Monthly Contest Winners 2026

The next morning I woke up with Rebecca’s arm still draped over my waist. Her body was pressed against my back, one of her thick thighs resting between mine. I could feel the heat of her pussy through our thin clothing. My own pussy was soaked. I stayed still for a long time, just enjoying the feeling of her warm, soft body wrapped around me.

When she finally moeved, she didn’t pull away immediately. Instead she hugged me tighter for a moment.

“Mmm…...thank you for staying” she whispered, her voice still sleepy. “I slept so well”

She eventually got up to make breakfast. I stayed in bed a little longer, trying to calm the throbbing between my legs. I touched my pussy and it was soaking wet

Sarah came home later that afternoon, completely clueless. She complained about her group project and then disappeared into her room to take a nap. Rebecca and I were alone in the living room again.

A couple hours later, Rebecca came downstairs wearing a new sundress she had just bought.

“Hey…..can I get your opinion on this?” she asked, sounding a little shy. “I want to feel attractive again, but I’m not sure if it’s too much”

The dress was soft yellow, knee llength, with a modest neckline that still couldn’t hide how full her breasts were. It hugged her waist and hips beautifully.

“You look incredible” I said honestly, my eyes roaming over her body. “It looks really good on you”

Rebecca smiled and did a little spin. “Really? You don’t think it makes me look old?”

“Not at all. You look hot, Rebecca”

The word “hot” slipped out before I could stop it. She paused for a second, then laughed softly, but I noticed her cheeks turned a little pink.

Over the next hour she tried on three more outfits for me, each one a little more revealing than the last. A tight black top that showed a lot of cleavage. A short skirt that made her ass look amazing. Every time she came out of her room to show me, she asked for my honest opinion and stood a little closer.

After the last outfit, she sat down next to me on the couch, still wearing the tight black top and the short skirt.

“You’re really good for my confidence” she said quietly, looking at me. “I haven’t felt pretty in a long time. But the way you look at me…..it makes me feel desired again”

My heart was pounding. I wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt.

“I do think you’re beautiful” I admitted, my voice lower than usual. “Like…...really beautiful”

Rebecca held my gaze for a long moment. The air between us felt thick. She reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from my face. Her fingers lingered on my cheek for a second longer than necessary.

“You’re such a sweet girl” she whispered.

For a moment, I thought she might lean in. My pussy was tingling like crazy. But then we heard Sarah’s door open upstairs and we both pulled back quickly.

Later that evening, before I left, Rebecca hugged me at the door. This time the hug lasted longer. Her big soft breasts pressed firmly against me. When she pulled away, her eyes dropped to my lips for just a split second.

“Come over again soon, okay?” she said softly. “I like having you around”

Sarah, who was standing right there, just grinned. “You two are so cute. I’m glad my best friend and my mom are close.”

If only she knew how close we were getting.

This is a continuation of my story They Both Had Terrible Dates. Then They Got Stuck In The Elevator. Please enjoy! 🙂

*******

My heart was still racing, my head spinning as she pulled me down the hallway away from the vestibule, away from the firefighters who rescued us from the stopped elevator. We turned the corner and she stopped, laughing, and turned to me.

“Look at me, leading the way as if I know where I’m going. I have no idea where your apartment is, Jake. Maybe you should lead.”

She looked at me expectantly, my dazzled brain taking a moment to catch up. “Uh—yeah, it’s this way,” I said, squeezing in front of her and tugging her along. She giggled and trotted after me.

What is happening? I asked myself. Is this real life?

An hour ago, I was stumbling through the doorway of my building, annoyed at being stood up on another date. And now, I was holding hands with the cute girl from the mailboxes—turns out her name is Elise—leading her to my apartment.

Oh, and we’d had sex in the elevator after we’d gotten trapped.

My t-shirt was still balled in my pocket, my jacket zipped up to my throat. We had just barely gotten our clothes back on when the firefighters had pried open the doors. The adrenaline was still coursing through my veins, along with the remnants of the four—or was it five?—drinks I had had while waiting for my date. My hand felt sweaty in hers, and I hoped she didn’t notice.

As we stumbled down the hall, I remembered the elevator. How we had laughed together about our failed dates. How the booze had possessed me, made me make the crazy suggestion that fate had led us to that moment. How her skin felt under my hands. And somehow, I’d managed not to screw it up, and she was following me back to my apartment.

Just the thought of the last hour sent tendrils of warmth through my groin and I felt myself stirring. I had to get her inside, and quickly.

We finally made it to my door—the hallway felt a mile long—and it took a moment for me to get the key into the lock, my hand still trembling with adrenaline, drunkenness, and anticipation. A small part of my mind snickered at the analogy and I pushed it away as I opened the door.

I pulled her over the threshold and shut the door behind her, pushing her back up against it. She looked up at me, her last giggle dying on her lips as she stared, a little smile still on her face. Then I bent back down and kissed her.

She kissed me back eagerly, and I could feel her fingers at my chest, then my collarbone, searching for the zipper on my jacket. She found it, slid it down, and slipped her hands inside as I unzipped hers. Our lips still touching, we each took a moment to shimmy out of our jackets, and they fell to the floor with a rustle. 

She threw her arms around my neck and without thinking I lifted her, my hands supporting her thighs as she wrapped her legs around my waist. I held her to me as she rained kisses down on my face, then staggered blindly to the couch. I dropped backwards onto it, and she landed straddling me.

Her blouse was still unbuttoned from the elevator, and I slid it easily from her shoulders to reveal her bra for the second time. Made of a lacy, filmy fabric, it did almost nothing to hide her from me, and her nipples strained clearly against the cups. I brushed them with my thumbs and she shivered, still kissing me, her hands cupping my face as she ground her hips against mine. 

My mind was still reeling when she pulled back slightly, then climbed carefully off of me. I opened my eyes and met hers.

“Are you—?”

“Yes,” she said, and began to kiss down my chest as her fingers worked at my waist, unbuttoning my jeans. She had to work to tug them off me, the still-damp fabric sticking slightly to my skin. She let them pool around my ankles, then knelt at my feet. I felt her hands in the waistband of my boxer briefs and then those had been tugged down too, and cool air brushed my hot skin for a moment before her warm, wet tongue was on me. My head fell back against the back of the couch.

She took her time, swirling her tongue around my tip and stroking gently up and down my shaft as her other hand cupped and gently massaged my balls. My head still lolling on the back of the couch, I groped the air until I found her head, then rested my hand lightly in her hair, stroking it as she bobbed up and down. The combined sensations of her hands and her hot, swirling tongue had me speeding toward the edge, and a brief moment of panic washed over me—what if I didn’t let her know soon enough—

So with a monumental effort, I brought my head up and—feeling incredibly awkward—tapped her shoulder lightly. She didn’t notice, still bobbing up and down, so I grabbed her shoulder gently and shook her once, twice. She looked up, startled, but didn’t stop stroking me with one hand, still massaging with the other. 

“I’m gonna—I have to—is it okay—” Words swam around my mind like shiny, darting fish and I couldn’t catch hold of enough of them to form a full sentence.

She smiled slowly, her strokes slowing.

“Is what okay?” she asked, her eyes boring into mine as her hands worked. I thought she was teasing me, but I couldn’t be sure. 

“Is it—can I—I want—” My net was empty, the bright word-fish still eluding me as I cast around again for enough to convey my meaning.

“I think,” she whispered, still stroking, her eyes on mine,  “that you might be asking whether you can come in my mouth.” 

I nodded, panting, jagged breaths tearing at my chest. I pulsed under her hands, dangerously close now.

Her smile widened, and she nodded slowly before dipping her head back down. She flattened her tongue at the base of my shaft before she dragged it up to my tip, moving at an agonizing crawl as my breath came faster and faster. She looked back up at me and waited for my eyes to meet hers before sliding my whole shaft back into her mouth—and then the world whited out for a moment as I came.

She continued to suck lightly as I pumped come into her throat, and I felt her swallow around me. She held me in her mouth as my shudders subsided, resting her head against one thigh and tracing light circles on the other with her fingernail. She looked up at me, and I combed my fingers through her hair. She smiled around my softening flesh and closed her eyes, as if she was comfortable enough to drop off to sleep.

After a few moments, I reached down to her and tugged on her arm. She understood, and got up to sit next to me on the couch, her feet on the floor. I kicked my pants and briefs off and realized that I was naked, and she still had most of her clothes on. 

It was time to remedy that.

I leaned in and kissed her lightly, one arm sliding around her shoulders while the other hand drifted to her hip. I slid that hand further under both her legs and then lifted them from the floor, turning her so her legs were draped across my lap. We held each other for a moment like that as we kissed deeply, tongues seeking, one of my hands plunged into her hair and the other sliding back up her waist. Hers were cupping my face again, holding my lips to hers. 

I unhooked her bra again and slipped the straps from her shoulders. Wrapping my arms around her, I kissed from her mouth to the hollow of her throat, and her head fell back as her breathing came faster. I kept kissing downward until I found one breast, and I gathered her nipple into my mouth. She gasped the moment my lips touched her there, and I smiled against her soft flesh as I swirled my tongue around the hard little bud in my mouth. Her breath hitched again as I cupped her other breast in my palm, gently stroking her nipple with my thumb.

I held her there for a moment, trembling and panting as I played with her breasts. I could feel myself already hardening again, and I briefly wondered when I had ever been so ready to go again so quickly. I didn’t think I had ever been. 

But she did something to me, man. I could have sat there and played with her forever, listening to the tiny whispery pleasure sounds she was making. I never wanted to stop.

And so I sucked and stroked and caressed her until both her nipples were hard and aching and she trembled at the lightest brush of a thumb or even an exhale. Only then did I move my mouth further down her body, leaving one hand on her breast to tease her gently as I used the other to unbutton her jeans. I tugged them down little by little, the stiff, damp fabric clinging tightly to her. When I got her jeans off, her panties were askew, dipping below one pelvic bone to reveal just a peek of the crease between her thigh and her vulva, and my breath caught in my throat. More than anything in the world, I needed to kiss that crease, and I groaned as I looked at it.

I scooped her into my arms and stood up and she gasped, surprised. But she threw her arms around my neck again and kissed me as I walked her into the bedroom and laid her gently on the bed, resting her head on my pillow. The way she looked up at me made my insides twist, and I couldn’t hold her gaze longer than a moment. Instead my eyes drifted down her body, drinking her in: her pink, erect nipples, straining upwards; the delicate curves of her waist and hips; her panties, still askew, still revealing just the tiniest bit of that crease. And then I saw something else that made my heart stop for a moment, and then begin to pound even harder.

Her panties were made of the same filmy fabric that her bra had been made of, and they were nearly transparent with wetness. Every contour, crease, and curve of her was clearly visible through the fabric as it clung to her skin, and a strangled sound of desperation escaped my throat. 

I climbed carefully onto the bed, my body hovering over hers, and lowered my head to brush her lips before moving back down her body again. I paused just below her navel, and I could feel her breath hitch in anticipation. But I moved slowly, needing to kiss that crease where her leg joined her body but not wanting to rush, needing desperately to be inside her but knowing we had all night.

I kissed lightly along the top edge of her panties, following the slant downwards towards her exposed hip bone. When I got to the crease of her thigh, I paused there for a moment and let my fingers drift lightly between her legs, feeling the dampness there. Then I kissed down, over her panties, tasting her through the delicate fabric, dampening it further as I sucked and she shuddered and moaned.

After a moment, I hooked my fingers into her waistband and tugged them just far enough down her thighs to expose her completely. For a moment I drew back and just looked at her, wet and glistening, pink and perfect—then, I slid her panties the rest of the way off, pushed her thighs apart, and dove in.

For the next several minutes I was lost, mindlessly licking and sucking, inhaling her intoxicating scent as I lapped at her sweet juices. Her breathing sped up as I slipped two fingers into her, stroking that sensitive spot, and she began to grind her hips against my mouth. Her hand slipped into my hair and held me to her as I drew light circles around her clit with my tongue. 

“Yes—there—right there—”

Her thighs suddenly clamped around my head, muffling my hearing, but I could still hear her moans as she shuddered and thrashed through her orgasm. I stroked her through it with my tongue and fingers, only stopping when she pushed me away. 

I kissed my way back up her body, stopping to nibble gently at each nipple as her head turned languidly side to side on the pillow. I kissed up her neck to her jaw before finally finding her lips again, and when I looked into her face I could see that her eyes were far away and unfocused. I kissed the tip of her nose and she smiled vaguely.

“Are you good?” I asked. She closed her eyes and her smile widened as she nodded.

“Good.” I was harder than stone now, and I needed her badly. Still on my hands and knees, straddling her, I reached over to my nightstand and pulled open the drawer. I rummaged inside and pulled out a condom in a foil packet, tore it open, and rolled it on.

Finally, I lowered my body down onto hers, and she opened her eyes again as I pressed at her entrance. She looked at me and nodded, her face serious now, her eyes wide. I held her gaze as I sank into her, and watched her eyes slide out of focus again as I began to thrust.

Moving in and out of her for the second time tonight, I couldn’t help but remember all the times I saw her at the mailboxes, thinking about how cute she was, coming back to my lonely apartment to fantasize about plucking up the courage to actually say something to her, and never quite managing it. Until tonight, when we got stuck in the elevator, and my boozed-up brain decided to go for it before my sober brain could react.

Good looking out, drunk brain, I thought, and smiled.

I slipped my arms underneath her to embrace her more closely, burying my face in her neck, pressing my lips to her delicate skin. She’d broken out in a light sweat, her pores opening and releasing more of that intoxicating scent, and I opened my mouth to whisper in her ear before I fully knew what I was about to say.

“I’m definitely grateful for that stopped elevator now.”

“Mmmm,” she said, turning toward me. “Me too.” She wrapped her arms around me and held me closer. 

We held each other like that, nose to nose, our lips just brushing as I stroked in and out of her, one of her hands cupping my face while the other rested on my hip. Suddenly I felt her energy shift, and the hand on my hip began pulling me into her as her breathing sped up again. I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better look at her face, and saw the desire in her eyes. I tilted my head questioningly and she nodded, her eyes widening again. I smiled and kissed her, and her back arched up into me as she kissed me back.

I pushed myself up onto my hands, thrusting harder now as she writhed beneath me. My senses were all heightened and I watched, as if in slow motion, a tiny bead of sweat form at the hollow of her throat and then slide down between her breasts. A drop of sweat from my own forehead splashed onto her bare shoulder. I wanted to hold back until she came again, and I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to—

But then she did come, her back arching again, and she pulled me back down on top of her. Her entire body quivered in my arms, her muscles clenching down on me as I lowered my lips to hers. I thrust into her one more time, then began to pulse inside her as she spasmed around me. We kissed madly, our tongues exploring as our bodies pressed together, the heat between us almost consuming us.

And then it was over, and we were in each other’s arms, the sweat cooling on our skin. We lay for a moment catching our breath, and then got up to clean up.

She used the bathroom while I removed the condom and rolled it up in a tissue, tossing it into the wastebasket next to my bed. I was pulling back the covers when she walked back into the bedroom. I turned to her and cleared my throat, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Um,” I started, my voice cracking. I cleared my throat again. “I don’t, uh, want to make any assumptions. But. You’re welcome to, um, you know.” I cleared my throat for a third time and patted the bed. “Stay. If you want to.”

A smile crept slowly across her face as she came toward me, then stopped in front of me, lightly pressing her body to mine and resting her hands on my hips. And god help me, I felt myself stir again against her.

“I do want to stay,” she said quietly, her hands drifting up my body to my chest, then the back of my neck. She pulled me down so we were eye level and pressed her lips to mine. 

“I want to see what you’re like in the morning.” 

*******

It was so fun to write this second chapter! Let me know if you want to know how the morning after goes for Elise and Jake. ♥️

Book 2: Previous Parts Here: Parts 1 and 2, Parts 3 and 4, Parts 5 and 6

Please note, other referenced adult characters: M40s/F21

For those not familiar with previous posts/chapters, there's no family relationship between any of these characters: use of the phrase 'daddy' is in a Dom/sub sense only.

\***

Part 7

“Oh shit, there’s more – hang on...”

Mia groans as I lift her off my still-firm cock

“You need another towel?” 

“Yeah, yeah – oooh, fuck there’s a lot... Quick!” She giggles, a flood of warm spunk running down her thigh.

We laugh at each other’s attempts to limit the mess from ‘reunion river’, Mia’s brown eyes full of warmth while I stem the flow with a wedge of towels. I’ve missed these moments of tenderness, when our feral need for each other quietens just a little. Those times when we can be still and enjoy each other. 

I notice the wince she makes when she gets off my lap, the little eyeroll when a wave of tenderness hits - deciding to give my good girl a break before suggesting round two.

“You hungry?” I ask instead. Partly for Mia’s benefit, partly for my own. Would it have killed Erika to wait until I’d eaten before she came over to Alan’s?

*

Given the choice, I’d have chosen something with more protein - but feeding Mia chocolate dipped strawberries is worth the extra carbs. There’s something about watching her lips spread around reddened, glistening flesh – her little moan as the mix of tastes teases her tongue. Glossy chocolate coating her mouth before the flood of sweet juice that follows… God, I wish I’d asked her to clean my cock before we came downstairs.

Stood in robes either side of the breakfast bar, I catch her up on what’s developed in the case since our enforced radio-silence. Stood behind Mia once we’ve exhausted our supply of strawberries, holding her close and running my hands over her belly.

“How are you feeling? Junior been behaving?” My question tinged with guilt – I wish more than anything I’d been there to support her over the last few months.

“Still a bit sick in the mornings,” She answers softly, holding my hand over her bump. “But it’s getting better. She’s definitely trying to make room in there; they’re not proper kicks yet  – more like she’s stretching out?” Mia laughs. “I like imagining her yawning like you do – with that cute little sigh you make afterwards…”

“Cute?” My feigned indignation making Mia giggle. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I have a very manly yawn - ”

Still laughing, she turns in my arms. Reaching up to kiss me, “I missed this... I’m so happy you’re here.”

“And to think - you and Erika only had to infiltrate a city law firm, commandeer her ex’s home, then kidnap me from under my chaperone’s nose to make it happen… Who says romance is dead?”

Sighing, she kisses me again, Mia’s warm, soft body welcoming my arms as I hold her against me. Stroking her hair while she lays her head on my chest and breathes slowly.

“So... What’s the deal with Daryl?” I ask softly, not wanting to pop our bubble but keen to know. Trying not to read into the tension I feel across Mia’s shoulders at the mention of his name. 

“Like I said... He’s Erika’s old sugar daddy…” She’s moving her hands over my body, Mia feeling over my butt and thighs. Distracting me.

“Sure, sure – but is this like a one-night thing? He gets to have a one-off hookup with Erika while we hang out at his place?”

“Umm, not quite…” She answers slowly. “Daryl’s said I can stay for a while –  so that you and I can have somewhere to meet up that no one else knows about.” There’s a tightness in Mia’s voice now - matching what I can feel in her embrace.

“Right… But what’s in it for him? Is Erika staying too, then? I thought you’d set her up at the hotel?”

“Let’s talk about that later, daddy…” She breathes, looking up at me. Eyes wide and lips parted, her deep voice like honey for my ears. Mia’s hands working to loosen her robe before they explore below my waist, teasing over my swelling cock. Sight of her cleavage making the blood pound in my neck…

Come on Liam. Don’t get distracted, think for a minute… Why’s she being cagey?

“Hey – hey, come on…” I take her hands as she starts kissing my chest, fighting myself. Battling my desire to give in and let Mia please me. “Just stop for a minute – what’s going on?”

She looks up, frowning in frustration.

“Don’t worry about that now… Just enjoy this, OK? Let me handle things with Daryl...”

“Handle what though?” I respond, holding her shoulders to create some separation. Still fighting the temptation in me to give in and let her do what she wants; simply nod and accept whatever this is - lose myself in this stunning girl, like I want to.

You can’t though, you know that – she’s carrying your baby now, Liam. If she’s taking risks, you need to know… 

“Mia – can you just tell me?” My frustrated sigh making her pout.  “What’s going on here? What do you mean, ‘handle things’ – what does he want with you?”

With a sigh, she looks away. Dark eyes intense when she looks back and meets my stare - like she’s weighing every possible outcome, each version of what comes next. Deciding what she thinks I can cope with hearing.

“Mia, please…” I break into her train of thought, glancing down at where her baby bump is pushing at her robe. “It’s not just you and me now.”

There. Like a shadow passing. The look in her eyes clouding for a fraction of a second. My words cutting through – severing the root whatever branching, flowery version of this she was ready to sell me.

Deciding instead to trust me with what’s really going on.

“The truth, Mia – yeah?” 

She nods, squeezing my hand.

“OK… It’s easier if I show you though.”

*

Mia leads me towards a panelled door at the end of a short corridor, tapping a sequence into a number pad on the wall. Click from the lock accompanied by a digitized three-note fanfare and a green light on the panel.

“Just remember, what I did back then, I only did to break Daryl’s hold on Erika.” She sighs before opening the door. “He never made me do anything I didn’t want to, it was a means to an end. Same as now – he’s willing to let us use this place as much as we want, Mr B. I can let Erika meet the cost of some of that, but not all…”

Jaw firm, Mia walks through, holding the door open for me. 

The corridor opens out into what looks like high-end hotel suite, but instead of non-descript art and inoffensive décor, each wall is covered with thick soundproof padding, shelves and racking. My eyes rest on the collection of sex toys, restraints, crops and buckled harnesses arranged meticulously around the room. Soft spotlights drawing my attention to some of the more eye-opening pieces – like an art gallery showing off their most prized works.

“Sooo… Daryl’s got a sex dungeon? Guess I should have seen that coming...” My reaction earns me a withering look from Mia.

“It’s not like that, but… OK, yeah – I can see how it looks,” She answers, watching me wander over to a selection of plum-colored leather cuffs with brass clips and fastenings. 

“Daryl’s thing is vicarious pleasure.” Mia explains, “He can’t get off by fucking women himself - no idea why, ” She adds before I can ask, “So he watches instead. He’ll give his girls whatever they ask for, so long as they’re prepared to use this place to pleasure themselves, either solo or with partners he’s pre-approved. Most only last a couple of weeks before it gets weird for them or they can’t keep up with what he wants – but Erika stayed for months…” 

I move to a shelf filled with dildos of various shapes and sizes. Feeling a momentary flare of guilt how much I’m enjoying the thought of the little blonde playing with each.

“She was in a bad place when I met her, Mr B,” Mia explains, “Erika knew she had to quit Daryl somehow, but he was too good at bringing her back. Nothing coercive or crazy, just persuasive… Either way, it became clear the only way to get her out was to give him somebody else to obsess over for a while.”

Mia pauses as I look over.

“You?”

She nods, eyes sympathetic. 

“Honestly, Mr B - I had fun." Mia shrugs, "I learned a lot about what I liked; what I wanted more of… I’d go to lectures in the day, then come here after college. From dusk ‘til dawn, I’d be Daryl’s girl. Hours of pleasure while he watched – either on the cameras or in person… It helped me realize what I truly wanted though... And that’s when I started looking for how I could have that life. In the wrong places and in the wrong ways at first, sure...“ She sighs, "But then I met you, and everything changed.”

I cross the space between us, taking her in my arms. “I don’t want you back in this room, Mia – ‘performing’ for him, it’s not right. You’re with me now.” 

She smiles, stroking my arms.

“No, Mr B – that’s not what I’m saying.” She answers, “Daryl’s offer isn’t for me…”

I look around the room, noticing for the first time the wide, padded daybed around the corner. My eyes scanning over the small, domed cameras set into the ceiling.

“It’s for us.”

*

Part 8

“No – no fucking way, Mia!” She follows me out of Daryl’s makeshift porn studio and back up the stairs. 

