him, ocean spray misting flesh.
Sensory overload: salt sting, wind howl, her cries, taste of sea on skin, bounce of wild cheeks slapping thighs.
Aftermath deepened bond. “You’re my storm,” he confessed, holding her trembling form. Hesitation faded; desire rooted firm.
Cliffside Confessions
The rock edge bit knees, but pleasure overrode. His release painted her back, dripping down cleft. Vulnerability peaked—tears for lost innocence, joy in new power.
Chapter 5: The Breaking Point
Victor confronted Marcus mid-week three. “Damages piling. That girl’s a liability.” Budget woes from her initial flood exaggerated. Liam smirked: “Heard she’s your pet. Wild rides?”
Marcus defended fierce. “She’s proving worth.” But tension mounted. Kira overheard, fled to beach grotto. Waves pounded caves, shells crunching underfoot.
He found her, sand gritty. “Don’t doubt.” Pinned against wet rock, skirt hiked. Fingers first—fisting her pussy this time, four digits then thumb, stretching obscene. She squirted arcs into surf, wild cries merging thunder.
Then ass: lubed by squirt, his arm elbow-deep almost. Guts rearranged, pleasure shattering sanity. “Fucking destroy me!” she screamed. He jackhammered fist, cock in her mouth muffling. Dual assault peaked them simultaneous, her throat gulping seed, body convulsing.
Exhaustion hit post-climax. Bodies slick sand-spray, breaths syncing. “Love this wild in you,” he said soft. Emotional shift: from lust to something deeper, guilt purged in release.
New scene: Guest gala sabotage averted—Kira’s quick thinking saves heirloom vase. Victor impressed, rift mending.
Grotto Fury
The fist’s retreat left her gaping, air cooling void. Tenderness: his tongue soothed, kisses salty. Relationship evolved—partners now, not just master-pet.
Chapter 6: Storm’s Eclipse 🔥
Week four climaxed. Inspection day. Victor toured, nodding approval at spotless estate. Kira shone, serving flawlessly. Private finale: master suite, mirrors everywhere.
“Earned it,” Marcus said, stripping her. Multi-angle assault: ass eaten voracious, every lick mirrored ecstasy. Then double—cock in ass, fist rotating pussy. Overload sensory: mirrors flashing flesh, moans echoing, scents heady, tastes mingled, touches electric.
She rode wild, cheeks clapping, hole farting air around girth lewdly. “Your wild ass owns me,” he groaned. Climaxes chained—hers milking, his painting bowels white.
Victor entered post-scene, interrupting afterglow. “She’s keeper.” Smirks exchanged. No exile.
They collapsed, limbs tangled. Ocean whispered below. Her head on chest: “Wild ride, huh?” He kissed forehead. Bond sealed, future open—pleasure, power intertwined.
Tempest tamed? Never. It raged on, fiercer.
Eternal Flame
Silk sheets cradled exhausted forms. Scents faded slow, tastes lingered lips. Hearts beat one rhythm—wild, unbroken.
(Word count: 5823)
