Her Royal Highness Princess Alexandra doesn't want to be paraded around the ballroom. Her true self is the absolute opposite. She is a lusty little skank who wants to be on her knees serving a man, dripping with pearls and diamond jewelry, and dripping with some random redneck’s cum across her face. Now, if only she could be open about it.
Throughout my entire childhood, older women would dress me in tight, binding, uncomfortable dresses for formal occasions. It got much worse when I was 15, and put into proper ladylike ballgowns. I would be on display for all to admire, but as my Princess self, not the true me. I found a sick pleasure in being bound and ogled, seen as a plaything for the amusement of others. The tight lace collars around my throat, the boning in the bodice restricting my movement, it was like I was a doll for them to dress and exhibit. I always agreed when they insisted I wear the tight jewelled chokers that felt like a dog collar. These nice ladies would apologize for the discomfort, and say that I was such a good girl for putting up with this without complaint.
They didn’t know that it completely turned me on. The restraint, the pain, all of those eyes on me. If they saw me trembling, they assumed I was overheated, not high on sexual adrenaline.
He grabbed me by the waist and sat me back up on the tailgate, scooting my butt forward and lying me across the dirty metal.
Squeezing my breasts a few times, he pinched the nipples hard, and enjoyed watching my back arch and my body squirm for him. He ran his hands down my flat stomach to my naked mound, and parted my labia with his thick fingers, stroking me for a moment, and noticing how obviously wet I was. He placed the head of his huge cock at my entrance, and pressed it against me very slightly.
“This what you want, baby?” he asked. “You want me to fill you full of cock?” His wild eyes enjoyed taunting me.
“Please, yes, I need it. I need you to fill me with that big dick. Please use me as your little fuck toy.”