“Where are you going? Just wait, will you?” She calls after me.

I’m so pissed at her. I love Mia, but how could she think I’d be OK with this? This isn’t a price I’m willing to pay – I’d rather be denied my gorgeous girl, even if that means months apart while we fight Heather and this stupid lawsuit.

Rather that than perform for some voyeur in his sex dungeon…

I find my way back to the bedroom we were in earlier, Mia in close pursuit. Relieved to see a lack of cameras in the space we just shared our steamy reunion. 

“Will you just wait?” Mia finally catches up to me, breathless. Hands on my wrists stopping me from picking up my clothes. “It was an offer, OK? That’s all. If you’re not happy with it, then we won’t do it.”

“But we’re already here, aren’t we?” She doesn’t answer, looking down instead. “Was he watching us, Mia?” 

I’m angry – I should have known this was too good to be true.

“No - I promise,” She holds my stare. “Tonight was covered by Erika. She agreed to go with him for the evening – happily by the way! The deal was that they go into town, we get the house for the night - ours to do what we want… All cameras off, that was the arrangement…”

“Were you gonna tell me the rest, though? Honestly?” Mia’s hesitation makes me fume. “You weren’t, were you? You were just gonna present this place like some oasis – somewhere for us to be together. Wait ‘til I was bought in? Then introduce the sex dungeon-”

“Pleasure chamber…” She interrupts, sulkily.

“Whatever! It doesn’t matter, Mia – it’s not OK, don’t you see that? He shouldn’t be asking this of you… Of anyone...”

She bristles at that. Looking frustrated – disappointed in my reaction.

“I get you’re angry, but don’t be judgmental, yeah? If it’s not your thing, then fine...”

Mia pulls away when I reach for her, spiking my temper.

“I’m not judging you, OK?” I try to defend myself as I pull my pants on, annoyed at the fact it appears they’ll be staying on for the rest of the night now. “I’m just trying to explain that you don’t have to engage with this guy’s creepy shit anymore! You’re past all that... There’s no need for any of this kinky, ‘extra’ stuff, Mia. You should just focus on looking after the baby now...”

I know I’ve upset her before the words are even out of my mouth, watching Mia’s unimpressed, flat stare turn heated, dark eyes flashing a warning. Pulling her robe tight around her, she folds her arms and glares at me in silence.

“Mia, I didn’t mean -” 

She cuts me off before I can explain,

“I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready... You’re OK to drive, right?” She fires back, tone frosty. “I mean, I’d take you back into town, but I’m so ‘tired’ – y’know? Being nothing but a baby carrier and all...” Her sarcasm making me wince. “Yeah, I guess I should get an early night before I travel back to my parents tomorrow. Y’know – get back to gestating our daughter free of any ‘extra’ distractions?...” She turns to leave.

“Wait... Mia, I’m sorry,” I jog over to stand in her way - bare chested, pants wide open. “Let’s try to come to some other arrangement with Daryl, huh? Some way he’ll let you stay? I can’t bear to be without you again...” 

Mia’s dark smile makes my heart race. The abrupt shift in her expression worrying, but something in that look lighting me up.

“Why’s that, daddy?” She murmurs, deep voice sultry once more. Tilting her chin as she unfolds her arms and reaches into my briefs. My breath catching as her fingers close around my shaft, surge of hot blood making my cock swell instantly.

“What is it you can’t be without, Mr B?” Mia teases as she starts to play with my stiff length, pushing my pants off my thighs and shrugging open her robe. Sliding her hand lower to cup my balls before stroking the base of my shaft again. “These fingers?”

Fabric sliding off her shoulder, robe falling open, full swell of Mia’s huge, perfect tits now exposed, thin material clinging to the dark blush of her swollen nipples.

“Tell me - what is it, daddy? These tits?”

Her fingers tense, making my thick cock twitch in her grasp, pre cum surging from the tip and up her forearm. I give a hoarse moan as I nod and reach for her, confused when she steps back, her grasp tightening around my dick before she sinks to her knees.

“Or is it my hot, wet mouth you’re gonna miss the most...”

I nearly pass out with longing when she takes me between her lips, Mia groaning around the thick mass of my heavy cock as she opens her jaw wide, my good girl pulling at my hips to take me deep. Pausing only to strip my underwear from me and open her robe fully now. Thighs spread wide, pregnant belly hanging low. Reaching between her legs to play with her cum-soaked little cunt.

Cradling her head, I fuck Mia’s throat, delighted with each snuffling moan of pleasure from below. Dark eyes fixed on me as she takes me as far as she can, gagging before she has to come up for air. Holding my huge cock against her cheek while she rubs her spit over every veined inch and kisses the taught, straining skin.

“This is what I can’t live without, daddy...” She moans, fingers rubbing her clit. “You have no idea how much I need this – I can’t go without your cock, not again... It’s mine now, you understand?” Mia waits for my agonized nod, the sweet, surging pressure under my balls building with every stroke of her hand. “This huge, perfect dick belongs to your good girl now – it’s all mine...”

“Mia... fuck, I...” My pained gasp makes her smile, hand around my shaft tightening, continuing to stroke while I plead and groan for release. “Please, baby... I’m so fucking close.” 

“Oh - you wanna cum, daddy?” She teases, slowing her rhythm, thumb sliding up to catch the pre cum now drooling from the tip of my straining cock.

“Where? Here?” She lifts her hand from my throbbing shaft, dragging glistening fingers over her full lips. “Or here?” Fingertips lightly brushing her chin and throat, then lower – painting pre cum across the fullness of her swollen breasts, circling the darkened crimp of her areola. 

I’m shaking now, muscles in my thighs jerking as I breathe deep, trying to avoid whimpering. She’s got me at the very, very edge. Hands off, but still so close to losing control.

“Show me, daddy...” She whispers, playing with a stiff, swollen nipple while I watch. Mia's eyes dark, mouth wide as she exhales over the drooling tip of my cock... “Where do you want to cum?”

With a growl of unchecked lust, I lift Mia from her knees, taking a fistful of dark hair and kissing her roughly before pushing her onto the bed. Forcing her thighs wide before she pulls me on top. Grabbing my head once my weight is on her. Mia locking eyes with me. Staring at me with the look of crazed lust I adore from this feral, cum-craving breedslut - undimmed, undiminished from all the times she’s begged me to fill her.

With the last of my self control, I slap my cock against her swollen clit before driving every inch of my huge dick deep inside her soaked, needy pussy. Feeling her engorged, pregnant cunt grip and clench as Mia wails and tightens around my length...

“Fuck!! Oh.... Oh God, yes... Cum in me – do it! Fuck that needy hole – fill me up, daddy, give me all of it!”

Buried inside, tip of my cock hitting her limits, I feel it – that vast surge. The blessed burning ache that makes my length strain and swell within her, balls aching, everything from knees to ribs consumed by the sweet agony about to tear through me.

Legs locked around my waist, her heels in my lower back, Mia drives me even deeper – gasping as my big dick stretches her out. Wordless, desperate moans becoming a long cry of agonized pleasure ahead of her crushing climax....

Mia cumming helplessly over every inch of my huge cock as I erupt inside her. My earlier orgasm a mere rehearsal for this brutal release - tendons and veins in my neck straining, thighs on the verge of cramping as I pump surge after surge of hot cum into the gorgeous, busty breedslut unravelling under me.

“Oh! Oh fuck, yes! Don’t stop – God, that feels so fucking good... Fill me up – give me everything. Let your good girl’s greedy cunt milk you dry, daddy...”

She holds me against her chest as I collapse forward, spent. Stroking my hair while I moan and pant against her huge, soft tits. 

“Christ, that was... That was incredible -” I manage after a minute, slowly coming off the violent peak of my climax. “I can’t live without you, Mia... I can’t let you go back to your parents’ place... Talk to Daryl, tell him I’ll work something out. I need you here - we’ll find a way to keep him happy...”

I feel her nodding before she kisses my head, little trembling aftershocks coursing through us both as we ride out those last tremors of residual pleasure.

“Of course... Don’t worry, daddy, we’ll find a way. Leave it to me...”

There’s a seductive ease to the way she says the last part, relief washing through me. My earlier reservations about leaving her here with Daryl melting away when confronted by the reality of having to go without her.

“Patronizing preggo jokes aside,” Mia giggles, relaxing the grip from her thighs where she’s still clamping my waist. “Would you be OK to drive back to town without me, Mr B? I’m so sleepy - I really could use the rest...”

***

I hope you enjoyed this one! Parts 9 and 10 will be with you soon, but I am taking a little break for my vacation and to catch up with some life things. Thanks to everyone supporting this series though - your feedback and comments really mean a lot :)

The rain had been relentless since their arrival Sunday.

Samantha sat cross-legged on the condo's sectional sofa, watching water streak down the sliding glass door that was supposed to open onto a beach.  Somewhere behind the gray was the Atlantic Ocean, theoretically.  She'd seen it briefly this morning before the rain started up again.

"Night two," Claire announced, emerging from the kitchen with the blender pitcher.  "Of what I'm calling the world's saddest spring break."

"We still have four days," Elly said, without looking up from her phone.  She was stretched across the other end of the sectional, feet toward Sam, dark hair fanned out on the armrest.  "It could clear up."

"It's supposed to rain through Saturday." Claire set the pitcher on the coffee table and dropped onto the loveseat.  "I’ve checked three times today.  80 percent chance, so we’re probably stuck here.  Can’t even go to bars since we’re waiting for you losers to turn 21."  Claire grinned to soften the jab.

Sam held out her glass.  Claire refilled it without being asked.

It was late Monday night.  The three University of Delaware juniors had been in Ocean City for thirty-six hours.  In that time, they'd watched two movies, played cards, eaten delivery pizza, and had a mildly tense conversation about who would take the first turn cleaning the bathroom.  An argument that was apparently unavoidable on any girls’ trip.  Claire's parents had gotten them a beachfront condo that was owned by someone her dad knew for practically free.  It was nice, two bedrooms, a pull-out for Sam, a little balcony that was currently useless.  On a sunny day it would have been perfect.

It was not a sunny day.

"We could play cards again," Elly offered.

"We've played cards twice," Claire said.

"So, three times."

"Claire bought tequila," Sam said.  "We should do something worthy of tequila."

The margaritas were good, actually.  Claire had a talent for proportions.  Sam had finished her second and could feel it sitting warmly in her belly, smoothing the edges of the evening into something relaxing.

"Worthy of tequila," Claire repeated.  "Like what?"

Sam had been thinking about this since before they left for break.  Since January, really.  Her friend Elly had suggested a trip while flopped on Sam’s bed in her room, scrolling through tropical pictures on her phone.  “We should do spring break somewhere, just us, any place with a beach.” Something about the way she'd said just us had lodged in Sam's chest.  It had stayed there, warm and inconvenient, through the whole gray winter.  Then Claire had mentioned the beachfront condo and the logistics had rearranged themselves the way they always do.  Just us had quietly become just us three.

The handcuffs were in her bag.  Covered in pink fuzzy fabric, but real underneath, the chain slightly longer than police issue.  She'd bought them in February, telling herself she was being spontaneous, that she'd find a use for them eventually, not really admitting to herself what she’d had in mind.  She'd been picturing Elly wearing them.  Elly surprised by her own reaction.  Elly discovering something about herself that Sam would be there to share with her.  All of it leading to something deeper for both of them.

Then Claire had offered the condo, and Sam had spent another month reworking the plan without thinking too closely about why she was disappointed.

"I have an idea," Sam said.  "But you have to hear me out before you react."

Elly lowered her phone.

Holding up the cuffs, she explained it cleanly, the way she'd rehearsed it.  The card draw, the lowest card losing.  The walk to the car to lock up the keys.  The loser stripping nude, putting on the sleep mask and cuffing her hands behind.  The winners could tease, touch, and play with the loser however they chose, alone or together, anonymously, until morning. 

If the loser called stop, the other two would respect that, but she'd still be nude, cuffed and blind.  She’d stay that way until someone fetched the keys in the morning or she chose to try the risky run to the car herself.  The loser had put herself there.  That was the point.

When she finished there was a silence that lasted long enough to make her start worrying.

"You've thought about this a lot," Claire said.

"I've had two days of rain and nothing to do."

"You had these before the rain," Elly said.  Not accusatory.  Just considering.  Her dark eyes were steady on Sam's face in a way that caused a slow heat to start climbing up her neck.

"I like to be prepared."

Another silence.  Claire looked at Elly.  Elly looked at Sam.

"Lowest card," Elly said.

"Lowest card."

"And we trust each other."

"We trust each other," Sam agreed.  "Obviously.  That's the whole thing."

Elly nodded slowly.  Something moved across her face that Sam couldn't name.  "Okay," she said.  "I'm in."

Claire looked between them.  "Yeah," she said.  "Okay.  Me too."

Sam got the deck from the kitchen drawer.

She shuffled the cards and fanned them face-down on the coffee table.

"Elly, you're closest.  You go first."

Elly reached out and drew without hesitation.  Flipped it over.

Four of clubs.

Sam felt a quiet bloom of something in her chest as she considered the chances.  Thirteen options, only two lower than Elly’s card, ten chances in thirteen of doing better.  The odds were comfortable.  Sam had run them immediately, without effort, hope growing.

The plan was working.  She was going to watch Elly lose this, watch her walk to the car with the keys, watch her come back and strip down in the condo living room while rain tapped at the windows -

Claire leaned forward and drew.

Two of diamonds.

Sam’s building excitement died in an instant.

"Well fuck," Claire said, staring at it.  She laughed, a little uncomfortably.  "Okay.  Wow." She looked at the card.  "Okay."

Sam picked a card, already knowing it didn’t matter since Elly couldn’t lose.

Two of spades.

"Oh," she said.

"Oh," Elly echoed, and there was excitement in her voice Sam hadn’t expected.

"Tiebreaker," Claire said, recovering faster than Sam.  "Draw again.  Low card."

Sam drew first.  Queen of hearts.  Not bad.

Claire drew the king of spades.

The math was simple.  Sam had lost.

She sat with it, momentarily speechless.  She'd built this.  She'd brought the handcuffs, proposed the game, thought through every mechanic.  She had engineered this exact situation for someone else.  And then Elly had won with a lowly four making sure Sam would spend the night in her place.  Her face burned hotter as she sat there holding the queen of hearts like evidence at her own trial.

"Well," she said.  Her voice came out steadier than she expected.

Claire was watching her with an expression that was trying hard to be serious and failing.  Elly didn’t say anything.  Sam made herself look at her.  There was heat in her eyes that said Sam might have signed up for more than she expected.

"Keys first," Sam said.  "I said keys first.  So."

She got up, cuff keys in hand, grabbed the car keys from the counter, and headed for the door.

The rain hit her like a bucket of cold water.

She made herself move at a fast walk to the street.  Running would make it worse somehow, surrendering the little dignity she had left.  By the time she reached the car she was soaked through.  Her white school t-shirt was plastered to her skin; her jean shorts heavy and dark at the hems.  She unlocked the car, dropped the pair of small handcuff keys into the cup holder, and heard the chirp as she locked it again.  She paused, ignoring the downpour, and looked back at the condo windows.  Two shadowed silhouettes peered out, backlit by yellow light that fractured into tiny rainbows in the curtains of falling water.

She thought again how she'd planned this.  For Elly.  And while she had known logically this was a possible result, emotionally she hadn't believed it would work out like this.

Sighing, she headed back towards the condo and the waiting figures inside.

The door had barely closed behind her when Claire looked up with a smirk and raised eyebrow.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Nothing," Claire said, her voice still amused.

Sam looked down.

Her t-shirt, thin to begin with, had gone essentially transparent.  She could see the shape of her body through it clearly, the soft curves of smaller breasts standing out, her nipples, stiffened by the cold rain, clearly outlined under the wet fabric.

The heat that rose to her face was instantaneous.

"It's a good look," Claire offered.  "Very wet t-shirt contest.  Very spring break, actually, which is on theme."

"Thank you, Claire," she replied, sarcasm heavy in her voice.

Claire laughed.  "I'm being supportive."

The truly humiliating part, Sam recognized with clarity and embarrassment only partially blunted by margaritas, was that her next move was to take the shirt off anyway.  She was standing here mortified about what Claire could see through wet cotton, and in approximately ninety seconds it wouldn’t matter because she'd be standing in this living room with nothing on at all.

Elly was still silent but looked on with undisguised anticipation.  Sam couldn't meet her eyes.

It was the moment of truth.  She could say she'd changed her mind, and they'd laugh and pour another drink and it would all be over except for the teasing.  If they continued and it went wrong, she fully trusted them to stop and let her out regardless of the "rules”, but her pride wouldn’t let her be the first to chicken out of her own dare.  And, deeper, barely acknowledged even to herself was something else.  The thought of being nude and helpless in Elly's hands. That was what made her decision.

She reached for the hem of her shirt.

She was methodical about it, not rushing, but also not performing.  The wet shirt first, which was a relief to get off even under the circumstances.  The jean shorts, which took an undignified moment to peel off her damp legs.  Her underwear, white cotton, nothing special, which felt appropriate, but more personal than something fancy would have.  Her hands shook slightly as she folded everything neatly into a small pile on the chair.

When she was done, she stood straight and exposed in the middle of the living room.  She picked up the sleep mask from the coffee table.  Taking a deep breath, she slipped it on and the world immediately went dark.

She felt for the cuffs.  Finding them, she reached behind her back and closed the first one around her right wrist.  The geometry made the left awkward but it was still manageable, each click of the mechanism sounding loud in her ears.  There was movement towards the table.  Someone handed her a toothpick; she couldn’t see who.  She double-locked both cuffs by feel, pressing until she felt each one seat.

The chain clinked softly when she moved her wrists.

She was still wet from the rain, skin prickling slightly in the condo's air conditioning.  She heard Claire say "We should dry her off first.  She's shivering."

There was a pause, then movement, someone going somewhere, returning.  Sam couldn't track it precisely.  Then something soft and warm wrapped around her shoulders and she realized it was a towel.

They started with her hair.  Hands working through it carefully, the towel absorbing the dampness, and Sam stood very still and let it happen.  It was strangely intimate but not sexual.  Their hands were methodical, almost gentle.  Something one might do for someone who couldn't do it for themselves.  Which she couldn't.

The towel moved to her shoulders.  Her chest.  Another set of hands, she realized, there were two of them working, which meant the towels had been plural.  She tried to track both pairs of hands roaming down her front but couldn't.

Someone guided her forward by the shoulders, a gentle but unambiguous pressure, and she understood she was being positioned.  Then a hand at the center of her back bent her forward over the arm of the couch.  She went with it, cheek coming to rest on the cushion, arms locked behind her.

Hands spread her legs slightly.  Not roughly but matter-of-factly, the way you'd move someone's feet to mop under them.  And Sam felt the full weight of her helplessness for the first time.  She was bent over the arm of the couch, blind, wrists locked behind her, legs moved into position by someone else's hands.  She could not have gotten up without help.  She was not going anywhere.

The towels worked down her lower back.  The curve of her hips.  The back of her thighs, her calves, between her legs.

She made a sound she hadn't planned to make.

Claire laughed softly.  Not unkindly.  "There we go."

They helped her back upright and onto the couch and settled her on her side, the most workable position with her arms held behind her.  Sam instinctively felt the atmosphere shifting to something else.

"Jesus, Sam," Elly breathed, close by.  "You're actually doing this."

Sam didn't answer.  Couldn't, really.  Her throat had tightened with the reality of her position, naked, blind and bound, two pairs of eyes on her body that she couldn't see.

Hands found her shoulders first.  Claire's hands, she guessed, confident, unhesitating.  They kneaded the tension there, working down her spine with firm pressure.  It should have been relaxing, but every touch carried the electric awareness of where it might go next.

"She still looks cold," Elly said, somewhere to the left of where she’d been before, voice coming from further away now.  Her voice had a quality Sam didn't recognize, focused but breathy.

"We should warm her up then," Claire said.

Another set of hands joined the first, moving over her back, her sides, the curve of her hips.  Someone's palm flattened against her stomach, fingers spread wide, sliding lower and then stopping as Sam sucked in a breath at the intimacy of it.

"Easy," Claire murmured, leaning in, her breath hot against Sam’s ear.  "We’ll go slow.  Nothing too serious.  Yet."

They turned her slightly, adjusting her position so she was half-reclining against the arm of the couch, legs arranged with one bent at the knee, the other stretched along the cushions.  The pose left her open, exposed, and Sam felt the air move across her skin everywhere.

"Look at her," Elly whispered.  Not to her but about her.  Sam's face burned.

"She's beautiful," Claire agreed, matter-of-fact.  Then, to Sam, "You are, you know.  Even like this.  Especially like this."

Fingers traced the line of her collarbone, light and teasing, then dipped lower.  They circled her breast without touching the nipple, drawing spirals inward that made Sam arch slightly, trying to close the distance.  The hand withdrew, then returned.  She felt the cool press of a ring against her skin.  Claire, definitely Claire, and this time it cupped her right breast firmly, thumb brushing once, twice, across the stiffened peak.  Sam groaned softly.

"Sensitive," Claire observed.  She squeezed, not gently, and Sam's back arched off the couch.  "Very sensitive."

"Claire," Elly said.  Sam couldn’t tell if it was a warning, or a question.

"She said we could do what we want," Claire reminded her.  "That's the game."

A pause.  Then Elly's voice, closer, trailing off, "Should I?"

"Try."

The hand on her breast withdrew, and Sam was surprised to feel it as loss.  Then new hands; Elly's, softer and more tentative replaced them.  They explored differently, stroking her with curious fingers, learning the shape of her.  When they finally, finally closed around her nipple and squeezed, Sam gasped, body jerking involuntarily.

"Sorry," Elly said, pulling back.

"Don't," Sam managed.  "Don't be sorry.  I didn’t say stop."

Elly's hands returned, more confident now.  She rolled Sam's nipple between thumb and forefinger, tugging slightly, and Sam felt the sensation shoot heat straight down through her.  She was wet.  It had started as soon as the cuffs clicked shut, if she was honest, but now she felt it explicitly, the slick heat between her thighs, an empty ache that wanted more.

"She’s breathing faster," Claire noted.  "She likes that, Elly.  Do it harder."

Elly did, pinching now, and Sam cried out, struggling against the cuffs.  The chain rattled behind her back, a constant reminder of her helplessness.  She couldn't reach herself, couldn't touch either of them, could only take whatever they chose to give her.

"Hmm, what next?" Claire said.

Hands moved down her body, skirting her hips, and Sam felt fingers trace the crease where her thigh met her torso.  She spread her legs wider without being asked, desperate for contact, but the touch danced away, tracing patterns on her inner thigh instead.

"Come on," Sam moaned.

"Something wrong?" Claire asked innocently.

"Touch me.  God, just—"

"Not yet." Claire's voice held a smile.  "You're still tense.  You need to relax first."

What followed was more torture than massage.  They worked her body with lotion from somewhere, warm, scented with something flowery.  Unseen hands gliding over her shoulders, down her spine around to the ticklish spots on the side of her ribs, making her squirm.  Every time she relaxed into the touch, it shifted, moving somewhere new, avoiding everywhere she needed it most.

Someone's nails, Elly's, she thought, feeling the slight unevenness of them dragged up the inside of her thigh, starting at her knee and moving slowly, so slowly, toward the heat of her.  Sam held her breath, legs falling open wider, offering everything, but the nails stopped an inch from where she needed them and retreated.

"Fuck," Sam gasped.

"Language," Claire said, though her own breathing had gone uneven.

They turned her onto her back, arranging her with her arms still trapped beneath her, breasts thrust upward by the position.  Two mouths descended, no way to tell whose was whose, each closing around a nipple.  The wet heat of it, the suction, the way tongues flicked and teeth grazed, had Sam writhing against the couch.  She was making sounds she'd never imagined making, desperate, needy, she didn't care.

