Drunk on Heartbreak: My Wild Night Tied Up with Two Strangers

I’m 26 years old and work as a coder at a startup in Bangalore, where my life is a whirlwind of laptops and cold brew coffee. Last week, my boyfriend of two years broke up with me, claiming I was too much drama. That jerk left me devastated, crying into my pillow until my friends insisted on dragging me to Social Sarjapur to drown my pain in vodka. I slipped into a tight, slutty black dress that barely held my breasts, feeling like I was ready to explode with reckless energy.

At Social, the music was pounding, and I was three vodka shots deep, dancing like I didn’t have a care in the world. My dress rode up, exposing one nipple, but I was too drunk to care and just laughed it off. A tall guy with dark hair and intense eyes noticed and smirked. He leaned in and asked softly, “Are you good, darling?” His voice was low, like gravel, and I felt my pussy tingle instantly. I was a mess, but his gaze held me in place. We started talking and laughing, his hand brushing my arm. Before I knew it, I grabbed his face and kissed him hard, like I was starving. His lips tasted of whiskey and mint, his tongue sliding against mine, and I was instantly wet, grinding against him on the dance floor.

We stumbled into an Uber, his hand resting on my thigh, slowly creeping higher until his fingers grazed my panties. He whispered, “You’re soaked, aren’t you?” I blushed and nodded, unable to speak. He tugged my dress down, exposing my breasts, and rolled my nipple between his fingers, pinching just enough to make me gasp. The driver pretended not to notice, but I was dripping, my thighs slick with arousal. Bangalore’s neon lights streaked past the window, and I thought to myself, “What am I doing, acting like this?” but I was too horny to care.

We arrived at his apartment in HSR, which was dimly lit with only a flickering lamp casting shadows. He changed, becoming more commanding, his eyes dark with intent. He said, “I’m a Dom. Are you into BDSM?” I had tried some light stuff before, but nothing like this. Still, I was drunk, heartbroken, and my pussy was screaming for it. He pulled out soft but strong silk ropes, and I trembled as he tied my wrists, then my ankles, spreading me wide on his bed. My dress was bunched around my waist, my panties gone, leaving my clit exposed and throbbing. He blindfolded me with a silk scarf, and the darkness amplified every sound, his steady breathing, my racing heartbeat, the clink of his belt buckle. I was scared and turned on, muttering to myself, “God, what am I getting into?”

He began foreplay slowly, as if savoring every moment. His fingers traced my collarbone with a feather-light touch, then moved to my breasts, circling my nipples until they hardened like bullets. He pinched one sharply, and I yelped, but it felt so good, sending a jolt to my core. His mouth followed, his lips brushing my neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. I squirmed, the ropes biting into my wrists, and he chuckled, saying, “Stay still, slut.” His tongue flicked my earlobe, his teeth grazing it, and I moaned, “Please, just do something.” He moved lower, kissing my stomach, his tongue dipping into my navel, and I arched my back, desperate for more contact.

He spread my pussy lips with his thumbs, exposing my clit to the air, and I shook with anticipation. His breath was hot, teasing me, before his tongue flicked my clit, soft at first, barely touching. I bucked my hips, and he laughed, slapping my inner thigh with a sting that made me gasp. He said, “Patience, girl.” He licked again, harder this time, circling my clit, then sucking it into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue. I was loud, screaming, “Fuck, keep going!” He slipped one finger inside me, then two, curling them to hit that spot that made me see stars. I was so wet that the squelching was obscene, my hips grinding against his hand. He added a third finger, stretching me, and I begged, “More, please, fuck!”

He pulled back, and I heard him spit, feeling the warmth land on my pussy, slick and intimate. He rubbed it in, his thumb working my clit, and I was a mess, blindfolded and tied, completely at his mercy. He grabbed a flogger with soft leather strips and trailed it over my breasts, stomach, and thighs. The first strike landed on my inner thigh, sharp but not cruel, and my pussy clenched in response. He flogged my breasts next, tapping my nipples lightly, then harder, and I cried out, the line between pain and pleasure blurring. He growled, “You like that, huh?” I nodded, whimpering, “Yes, I fucking love it.”

His cock was circumcised, thick and veiny, the head shiny as he rubbed it against my clit. He teased me, slapping my pussy with it, the wet smacks echoing in the room. I had been with guys before, but this felt different, raw and intense. I begged, “Just fuck me, please.” He spit again, this time on his cock, and pushed in slowly. I felt stretched, gasping as my body adjusted. He paused, whispering, “You’re okay, breathe,” and I nodded, urging him to continue. He moved inch by inch, and it was pure heaven, his cock filling me, hitting every nerve, raw with no condom, my reckless choice in the heat of the moment.

We started in missionary, my legs pinned by the ropes, his hands on my throat, not choking but holding me, grounding me. He thrust deeply, steadily, and I felt every ridge of him, my walls gripping him tightly. I was loud, moaning, “Fuck me harder, come on!” He complied, slamming into me, the bed creaking, my breasts bouncing with each thrust. My first orgasm crashed over me, my pussy pulsing around him, and I screamed, shaking as the ropes cut into my skin. He pulled back, edging himself, and I begged, “Keep going, damn it!”

He adjusted the ropes and flipped me into doggy, my ass up, knees on the bed. He spanked me hard, leaving a burning handprint, and I yelped, “Ouch, fuck!” His cock hit deeper in this position, finding spots that drove me wild, his balls slapping my clit. I came again, my vision going white, my body trembling. He moved me to cowgirl, untying my ankles so I could straddle him. I was awkward at first, still blindfolded, but he guided my hips, and I rode him, his cock hitting deep, my clit grinding against his pelvis. I came again, my thighs trembling, cursing, “This is insane, fuck.”

Finally, we switched to spooning, his body curled around mine, his cock sliding in slowly, deliberately. His hand rubbed circles on my clit, and I was raw, sensitive, every thrust making me whimper. He whispered filthy things, saying, “You’re my little slut, aren’t you?” I nodded, lost in the sensation, coming one last time, my pussy milking him. He didn’t pull out, and I felt him release inside me, warm and reckless, but I was too fucked out to care.

Suddenly, I felt another mouth on my breasts, sucking hard, teeth grazing my nipples. Another guy was there, swearing in Hindi, “Damn, she’s so tight.” I was blindfolded, tied, and my heart pounded with confusion. Who was this? My body betrayed me, my pussy clenching as he licked me, his tongue sloppy and aggressive. They took turns, one fucking my mouth, his cock gagging me, the other pounding my pussy, raw and relentless. I was choking, moaning, coming again, my body no longer my own. It went on for hours, positions blurring, me on my back, one in my mouth, one in my pussy, then switching, their hands slapping, grabbing, everywhere. I was their toy, and I loved it, screaming, “Fuck, harder!”

When it was over, they untied me, removed the blindfold, and I curled up between them, the sheets soaked, our bodies sticky with sweat and cum. My pussy was sore, my thighs bruised, but I felt alive, buzzing with energy. Morning came, and the second guy was gone, leaving just me and him in his kitchen, sipping coffee. He was softer now, almost shy, asking, “Are you okay?” I nodded, but my head was spinning, heartbreak, vodka, two strangers fucking me raw. We talked and laughed, but there was a heaviness, a question of what came next. I left with his number in my phone, the streets of HSR too bright for my eyes.

I can’t stop replaying that night in my mind. I was drunk, heartbroken, and let two strangers own my body. It was filthy, scary, and perfect. I’m raw, marked, and forever changed. I don’t know if I’ll call him, but that night cracked me open, leaving me caught between terror and freedom, my pussy still humming, my heart a tangled mess.