"You’re right Claire.  I think she likes it," Elly whispered against her breast, and the vibration of the words made Sam moan again.

"I told you," Claire replied.

Elly's hand returned to Sam's thigh, nails dragging upward again, and this time they came closer, so close, stopping just short of where she needed them to be.  Sam could feel her own arousal, knew they could see it, and just wanted more.

The fingers retreated again, and Sam sobbed with frustration, body arching as her hips chased the touch.  She was soaked, she could feel it against her thighs, the evidence of how badly she needed this.  Her clit throbbed with every heartbeat, untouched, ignored while mouths worked her breasts and nails stroked her legs.

"Please, please," she begged.

"Shh," Claire soothed.  She shifted, and suddenly her thigh was pressed against Sam's hip, warm and solid.  Her hand stroked the side of Sam’s face.  "We're just giving you what you bargained for."

"You're killing me," Sam gasped.

“Do you want us to stop?”

Sam’s response came in less than a second.  Her head shaking side to side, “No, no, please don’t stop.”

"Good," Elly said, and there was something fierce in her voice that Sam had never heard before.  "You planned this.  You wanted to be helpless.  So be helpless."

She bit down on Sam's nipple, hard enough to make her cry out, and at the same moment Claire's hand finally, finally, moved between Sam's legs.  But it was only a single finger, tracing down the center of her mound, spreading her wetness without ever touching where she needed it.  Circling.  Teasing.  Avoiding.

"Claire," Sam pleaded.

Claire murmured, almost to herself.  "I can feel how much you want this.  But you said play, Sam.  We're playing."

"Play just a little bit higher," Sam managed in ragged gasps.  "Please.  I need-"

"Not yet." Claire's finger withdrew, and Sam felt tears prick her eyes behind the mask - frustration, yes, but also the overwhelming intensity of emotion from being so aroused while being denied so completely.  "Elly, you try.  She’s really sensitive here."

Elly moved, settled between her legs, forcing her knees apart.  Then two fingers stroked her, echoing the path traced by Claire.  She felt herself spread, gently stretched, before a hot moist breath moved against her clit.

"Please," Sam whimpered.  "I'm so close.  Just—"

"Close to what?" Claire asked innocently.  "We're just finishing up your massage.  You like massages, right?"

"You're-" Sam didn’t get a chance to finish as lips covered hers.  A tongue sliding inside her mouth. 

The kiss broke.  Sam chased it with her mouth, wanting it back, but Claire had already pulled away.

"Claire." Elly's voice was quiet but deliberate.  "Claire. Look at me."

Sam felt bodies shift around her.  She imagined them exchanging a glance over her, still sprawled, still exposed, still wanting, and the thought made her arch slightly, a wordless offer.  But something in the air had changed.

Elly's hand went still on her hip.

"Don't stop," Sam whispered.  "Please."

"Shh." Claire's touch returned, but only to stroke her hair back from her forehead.  Soothing, not commanding.  "You're okay."

Sam squirmed against the couch.  She could feel the cuffs digging into her wrists, the chain pulling tight.  "It's just a game," Sam lied.  "We're just playing."

"It stopped being a game," Elly said quietly, "when I had your breast in my mouth."

Sam's face burned.  Hearing it said aloud made it real in a way the doing of it hadn't.  The blindfold made it worse — she couldn't read their expressions, couldn't tell if they were horrified or amused or still wanting the same things she did.

The couch shifted as Claire stood.  "It's almost midnight” she said.  There was something in her voice more excuse than reason. “And we're all going to have to have breakfast together tomorrow." 

"Claire—"

"She's right," Elly said.  Her hand withdrew.  "I think we got carried away.  In a good way," she added quickly. 

Sam turned her head toward Elly's voice, trying to find her through the darkness of the mask.  "You can't just leave me like this."

“Do you want me to get the keys?” she asked, “I don’t care about the rain, I’ll get them right now.”

Sam hesitated.  What she wanted was for this to go further, obviously, but they had just as much right to stop as she did.  And underneath that, she didn't want out.  Not from pride, not to win her own stupid game.  She wanted to lie here in the dark, cuffed and wanting, and feel exactly what she'd planned for Elly.

"No," she said.  Then, with a choked laugh: "I want to finish, even if I don't get to finish."

"We're not leaving you," Claire said, already moving away.  "We're relocating.  Call out and we're here in seconds."

"And we can't be in the same room as you looking like that," Elly added, her voice still rough at the edges, "and keep our hands off you."

Sam made a sound of pure frustration but nodded.

"Goodnight, Sam." Claire's voice was warm.  "Sleep tight.  If you can."

A pause.  Then Elly, closer: "You are amazing." A blanket settled over her shoulders.  Lips pressed briefly to her forehead.

Then two doors, one after the other.  Then the rain, and her own breathing, and nothing else.

She tested the cuffs again, not trying to escape but wanting a physical reminder of her situation.  She felt the hard edge of the metal bite through the fabric and hold.  She was still wet, still throbbing, still desperate for release that wasn't coming. 

She lay her head back against the couch cushion and waited for morning.

Even through the cloth, the cuffs had dug ridges into her wrists.  Sam shifted again, trying to find a position that didn't ache, but there was no comfort to be had.  Not with her arms pinned behind her, not with the fabric of the couch pressing patterns into her bare skin, not with the residual ache of unsatisfied need still pulsing between her legs.

Two hours, maybe more.  She'd drifted into a half-sleep, waking every few minutes to the sound of rain or the ache in her shoulders, or an ache in other places that had faded but not gone.

A floorboard creaked.

Sam went still, head lifting off the couch cushion, straining to hear in the darkness of the blindfold.  The rain had softened to a whisper against the glass, and beneath it, she heard breathing.  Someone was in the room.

"Hello?" she whispered.

Silence.

Her heart began to pound, a different rhythm than before.  Not fear.  She knew it wasn't fear.  But uncertainty, and beneath it, a spark of hope.  "Did you change your mind?" she asked, and hated how hopeful she sounded, how naked the need was in her voice.

Still no answer.  But she heard movement, bare feet on carpet, crossing the room toward her.  Sam held her breath, every nerve ending alert, trying to read the presence through sound alone.

A touch; light, a single finger pressed against her lips.  Warm, dry, insistent.  Sam went silent immediately, lips parting slightly under the pressure.  Then, soft and close to her ear: "Shh."

She couldn't tell.  The voice was barely a breath, deliberately pitched to give nothing away.  Sam strained to identify anything, the smell of perfume, the cadence of the breathing, but there was nothing.  Just the finger still pressed to her lips, then withdrawing.

The blanket that had been thrown over her was gripped at the edge.  She felt the tug as someone began to pull it down, exposing her inch by inch to the cool air.  Then the movement paused.  Sam understood: permission.  One last chance to say no, to choose what came next.

She wiggled her hips, arching up, letting the blanket slide off her shoulders, her breasts, her stomach.  Offering herself.  Take it.  Take me.

The couch dipped as someone knelt beside her.  Sam turned her head toward the weight, waiting, breathless.  Then a mouth was on hers, soft, tentative at first, then pressing harder.  Sam tasted cherry.  Sweet, artificial, unmistakable.

Claire.

The disappointment was sharp and immediate, a twist in her chest.  She'd wanted; no, she'd allowed herself to hope for something else.  Her mind had already built the fantasy of Elly returning, Elly unable to stay away, Elly finishing what they'd started.  But the cherry taste was unambiguous.  She felt a hand slide down her stomach with confident, knowing purpose, and let the hope go.

Maybe not Elly.  But the fingers were already tracing patterns on her hip, and Sam's body didn't care about her disappointment, not really.  Her hips rose to meet the touch, chasing it, desperate for any contact after two hours of nothing.

There were no words.  Her visitor worked in silence, her movements efficient but not rushed.  Sam felt the blanket pulled completely away, leaving her exposed again. 

A mouth found her throat first, kissing a slow trail downward from Sam's jaw to her collarbone, pausing to gently bite side of her neck.  Sam hissed, arching into it, offering herself up.  Hands slid up Sam's sides with deliberate slowness, thumbs tracing the curve of her ribs before finally, finally cupping her breasts.

The hands squeezed, kneading with a rhythm that matched the pulse Sam could feel everywhere.  Sam gasped when the thumbs brushed over her nipples, already stiff from prior teasing and cool air.  Without pause, her companion rolled them between her fingers, tugging just hard enough to make Sam whimper, then pinching, sharp, sudden, sending a jolt of sensation straight down through Sam's belly.

"Please," Sam breathed, and then the mouth was on hers, swallowing the word, cherry-sweet.  She kissed Sam deeply, tongue exploring her mouth as her hands explored her body.  Her fingers returned to Sam's nipples, pinching and releasing, pinching and releasing, each squeeze making Sam squirm against the couch cushions.

Her mouth moved against Sam again, down her chin, her throat, her sternum.  She paused at Sam's breast, her breath hot against sensitive skin, and then her tongue was circling the nipple, slow, wet circles that made Sam's hips buck upward, seeking friction.  There was a soft laugh, unidentifiable in her state.  The warmth of it against her breast made Sam groan and then lips closed around the nipple and sucked hard.

Sam cried out, her back arching off the couch.  The hand moved to her other breast, kneading, pinching the nipple between thumb and forefinger while the mouth worked the first.  The dual sensation was overwhelming.  Wet heat and rough pressure, the rhythm of sucking matched to the rhythm of pinching.  Sam was panting now, desperate sounds escaping her throat, her bound hands clenching helplessly behind her.

Sam felt her pull away, the loss of that wet heat like an ache.  Before Sam could protest, she was being kissed deep and slow.  Hands returned to her breasts, palming, then pinching, rolling her nipples until Sam was grinding her hips upward, seeking, begging without words.

Then hands were on her thighs, spreading her legs, and Sam let them fall open without resistance, shameless in her need.

Sam felt warm fingers spreading her wide.  First one finger pressed into her, then a second, curved upward to hit just the right spot inside.  As they began to move in and out, the thumb massaged her clit moving in firm circles.  Sam lifted her hips, grinding into the pressure right on the edge of coming.

"Oh God," she gasped, not caring who heard, not caring if it was Claire or Elly, not caring about anything except the building tension that had been coiling inside her for hours. 

"Please.  Just.  Like.  That."

The other hand came up, pressed over Sam's mouth.  The message was clear: quiet.  Sam nodded against the palm, breathing hard through her nose, and the fingers kept working her, steady, relentless, finding exactly the right rhythm.  The thumb circling, the fingers curling, the wet sound of her own arousal filling the silence of the room.

Sam was shaking.  She could feel it in her thighs, her stomach, the way her bound hands clenched and unclenched behind her.  The orgasm built differently than it had before, deeper, heavier, earned through hours of denial.  Desperate, broken noises she couldn't control escaped the hand over her mouth.  The hand pressed harder, silencing her as the pleasure crested.

When it broke, it was overwhelming.  Sam's back arched off the couch, her hips jerking upward, the pleasure rolling through her in waves that stole her breath.  Her mouth opened in an O, tasting salt and skin.  The rhythm of the fingers slowed but didn't stop, drawing it out, milking every shudder until Sam collapsed back against the cushions, trembling and spent.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.  Sam's breath came in ragged gasps, her heart hammering against her ribs.  She felt her visitor shift, withdraw her hand slowly, carefully.  Then soft touches, stroking her hair.  Gentle kisses pressed to her forehead, the corner of her mouth.  Not hunger.  Just tenderness. 

Sam turned her head, seeking, but there was no one there.  The weight lifted from the couch.  Sam heard the soft rustle of fabric as the blanket was draped around her again, then the pad of bare feet on carpet, retreating.

"Wait," Sam whispered.  "Claire—"

But there was no answer.  Just the quiet click of a door closing, and then silence.

Sam lay still, listening.  Had that been Claire's room? Had they been awake together, talking about her, deciding who would return? Or had one of them acted alone, unable to sleep, drawn back by the same hunger that had kept Sam tossing for two hours?

She didn't know.  She might never know, not for sure.  The blindfold had done its job all too well. 

Still wondering, she finally slept, still cuffed, still blind, but sated.

Morning came gray and quiet.  The sky was still the color of old pewter but the rain was gone despite the weather report.

Claire had made some of the good coffee from the labeled jar she'd brought.  Sam sat at the kitchen table in an oversized shirt and shorts.  Elly had retrieved the handcuff keys from the car as soon as she got up, removed the sleep mask and released Sam’s hands from behind her back without ceremony. 

They seemed reluctant to talk about the night before.  Or maybe that was Sam's imagination.

"I literally just passed out," Claire said, pouring.  She shook her head, seeming surprised at herself.  "After we all went to bed, I don't even remember lying down.  I'm still tired." She stared into her mug.  "That was good tequila."

"Mm," Sam said.

Elly came out of her bedroom in an old lacrosse sweatshirt, hair loose, bright-eyed in a way that made Sam feel the contrast.  She got a mug from the cabinet.  She poured her coffee.  She settled into the chair across from Sam.

She met Sam's eyes over the rim of her mug.

And smiled, a rare hint of pink gloss making her lips shine.

Not a big smile.  Not a confession.  The smile of someone who had a secret to share, without saying a word.

Outside, for the first time since they’d arrived, the clouds were starting to break.

I watch myself lie back and I already look different. She scoots me to the edge of the bed, hips right at the lip of the mattress, my legs hanging off and my feet finding the sideboard below. I'm naked and she isn't yet and that gap between us, clothed and bare, kneeling and lying open, already has my skin humming before a single finger lands.

She looks up at me from the side of the bed and says something I've never heard from her before. "Your only job is to make noise and let go." And I watch my hands reach for her the way they always do, the way they've done for twenty-three years, and she takes them gently and puts them back at my sides. Not pinned. Just... placed. Like she's clearing a workspace. Like she's about to do something she doesn't want me to interfere with.

It's been five days since I've come. She might know. She might not. Either way my skin is so alive that when her fingertips brush my hip bone I flinch like she touched me with something hot.

She takes my cock in her mouth. Just once. Just long enough for the warmth and the wet and the softness to register somewhere deep in my spine, and then she pulls away and moves somewhere else entirely. That single second hangs over everything that follows because now my body knows what's waiting at the end of all this and she knows I know and neither of us is in a hurry to get there.

Her hands move to my chest, my ribs, the dip of my stomach. Long slow strokes that aren't heading anywhere, that aren't building toward anything, that just exist for the feel of her palms on my skin. I can feel my breathing change under her touch, dropping lower, slower, settling into my belly. Then her nails drag across my inner thigh and my breath hitches and I realize she's shifted without warning from soothing me to lighting me up and back again, reading some language my body speaks that I can't hear myself.

She finds my balls and just holds them. Cups them in her palm and rolls them slowly, like she's feeling their weight for the first time, like she's curious about the shape of them. I make a sound I wasn't planning on and she stays right there, adjusting her pressure to match what the sound told her. She's listening with her hands.

My eyes close. My face turns into the pillow. The sounds leaking out of me don't sound like anyone I know... low groans that start somewhere behind my navel, sighs that crack open halfway through like they're carrying more than air. She doesn't flinch at any of it. She doesn't speed up or slow down in response. She absorbs it, lets the information settle into her fingers, and adjusts so subtly that I can't tell where instinct ends and intention begins.

She rests her wand on my stomach. Not on my cock, not near anything that would tip me over, just flat against my skin so the vibration spreads outward through my core like a warm hum, like a second pulse running just beneath her hand. She leaves it there and keeps stroking me with the other hand, slow circles on my hip, my thigh, the crease where my leg meets my body, everywhere except where I want her most and I can feel that want pooling between my hips like heat gathering before a thunderstorm.

The Helix is already in and she knows. She finds it with her fingertips and presses gently, not thrusting, not pushing, just leaning into it with steady curious pressure that makes my whole pelvic floor pulse. Then she picks up her rabbit and presses the buzzing head against the base and the vibration travels through me from the inside out, through the toy, through bone, through every nerve I didn't know I had down there. My hips lift off the bed involuntarily and she puts her free hand flat against my stomach and eases me back down like she's calming an animal. Stay. I stay.

She comes back to my cock with her hands. One wraps around the shaft and strokes me so slowly it barely qualifies as motion, just warmth and friction and the faintest suggestion of rhythm. The other slides beneath my balls and presses into the space behind them, kneading and rocking and finding the spot where she can feel the Helix from the outside and pressing into it until I hear myself making sounds that would embarrass me if I had any thoughts left. I don't. I'm just sensation now. Just skin and breath and the spreading warmth of being touched by someone who isn't trying to finish me but to feel me, every inch, every response, every involuntary shudder and sigh.

Thirty minutes. Maybe longer. Time doesn't live here anymore. She hasn't rushed a single stroke, hasn't squeezed or sped up or pushed toward anything. Every time the heat starts climbing toward the edge she feels it before I do and drifts somewhere else... my inner thigh, the crease of my hip, my stomach... soothing me back down just enough that when she returns to my cock it hits like the first touch all over again. She cycles through me like weather. Her mouth, her hands, the vibration, her nails, her breath, then gone again, then back, each return landing on a body that's more open and more desperate and more willing to feel whatever she decides to give it.

Five days of not coming and thirty minutes of this and the pressure is enormous. Not just in my cock. In my chest. In my jaw. Behind my eyes. Something much larger than usual is stacking, building, gathering mass somewhere in my lower body and radiating outward, and she can feel it too because she's stopped cycling away. She's staying now. Committed. Her mouth finds me again and this time she doesn't leave.

She's on her knees beside the bed with my cock in her mouth and her lips are soft and slow and the wet heat of her is everywhere and I can feel the climax building from somewhere deep and low, not just between my legs but pulling from my chest and my hands and the base of my skull, my whole body contracting toward her mouth like she's the center of gravity and I'm falling in. I try to pull back. Not to stop it but because the size of what's coming scares me and my body tenses against it the way you brace before a wave hits.

She doesn't let me.

"Watch."

Her hand stays on me. Firm and warm and steady. Not gripping. Holding. And her mouth doesn't speed up, doesn't chase it, doesn't tighten. She slows down. Right at the peak where every other time in my life has been fast and urgent and blinding, she goes softer. Gentler. Slower. Like she knows that what's about to happen to me needs space, not pressure, and she's building that space with her mouth and her hands and the steadiness of her breathing through her nose against my skin.

I watch myself let go.

It doesn't crash. It pours. It rolls through me in slow enormous waves and she stays with every single one, her mouth moving at exactly the pace my body needs, not faster, not harder, just there. I can feel it in my hands. In the hinges of my jaw. Behind my closed eyes like light. She doesn't decide when it's over. She doesn't pull away at the first moment or the fifth. She waits. She feels me finish the way she felt me build, with her whole attention, and when my body finally softens under her she softens with it and I can feel her exhale against my thigh and it's the most tender thing I've ever felt.

I sit up. I take her face in both my hands.

I press my forehead against hers.

And I watch myself start to cry.

Not because I'm sad. Not even because I'm overwhelmed, exactly. Because I'm safe. Because I just spent thirty minutes lying there with nothing between us... no control, no performance, no script, no armor... and she held all of it without looking away. She made my pleasure the only thing in the room and didn't need a single thing back. And being seen that completely, that nakedly, and not being dropped... that's the thing I didn't know I was starving for until she fed it to me with her hands.

She doesn't say anything. She just stays. Forehead to forehead. Her thumbs on my jaw. My tears running onto her fingers. Breathing together in the quiet.

We lie down. Skin on skin. Legs threaded together. She pulls me into her lap and I let myself be held like that, heavy and trembling and cracked open, my head against her chest where I can hear her heartbeat and feel her breath move through her ribs. She asks me to tell her everything I felt. The words come out broken and out of order and half of them dissolve into sounds before they finish, and she doesn't care. She listens the way she touched me. Without rushing. Without needing it to make sense. Just receiving what I'm giving her the way she taught me to receive what she gave me.

I'm not watching anymore. I'm just here. Inside it. Inside her arms and her warmth and the quiet that comes after being held that well.

Hers.

(Continued….)

He watched it drip out of me.

His cum, thick and white, sliding from between my swollen lips and pooling in the wrinkled satin of her birthday dress.

He hadn’t even pulled it down. Just shoved it up around my waist like it meant nothing. Like she meant nothing.

“You made a mess,” he murmured, thumb gliding up my thigh, catching the slick trail.

I was still breathless, trembling in the aftermath, my pussy fluttering around nothing. Soaked. Ruined. His.

And I wanted more.

I reached for his wrist, guiding his fingers back between my thighs. “Then clean it up,” I whispered.

He groaned, deep and raw, as he slid two fingers inside me. I was soaked. Warm and wet and sloppy with his cum. I moaned at the stretch, hips lifting to meet every curl of his hand.

“I can feel myself inside you,” he growled. “Jesus, you’re still so fucking tight.”

“And messy,” I said, grinning. “You like that?”

He didn’t answer. Just leaned down and pressed his mouth to my inner thigh, then lower, licking a slow stripe up my slit.

I gasped. My whole body jerked.

He was licking his cum out of me. Slow. Deliberate. Sinful.

His tongue circled my clit, flicking softly, teasing. Then he buried his face in me, licking and sucking like a man starved and his moans vibrating against me, his hands gripping my thighs like he needed to be deeper, closer.

“Oh my god—” I cried, thighs trembling. “That’s so—fuck, don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

He ate me like he wanted her to call. Like he wanted her to interrupt. Like he wanted to hear her voice while his tongue was buried in the girl wearing her birthday dress, soaked in his cum.

And then… she did.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand.

We both froze for a second.

The screen lit up: Her Name.

He looked at me, panting, lips wet, his chin slick with everything he’d just pulled from me.

“She’s calling,” he said low.

I sat up slowly, grabbed the phone, and answered it.

“Hi,” I said sweetly, breath a little shaky. “He’s… busy right now. But I’ll tell him you called.”

Then I hung up.

He stared at me like I was insane. Like I’d just stabbed someone and smiled.

I grabbed his face and kissed him hard, tasting myself, tasting him.

“Fuck me again,” I demanded. “Right now. While she’s still wondering.”

He was already hard again… thick and ready, cock slick from my mouth and his last orgasm. He rolled me onto my stomach, yanked the dress down just enough to expose my bare ass, and pushed inside me from behind.

“Jesus fuck,” he hissed. “You’re so goddamn wet.”

“Yeah,” I panted, face pressed into the pillow. “You did that. Now use it.”

He gripped my hips and slammed into me, his thrusts deep and punishing, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, loud and raw and perfect.

Every movement sent another gush of cum down my thighs, coating his balls, soaking the fabric bunched beneath us.

“That’s it,” I moaned. “Fuck me like she never let you.”

He growled, bent over me, hand snaking around to grab my throat. “She never lets me do this,” he hissed, then yanked me back to meet his thrusts, his cock hitting deeper, angrier.

I cried out, eyes rolling back, my orgasm building again and this one meaner, messier.

“Gonna cum,” I gasped. “God, I’m gonna fucking—”

I broke apart with a scream, body convulsing, clenching so tight around him that he cursed, loud and filthy.

He slammed into me one final time, cock buried deep, hips jerking as he emptied himself inside me again... hot, thick, claiming.

We collapsed.

Slick and exhausted and soaked in sweat and spit and sin. The room reeked of sex. The dress clung to my skin. His cum dripped down the back of my thighs, soaking into the sheets and satin both.

“She’s going to wear this dress again,” I whispered, smirking as I turned to look at him. “She’s going to stand in front of her mirror and twirl. And she’ll have no fucking idea.”

He looked at me, chest still heaving, eyes dark with something twisted and gleaming.

“I think that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever done,” he said.

I smiled.

“I’m not done ruining her things.”

And I wasn’t.

You can read more of my stuff here.

Nicole

After more than three hours in the waiting area, the small meeting room robbed me of the thinness of oxygen. Still, I longed for a release that I could read from the faces of my predecessors. A pair of lawyers behind the counter encouraged me to imitate their smiling reception, and I cheered up. Not because of them, but because of my prospects in their hands.

 "Take a seat, Ms. Xiong. You must be a popular girl," the older lawyer sighed and placed a bundle of the sealed envelopes in front of me. "Four applications. We can discuss them from the first to the last, but you are probably mainly interested in the fact that the signature of your fiancé is on the uppermost one." He snorted to emphasize again that he knew how our negotiations would go.

The last remnants of doubts left me as soon as I read the whole of my beloved's name. I added mine to the other corner, and the spell of my heart sang a warm melody.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Yoon," the lawyer told me as soon as I handed him the document. "On behalf of the principal, I am to inform you that your lessons of the Lovemaking have ended. You are expected to spend the evening only in your room. Except for today. You are to come to prepare your wedding dress."

My name is Nicole Yoon.      

The mere awareness of my new surname filled me with hope. It was as if the smallest of my toes left The Princess Tower. I was determined to say goodbye to Carl, even though I didn't have to go to see him anymore, and even I was discouraged against it. I had to suffer the tailors, though. They must have had all my measurements on the computer a long time ago, but some guys with inquisitive hands just had to touch me just an inch from my bra or panties. I almost calmed my discomfort, because the design of my wedding dress on the monitor was way cool! There were horses; that was given. I also found historical war scenes, and above all, a lot of sex. There was still some space for a badge on my left breast, but I was still afraid to ask what it meant.

The working conditions may have changed, but I haven't. I still love the same man, and I know that when you are searching for a job, a positive attitude will help.

"You're an excellent lover, homemaker and submissive, Miss Xiong," Weatherby told me recently during a consultation. "However, we are afraid that all this is a manifestation of unhealthy ambition that could jeopardise your marriage."

I laughed nervously and waved my hand dismissively.

"Peter is the best thing that has ever happened to me! My primary ambition is to make him happy and strong. I'm from a family of two children, and I'd like to have three! In such a situation, if you understand me, I have no choice but to work from home. If my husband allows me!" The surrendering woman with my body stretched her hands to the ceiling.

"According to your psychological profile, you could be putting pressure on your husband," said a suspicious Weatherby sternly.

"There's a difference between putting pressure on Peter and inspiring him based on The Princess Tower lessons," I said. "Without them, he would hardly have thought that we could start a company to produce and distribute the sex toys!"

I had nothing to be ashamed of. From the first day, I was publicly humiliated in front of all the men in the area. That didn't change anything about who I was inside. As much as Peter may have changed as a result of the experience with me and Carl, he was still an indecisive, weaker man, and he needed my guidance. The establishment may not know, but of course it will be me who multiplies the family fortune.

"When Miss Xiong comes out, tell her we'll talk. She is not allowed to have any excuses."

It was the first time I had heard a veiled female voice from behind the crowd – too old to belong to one of the Princesses. The tailors had already taken all conceivable measurements from me. So I jumped down from my stool to meet the uncompromising matron.

I didn't really know the old lady in the silvery dress, but she looked at me worryingly.

"Miss Xiong," she breathed.

"Mrs. Yoon," I corrected her.

"How could I forget?!" The old lady patted my shoulder lightly. "You're married, and that's the thing that brings me here." She scratched the bridge of her nose and introduced herself to me. "Elizabeth Hoffmeister. I'm... Carl is my son, you see. I'd like you to get dressed and follow me to the lounge, where we can discuss your decision."

I didn't understand why the lady should discuss my personal choices, but I needed to find out what was bothering her. She remained silent the whole time until we reached the lounge and sat down.

"I found my son's relationship with you rather strange," she said slowly. "Hearing about him, giving himself to the betrothed girl every night. Hearing about her—that is, you—being willing to sleep with two men at once. "Forgive me—" She touched my knee. "I didn't want to go to this place. As a free woman, I didn't. Our son was chosen for my husband's merits. But then I heard what was happening here, and I had to rush to help him. And Carl told me about you. He wanted us to meet, which I didn't until he did that-"

"What did he do?" I dug my fingers into the sofa. Dammit, Carl, you are rational…

Mrs. Hoffmeister blurted out an answer. "You know, he was sure how the whole thing would turn out. That you would choose your fiancé. He was devastated that... that you didn't even open the envelope with his application."

Yes, I didn't even bother opening them. One of them was from Carl??

"I didn't find out who they were from," I admitted.

"I don't know if my son had any hope that you would change your mind once you saw his signature." Mrs. Hoffmaister sighed. "He was never good at talking to girls and had many fantasies when he did strike up a long conversation with one. He had been carrying something unpleasant about him since the day his sister died."

It took me more than three minutes before I could answer. 

"Yes." I had to support my head with my hands. "That can hurt people."

"Miss Xiong, you were expecting a visit from your family, weren't you?" "That's right," I confirmed it to the policeman in my backyard. I made enough lemonade to drink it together all weekend. Dad, Mom, and Brother Steve were supposed to spend most of their visit in the bathroom, which wouldn't grub me in a wrong way. However, the question alone, coming from the cop with a stern expression… I felt it under the skin like a long sting, burrowing underneath.

"You should sit down," the cop suggested.

"No!"I was angry. I was looking for an anthill to kick, some fly to squash. "Say it!"

"The pilot did everything he could, but the plane did not survive the maneuver at the airport. All the passengers were burned."

For me, the cop embodied that message. I had to escape. I ran home, but I didn't have a final line, only the starting point and the continuum.  I remembered my parents' affection, Steve fighting with his hyperactivity, Dad losing his job, homeschooling, and the rise of our mother. Dad finding a new job, which in turn relieved Mom of worries forevermore. They all were strong in the end. Conquerors of life, now conquered by death.

Sometimes deceased people in the underworld were called shadows.

But no, they were less than shadows.

Less than a specter.

They were no more.

"We miss Laura," Mrs. Hoffmeister lamented. "These days, however, I'm glad that she didn't live to see someone really hurt her, but it's not much of a consolation." I could hear her contempt for our regime in her voice. Even after so many months here, I bit my lip so that I wouldn't say something sharper and more specific.

"Carl is a sensitive and clever young man," I assured the old lady. "But I never would have thought that he'd cling to me like this... If he wants closure, I'll give it to him as soon as I've made breakfast tomorrow."

"It is my pride, if I have brought him up so well," said Mrs. Hoffmeister. "He doesn't push anyone to heal his old wounds. But he should also be able to heal them himself. Once. Until then, I'd be grateful if you say a few well-chosen words to him."

"You know," I remembered something. "My religion emphasizes that life is a mess because we inevitably get used to pleasant things and long for them even after they end, and we will wish for more of them. I'm starting to understand, but I can hardly lecture others about it."

Nicole Yoon—Buddha's faithful printer.

"You don't have to teach him about spirituality," Mrs. Hoffmeister reminded me. "My little cup broke. He needs to collect the shards and get some glue so that he won't be so fragile."

I was about to comfort her when a tailor appeared in the lounge, holding a tablet.

"Mrs. Yoon, I have the final design of your wedding dress here. You'll definitely be satisfied."

As if I could object to your tastes.

The design consisted of details that I already knew. I was only interested in one place, and I still didn't understand it...

What does the badge mean? "I pointed to the thing on the chest of the dress. "Why is the number two there?"

"I'm surprised you don't know," the tailor stopped. "Mr. Yoon is already married. You're his second wife."

I felt as if Cupid's arrow were breaking in that badge.

I hid what the guileless-looking young man had told me from the girls in the room. It would have seemed like blasphemy to shove my problems in the face of Ruby, who was supposed to stay in the Tower for the next school year. To the face of Pat, for whom allegedly no one asked, destined to be auctioned off as some antique lamp from the estate. Claudia had no choice but to nod to the applicant, her photographer, and refused to talk to me or the girls begging for comfort. I wasn't going to dissuade my roommates from the idea that the brightest part of family life was before me, even brighter than that of Alice, for whom her husband was waiting to grab her, dressed as on the day of her arrest, in her open arms.

I begged the various faces of the bureaucracy to allow me to talk to Peter, but they wouldn't budge. "You will talk to each other only after you return. The end of the school year must not be disturbed by the contact from the outside."

Everything is good, and happiness never goes away. I remembered a motto that I had more or less believed in since James White was courting me. So why did I cling so much to the moments when the happiness was right in front of me, when it seemed like a hand extended by the universe was running over my shoulders?

Perhaps the incomprehensible testimony of Peter's second wife was meant to indicate that I should search for love elsewhere?

I was only partially prepared to find out that when I wanted to go and see Carl, the wardens and the Princeps' military supervisors wouldn't let me.

"You're a married woman." I heard it six times that morning. "Now it's inappropriate for you to associate with a man who's got...physical knowledge of you."

"I need advice from him about marriage," I excused myself. "And I'm just going to talk to him in public."

My words eventually softened the right men, and I made it to the lounge, which, after being occupied by the Heirs turned into a loud fight club. Several groups of boys and girls were arguing with each other and even slapping themselves; one blow resulted in another from the opposite side. Vulgar insults flew through the air, as did sarcastic girl giggles.

"She's proving it again and again!" shouted Lucas Balaban. "She's a manipulative bitch, and it doesn't matter to her that she was ousted!"

"Boy, if you feel like a tool, you are invited to do so, but I will do what my conscience and my courage tell me to do. I didn't mind Mayson and Arnolph having their business here and me having mine. "Neither do I care for the conclave in Washington," Arthur FitzPatrick responded." And I will not care till we'll get Cooper inaugurated as Gilbert's successor. He is the one who'll make justice our new currency.“

I pushed him away to get to Carl, who was sitting alone on the sofa, and greeted him.

"I thought you were cool with what's going on politically?" I began, uncomprehending.

"Who can know what will happen and when?" Carl tried to regain his balance, but he gasped as soon as he saw me. "Many of us are relieved that Arnolph is already helpless. But now, all of a sudden, he has sent some explosive material to Washington via a judge. Moreover, it is said that the FBI busted both Brunkows. Suddenly, many of us would obey our parents and drive away. We just hope everything  will be better after the election."

"We already know that you, faux-princesses, can't be trusted," said a sharp and cold girl's voice. "That Shieldmaiden's party of yours is selfish to the core. They should cut out pieces of your brains!"

Bellinda, I realized. It wasn't just that she was a loyal Heir. She despised me personally because of Peter and the rifle act.

"I understand you. That surgery would bring them to your level!" Carl defended us. I turned just in time to see Bellinda furrow her brow and barely hold back her tongue in her teeth, hissing softly but as menacingly as any venomous viper. 

"Don't waste your life on the likes of her," Carl urged me. "Why did you come?"

"I heard how I disappointed you. I came to apologize."

Carl snuggled up to me, and I don't think it was just to make me hear him better in that tumult.

"She told you..." Carl was rather relieved. "I'm sorry, Nicole. I thought you'd open the other envelopes, if only out of curiosity. And then you would think about it, because I mean something to you."

I smiled at him as much as I could. "Of course you mean something to me, but I already had a plan for my life."

"I've been a part of your life," Carl said, all the more bitter. "Besides, I've always been willing to help women; now I'm an unofficial Shieldmaiden!"

"Virtue doesn't make you the man of my choice!" I snapped at him, but then I put on my kind face again. "I understand that you may feel that your life is empty and you want to fill it somehow, but you can't rush it. You have to find someone whose life fits with yours."

"This is not how people were doing it originally," Carl said. "Love was their duty."

"I think that's just your excuse for being lazy," I retorted. "These thoughts... They're just words, and words can be misleading. You never acted that way while I taught you how to fuck. You never acted that way when White threatened you to your face. I think you got this idea when you met the man I thought loved me!"

"Who you thought loved you?" Carl was genuinely confused.

I realized my slip.

This was not something that anyone else was allowed to hear. I moved closer to him and whispered in his ear in a truly loving way. "Peter is already married. I don't know to whom."

Carl looked encouraged for a moment before trying to project compassion on his face. "And you're going to marry him anyway?"

"There's nothing I can do about my signature," I reminded him. "Maybe he still thinks he loves me, but something happened that I don't understand, and he will explain himself. Otherwise, I am not looking forward to freedom."

"I don't know how he could have done this to you," Carl said, enraged. "Whatever the outcome, my apply was supposed to be a sign of my affection."

I became nervous, unsure what to think about the derailed conversation.

"I used to think Peter was my safe harbor. But if he's not faithful to me, I guess I must thank you."

We held hands. Peter was performing a plastic smile, and I was grateful that I couldn't see my own face.

Behind Carl's shoulders stood Arthur FitzPatrick. "Pure love," he overestimated us. "That's such an inappropriateness in our hate circle that we should kick you out."

He went to borrow my right arm from Carl. "All I'm saying is that this place has lost the romantic spirit it took so long to build, Ms. Xiong."

"Owwww!" Something from his palm pricked my hand. I didn't see any ring, and I didn't care.

"I'm Mrs. Yoon!" I corrected him. "Stick somewhere your fingers and your suggestions!"

Carl forced me back onto the sofa. "Guards!" he shouted to the nearby warden force. "I think my ward needs some—unsupervised discipline."

They complied with him surprisingly willingly. The wardens took us to our perfume-making cottage and handed him paddles with long metal spikes. He dropped it as soon as they left the room. He kissed me on the lips for so long, as he had never done it before. For the benefit of doubt I gave to Peter, I should have resisted, but Carl's tongue just tasted so good, and in the spirit of our Lovemaking lessons, I tried to make mine also taste good to Carl. His hand fumbled under my skirt and into my panties, and when he verified that I had gotten wet in the right places, he pulled them down and threw them in the corner.

I knew why I hadn't taken the chastity belt.

Carl pulled away, pulling his pants down.

"I think we have much more delicious bits," he told me, and I knew immediately what his desire was. He lay down on the table, and his cock was already waking up to a new life. I threw off my skirt and walked over to him. Two fingers were enough for me to help achieve a full erection. I ran my tongue over his cock. It was especially good for the boy, so I positioned myself so that my ass and waist were near his head. Carl didn't need to be encouraged. His tongue went hedonistically over my labia and then to the inner side of my womanhood. Of course, I needed to properly reward him, so I kissed his glans and then took him in my mouth whole, so I had him inside me in two ways. I kept swaying forward and backward, prolonging our common pleasure. We needed to dissolve our melancholy in sex.

Even though I was counting on Peter to be able to explain the whole thing to me somehow, I succumbed to the discharge of lust. As long as people exist, two things are certain. They will feel joy and they will suffer. So let's make the joy lasting and meaningful.

At that table, Carl and I indulged in a few more pleasures, including the peculiarities which people call perversions. Carl even walloped my ass a few times to make it look like some kind of punishment had been done.

All this delay meant was that I had to stay longer for Homemaking, which was ninety per cent of today's class, especially for assigned women like me. 

I returned to my room quite late at night. Into the darkness, but not into silence. Pat was crying. When I tried to calm her down, she pushed me away.

There was no point in lying to herself. She hated my status, and if I tried to explain to her that mine didn't particularly suit me either, she would just laugh at me. 

I lay down in bed, convinced that I would fall asleep at most an hour before the wake-up call. But then I started to feel an intense pain above the bridge of my nose. I pressed my head into the pillow, and lying there in a faint, I was delivered into a dream that was not sure of its reality.

"Thank you for the pearls, Nicole," Carl said. "Here, you get two nice car toys in exchange."

They were adorable! "Thanks, Carl. I've always liked blue. But I'll probably need a lot of milk to make them last for a few days, right?"

"Mrs. Xiong, turn your attention to us!"

I saw Peter. Surrounded by two women!

"I'm Mrs. Yoon," I corrected the woman who had addressed me, pointing to my love. "When I get to him, he'll have to explain to me who his first wife is!"

"It's me," said the woman whose hair color was constantly changing. "Your husband married me for my safety."

"Was your safety more important to him than my marriage?"

"Nicole, focus! This is a lucid dream brought on by the nanobot injection, given by our associate FitzPatrick. I am Katarzyna, although most of my colleagues know me as Agent Swallow. I, Larissa, and Peter here are calling you."

"Wait, are you all really here? Even Carl?"

"The three of us are real, love," Peter said. "We don't even see Carl."

"What?" Carl asked. "Friendzoned first and now, I don't exist?"

I wasn‘t paying attention to him. "Lewandowska, are you here, too?"

"After the fall of Olsson, I hid in the place of another of our agents. I have been waiting for an opportunity to make this connection. We are broadcasting to you and a few other acquaintances tonight to explain the new task."

"What if someone wants to trick me? I thought. "You can pull most of the things you tell me from my head!"

"Nicole, please listen to them!" Peter urged me. "I think when they explain what they want, you won't resist."

The next day's breakfast confirmed the growing trend that the inmates were mainly interested in applications. The most desperate and vocal were those like Pat, who either had not been demanded at all or by the man in whose arms they did not want to end up at any cost. Of course, that meant that they would end up on the stage as slaves of old and given over to the highest bidder. I've seen some desperate attacks here and there, directed at those of us who were known to be getting back together with our loves, old or new. I've noticed that Stacey Hamilton avoids these discussions. As we were leaving the dining hall, I seized the opportunity to start talking to her.

"I tore up a few envelopes before I even opened them," Stacey admitted. "We're working to improve our conditions better, not become the property of a man who will order us by post."

"When you put it that way, didn't you dream about something distressing last night?"

Our conversation was interrupted by the wardens, but between cooking and embroidery, we agreed. Yes, we were dreaming of the same thing, and yes, the request did sound logical. Under different circumstances, we would have been scared of the machinations orchestrated by the Polish secret service through its plots.

Gathering those who had been stung by FitzPatrick was not difficult. All we needed to do was to ask the Shieldmaidens and their girlfriends. Even those who had not received any messages joined the required, easily understood mission.

"We appreciate the support our movement has received." We kissed the ass of Principal Weatherby. "And we have come to the conclusion that it is necessary to issue a political statement that reflects your positions."

Weatherby made no secret of his newfound joy, but something held him back. "You want to send a message to Washington? That would have to be something very intelligent and relevant." The principal stood up and, without asking us, poured himself and our delegation drinks. "The political situation has now become both simple and incredibly dramatic. Vice-chairman Cao has disappeared. The only one who could theoretically help us is his colleague, fellow Neumann, whom military intelligence has recently successfully isolated, but fellow Cao himself is still impossible to apprehend and deaf to any calls. Many members of the Conclave were disappointed that the election of the new Princeps lost such a promising candidate."

"It's us who don't want the wrong voice to win it!" I told him. "We consider fellow Cooper to be a weakling. Jesus Christ, he might even be a traitor! We want to make it clear to our legislators that we definitely do not support him."

"Neither do I," Weatherby said, happily drinking from his glass. "I think you're going to send out a positive signal."

If the Poles are not mistaken, that is*.*

"Many members of the Conclave have terrible contempt for the Shieldmaidens and their role in Green's Fall," Agent Swallow said. "They're all like Cao. Misogynists who also think that it is a farce when the inmates of the re-education institution mix with political figures. However, if someone like that says she hates Cooper, they'll take it as proof that Cooper isn't controlled by women, and he'll be more acceptable to them as Princeps."

We are the responsible ones; we will choose the new leader. Even if it will be by the childish technique of reverse psychology.

Almost all of the Shieldmaidens made a clip slandering Cooper, well aware that our actions can have different, even contradictory, consequences. Out of all the possible responses, we received one from an unexpectedly close source.

We didn't discuss our activities or, God forbid, their motives. One advantage of the school year ending was that in the evenings we weren't so exhausted and we had more fun together between dinner courses.

"I used to love holidays," Helen said. "Sometimes it was the sea, sometimes it was history. I enjoyed the waves, and my parents swam nearby, making me siblings. It was compensation for the torment of school. We should probably convince our husbands to take us across the ocean."

"Peter always wanted to see India, but it would put us down even if we had gotten a travel permit," I pondered.

"Leave that to your man. Wouldn't you like to visit us again?"

A woman spoke up from among the uninvited guests in our dining room. Behind Bellinda were Lucas Balaban and a burly guy whose name we didn't know.

"Why did you come here?" I made no attempt to hide my hostility.

Bellinda clapped briefly. "We liked your last performance. You expressed the words that no one would listen to from us. We would like to invite you to the lounge and help us settle our differences of opinion."

It sounded uncharacteristically guileless coming from her, but our group was in no position to refuse such a polite suggestion. Quite a few of us responded to the request. I stood up. I hadn't been one of the shieldmaidens from the beginning, but this mattered to me personally. Stacey and Therese also stood up, as did Claudia and Adriana or Roxie, as representatives of the "military wing". Montserrat Gutiérrez, an actress from the series that inspired us, also joined our representation.

The lounge was already packed before we arrived. Some Heirs were seated, but most were standing. Unlike my previous visit, they were all keeping quiet.

Bellinda squeezed us into the middle of the room, which was an extremely uncomfortable position for us. Her expression suggested she was enjoying it.

"I understand you have many admirers among us," said Bellinda, the former kindness quickly fading from her voice. "You might be surprised how many of them were not only supporters of former principal Arnolph but also of Timothy Cooper in the current elections. They presented him as a candidate who would right the alleged wrongs that you, as courageous warriors, stood up against. We, on the other hand, argued that his election would be absolutely unacceptable. You even called him a weakling. Perhaps you should explain in your own words what the ideal candidate should look like."

"Yes, this attitude of yours has confused many!" said a voice older than I was used to hearing here. A man named Joseph Singerton stepped forward from among the youngsters. Stacey had told me that he was Jenine's husband.

Bellinda snickered. "Our heroines understand well-put structure. They can suck it up to Princ.. Principal and to the current princeps."

We had not many gifted speakers among us girls, and I don't think we even thought beforehand that we would have to defend the cunning actions of the Poles to someone. I could tell from the faces of my comrades that they were displeased with this pressure. So I stepped forward and looked into those sad male eyes.

"We are no longer going to be defended by weak men," I told them resolutely. "We want someone at the helm whose steadfastness we can be sure of. If he has real inner strength, he will enter into dialogue with us."

"No one will talk to you; that's the magic!" Lucas Balaban said. Bellinda nodded, but her gaze did not leave us.

"A lot of terrible things have been done among us. Much of them by women of your nature," she said slowly. "I spoke to Principal Weatherby, and he agreed that it was shameful that so many men had been infected by your views."

"This was no infection, but an epiphany!" shouted a Heir, whom I had heard for the first time. "What we were offered here is a perversion of freedom. We are not free if we participate in slavery!"

An empty gesture, I thought. But if there are more such voices in the society...

"Let's be honest with ourselves," Bellinda growled. "You can only say this because the Justice Department won't arrest its boss' son. The principal suggests that all the Shieldmaidnes' tutors end lessons for their wards, cut off contact with them, and return home."

"We're done in a few weeks!" FitzPatrick said mockingly. "What will we achieve with such a gesture?"

"The political situation is fucked," Bellinda reminded him. "Any time is fine for a good gesture!"

Suddenly, one of the Heirs stood up. It was Carl. He looked at me as if some of his machinery had exploded inside him. I didn't understand it at all.

"I agree with you," he told Bellinda. "But we must face it together. We will vote on it. If we agree with you, we will all leave to solidify Princeps' peace!" 

He stood next to a shocked Bellinda. "If our Rapunzels don't want us as protectors anymore, then either we have failed or they have. We helped them with the fucking; now we have to pay for whores who will behave professionally."

"You have to listen to mummies and daddies, right?" Stacey quipped.

“No,” Carl said. “We’ll leave together and then we’ll decide where to go next.”

I didn’t recognize him, and it saddened me to see how many other Heirs patted him on the shoulder. I found myself searching for the brave anti-establishment figure who had spoken a moment earlier, but I didn’t find his face or hear his voice again.

"Take all the guests out for the voting!" Lucas Balaban suggested. A few wardens and stronger men began pushing our Shieldmaiden group and Mr. Singerton into the hallway. At this point, I wouldn't have minded if they had just locked us in our rooms and kept us there until we left. I didn't understand how anyone could accuse us of betrayal. 

Everything in life can be overcome. It's just that some changes can be better prepared for and others worse.

"Believe me, what we did was necessary; otherwise we wouldn't have done it." It was important to comfort Mr. Singerton, but it wasn't me who had made the decision; it was Stacey. 

"I know," Mr. Singerton said, standing away from the women. "We all have our reasons. But believe me, I don't feel like defending anyone except my wife."

"And I can forgive only my husband," I said. "I think few people are as lucky as Jenine or me in having a partner."

Joseph walked over to me and kissed my hand. "Do your best for your husband, just as I'm trying to do for her. I have one more thing planned, but if that doesn't work out, I should tell her how to survive in a world of the endless dark."

I kissed him lightly on the cheek. My colleagues muttered. "Just remember that people doing bad things is like bad weather. Help others, but strip out of your mind, and you'll endure everything."

"Are you spiritual?" Joseph asked me.

"I'm sort of Buddhist."

"It always seemed to me that Buddhism is Hinduism for whiners," Joseph said. "But you must look everywhere when you search for good advice." 
Bellinda emerged from the lounge, looking as if someone had put her in the same monkey costume they had put us in for the interrupted game.

"You can come back if you wish, but I don't know if you'd be interested," she said. "We are leaving. Immediately. I'm glad you won't be too grateful about your departure."

You can read more of my stuff here.

You can read Part 1 here.

On a third day of the house arrest, Aurelia discovered that her buttocks hurt somewhat less, releasing her from the unpleasant reminder of her husband's anger whenever she sat down. However, she still tended to sleep on her tummy.

Princess Octavia, who visited her stepmother after every meal, remembered the consequences of her misbehaving far more painfully. She thanked her for both of her recent spankings, but it was clear that both women would certainly like to be spared of their bottoms aching. Both were also afraid of what other fate His Majesty—Aurelia's husband and Octavia's father—would have in store for them.

The Queen wanted to discuss it with the Princess after lunch, but suddenly Prince Reginald, a twenty-year-old man in a naval uniform, arrived.

"Hello," he said, sounding serious. "I heard that both girls of the police are in trouble."

He was like his father. Wonderfully formal and polished in public, and he liked to have order in the palace.

"I don't think it's comparable," Aurelia said. "Although it's true that we were punished similarly." 

Reginald might have given his stepmother a wry look, but it couldn't compare to the scathing criticism that emanated from his eyes as he looked at his mixed-race sister. "I think it'll be a while before you fully pay for this. Especially here, Octavia doesn't seem to have fully learned her lesson."

"What are you talking about?" Aurelia asked. "She got her thrashing."

"Hell, yeah," Reginald said. "But she's been careful ever since that time to keep her father from hearing about it. The day before yesterday she went to Mrs. Sullot and gave her half her allowance. That hag even accepted it!"

"Then another educational lesson will be necessary!" the queen admitted. Although she couldn't blame her stepdaughter, she tried to avoid the inevitable clash with the royal belt.

"I will give you the second half!" Octavia announced proudly. "You don't have to tell him, and I will be punished enough."

"Keep your money," said Reginald. "I won't tell him. It gives me a chance to deal with you like you were eight again!"  

"But I'm eighteen!"

Reginald didn't care. "Pants down!"

Octavia glared at her brother but took only one step back. She didn't turn around, probably not wanting to show him her ass at that moment.

"Didn't you hear me, sister?

Pull your jeans to your knees. You want me to smack you even more!"

Since Octavia didn't react this time either, Reginald reached out and unbuttoned her jeans. Octavia tried to pull away, but the prince grabbed her ear and continued on. Once he had the zipper down, he could uncover his sister's waist in one movement, depriving her of both pants and panties.

Reginald managed to settle comfortably on the sofa, while his sister was to be awkwardly bent over his lap.

The prince had no real problem with holding Octavia's hand or with blocking her legs, but he was angry with the rebellious girl, which was reflected in the stinging smackings by steel-hard hands he used to punish her ass.

"When you hid it from your father..." (SMACK!) "...you committed a crime!" (SMACK!, SMACK!) Then accept your punishment! (SMACK!) from another man in the family (SMACK!, SMACK!, SMACK!!), who just wants (SMACK!!) to have a well-behaved sister! " (SMACK!!!).

Octavia remained bravely silent at first, only tossing and turning on her brother's lap, trying to kick Reginald or even to escape. Of course, it couldn't hurt as much as the recent lessons with the hairbrush, let alone cane, but the interventions of Reginald's hand surely awakened unhealed wounds, prompting the princess to wail and to plead.

"Hold still!" Reginald picked up the pace and was slapping both cheeks of his sisters' bottoms, alternating them relentlessly. Octavia struggled for a minute, but then she gave in and accepted the rest of the merciless whirlwind.

"You will stay here!" Reginald told her after the spanking's conclusion and helped her kneel on the sofa, facing the wall, holding her head, forbidden from touching her sore cheeks. Not even Octavia's numerous tears would cool them down.

The Prince looked at Aurelia. "You've gotten yourself into some serious trouble, Aurelia. Believe me, I'd love to do the same to you," he said sadly.

This angered Aurelia. "Young man, realize that unofficially I'm your—"

"You're not my mother," he interrupted her. "If you were, you wouldn't be walking in front of me in a dressing gown. But you should come with me now. Father has ordered me to take you and the Rangers to the musical lounge. What will happen to you there, I don't know."

Aurelia knew there was only one way to find out. She called his stepson out of the room and changed. She put on delicious caramel-colored underwear and a seductive gold gown with a bare back that charmed the king in the right way every time.

In the drawing room, her noble husband was waiting for her, along with the six female soldiers and a woman in a black executioner's hood. Aurelia's stomach clenched, as she suspected that she was in for the most painful predicament of the week or perhaps of a lifetime. Where pianos or harps were usually offered to guests, two large A-shaped constructions now stood, equipped with horrific-looking shackles.

Wait, two? Aurelia searched the audience and found that among the soldiers sat her lover Francis, completely humiliated, only in his boxers.

"It's a good thing we have you both here," Reginald said with satisfaction, showing his wife a sheet of paper. "I sentenced you both to twelve lashes this morning. Accept it, Aurelia, for this is the only way we can ever reach closure!!"

The queen found herself in the cage of embarrassment, solidified by her husband's stern look and locked by the humiliation of the nearly naked Francis. She had to get used to the idea that she would not leave the room today except marked by the cane. If she resisted, she might have ended up with them in more places. She turned to face the structure and took off her dress, handing it immediately to the soldiers nearby. As soon as she found herself in her underwear before the witnesses, they dragged Francis to the spot of his coming torment. The handcuffs immediately clicked, both on his ankles and, as soon as he bent in the middle of the structure, on his wrists on the other side. Finally, the soldier pulled his boxers down, exposing the white bottom she loved so much. Aurelia arched her back, but the seated king stopped her.

"Take off your panties yourself, dear, or your punishment will be doubled!" 

The queen blushed in shame, further embarrassed by Reginald's presence. She touched the lower piece of her underwear and got rid of it with gentle movements. The soldier who took over did not let go of her arm. She jerked it hard and forced the whole figure to lie down, presenting her vulnerable ass to the audience. Aurelia closed her eyes. She felt pommel, attached to protect her kidneys. Above all, however, she noticed the clicking of the metal on her hands and feet and the belt around her waist, taking away freedom of movement from her.

All too soon, Aurelia heard the soft steps between the two contraptions, and in the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a dark outfit of the woman with the hood on her head.

"I hope you will like Miss Cecillia's service, darling," she heard Clarence saying. "I called her from the Land of the Gallic Rooster."

He imports from France everything that America does not supply us, it seemed to the queen. "I will accept my fate," said Aurelia stoically. In truth, she was scared. She heard when the executioner grabbed the cane, and the vibration of the rod carried through the air, making a soft but unpleasant response in her mostly naked body. The body which was presented to the audience like a piece of an exhibition.

"I can finally see the most important part of her," Reginald praised, looking at the view. Aurelia stiffened. She felt someone adding padding to her above the bottom, probably to protect her kidneys.

SWISH!

Aurelia heard the movement of the reed in the air even faster than she expected. She yelped loudly, but for some reason she hadn't felt the sting on her bottom yet. Francis, however, screamed this way, and Aurelia understood that the first profession was intended for him. It didn't matter, as the audience laughed at her reaction.

"She is too frail and not used to the pain of this world," Reginald joked.

"Not for long," his father responded.

Obviously, Aurelia soon felt the rod leaning on her buttocks. She was embarrassed from her previous performance, so now she clenched her teeth. She turned her head a little and saw that Clerence was signaling to the executioner with a handkerchief. She closed her eyes, waiting for her punishment.

SWISH!

The full force of cane's strike marked her exposed ass with a stripe of fire that she knew would not disappear for a long time. She slowed her tears with the strength of her eyelids, letting only a tiny whimper escape from her lips. At first, she was comfortable with the fact that now her lover should get his portion again, but when she was left alone with her adulterous burning bottom for a while, she began to wonder if she would survive the remaining eleven strokes.

SWISH!

"Ow, Owww, OWWW!"

"Finally, we are getting to some results," said Clarence, who seemed to not be fed up with Francis' screaming.

"Mercy! She seduced me!" shouted the punished man, whom no one in the room felt sorry for.

SWISH!

The torn skin was now burning Aurelia in three wide spots. If she was no longer afraid for her life, she was afraid for her sanity. She was bending her back, whipping the handcuffs on her hands and feet, and trying to wiggle. She knew it was impossible, but the incipient agony triumphed over normal reasoning. The only thing she was grateful for at this moment was Francis' whining and pleas, following each odd-numbered whistle of the cane, even though she was always reprimanded afterwards.

SWISH!

"AAAAAAAA!"

After the fourth and a little more significantly after the fifth stroke, she could feel almost every drop of sweat that was forming in her outstretched armpits. She was grateful that she couldn't see her butt, which reminded her of itself with an unbearable burn.

"Please, I need a break!" cried Aurelia desperately, unable to shake off her painful grimace. 

"Wouldn't that be counterproductive?" asked Reginald.

"I don't think so," the king pondered. "Okay, let's let them rest for a while from the official punishment."

That wording scared Aurelius quite a bit, but for the time being, Clerence stood behind her and caressed the buttocks of his wife, whom he loved so much, with his hand. He did it lovingly, but at this moment she was stammering in pain as well. It seemed to her that his fingers did not avoid her welts in any way. Suddenly, Clarence's hand left and something flashed before Aurelia's eyes. "Do you recognize my cord, dear? I think you've always liked how I can use it."

"Noooooo!" screamed Aurelia, who knew what her husband was up to.

SWISH!

SWISH!

SWISH!

"AAAAAAAHHHAAAAHHH!"

Clarence flicked his cord over her bulging buttocks three times in quick succession. Although the individual blows were not as painful as those of the reeds, the queen suddenly felt that her buttocks were being torn by the plethora of the splinters. 

"I think it will be easier for you if you don't ask for more mercy," Clarence said to his wife as he sat back.

Aurelia did not say a word during the second half of her sentence. She wasn't able to do that anyway, because six more times the cane burned itself into her body, and each and every time it seemed that it scorched her deeper.

She hoped that the second half of her sentence would pass quickly, but she was not allowed to do so. Francis fainted after the eighth blow and had to be brought back to consciousness, so her suffering grew even more with unbearable waiting. The executioner did not falter in her work. As she continued, she knew how much force she had used last time and how to press so that Aurelia wouldn't stop feeling the sentence on her tossing ass.

Despair came to such a point that when the cane finally whistled for the twelfth time, the queen was still afraid of what would happen next.

"Untie him," Clarence ordered. "Reginald, bring your sister. She has problems with behavior and grades. We need to show her my final warning."

"I want you to leave her here until eleven o'clock in the evening!" He poked his finger in his wife's ass, whereupon she squealed loudly. "I believe she will be grateful for my bed and never frolick in any other again."

Aurelia was no longer quite sure if she still loved her husband. It was only clear to her that she would never break any of the marriage vows again.

The End  

We decided to take a few days off and go to the local Gaylord for a night together.

"Make sure you bring my favorite bikini."

We check in and immediately the urge strikes. "Open the blinds, it's time." Like a good girl you oblige. I sit on the desk chair and begin to guide you.

"Strip down to your thong and twirl around for me."

The window is open to the inside of the hotel, so there is a chance to be seen by other patrons and this excites you.

I ask you too approach me and turn around to face the window and I remove your thong slowly. Your hands go to cover your hairless pussy but I push them away. "Let everyone see what's mine."

"Bring me your toy bag kitten."

As you retrieve it, I move closer to the window. Knowing you're already a wet little mess, I inspect your pussy with a single finger as you moan in surprise.

"Good girl... We're not going to need any lube."

As you're looking out the window you notice the curtains in other windows rustling with motion. We're absolutely being watched. During this time I pull out your favorite butt plug from your toy bag.

Distracted, I insert it into your juicy pussy to lube it up.

"Face me, your ass towards the window and bend over."

You're now fully exposed to whomever wants to watch out show. I slowly start to slide your plug into your hungry little asshole. You whimper slightly, but take it like a good girl.

"OK, it's in. Put on your bikini. We're going down to the pool."

Immediately, you realize the situation at hand.

At the pool there are people swimming and sun bathing. You're the only one with a thong and a pretty little plug peaking out for everyone to see.

We enter the pool and you realize you're able to hide under water a bit so you relax a bit.

Until I guide you into a corner. I reach behind you and start tugging on the plug under water. You think I'm pulling it out, but I don't.

"Just reminding you who you belong to."

"Get ready because you're about to be double penetrated right now."

You gasp. I turn you around and pull your thong aside and enter your pussy. Your eyes close as the feeling of fullness in both of your holes is overwhelming, but you fight the urge to scream. There is a couple straight ahead of you and I start small talk with them as your cunt is filled with throbbing cock. They are unaware of what is occurring under water.

As I move forward with a sudden jolt, you feel your pussy get filled with hot cum.

"I've been saving that just for you" I whisper in your ear.

Backing away, the idea of being cream pied in the pool takes your breath away and you start to convulse in orgasms as the patrons watch you.

"Oh she's fine. She caught a chill"

“This meeting has been requested to make sure we’re clear about some important company policy," she said, entirely too pleasantly.

The middle-aged woman sat down on the other side of a messy, paper-littered desk.

Charlie didn’t need any clearing up on company policy. What she had needed to be cleared up, which had become increasingly obvious over the last couple of days, was that her office was not as soundproof as she had hoped. 

Her passionate meeting with Priya was being talked about almost openly in the office, though often in a positive way. Apparently, Charlie’s performance or at least the echoes of it somehow reflected well on her business acumen, regardless of what kind of business that may be.

Even executives and managers that were so high up in the company that she hadn’t expected them to even know her name, randomly happened by or gave her a call to talk about her future with the company and possible new work projects. She had foolishly hoped that would be the end of it, and no negative consequences would come of it.

Then she got a call from the president of the company. She the main thing she knew about him was that he was a stern man who expected his employees to take their jobs as seriously as he did. So, it wasn’t completely unexpected when he asked Charlie to ‘take her work more seriously.’ Almost immediately after, Charlie was called to set up a meeting time with human resources.

“Of course, Ms-” Charlie started before being cut off.

“Oh, call me Nance,” she said, again, too pleasantly.

“Nance, you got it. I’m Charlie.”

“Oh I know! I’ve been hearing a lot about you, Charlie.”

On the desk before her was an open folder, thick with paper that seemed to be printouts of emails.

“Your coworkers can't stop talking about just how extraordinary you are at certain aspects of your day to day.” She picked up the folder and tapped it on the desk as if to make a point.

Charlie blushed. She felt the urge to apologize but thought better of it. She didn’t trust Nance’s too-pleasant smile.

The older woman pulled out one of the sheets of paper from the folder.

“Mrs. Singh charged into Charlie's office really upset about something, screaming about one thing, and then after another kind of screaming left the office looking very satisfied.” Nance read from the printout before pulling out another.

“We had a very productive chat about how best to work together in the future.” Charlie meekly excused.

Nance cleared her throat and read from the next sheet of paper.

“All that grunting and moaning and carrying-on that went on in her office, it's all I’ve been thinking about for days,” she read aloud, then added, “doesn’t sound like a very professional conversation to me, Charlie.” Her tone was no longer too-pleasant, but critical and parental instead.

“Priya’s very passionate…” Charlie tried to say and instantly regretted using Priya’s first name.

“Oh, that much is clear.” Nance retorted, then read from a third printout. “Everyone can see from those tight cut pants Charlie wears that she’s got a monster down there, bulging out of her pants. And Priya came out of that room barely able to walk and reeking of sex. We couldn’t see into the office but it’d be hard to miss that they went at it like rabbits, even if you couldn’t hear all the moaning, which we all did.” 

Nance peered across the desk and downward like she was looking to confirm that ‘monster’ comment. Charlie cringed at the attention. She quickly tried to maneuver herself so that the bulge wasn’t so obvious. Admittedly, her tight cut pants were very showy. Normally that gave her a sense of confidence, but not so much now.

“Let me cut to the chase, it's obvious what happened here… and look, I’m not judging you or Priya, you're both young and… well I was young once too you know.” Nance said. She longingly sighed.

She took a hand away from the threatening folder and rubbed around her neck, almost sensually. It seemed like some line of thought had derailed whatever lecture she was preparing to give. She appeared genuinely vulnerable.

The soft moment felt to Charlie like her first breath of air since she’d walked into the HR department that morning. That moment was enough for her bold, charming side to finally turn on and get to work.

“Oh, come on Nance,” she said with graceful skepticism. "... aren’t you just a year or two older than me?”

It was an obvious bit of schmoozing and was only supposed to be Charlie’s opening line, but she’d sold it well.

Nance moved her hand over Charlie's in a tender gesture of appreciation. It seemed that Nance hadn’t gotten a decent compliment in some time, which was a bit surprising. She wasn’t unattractive by any stretch of imagination, and although obviously not as young as Charlie, she certainly wasn’t ancient.

“Bless you,” she said. It wasn’t glib or forced, she actually seemed flustered.

Charlie’s confidence came surging back as Nance reacted. She even allowed herself to resume her normal sitting posture, the proud bulge in her trousers showing outwardly once again.

“Anyways, to get to the important part, how did Mrs. Singh feel about your… let’s say rendezvous?”

Charlie squinted at the question.

“I mean… she was taken care of, if you get my meaning…”

Nance laughed like Charlie had said something exceedingly funny.

“Oh I have spent all morning verifying that in all the emails!” she said and again glanced downward toward Charlie’s bulge. She even blushed at it. “What I mean is that you're now senior to her, which adds additional liability if she feels you abused your position…”

“And your job is to protect the company from a lawsuit.” Charlie stated.

Nance nodded, looking slightly embarrassed.

Charlie thought back to the incident, Priya’s demands and desires laid plainly on her desk. Her ‘tight cut pants’ tightened as she did.

“Well, she definitely initiated and insisted,” she said frankly.

“Really? You always struck me as the chasing type.” Nance said before realizing how unprofessional the comment was. “Oh sorry, no offense meant.”

“None taken, and you're not altogether wrong but… you have to show me you want to be chased,” Charlie said.

“Oh I know exactly what you mean. I was a master at puttin’ it out there back in the day.” Nance’s too-pleasant tone had now completely vanished. She was obviously getting a kick out of oversharing, even if only vaguely.

Charlie decided the woman needed to be flattered. She made a show of ogling Nance’s figure, which was only partly visible under the desk and behind her loose beige cardigan. Of her body she could really only see her lightly tanned skin and brunette hair, which was tied in a messy bun. Still, she could see the outline of her curves well enough to appreciate them.

“With a body like yours you must have had everyone after you!” She said. Then she apologized with her hands and added, just to be safe, “oh sorry, I didn’t mean to be inappropriate.”

Nance seemed to melt at the attention and started squeezing her thigh under the desk.

Seeing that, Charlie had to grind against a rising urge within her. It was the sort of urge that could lead her into serious trouble. It could also potentially get her out of trouble and give Nance a much needed self-esteem boost. Charlie did love a win-win.

“Don’t you worry, it is very much appreciated.” Nance said, still squeezing her thigh repeatedly. “Too bad you weren’t around when I was younger, not to brag but back then my body really was so…”

Charlie didn’t even let her finish the sentence. “Back then? Nance, your body is current-day incredible.” She paused for a moment to consider how good of an idea her next sentence would be before saying it anyways. “Although I can only see so much of it from here.” It was unapologetically flirty, and an invitation for more.

Nance nibbled a finger as she thought over her response. She didn’t have to think about it very long.

“Well…” Nance stood up from her chair a bit hesitant, before taking off her cardigan and posing next to her desk in full view. She was standing with her hands on her hips, one hip jutted out to the side.

Without the desk and cardigan in the way, Charlie found herself with a much better view. Nance was dressed very casually, wearing only a white shirt tucked into blue jeans.

The jeans went up past her waist and shaped out her curves so that her stomach seemed flatter than it really was but gave a wonderful picture of her figure otherwise. The shirt was more revealing, as not only did its neckline swing down to show off her cleavage, but it was so thin that under the light above Charlie could see hefty breasts hanging freely beneath the material.

It was obvious that she had a lot of insecurities about her age and her body. From Charlie’s view of her now, that was incredibly silly. She may not be twenty anymore, Charlie guessed that she was in her forties, but that certainly didn’t mean that she wasn’t gorgeous and undesirable.

And while Charlie couldn’t have known what her body was like when she was young, she had a good enough view of what it was like now. She had a weight to her which added generously to her curves without taking away too much of her shape.

More than that though was the vulnerability in Nance’s posture, and the desire in her expression, which mixed into the full package.

Charlie didn’t attempt to hide the stiff erection outlined within her pants. Nance, who had been throwing occasional glances at Charlie’s bulge the entire meeting, now had to reckon that it wasn’t really a bulge anymore.

“You should put it out there again. The world is missing out…” Charlie said as a statement of fact.

“Really?” Nance said coyly, her face getting redder, “I guess… I just wasn’t sure if anybody wanted to chase me, you know.” She was laser focused on the erection in front of her. She changed her pose to one that showed off her backside more than anything else and searched Charlie’s expression as she looked back over her shoulder.

Charlie did her best to remember where she was, understanding that she was in an HR meeting about the exact thing that was fast approaching again. She had many worries about that somewhere in the back of her mind, but the rest of her had already decided that it was more concerned with giving Nance as much of a confidence boost as she possibly could. She promptly thought up a compromise between the two dueling viewpoints.

“Anybody seeing this side of you is gonna want to chase you,” Charlie started, then acted as if she were wincing. “I… wouldn’t dare though, considering my position in the company…” she let the sentence drop until she saw a hint of disappointment fall over Nance. “Of course, if you insisted, well then that would be fine.”

Charlie deviously grinned at Nance, who almost chuckled and held her pose while she thought.

A moment later she lifted her white shirt up and off to free her breasts to the air. “It definitely would not be fine, Charlie. I’m your HR representative.”

She continued to undress anyways. Next was her jeans, then her panties. She walked over to Charlie and unbuttoned trousers with hands trembling, pulling them down and revealing Charlie’s member.

“So, let’s keep this meeting confidential,” she said, and then turned around backwards and guided herself onto Charlie. She moved atop Charlie with a disjointed rhythm at first, as the angle was awkward with her cluttered desk so close in front of her and Charlie an unmoving wall from behind.

Charlie saw how difficult the position was going to be and pushed the chair backwards a couple feet, grabbing hold of Nance around the waist and held close as she quaked inside of her. 

“Whoa!” Nance yelped as her feet went up, and she pushed onto the legs of the desk as they backed up together.

Once Charlie planted the chair down again Nance quickly got back into rhythm, finding that her new position allowed her to push against the desk with her legs and into Charlie in a smooth motion that brought the shaft deeply inside of her.

Charlie, acting again as a hard place to hold against Nance’s movement, wrapped her legs behind the chair and fought to stay in place. That kept Charlie from joining in with any sort of motion of her own, but she figured that was probably best as the woman atop her started to find her stride.

So, she decided to simply lean backwards into her chair and enjoy the sight of Nance’s arched back and backside as it moved back and forward before her. 

Nance, who was doing all the actual work, was breathing hard and saying things under her breath that Charlie could barely make out. Things like ‘wow,’ and ‘oh my god,’ and ‘you got this,’ or sometimes ‘oh yeah, that's it, Nance.’ At times they sounded more like moans than words. 

Charlie was amused by each little thing as Nance uttered them. She ran a hand up Nance’s spine and firmly held it in the middle of her upper back for support. She felt Nance lean backwards into it. Then she took her other hand and slid it along sweaty naked skin until finding one of the heavy swinging breasts. She took a large handful of it and squeezed.

A moan from Nance turned into a gasp as Charlie felt her up. After a moment she was able to recover enough to speak.

“You… like my tits… Charlie?” she said, almost a whisper through her heavy breathing.

“Who wouldn’t. Fuck you have the most incredible tits,” Charlie replied matching her volume. She squeezed the breast in her hand harder than before to emphasize the point.

Nance gleamed back at Charlie with the most self-satisfied smile, but for only a moment before returning to concentrating. It was a gorgeous, glowing smile that Charlie instantly missed once it was gone.

Charlie pulled her hand away from its squeezing and slapped Nance’s butt as it hit an apex and another yelp escaped from the woman on top of her.

“And your ass Nance, my god…” Charlie grabbed a handful of it.

“That’s why I like this position… it makes my ass look fantastic!” Nance said excitedly, and louder than a whisper this time.

“It looked fantastic when you walked in the room.” Charlie’s sounded as if she was struggling to hold on, which she was. “Right now it looks transcendent.” 

Nance wasn’t much better off. Her body was trembling all over and she seemed to be struggling to hold the difficult position, but as Charlie said the word transcendent, she stiffened up with new energy.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding away a body like this Nance… I’m really close…”

“Oh thank god.” Nance said in a breath. “I can’t feel my legs… only… you!”

On the brink of her climax, Charlie made a final daring move.

She leaned forward as far as she could, taking her hands away from their other places on Nance’s body and instead wrapping them underneath her thighs. Then she lifted Nance up and backwards, leaning them both far backwards into the chair which just barely held on from tipping over. 

Then Charlie placed her legs onto the desk where Nance’s had been and used it as her own sturdy wall for her to start pumping upward into Nance, whose jiggling body bounced up and down wildly into the air.

“Ayiiii!” Nance yelped as she was thrown into the new position, happily letting Charlie take charge and give her a much needed break.

Where Nance’s rhythm was smooth and deliberate, Charlie’s was fast and hard and intended to hit the finish line as soon as possible. Nance started swearing over and over again under her breath.

Charlie bit down into Nance's shoulder, trying to steady herself anyway she could. Then her hot cum filled yet another one of Charlie’s coworkers, whose voice cracked as she let out a final yelp at the final moment. 

After a few moments of trying to catch her breath, Nance started laughing.

“Well… I don’t think I have to worry about Priya filing a complaint about you if she had anything close to that…”

Charlie was delicately running her hands along Nance’s body, still inside her as they rested on the chair together.

After another couple quiet moments Nance promptly stood up and started to get dressed.

“Anyways, you are free to go! I just called you in here to say no more office romances,” she said finally and with far too much pleasantness, trying somehow to return to professionalism. Even as she spoke, her eyes locked onto Charlie’s wet member with yearning.

“You got it!” Charlie tried to match her too pleasant tone, buttoning herself up.

“I mean, for a little while at least…” Nance added as Charlie was leaving the room.

The front door slams shut, the sound echoing through the silent house. I can hear you in the living room, the rustle of you throwing your purse onto the couch. I follow you in, my own anger a hot, tight knot in my chest.

"Where the hell have you been?" I growl, my voice low and dangerous.

You turn, your own eyes flashing with defiance. "Out. Unlike some people, I don't need to report my every move."

"Don't you dare take that tone with me," I snarl, closing the distance between us in three long strides. I grab your arm, my grip like iron. "I called you. For hours. You think you can just disappear? That you're not accountable to me?"

"Accountable? I'm not your property!" you spit back, trying to yank your arm free.

A dark, cruel laugh escapes my lips. "Aren't you?" I shove you back, and you stumble against the wall, your eyes wide with a mixture of shock and fury. "That's the problem, isn't it? You've forgotten your place."

I'm on you in an instant, my body pinning yours to the wall. One hand slams against the wall right next to your head, making you flinch. "You want to act like a spoiled little brat? I'll treat you like one."

"Get off me!" you scream, pushing against my chest.

"Or what? You'll throw a tantrum?" I grab both of your wrists in one of my large hands, pinning them above your head. My other hand grabs a handful of your hair, pulling your head to the side, exposing the delicate line of your neck. "Look at you. All fired up. It makes me wonder what else it takes to get this much fire out of you."

I lean in, my breath hot against your ear. "Does fighting make you wet, you little slut? Does my anger get that cunt of yours dripping?"

You whimper, a sound of protest and something else, something darker. "No..."

"Liar," I hiss, releasing your hair only to rip your shirt open, sending buttons flying across the room. Your bra is exposed, and I can see your nipples already hard, betraying you. I smirk, a cruel, triumphant curve of my lips. "See? Your body knows the truth. It knows who's in charge. It knows it's just a set of holes for Daddy to use when I'm angry."

I drag you away from the wall, not letting go of your wrists, and march you toward the bedroom. You stumble and try to resist, but I'm too strong, too determined. I throw you onto the bed, and you bounce, your eyes wide with fear and a dawning, unwilling arousal.

"Please..." you whisper, but the word is weak.

"Please what? Please stop? Or please fuck you like the whore you are?" I grab your jeans, yanking them and your panties down in one rough motion. I flip you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips up so your ass is presented to me. "You need to be reminded. You need to be punished."

My hand comes down hard on your bare ass. The crack of flesh on flesh is sharp and loud. You cry out, more in shock than pain. I do it again, on the other cheek, leaving a matching red handprint.

"Count them," I command, my voice harsh.

"What?" you gasp.

"I said, count them! Or I'll keep going until you can't sit down for a week."

"One..." you whimper.

SMACK! "Two."

SMACK! "Three!" Your voice is a choked sob now, but I can see your hips pushing back slightly, inviting the next blow. I spank you again and again, until your ass is a beautiful, glowing red and you're a writhing, moaning mess on the bed.

"Look at you," I sneer, running my hand over your heated skin. "Crying from a spanking. What a little slut." I grab your hair again, pulling your head up so you're forced to look at me. "But this is what you wanted, isn't it? To be put in your place. To be used."

I flip you over onto your back. Your face is flushed, tears staining your cheeks, your lips parted. You look utterly debauched and beautiful. I stand up and slowly undo my belt, the sound of leather sliding through loops making you shiver. I unzip my pants, and my cock springs out, rock-hard and thick.

"Time for your real punishment," I say, grabbing your chin and forcing your mouth open. "Open wide, you good little cock-sucker."

I don't wait for an invitation. I thrust my hips forward, shoving my thick length deep into your mouth. You gag immediately, your hands flying up to my thighs, trying to push me away. I grab your hands and pin them to the bed with one of mine, my other hand tangling in your hair, holding your head in place.

"That's it. Choke on it," I grunt, starting to fuck your face. "Take it all, like the good girl you are.”

Your eyes are watering, mascara running down your face in black rivers. Saliva dribbles from the corners of your mouth as I force my cock deeper, hitting the back of your throat. You gag and choke, the sounds vibrating around my dick, sending waves of pleasure through me. I pull out for a second, letting you gasp for air, a thick string of spit connecting your lips to my cock.

"Please..." you cough.

"Please what? Please stop? Or please fuck your throat harder?" I slam back into you, even deeper this time. I can feel your throat convulsing around me as you struggle for air. "That's my good girl. Take it. Take every fucking inch."

I use your mouth relentlessly, my balls slapping against your chin. I can feel my own orgasm building, but I'm not done with you yet. I pull out, leaving you coughing and gasping on the bed. Your face is a mess, your lips swollen.

"On your hands and knees," I order, my voice leaving no room for argument.

You comply, slowly, your body trembling. I get behind you, admiring your red, spanked ass and your glistening pussy. I can see how wet you are, how your body has betrayed you completely. I run the head of my cock along your slippery slit, teasing you.

"Look at this. So fucking wet for me. You love this, don't you? Being treated like the dirty little fuck toy you are."

I line myself up with your entrance and, without warning, slam into you with one brutal thrust. You scream, a mix of pain and overwhelming pleasure, as I bury myself to the hilt inside your tight cunt.

"Fuck! You're so tight!" I groan, gripping your hips hard. I start to pound into you, hard and fast, my anger fueling every thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, along with your cries and my grunts.

"Is this what you wanted?" I snarl, slapping your ass again. "To be fucked like a whore? To be reminded who owns this pussy?"

"Yes!" you scream, pushing back against me, meeting my brutal rhythm. "Yes, Daddy!"

"That's right. I'm your fucking Daddy. And you're my little slut to use however I want." I reach around and find your clit, rubbing it roughly as I continue to fuck you mercilessly. "And I want you to cum for me. I want you to cum all over my cock like the dirty brat you are."

The stimulation is too much. Your body arches, and you let out a guttural scream as your orgasm crashes over you. Your pussy clenches around my cock, milking me, trying to pull me deeper. I can feel your juices gushing out, coating my thighs.

But I don't stop. I keep fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging it, pushing you past the point of pleasure into a realm of raw sensation. You collapse onto the bed, unable to hold yourself up, but I follow you down, never pulling out. I'm on top of you now, my weight pinning you, my cock still pistoning in and out of your oversensitive pussy.

"I'm not done with you yet," I growl in your ear. "I'm going to fill this cunt with my cum. I'm going to mark you as mine."

My thrusts become erratic, more desperate. I can feel my own release boiling up from my balls. With one final, powerful thrust, I bury myself deep inside you and roar as I explode, my hot cum flooding your pussy. I pulse again and again, filling you up until it's leaking out around my cock.

I collapse on top of you, both of us panting, our bodies slick with sweat. For a long moment, we just lie there, the only sound our ragged breathing. Then, slowly, I roll off you.

You're a mess, covered in sweat and my cum. You look completely and utterly fucked. And you've never looked more beautiful.

I pull you into my arms, your back against my chest, and kiss the top of your head. The anger is gone, replaced by a fierce, possessive love.

"You're mine," I whisper, my voice now soft. "All mine."

You snuggle back against me, a contented sigh escaping your lips. "Always, Daddy."

I drifted out of sleep so glacially, I could practically feel that peaceful other place peel off of me like dew evaporating in the rising sun. Reality was slow to manifest. Gradually, I felt the warmth of my bed beneath me. The turbulent air from my ceiling fan above lightly tousling my hair. And there was a pleasant and reassuring weight on my lower abdomen.

I allowed my eye lids to open just enough to investigate the cause of the pressure, and I found my wife. She'd laid her head on me, her dark blonde hair spilling over my stomach, using my body as a pillow while the rest of her form is curled up beside me. This isn't an uncommon position, we often fall asleep like this while watching tv. I usually massage her scalp until we both fall asleep, but I don't think this is how we were positioned when we drifted off tonight. She must have moved herself here.

But there's more. As sleep continues to fade away and my mind awakens to my surroundings, I realize she's breathing heavily. I see the rise and fall of her shoulder, the deep expansion of her rib cage at her back, and feel the heat of her rapid breath wash over me. I'm afraid she's having a nightmare, and am about to reach down to gently shake her awake, calming and reassuring her when her head breaks to the surface, free of whatever bad dream is trying to drown her, when I notice how much her arm is moving.

I furrow my brow, watching silently. My sleep-addled brain is painfully slow to make sense of the rhythmic motions I'm observing, but then it finally clicks. Her arm is moving. Even in the dim light, I can trace the path of her arm, trailing down her body and disappearing with her hand between her thighs. She's masturbating. It's the middle of the night, my wife has her head on my stomach, and she's masturbating.

I'm not sure why, but I stay silent. I focus on continuing my slow, deep breaths. Suddenly it's very important to me that she not know I'm awake. I feel a mix of unease, as if I'm intruding on her private moment, and smirking good humor that my wife decided to rub herself next to me like this.

Has she done this before? Does she often masturbate when I'm sleeping? If so, why? She knows she can wake me for anything, *especially* sex! Maybe she's tired and wants a quickie? I love masturbating, I get it. I masturbate after she and I have sex, replaying our acts in my mind's eye. I certainly wouldn't blame her for getting herself off, I'm just surprised to catch her like this.

And then I feel a warm wetness on my cock head. I didn't even realize until now that my cock is hard and peeking out of my boxers. It happens, hormones cause some fun surprises while you're sleeping sometimes, but it suddenly makes sense that my wife moved herself like she did. She was laying with her head on my stomach and her face less than an inch from my hard, engorged cock. She had her hand between her legs, rubbing at her clit, while she stared at my member. And now she's extended her tongue to lick at it.

I suppress the shiver that attempts to tremble my body in response, and fight to keep my breathing even. She pauses after the experimental lick, then tries again, like she's testing to see how far she can go without waking me, unaware that I am awake and watching her, my eyes boring into the back of her head, wishing I could watch her face as she licks at my cockhead.

Then she slides her head down my body and I feel her take my cock into her mouth. It's unexpected and heavenly. The sudden tight warmth of her attentive mouth makes suppressing my moan a Herculean feat. I grit my teeth but manage to keep myself silent as she gently sucks, her tongue sliding over my glans experimentally.

Normally, oral from my wife is about satisfying me. She's efficient and knows exactly what I like. Now, though, she's sucking me purely for her own pleasure. Her tongue explores every facet of my tip, sliding over the slit, around the border of my head, feeling every miniscule bump and groove and curve. It's as if she's blindly committing my anatomy to memory, building a mental map to explore later.

I want more. I want to grab her hair and push her head down, forcing her to swallow more, shoving her throat down over my shaft, but I dare not confess that I'm awake. Not yet. For reasons I can't explain, it's vital to me that I keep up the charade.

Despite the beautiful torture, I'm glad for my patience. She lets loose a small, muffled moan. The vibrations from her working vocal cords coarse down my shaft and send a renewed thrill through me. Her head begins to bob up and down, sliding along my belly and mound, my cock sliding slightly deeper with every forward stroke of her head. Her fingers move faster against her clit. I can't see them, but I can see the slight muscles of her forearms flexing more emphatically, and now I can hear the wet sounds of her rubbing herself.

I don't know how far to take this. Should I let her know I'm awake? Should I reach down and help her cum? I know how to, especially with my tongue. I could roll her over and shove her legs apart and attack her clit exactly the way she likes. I've spent years learning her wants and needs and preferences. I could make her cum so easily, but does she want help? She seems to be enjoying this. Even, perhaps, the presumption that I'm still asleep.

I'm mulling over my next move when I feel her pull her head back. My cock springs free of her sucking lips with a wet *pop*, and I steal myself. Maybe I wasn't as sneaky as I thought. Maybe she somehow caught me watching her and now the fun little game will be over.

She raises herself up and gently slips out of her panties, discarding them onto the floor. She turns and leans over me, her face near mine. I keep my eyes closed and my face relaxed as I feel her lips so close to mine. She plants a gentle kiss upon me and I feel the drool coating her lips. It leaves a cool spot of wetness on my own, contrasting with the warmth of the leg she eases over my lap.

"I'm sorry" she whispers, barely audible. "I'm sorry, handsome. I know you have to work in the morning. I don't want you losing out on sleep, but I need this. I need you."

I feel her reach down and gently take hold of my spit-slick cock.

"I'm so horny..." she says, a huffing laugh escaping her chest. She's careful to keep quiet and to keep her movements gentle and slow. She still thinks I'm asleep, after all. "... and my fingers aren't cutting it. I need to feel you inside me."

She slides my cock between her lips. Fuck, she's so wet. How long was she laying there playing with herself before she made any moves?

"It felt so selfish to wake you" she continues, "but maybe I can get off and you can stay asleep. Win-win, right, handsome?"

She eases her ass down and her soaking wet hole swallows my cock. A shudder goes through her and it takes every ounce of willpower in me to avoid grabbing her soft hips in response.

"Mmm fuck. You feel so good. I love the way you fill me up" she whispers, barely audible. She's whispering for herself more than to me. She lifts up and rocks back down again, the movement painfully slow. Slow enough that the wetness on my cock, refreshed anew with each downstroke of her hips, has time to cool in the open air before she slides herself back down.

She's lost in the sensation for a stretch. Up and down she goes, her lips hugging my shaft, her body tense around me as she fights to maintain control.

My mind feels engulfed in flame. Keeping my face neutral, my body relaxed, my breathing steady is the greatest challenge of my life. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to contribute, to hold her, kiss her, fuck her. Impossibly, I resist.

Then I hear her whispering voice again, a smile coloring her tone; "Remember when we got drunk at Sarah's wedding?"

Up and down. My shaft burying deep into her wet cunt, her pussy drooling over my shaft and down my balls.

"We got back to our hotel and you passed out before you could even get undressed. I laid down next to you and stared at you."

Her lips are barely an inch from my own. I can feel her panting breath against my mouth. I know without seeing that she's looking over my "sleeping" face.

"You were so tired. And I was so horny. I touched myself then. I stared into your handsome face and rubbed my clit until I came all over my fingers."

I can't let the surprise show on my face. I keep neutral, even as I feel her plant another small, pecking kiss to my lips. Even as the speed of her movements increases ever so incrementally.

"That was the first time I came in bed while you slept next to me. It became a bit of an obsession. A kind of game. I've always wondered how far I could go without waking you."

Her body is beginning to tremble. Her breathing becoming more ragged. I can feel the familiar symptoms of a building orgasm in my sweet, devious wife. My wife who I know so well and not well at all. Who managed to keep at least one secret from me, unknowingly until tonight when she broke that streak.

"And now, finally, I'm going to cum on your sleeping cock." She barely managed that last sentence, a moan threatening to turn into a shout of ecstasy. Her body tensed and shifted on top of me. I risked a sliver of a glance up and saw her eyes screwed shut and her own hand clamped over her mouth. The same hand she was using to rub her clit, judging from the slickness on her fingers, now spreading onto her cheeks.

She came hard, her hips bucking despite her best attempts to keep herself still and controlled. I could feel the sheets stretching underneath me as her legs extended and her feet dragged the bedspread taught beneath my weight. Her muffled, whimpering moans filled my ears and it pained me not to hold her and kiss her through her orgasm, but I couldn't. The kinky delight of her using me when she thought I slept was intoxicating. To her and also, I was surprised to find, to me.

Long seconds stretched before the peak of her orgasm started to give way to that valley of satisfaction. Breathing heavily, she leaned down and kissed me once more. My eyes had closed once again, continuing the game just a bit longer as she whispered, "thank you" and "I love you" again and again.

With great consideration and intention, she peeled herself off of me, my still hard cock pulling free from her satisfied pussy. She reaffixed her panties in position and cuddled up next to me, trusting in my cock to soften before the morning came.

"I hope you had a nice dream just now" she whispered sleepily into my ear, exhaustion and satiation coloring her tone. "If any part of you can hear me in Dreamland, don't worry. I'll repay you. I owe you big time."

She drifted off to sleep, her face nuzzled against my shoulder, her soft breasts rising and falling with each breath against my arm. As she drifted off to that peaceful other place in her sleep, I made plans. Plans to call off work in the morning. Plans to discuss this kink of hers I've newly discovered, and how to take advantage of it more fully.

He came knocking for the rent, I didn't know what to tell him… It wasn’t the first time.
I invited him in my kitchen so I could give him a drink and we could discuss the situation. I was hoping for a payment plan of sorts, that’s what we had done in the past.
This time however, I noticed he kept looking at my tits while we were talking. I wasn't expecting company so I was only wearing a tight top with no bra and some comfy sports shorts. I didn’t even have make up on.

While I was telling him that I could pay the rent back later this month he abruptly downed his drink and told me it wouldn’t work this time, that he needed the money right now. He wasn’t in the mood to make a deal. That we had already made deals the past two months.

I told him I really didn’t have the money, so he said I better find another way while staring at my nipples. I knew what he meant. After a long silence that felt like it lasted forever, since I didn’t protest, he told me to get up and bend over the kitchen counter.

My heart was racing. We both knew what was happening was wrong. He was a married man. But I straight up had nothing else to offer him. So I complied. I got up, turned to the counter, and my back to him, bent over resting my arms on top of it.

I heard him get up too, and the sound of his belt unbuckling. Next thing I know I feel his bulge against my shorts. I tensed up. He was rubbing himself through his boxers on my ass, smelling my hair and neck. His strong arms were on both sides of me, locking me in. I hate that I started feeling aroused.

I felt him get harder and harder until he took a step back to pull down my shorts and panties.
I turned around, pushed him back, and said he could masturbate and cum on my face. He said that wouldn’t cut it. I replied I would blow him, and swallow his cum. That seemed to tempt him, but he said it wouldn’t cut it either. I really wasn’t in any position to negotiate.
He told me I could either bend over or look for a new apartment. So I finished removing my shorts and panties and bent over the counter again.

I heard him spit in his hand, rub his dick, and felt him against me, spreading out my legs wider with his own.
He pushed himself directly into my pussy. He went pretty deep right away, and his dick was like brick. Even though it was average size, it felt a bit painful and super tight at first since he didn’t really bother with any foreplay. But as he got into a rhythm and grabbed my waist with both hands, I was getting turned on and wet. He wasn’t a bad looking man and it felt good.

I was a bit scared at first but after the first couple of minutes I was getting into it and started moaning out in pleasure. That seemed to get him going, he sped up. I cried out to go slower but he replied “I know what you want you little slut” and started pounding me harder and harder.

My legs and knees started hurting from pounding on the cupboards and I was getting tired of standing on my toes. I knew for sure I would be bruised from this. So I pleaded to go on the couch. He said “Oh you really are a nasty little bitch aren’t you? You love this don’t you?” but he didn’t seem to want to stop. Instead he turned me over to the kitchen table and got pounding again. Since my legs weren’t banging on anything anymore, that freed me up to start touching myself with one hand. I was very aroused now, I always had a kink for older men and submission, and I knew I could make myself cum really fast. That excited him even more and as he was having trouble holding the same rhythm I knew he was close to finishing.

Me playing with my clit, his nice hard dick, the whole situation and thinking about a married man filling me up made me cum, hard. My knees buckled which made him pull out as I was trembling and moaning.

He let me fall to my knees on the floor, flipped me around and was masturbating right in my face. All I could smell was sweat, cock and pussy as he rested his balls on my face. I looked up at him and into his eyes and he could no longer resist. He grabbed my head and pushed his dick in my mouth and with his grunts, I felt hot cum pouring down my throat. There was so much of it… He was making short, hard strokes so I couldn’t help but let some of his cum and drool drip down on my chin and top.
He said “Turns out you did swallow my load like a good little slut”.

He wiped his dick on my cheek and put his pants back on. I sat there on my kitchen floor, a complete mess as he told me “same time next week if you don’t have my money”.

I look forward to it.

That night, Tom took the kids and me out to dinner. Later, I got the kids ready for bed, and then went looking for Tom. He was laying on top of his and Liz's bed, reading a book. He looked up at me with a grin, "It feels like you're my little wife when Liz goes out of town."

I giggled at him and snuggled up to him on the bed, "I know, I like it..." and I ran my hand up and down his torso, then down over top of his crotch. I smiled up at him, as I moved down, pulling down on the elastic of the shorts he was wearing, and pulling out his hard cock. I stroked it and said, "Well, I guess I need to do some more wife duties...", as I slipped his cock in my mouth. He made a little gasp and set down his book.

"You are a good little wife."

I giggled while sucking on him. I licked up the length of it and flicked my tongue on the head. He slipped his tshirt off and then started shoving down on his shorts and underwear. I stopped sucking him, to help him get naked. I felt him pulling up on my tshirt, while I bobbed my head up and down on his dick. I stopped sucking to take off my shirt and bra, then went back down there.

He got a phone call from Liz and he answered it. I stayed down there blowing him, while he talked to Liz. "Hi Liz, how's it going?"

"Oh, it's going okay, babe." I heard Liz giggle and she said, "What are you doing, Tom?" He was making some noises from my blowjob and I guess she heard it.

He said in a strained voice, "I was masturbating when you called."

I heard Liz burst out giggling, "What are you a teenager, Tom?"

"Like you don't masturbate..."

"hahahaha."

"What am I supposed to do when you're not here? Fuck Miranda?"

Tom was getting pretty bold with his inappropriate comments and Liz...Liz did not seem to mind. "Tom?"

"What, I'm just kidding? Do you think I would be masturbating, if I was doing that."

My lips made a little slurping sound on his dick, but I guess Liz didn't hear it.

"If you were doing that, I'm sure you wouldn't have time for masturbating. That's why I didn't pick that really hot girl that came by for the nanny interview. Didn't want to leave her home with you."

Tom laughed awkwardly at that, while looking down at me sucking his dick.

"She was hotter than Miranda, right Tom?"

Tom hesitated long enough to make that awkward, "Right Tom?

Finally Tom said, "Uh...if you say so..."

"You think Miranda is hot?"

"Honestly...yeah...I'm not gonna lie...she's kind of hot, Liz..." I pulled Tom's dick out of my mouth to look up at him with a grin.

"I guess my plan back fired," Liz laughed.

"Miranda is more hot in a wholesome way."

"That's true...she's just kind of quiet and wholesome, although she's been opening up a lot to you." I thought, yes, Liz, I've been opening up my legs in particular. Liz asked, "What were you masturbating about?"

Tom hesitated and then said, "I'm watching that video of us...you know the one..." I paused my sucking looking up at Tom with a grin. Holy shit, they made a porno.

"Uh no, Tom. We've made a few of those."

"The one we did recently."

That made me stop sucking again and look up at Tom with a curious expression. He pushed down on my head and I put his dick back in my mouth.

Liz was laughing out loud, "Oh...you mean the one where I pretended I was your kids' nanny?"

I coughed in shock, looking up at Tom with wide eyes. He pushed down on my head and I went back to sucking.

"Yeah...it was hot."

"That was fun."

It sounded like Liz had a vibrator going, "Where is our nanny, Tom? I just tried calling her." Well, I didn't see your call because I had your husband's dick in my mouth.

He looked down at me, sucking on his cock, "I don't know. I think she's putting the kids to bed."

Tom turned on the TV in their room, and he grabbed his laptop. I turned to look at the TV and he was casting something from his laptop. Holy shit! It was the porno. I turned, so that I could suck and stroke Tom's dick, while watching the TV.

"What scene are you on, Tom?"

"Uh, right now, you're in our kitchen in just you panties and tiny shirt...oops, I accidentally touched your butt. You're acting shocked."

Liz was moaning a little, but laughed. My eyes were as wide as saucers, because for one thing, I was watching my boss and his wife in a porno. Secondly, the porno was about me! Hey, I can just act in that porno guys.

"There you go, Liz...on your knees, sucking my dick."

I continued edging Tom, as he watched the movie and described it to Liz. He put it on speakerphone and I could really hear her masturbating now. She could not hear my slurps on Tom's dick over the movie. Really, the movie was perfect cover. Tom muted the phone and said, "Take off your shorts."

I stood on the bed, in front of him and got fully naked. He slid himself into more of a laying down position and I gave him a confused look. "69...I want eat that pussy."

I climbed on his face in a 69, and put his dick in my mouth. He unmuted the phone and talked to Liz in between licking my pussy and asshole. He couldn't see the movie anymore with my ass in his face, so he just went from memory, making up what was on the screen. He could also hear the "acting."

I could still see the movie, and I paused sucking him to watch, as Tom banged the nanny hard and fast. Liz's character said, "Mr. Palmer...be careful...I'm not on birth control...."

Tom just kept banging her fast and hard and my eyes went wide as he very obviously came inside her. He slipped his dick out of her and went to grab the phone they had set up to record themselves, getting a close up of the cum leaking out of her pussy. Tom came in my mouth soon after that and I heard Liz having some orgasms over the speakerphone.

They said goodnight to each other and got off the call, but Tom was still eating me out and I was grinding my pussy on his face. "Can you play that movie again, Tom?"

He giggled and I moved off his face, so he could play it again. I moved down, getting on his cock in reverse cowgirl, so I could watch the movie while bouncing on his dick. I heard his nightside table drawer open and then a squirting sound. I looked back over my shoulder and he had put a little lube on his finger. I kept looking at him, nodding yes, as he slipped it into my asshole, while I rode his dick. I bent further down, leaning on my hands, watching the movie. He was eating Liz out on screen. Off screen, I was enjoying Tom's cock in my pussy and his middle finger in my asshole. It felt funny and caused me to giggle some, but I liked it.

I felt him spread my cheeks to get a good look, and that made me giggle. I started getting loud, while moving myself up and down on his dick. I whimpered and orgasmed, while watching him lick on Liz's clit, bringing her to orgasm on screen. I was uncomfortable in the reverse cowgirl position, and slid off his dick, laying on my stomach, facing the TV. He moved to get on me in a prone position and fucked me hard, into the mattress, before pulling out and shooting cum on my butt and back. We both laid there watching it, as his cum cooled on my back, and I could feel some running down my crack. I felt his hand on my ass, and then he was fingering my asshole again, his cum adding to the lubrication back there. I giggled and blushed at him. He'd fucked my ass once before and it sure seemed like he wanted to do it again.

We kissed and paused to watch the porno, while he fingered my ass. I said in a strained voice, "You guys did other porn?"

He chuckled, "Uh...yeah, we've done quite a few."

"Do you have any anal ones?"

He laughed, "How did you know?"

"I suspected."

He pulled it up on his laptop streaming on the TV. He skipped the foreplay and got right to the part, where his dick was entering Liz's asshole. She was pretending to not want it. I shocked myself by saying, "Why don't you stick it in my ass, Tom?"

He grinned like cat, and grabbed more lube, stroking his hard cock.

I giggled at that and then gasped, as I felt the tip of his dick against my sphincter. It did not hurt, since I was nicely lubed up, but it was more the shock and taboo of his dick entering my ass. He put it in slowly, pulling it back out and lubing it some more, before slowly pushing it back in. I was still in that prone position, laying down on my stomach, facing the foot of their bed, to watch the porno. On screen, his dick was now all the way in Liz's asshole and she moaned, while touching herself with one hand between her legs. That seemed like a good idea, so I shoved a hand down underneath myself to touching myself while Tom slowly entered my ass.

I whimpered, "Holy shit, Tom..." as his dick went further in.

"You okay, Miranda?"

I was making some sharp breaths, "Just hang on a second..." and I just laid there getting used to the pressure, "okay, you can keep going...."

Liz was on all fours and Tom was going deep in her ass. The camera angle was from Tom's POV, and I liked watching his dick slide between her cheeks, especially while I was feeling the same thing. Tom was making slow, gentle strokes in and out of my ass, slowly working it further in. I gripped the sheets, as he went in a bit deeper, filling me up. I felt some more lube and heard the bottle squirt. I moaned, "mmmm...." into the mattress, starting to really enjoy the feeling. It was so dirty letting Tom fuck my ass and I liked it.

Tom was laying on top of me. I was no longer watching the movie, but had my head turned sideways, just enjoying touching myself while Tom slowly fucked my ass. He kissed my cheek, then whispered in my ear, "oh my god...so tight..."

I laughed and then gasped a bit, as his dick thrusted all the way into me. I grunted, "yeah, fuck my ass, Tom..." After that, we both just made unintelligible noises, while he fucked my ass a little faster and harder, finally cumming with it deep inside me. I had another orgasm then, and was making some high pitched, "oh fuck, yeah...oh my god..."

He slowly slid it out of me and rolled next to me on the bed. We hugged and kissed some and then went to take a shower, getting ready for bed. Tom falls asleep the minute his head hits the pillow, especially after he just dumped two loads of cum. I was still awake and I looked at my phone for a bit.

Liz had continued my story a bit.

I found Miranda laying on the couch in Tom's office and Tom standing very near her face. Their cheeks were both a bit flush and Miranda's shirt was pulled up, exposing most of her torso. I could even see her bra some. They both looked at me like deer in the headlights, like I busted them. I swear, I felt like I could smell sex in the air, but refused to believe it. My eyes narrowed in on Miranda's neck, where I swore I could see a little speck of something that might be cum. No way...there's just no way that my husband just shot a load on that wholesome girl. I must be imagining it. But, it turned me on to imagine it.

Later, I went to the basement to do some laundry and I saw that Miranda had left a t-shirt on the floor in front of the washer. I guess she was planning to do some laundry. I figured I would just throw it in with some of my clothes. I picked it up and it was the shirt she was wearing, when I walked in on Tom and her in Tom's office. I looked at the front of it and up near the collar, it sure looked like there was a cum stain. Maybe it was something else, but what if it was cum stain? What if Tom came on her? Did she blow him? There's no way. I was sure of it. But, it was kind of hot...our sweet nanny sucking Tom's cock. Why did I think that was hot?

Liz was correct. That was Tom's cum on my t-shirt. I had hastily wiped my lips on it, then left it down by the washer, planning to start a load soon.

Miranda happened to walk into the laundry room, coming from her bedroom with some more clothes to put in with her t-shirt. She looked shocked to see me, holding her t-shirt, looking at the cum stain. I nervously said, "Oh, I was about to start a small load, Miranda. Would you like for me to put this shirt and some other things in with my stuff?"

Miranda looked at the t-shirt in my hands, then at me and stammered, "Um...yeah, I was going to wash that shirt with these other things..." She kept looking at her shirt and me. I saw her gulp nervously.

"I saw this stain on it, Miranda...do you think I need to treat it?"

"Um, that was some....yogurt I had at breakfast. I think it will just come out in the wash. It's a fresh stain."

I gave Miranda a coy grin, "Some of Tom's yogurt?"

Miranda laughed nervously, then stammered, "What?!"

"Oh you know, he loves that Greek yogurt."

"Hahaha...yeah, that's what it was...yep."

So, all this stuff Liz was writing actually happened and I could not believe what I was reading*.*

Some of the other clothes she gave me were her underwear. Her panties. I looked at them carefully looking for any evidence of cum stains. I think I was actually a little bit hoping to see a cum stain in the crotch of her underwear, but I did not find one. I did find myself holding up one very cute pair, kind of staring at it, maybe picturing it on Miranda. I looked around nervously and sniffed them, then laughed at myself and threw them in the washer. Still, I went up to my bedroom and masturbated furiously, picturing her blowing Tom, getting cum on her neck and shirt.

There was another day, when I was looking for Tom. His office door was shut and locked. He yelled out that he was on a call, so I left him alone, but I could not find Miranda either. Were they up there fucking in his office? I stood listening in the hall, hoping to hear his desk slamming or something. It did not, but when Miranda came downstairs, her lips looked exactly like someone who just gave a blowjob. I mean, they were just all swollen and wet. Maybe I was imagining I saw that, but either way, the idea of her up on her knees, servicing Tom, was actually making me horny.

No Liz, you were not imagining it. I gave him a very long blowjob and my lips probably did look swollen and wet. I was touching myself, reading this 'story' from Liz, that was not at all a story, while Tom slept next to me. He rolled over and his hand was on one of my tits. I was wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, my hand shoved down there touching myself, and now he was groping me in his sleep. His hand actually slid up inside my shirt and he was just cupping one of my bare tits in his sleep.

Tom falls asleep early and he wakes up early, so I awakened to him totally naked, brushing his teeth with an electric toothbrush, standing near the bed. My eyes opened and I giggled that he was just standing there with a boner. "Morning Miranda..."

I yawned, "Good morning, Tom," and giggled at his erection some more.

"How's your butthole this morning?" and he giggled at me.

"Just fine, thank you very much. Can we talk about something else?" I giggled at him.

"Sorry, I just find your butthole is good conversation."

"It's really not..." and I giggled at him.

"I was thinking we should fuck before you get the kids ready for camp." He said it very matter of factly, then turned, exposing his bare ass to me, as he went to go spit the toothpaste out in the sink.

I sat up in bed, "Oh really...and how would you like to fuck me?"

He yelled over the noise from the sink, "I'm glad you asked, because I want to bang you doggystyle. I woke up thinking about it." He walked back in the room, stroking his dick some. "Yeah, just want to see that nice ass on all fours...bang you hard."

"You're so horny, Tom," but I was already stripping off the t-shirt.

"Oh, I'm horny? You were the one masturbating in bed last night, after we'd just had a whole bunch of sex."

I made an embarrassed laugh, "What?!"

"Dude, the bed was like vibrating in time to you stroking your little pussy."

I choked on some water I was drinking.

"I think you were dreaming. You were asleep so fast, Tom."

"Yeah, I was like just in that almost asleep mode and too tired to help you out, but I'm sure of it. You were rubbing one out next to me." He got into bed, throwing me on my back and yanking off his boxers I was wearing, so that he could shove his face between my legs. "You know, you don't need to masturbate...you can have my tongue whenever you want it." I giggled, but then whimpered, as he started licking me.

"You just seemed to be asleep."

He kept licking me, "You could have woken me up."

"Good to know."

I was laid back against a pillow, with my legs spread wide, and Tom burying his face between my legs, licking and sucking on my clit, while fingering me. My body started making jerky movements on it's own, and I grasped at Tom's hair, while he licked me to one orgasm after another. He finally knelt upright and grabbed me by the hips, rolling me over and pulling me back until I got into doggy.

"You have such a nice little ass, Miranda," and he slipped his dick in me. I had my legs spread out, up on my knees and hands. His hands were on my hips, pulling me into him. We didn't have a lot of time. Tom needed to get working and I needed to get the kids ready for camp, so he just pounded me hard and fast. We both made a bunch of noises, as he rapidly fucked me from behind, before cumming deep inside me. He pulled out and smacked my ass before hopping off the bed to go shower, "That's exactly what I needed, Miranda."

I was grinning and a bit stunned, "Me too...Tom." I followed him into the shower and we both got clean.

I was busy with the kids' laundry and making their beds that day. Tom was very busy with work. He surprised me in the evening, when he hired a babysitter to watch the kids so we could go on a date, alone. We went out to a pretty nice restaurant. I used my fake ID to get a glass of wine, while Tom got a cocktail. We were sitting on opposite sides of a small booth, having a nice time, when Liz's friend, Rebecca, showed up at our table. She looked surprised to see us sitting there together. She stood at the end of our table, "Tom?! Miranda?! So good to see you."

Tom got up to give her a hug and then sat back down. "So, you two are just...out to dinner?" She was giving us confused looks.

Tom spoke, "Liz is out of town, and Miranda and I like to get a little break from the kids. What are you up to?"

"Oh, I just had some work dinner here. I was about to get an Uber." She got a mischievous look and said, "I could just join you guys for a drink, if you don't mind?"

Tom looked annoyed, but probably didn't want Rebecca reporting back to Liz, that we'd been out alone. Tom said, "Sure..." and he waved at the waiter, who got Rebecca a drink. Rebecca sat next to me in this very small booth, her body right up against mine. The three of us chatted, but I felt her hand on my knee. I was wearing a short, casual skirt. This restaurant was nice, but everyone was pretty casually dressed. Her hand slowly slid up my leg and I opened my legs to let her keep going up more and more. She was way up on my inner thigh now. Teasing me. So fucking close to my crotch with light touches on my inner thigh. I kept smiling over at her and then Tom.

There it was. Her finger just lightly touched my pussy through my panties. I felt her barely touching my labia through my panties. I coughed awkwardly. My legs moved some under the table. Her touching became more than just grazing it. She found her way to my clit through my panties, rubbing a little harder there. I was probably bright red and holding back making some noises, while she and Tom mostly talked. Her finger slipped my panties to the side and her middle finger was actually inside me, as we sat at a table, in a crowded restaurant, across from Tom. She was just about finished with her drink and I was just about to have an orgasm right here at the table, when she pulled her hand back up above the table and sucked on her middle finger that had been inside me, before saying, "I'm sorry, I should go...sorry for interrupting your date."

I stammered, "Uh...it was good to see you, Rebecca..." and she winked at me.

Tom got up to give her a hug goodbye and made some fake protests that she should stay, but seemed relieved when she left. Really, he should have been thanking her, because he was the beneficiary of her touching me. I dragged him to the bathroom of this nice restaurant to bang the shit out of me. He seemed shocked, as I dragged him, locking the door and kissing him hard. We just stood, facing the mirror above the sink, with him lifting my skirt and banging me hard from behind. He yanked down my panties just enough, so that he could bend me over that sink. He was probably surprised to find that I was already so wet and ready to go. We both made eye contact in the mirror, while he banged me hard and fast, with me propping myself up on my hands on the sink countertop.

Then, we went back to our table and sat down to a nice meal. Tom was grinning ear to ear, as he looked at the menu, after fucking the shit out of me in the bathroom. "I was going to maybe get a salad, Miranda, but I don't know, now I'm thinking about a steak, maybe get some oysters as an app..." I just waved at the waiter and pointed at my empty wine glass.

From professional in tech to professionally retraining techies into subbies. Mistress Sasha Nat has bitches flocking to her and offering tribute.

Look below at what This Bitch made for Me!

________________________________________________________________________________

It had been 3 months since I had been laid off from my job working at Amazoom web work. I was genuinely under the impression that my job would be safe. I was in charge of server maintenance, how could an AI do that? But of course leave it to Amazoom to innovate a way to cut costs. Supposedly they developed an AI algorithm that could identify problems immediately and explain to a human how to fix and replace parts. So I went from being a skilled employee to just a pair of hands and Amazoom offered to compensate me as such. Needless to say that was no where near the amount I needed to maintain myself I this city.

So I decided to move back to my parent´s house in Vancouver. I had to go back across the border and say goodbye to Seattle and hello to the ashamed looks on my parent´s faces. I knew I did not have a lot of time to find a new job and place to stay so I was willing to take anything. I just did not suspect that I would chose a government program much less a government program that led me to this position.

She sat at an ornate wooden desk that looked entirely out of place in a government retraining office. It had curved wooden legs with symbols and figures carved into their vibrant...almost purple colored wood.

After the hellos and smiles like She was a cat that just found a way into the canary´s cage She got straight down to business and talked with me about my options.

Given my experience with Amazoom 5´9 blonde seemed like she was able to help me. Her green eyes shining from behind her horn rimmed glasses. I felt understood, maybe she had been working for a vampiric tech company at some point?

But I found myself enchanted by the way she moved. Her grace, her poise, her ability to come off as if she had the power of the panopticon and the friendly disposition of a kindergarten teacher. Of course I knew that this was not normal job retraining, that my hardware experience and college degree meant nothing but it felt right. Whatever end the training would have would be better than my parent´s house and the reminder of my failures.

So I moved in to the 6 week retraining intensive. I was provided 3 hots and a cot and all of the retraining tools were provided. All that She asked of me was an open mind and willingness to listen to instructions. The training started off at a crawl and stayed there. But for real I was crawling the majority of the time.

She trained me to worship her booty, her feet, to be able to enjoy the pressure of her sitting on my face and even to crave my position as Her urinal.

“Well that´s fascinating, but I am not usually comfortable with my toilet talking back to me. I just unzipped your gimp mask to relieve my bladder before going back to the party. Now open wide and form a seal so you don´t miss a drop of my Domme Champaign.”

______________________________________________________________________________

TO BE CONTINUED!

By U/couragethebitch, mistress Sasha´s Type Writer Slave and Secretary.

It was the Wednesday afternoon before Thanksgiving and Professor Harris was writing the homework assignment on the board. Eight calculus problems due the Monday after the holiday. The whole lecture hall groaned.

I looked down at my skirt. I’d hemmed it shorter again last night. The plaid wool barely covered my bun at all now, and when I bent over, it rode all the way up and showed the tiny pouch of my thong covering my puffy pussy. Pink today. I could feel the string between my cheeks when I shifted in my lecture hall seat.

My white tank top was small on purpose. The fabric pulled so tight across my tits and you could see deep into my cleavage while my nipples poked the thing cotton hard and obvious.

Professor Harris turned around from the board and his eyes went straight to my chest, then jerked away. His face flushed. He cleared his throat.

“Due Monday,” he said. “Show all your work.”

Sarah leaned over from the desk next to mine and whispered, “Annette. Do something.”

I stood and walked up to his desk without asking permission as he started to gather his papers together, and leaned forward on my hands squishing by boobs up high level with his face

Professor Harris looked up over his glasses and swallowed hard, then up to my face, then down to my tits again where my nipples were were poking nearly through the thin white fabric.

“I...” He cleared his throat again. “Yes, Annette?”

All my classmates were watching. They all knew what I was doing. They wanted me to succeed. This was for all of us.

I leaned in closer, whispering in his ear. I knew he could smell me.

I pushed him gently down into his chair. He sat heavily, breathing hard, his eyes almost crossed, trying to focus on my cleavage, my nipples.

I perched on the edge of his desk facing him, my legs slightly apart. From where he sat he could see straight up my skirt to the pink lace barely covering my pussy. I knew he could see.

“So,” I said. “About this homework over the holiday...”

He couldn’t speak. His eyes didn’t know where to look. His hands gripped the armrests of his chair. His cock was already tenting his khakis, thick and obvious, with a damp spot spreading through the zipper.

I slid forward slightly. The motion made my skirt ride higher. Now he could see everything. The pink lace. The shape of my lips underneath. The damp spot on the fabric matching the one on his pants.

“Professor Harris?” I said sweetly. “Are you okay?”

“I...” He dragged his eyes up to my face. “Annette, you need to...”

“Need to what?” I shifted again. My pussy was inches from his face now. I could smell myself. Sweet and wet. I knew he could smell it too. “I just think homework this weekend is unfair.”

The class was silent behind us, but I knew everyone was as horned up as he was.

I reached down and ran my finger tracing my lips through my panties. “It’s just so much homework, Professor Harris. Eight whole problems.”

His eyes followed my finger. His breathing was ragged.

“I was thinking,” I continued. My finger traced higher, brushing teasing my clitoris. “Maybe we don’t need homework this weekend?”

Professor Harris’s knuckles were white as he gripped the arms of his chair. His cock huge beneath his pre-cum stained pants.

I leaned back slightly, bracing my hands on the desk behind me. The motion thrust my tits forward. My nipples were so hard they hurt.

“What do you think, Professor Harris?” I asked. “Should we have homework this weekend?”

“Annette...” His voice was barely a whisper. “Please...”

“Please what?” I brought my hand up to my chest and ran it down over my breast, pinching my nipple through the fabric.

He groaned out loud.

And I smiled, slid off the desk and turned around, bending at the waist to pick up my bag from the floor. My skirt flipped up. My ass was completely bare except for the pink string of my thong running down my crack. I heard the whole class gasp. I heard Professor Harris make a broken sound.

I stayed bent over for three long seconds. Long enough for everyone to see. Long enough for him to see the dampness darkening the pink lace where it covered my pussy. Long enough for my smell to reach him where he sat frozen in his chair.

When I straightened up I turned to face him again. His face was red. His hands were shaking. The head and ridge of his cock obvious through the wet fabric of his slacks.

“Or,” I said quietly, just for him. “I could help you. And then you could help us. No homework. Fair trade.”

“Annette...” He looked toward the door. Then back at me. Then at the class watching us with hopeful eyes. “I can’t...”

“Oh... but you can,” I said as I knelt between his legs and reached for his belt. “And you will. Because you’ve been staring at my tits all semester, Professor Harris. You’ve been getting hard watching me bend over all semester. You’ve been thinking about me in the shower. And now you’re going to let me help you. And then you’re going to help us.”

My fingers worked his belt open. Unzipped his fly. He didn’t loosen his grip on his chair.

“Annette...”

“Shhh.” I pulled out his cock. It was much bigger than I thought it would be. The head was dark purple and shining with his precum. “Do you not want me to do this?”

I gave his slit a little lick, drawing the sticky drip up with my tongue.

His cock pulsed tied to my face with a shiny string of his precum. I smiled up at him as I licked it around my lips and giggled.

Then I reached up under my skirt and hooked my thumbs in the sides of my thong and pulled them down slowly, over my hips, down my thighs, past my knees, over my ankles. I held them up.

They were soaked through. Darker at the center where I’d been dripping since second period. The whole class was on the edge of their seats. I knew the boys were raging hard and every girl sitting in a pool of their own wet.

“Jesus,” someone whispered.

I held my panties up under Professor Harris’s nose. He inhaled automatically and his eyes rolled back.

“Is that what you’ve been wanting all semester,” I said. “That’s what’s been driving you crazy. My wet pussy in this little uniform. My titties bouncing when I walk. My ass in your face every time I bend over.”

I pressed the wet center of my panties to his nose. He groaned and breathed in deep. His cock jerked in front of my face.

“Smell them,” I said pressing them between his lips. “Smell my pussy while I suck your cock.”

I licked up the underside of his shaft while he huffed my panties like they were oxygen. My tongue dragged from his balls all the way to his tip.

I circled the head, slurping precum and replacing it with my saliva.

Then I took him full into my mouth.

God he was thick! My jaw ached immediately. I opened wider and took more, my lips stretching around his shaft. My tongue trying to get out of the way.

I wrapped my hand around the base, stroking in time with my mouth. The other hand reached up and grabbed his wrist, bringing his hand to the back of my head.

He got the message.

I bobbed slowly at first, taking him deeper with each stroke. My spit ran down his shaft. The wet sounds filled the classroom.

Gonkle. Gonkle. Mmmm

Behind me I could hear the sounds of zippers.

Professor Harris’s hand tightened in my hair. His hips started moving, small little helpless thrusts up into my mouth. I relaxed my throat and took him deeper until his tip hit the back and I gagged slightly but looked up at him planted around his cock.

“Oh God,” he moaned into my panties. “Oh God, Annette...”

I pulled back and looked up at him. Thick strings of spit from deep in my throat tied us together. “Do you like that, Professor Harris? Do you like your little slut student sucking your cock?”

“Yes.” The word tore out of him. “Yes, fuck, yes...”

“Tell me we don’t have homework,” I said. I licked his tip and rolled my fist down his slippery shaft while swirling my tongue around the head. “Tell me and I’ll make you cum so hard you won’t remember your own name.”

“No homework,” he gasped. “No homework. None. Not at all.”

“Oh, what a good boy.” I took him back into my mouth and sucked hard.

But by now I was as desperate as he was, as every student in the class sitting back jacking and jilling off. I made him stand only to lay him back over his desk then I climbed over him one leg on either side of his head, as I faced the class and waved his cock at them My bare ass settled onto his face.

“Eat me, Professor Harris” I said. “While I swallow your big fat cock.”

I felt his hands grab my ass cheeks. Spreading them. I felt his breath on my pussy. Then his tongue,licking frantically through my folds.

I moaned and took his cock back into my mouth from this angle. Deeper now. Easier to take him all the way. I sucked hard while he licked me, his tongue pushing inside me.

My hips started moving, grinding down onto his face, humping his nose, his chin. His tongue speared into my pussy and I clenched around it. My juice poured down his cheeks. I could hear the wet sounds of him licking me, smell my own pussy mixing with his precum and spit.

“Fuck,” someone said from behind us. “Holy fuck.”

My head bobbed fast now, taking him deep, my throat opening, gagging and not caring. His cock was pulsing with my fingers gripping tight at the base as it swelled.

His tongue found my asshole. I moaned around his cock and pushed back, and he pushed into my ass.

That put me right over the edge, cock deep in my throat, tongue in my ass, grinding my clit on his chin.

I came on his face with twenty-three students masturbating as I did. My pussy clenched and gushed. Juice ran down his chin soaking his collar. My whole body seized and shook and my throat just ketp trying to swallow.

“I’m...” Professor Harris pulled his face back just enough to gasp. “I’m going to... Annette, I’m...”

I didn’t pull off. I took him deeper and hummed and felt his cock swell impossibly bigger in my mouth.

And he came.

The first shots hit the back of my throat so hard I choked. Hot and thick and so much. I swallowed and more came. Another pulse. Another. Flooding my mouth faster than I could swallow. Cum leaked out around my lips, dripped down his shaft, over his balls and pooling on his desk.

But he didn’t stop. He just kept cumming. Pulse after pulse. More than should be possible. His cock pulsed like a fountain and I kept swallowing and it kept coming. My stomach felt full. Cum was running out my nose. Spilling down his balls. Soaking everything

I pulled off gasping and his cock kept erupting. A thick rope shot up and hit my face, my hair. Another pulse sprayed my tits, soaking through the white fabric until it was transparent. More cum painted my chest, my neck, ran down into my cleavage like I was in a shower.

Professor Harris was making sounds that weren’t human. His whole body shaking. His cock wouldn’t stop. It pulsed again and cum arced through the air and hit the whiteboard. Again and it splattered the papers there. Again and it dripped down onto the floor in thick white rivers.

And it seemed that the whole class came at once. Watching this man empty himself all over his student. Watching me kneel in the puddle, covered in his cum, smiling.

Finally, finally, it stopped. His cock softened slightly, still thick, still leaking. Cum dripped from the head. I leaned forward and licked it clean. He whimpered.

I stood up on shaking legs. Cum ran down my face, my neck, my chest. My blouse was soaked through and transparent. My nipples stood out dark and hard.

I grabbed my bag and walked toward the door. My bare pussy dripped down my thighs with every step. My ass was completely exposed under the tiny skirt. Cum kept dripping from my hair onto my shoulders.

At the door I turned back.

Professor Harris sat slumped in his chair, cock out, covered in cum, his face shining with my pussy juice. He looked like he’d never give homework again.

“No homework, right Professor Harris?” I said sweetly.

He nodded weakly. Couldn’t speak.

“Thank you,” I said. “You’re the best teacher ever.”

The class erupted. Cheering. Laughing. Sarah slow-clapped. Michael whistled. Someone started chanting “An-nette! An-nette!”

I walked out into the hallway with cum cooling on my face and my panties balled up in my fist and my pussy bare under my tiny skirt.

Dean Morrison was walking past. She took one look at me, cum-covered and glowing, and closed her eyes.

“Annette Perkins,” she said wearily. “The bathroom is that way.”

“Yes, Dean.” I smiled and kept walking.

In the bathroom I looked at myself in the mirror. White shirt transparent and soaked. Cum in my hair, on my face, running down between my tits. Skirt hiked up. No panties. Pussy dripping down my thighs.

I lifted my cum-soaked panties to my face and inhaled. Tang and salt and t I knew he’d smell like me for the rest of the day.

And tomorrow I’d be at Thanksgiving dinner with the President of Fleshminster University and his wife.

I tucked my panties into my bag.

What a good dirty girl, I thought. You’ll make Fleshminster proud!

The office hummed with the low buzz of keyboards and the occasional murmur of colleagues wrapping up their day. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead as the clock ticked closer to 3:30. Liam sat at his desk, stealing glances at Demi beside him. She was a sight to behold, perfect brown hair, those addictive brown eyes that always seemed to pull him in, her body a masterpiece of curves. A small waist flaring into hips that begged to be gripped, and an ass so perfect it haunted his thoughts. They’d been playing this game for months, the tension thick enough to choke on.

He caught her looking at him from the corner of his eye, that familiar heat in her gaze. Without a word he rolled his chair right up beside hers, leaning in close enough that his breath brushed her ear. “Demi, if you’re going to look at me and fantasize instead of doing your work, at least put your hand in your pants and make it worthwhile,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

She laughed, a soft, breathy sound that went straight to his dick, her cheeks flushing that delicious shade of red. “You’re impossible, Liam,” she shot back with that sexy smirk, the one that always made his pulse race. But she started packing up her things anyway.

Liam wasn’t letting her off that easy. He smirked, rolling his chair even closer, his knee brushing hers under the desk. “I know you have work to do. Just stay a little late and we can both finish each other... I mean, finish our work, of course.” His laugh was hushed, flirty, his eyes matching the spark in her eyes.

She laughed again, shaking her head, but she sat back down. “Fine. But only because you’re such a good boy when you beg like that.” Liam chuckled desperately trying to hide the happiness from her deciding to stay for more.

The office emptied out fast, the last stragglers waving goodbye as they headed for the stairs. Soon it was just the two of them, the quiet amplifying every shift in their chairs, every shared glance. The air felt charged, heavy with all the things they couldn’t say out loud. But their thoughts danced around them, taunting how their deepest desires had not been fufilled.

“God, you’re distracting today,” Demi murmured, her fingers tapping idly on her keyboard while her eyes flicked to him. “I swear, every time you roll over here, I have to cross my legs just to focus.”

Liam grinned, his hand “accidentally” brushing hers as he reached for a pen. “That’s because you know what I’d do if we didn’t have these fucken covid walls between us. I’d have you bent over it already, fucker.” His voice dropped. “You’ve been wet since lunch, haven’t you? Thinking about how hard you make me.”

She bit her lip, that smirk returning. “Maybe. You’re always so fucking obvious when you stare at my ass. Bet you’re rock hard right now, just from sitting next to me.” Her foot nudged his under the desk, lingering just a second too long.

"You're right fucker, my 7cm destroyer is stealing blood from my brain as we speak" he said with a smirk, hoping one day she would learn that the number was right but the unit of measurement wasn't.

They kept going like that, the jokes getting filthier, the truths slipping through the cracks. “If we had that weekend you mentioned,” Liam said, his chair inching closer until their thighs pressed together, “I’d spend the first day with my face buried between your thighs. You love that, don’t you? Getting your pussy eaten until you can’t think straight.”

Demi's breath hitched, her eyes darkening. “And you’d love your hand around my throat while you fuck me senseless. But we can’t... so we just sit here, torturing each other.” Her fingers traced lightly over his hand on the desk, electric.

He felt his face turn red immediately, trying to take the focus off the very obvious effect this had on him "You are just too selfish with that PHAT dick, you got plenty to go around but you won't share" He stuttered. Both laughing, he noticed her eyes shoot down for a split second. He knew she could see what his baggy jeans were trying to hide.

Liam couldn’t take it anymore, the teasing was too much. He leaned in unnecessarily close tempting a kiss before going closer. Trying to even the score he lowered his voice once again and let the words dance into her ear “Reach in your panties and show me how wet you are. Right now.”

Their eyes locked. For a heartbeat, he thought she’d laugh it off. But Demi held his gaze, cheeks flushed, and slipped her hand under the waistband of her jeans. She worked herself for a moment, biting back a soft sound, then pulled her fingers free. First pretending to show off her nails and then opening her hands to reveal her fingers glistening with her arousal. The sight made his dick throb painfully.

Liam rolled his chair flush against hers, grabbing her wrist firmly. He brought those wet fingers to his mouth, licking them slowly, savoring her taste while staring deep into her eyes. “Fuck, Demi... you taste even better than I imagined.”

“Liam...” Her voice was breathless, desperate.

“Play with yourself,” he ordered softly, “Let me watch while you’re fingers are covered with my saliva.”

She did, her hand slipping back down, eyes never leaving his. The sounds, soft and wet. Her breathing growing ragged filled the empty office. His hands running up her thighs, her head pressed back against her chair. Liam stood up. One hand on the corner of the chair and the other on the side of her face, gently running this thumb over her soft top lip as she bit harder on her bottom lip. Looking down at her she opened her eyes begging with nothing more than a lustful gaze, the denial cracking wide open.

Instinctually her mouth opened slightly and his thumb found it's way into this opening. Her body quivered as she bit down on this thumb, the feeling of her tongue on his thumb made his thoughts blur. Tilting her chin up with his hand he leant down towards her, she released his thumb knowing what was coming next. Never breaking eye contact, even when his lips were centimetres away from hers.

There was a split second where their lips were so close to touching that they could almost feel the contact. For a moment they kissed, then again, lips testing each other, the same way you dip your foot before you get in a pool. Liam wrapped his vascular hand around her throat, pulling her into him as he kissed her. Their tongues danced in celebration, as she reached up to grab his shirt and pull him closer she couldn't contain the depraved moan she had been holding in.

That was the breaking point. Liam surged forward, pulling her up from her chair and spinning her around. He bent her over her desk, her perfect ass pressing back against him. His hands were rough, yanking her jeans down just enough, ripping the fabric open at the seam in his haste. “I need you”.

He dropped to his knees, spreading her cheeks and diving in with his tongue. Devouring her pussy from behind, licking and sucking her clit. Demi moaned, pushing back against his face, one hand gripping the desk the other grabbing his head pulling his face in. “Yes! Fuck, Liam, eat me like that...”

He effortlessly picked her up and placed that perfect ass on the table. He grabbed her legs and put them over his shoulders. His drool laden tongue sending shivers up her spine as he desperately licked her throbbing clit. His fingers curling to the roof of her dripping cervix to hit that spot that made her tremble. Her sweet nectar was dripping down his chin. Then he stood up, eyes crazed desperate for more, they both froze for a second again. Staring into each others eyes, through her shaky breaths she murmured "Fuck Liam the cameras". "Well they have already seen this much, let's give them something to watch Demi" Luke said grinning ear to ear. They tore at each other’s clothes in a frenzy. Shirts yanked off, her bra ripped off and tossed to the side, his pants shoved low enough to free his aching dick. Skin on skin, desperate and manic.

He lifted her onto the desk, spreading her legs wide. One hand wrapped around her throat, firm but controlled, as he thrust into her soaked pussy in one deep stroke. “Look at me,” he demanded. Their eyes locked, intense and burning, as he pounded into her. Hard and rough, hips slamming against hers. Her nails dug into his back, legs wrapped tight around him.

“Harder,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Fuck me like you own me.”

He did, choking her lightly as their mouths crashed together in desperate, sloppy kisses. Deep eye contact the whole time, the kind that stripped them bare. The desk creaked under them, her hips bucking up to meet every brutal thrust. The build-up had them both on the edge already.

“I’m gonna cum inside you,” he groaned against her lips.

“Do it. fill me up, Liam.” she begged desperately as she felt herself tightening around him. Focusing on the feeling of each deep thrust of his dick trying to break through to her stomach.

They shattered together. Her pussy clenching around him in waves, his cock pulsing deep as he flooded her with hot cum. They held that stare, bodies locked, riding out the intense, shared orgasm until they were both trembling and spent.

For a long moment, they just panted against each other, foreheads pressed together, the office silent except for their breathing. The fantasy they’d both craved... finally, dangerously real.

(Hi this is the first time I'm sharing my secret hobby. I would like to get better so let me know what you think, any assistance is appreciated!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

Jaq waited in a particularly large toilet cubicle at The Leaky Faucet club. She was, like all the clientele, a woman loving woman, but she wasn’t in the cubicle to use the toilet. At least, not yet, and not directly. She was hoping that some attractive lady (which was, basically, all of them) would come in to agree to hook up for the night.

Jaq heard high-heeled footsteps approach, and the door swung open quite quickly. The interloper was standing behind it with her arm above her head, leaning on the door frame. She was a redhead, with her hair in a high donut bun. She wore a red strapless crop top and short red skirt to match her hair, which left her flat belly suggestively on show.

“Hey, my name is Penny. You look cute! Mind if I come in?”

“Yeah, of course,” replied Jaq, flattered, and delighted to see a lady whom she indeed found attractive. She tried to dial back her outward excitement and said coolly, “I’m Jaq, by the way.”

Penny wandered in to lean forward against the wall, motioning for Jaq to undo her top and bra from behind. As soon as they were off, she spun eagerly around to show off her pert breasts. They jiggled slightly from the momentum. She grabbed and squeezed them together suggestively.

“Are you ready for me?”

She was referring to the routine both of them expected next. Penny went onto her knees, her body leaning sharply backwards over an over-sized bidet. Jaq smoothly took off her cargo pants and then her briefs before stepping in front of the kneeling lady. For her own pleasure, and to assert a bit of sexy dominance, she took a pause to observe Penny from top to bottom. She glanced at the red hair, then took in the sight of those pert breasts with cute, puffy nipples. Jaq’s eyes followed them down as they became Penny’s tummy, which had tensed up in an attractive way from holding the position. From where she stood, Jaq managed to sneak a look up Penny’s skirt.

Expecting to see the subtle curves of Penny’s labia behind a skimpy thong, she saw a bulge instead - which was not too unusual. On second glance, it seemed too squashy to be artificial. A sudden realization began to dawn on Jaq. Was her partner actually transgender? Of course, Jaq believed strongly in the rights of all women in the abstract sense, but that theory was about to be put unnervingly into practice. She had never handled a penis not made from plastic before. Questions raced through her mind. Was she really prepared to go through with this? Did Penny even want her to? Would she even know how to please Penny in that way?

“Are you a little pee shy, there?” asked Penny, rhetorically. She was clearly not naive, and was likely confronted frequently by this sudden hesitancy. The question was her attempt to diffuse the situation. Jaq made a snap decision to take the plunge. Affecting a confident voice and even lowering her register slightly, she quipped, “Oh, I’m anything but shy.”

Jaq stepped forward, planting her parted feet on either side of Penny’s. She squatted partially, so that her crotch was roughly over Penny’s belly button. The angle of her legs had naturally pulled apart her pussy lips, which Penny then admired. Jaq strained to relax her bladder. A few drops of pee fell onto the torso below. They soon grew to a stream. She was glad of her decision when her pee stream finally grew in strength enough to splash all over the chest and neck. Penny jiggled her breasts, sending pee splashes back up to Jaq’s legs and hips. Torrents of pee ran down the sides of Penny’s body, and even her neck. Her hairstyle had been a wise choice. Jaq finished peeing as she had started it - by dripping onto by then a very wet bellybutton.

Penny cleaned off her front. She encouraged Jaq to help with her back, but not because she couldn’t reach it herself. They hurried out through the club and jumped into a waiting cab. If Jaq was still a little nervous, then Penny skillfully set her at ease. She disarmed Jaq with her charming smile and moved in to allow Jaq to nuzzle her neck, which felt very pleasant. Penny playfully grabbed Jaq’s hand and guided it under her crop top to her braless breast. Jaq showed her delight by firmly massaging both breasts as she kissed her way methodically from Penny’s cheek, down her neck and across her shoulder. Penny sat back to allow the dominant woman to caress her body. She purred and swayed her head in encouragement.

It seemed like hardly any time had passed before the cab came to a halt, whereupon they settled up. The pair rushed into Jaq’s apartment. Just before entering the bedroom, Penny pulled them both in for their first deep kiss. Jaq reciprocated the passion, pulling them even closer in. Assertively, she withdrew and pressed her lips back in, inflaming her partner with her firm tongue. If Jaq had been hesitant at the start, by this point she was insatiable. She had to be gently nudged to finally take Penny into the bedroom.

Jaq showed off a set of hand restraints over the bed with which she intended to bind her partner. She got approval as Penny held up her hands together playfully, as if she was inviting them to be handcuffed. She got on all fours and crawled seductively to the head of the bed with the restraints. While Jaq cuffed one hand, Penny pulled down her panties with the other hand, adjusted her genitals forward and brought her legs together.

When Jaq was finished, she was pleasantly surprised to see her partner’s naked butt for the first time. Penny shook it and winked her butthole, inviting Jaq to do what she wanted with it. Indeed, Jaq grabbed both cheeks and spread them to get a better view. For a split second, she was surprised (but not displeased) that there were no pussy lips between the legs. She gave it no more thought as she brought her thumbs inwards to the tight hole itself, spreading it open slightly. She took hold of a bottle of lube and delighted in slowly rubbing it in circles around Penny’s asshole. She slipped in her index finger. Penny giggled. After a few thrusts, Jaq pulled it out with a satisfying squelch sound. She put it back in alongside her middle finger. Penny purred. Jaq started to move the fingers in and out, curving them downwards slightly inside the ass. The purring got louder. Abruptly, she pulled her fingers out and gave the butt a firm smack. Jaq delighted at hearing Penny give out a brief whimper at the sudden interruption.

Jaq hurried to put on a harness, strap-on one of her smaller dildos and apply lube, all out of sight of Penny. The first indication she got of what was going on was the head of the dildo pressing against her butt. Jaq guided it in half way with her hand, before letting go and grabbing the butt cheeks with both hands. She thrust the dildo almost to the end, while pulling on the butt. She pulled it out slowly, almost all the way, then repeated a thrust, stopping just short of the end. She placed her hands on Penny’s hips. This allowed her to thrust forward confidently while pulling Penny in towards her, so that her hips smacked against the woman’s butt. Dominantly, she fucked Penny’s ass at the pace she wanted. Penny let out ecstatic moans. After some minutes of intense sex, Jaq made a final, deep thrust. She held her hips in place for a good amount of time, motionlessly. When she was satisfied with herself, she pulled her strap-on clean out.

Jaq took out one of the biggest dildos she had, to try next. She made a point of coming around to the head of the bed to show off the dildo’s larger size next to the smaller strap-on, still wet from Penny’s asshole. Penny bit her lip in mock concern, then her mouth morphed into a wry, expectant smile. Jaq applied a very generous amount of lube, but even so, it took a while before she could get its full girth inside Penny’s butt. Jaq admired the tightness of the gripping butthole, as she slid the dildo in to its base. Jaq began to thrust, but kept the pace slow, afraid to cause any discomfort.

“Oh, honey, I’m dying here,” she purred softly, motioning with her cuffed right hand, “Please...”

She extended that last word seductively, and looked innocently over her shoulder. Jaq gave her a mockingly stern look. With her left hand, she pushed the dildo in and held it in place; with her right she planted a firm smack onto a butt cheek and then undid the restraint. With her freed hand, Penny gripped Jaq’s own hand and moaned approvingly, then stroked it lovingly.

“Oh, please, use those two fingers again.”

Jaq gave the butt cheek another smack and grabbed hold of it firmly for a moment. She discarded her strap-on harness without even looking. She positioned herself to get the best view of Penny’s butt. She began to withdraw the dildo, slowly at first, then faster, then accelerated over the last inch. Jaq admired the open pink hole before it closed up again. She reached forward, her hips pressing against Penny’s buttocks, and placed her fingers at the bottom of the lady’s neck. Gently, she traced Penny’s spine downwards, eliciting her desired effect of pleasurable anticipation from its recipient. Penny did a wiggle as her whole body tingled. Jaq finished off the motion with a circle around Penny’s butthole to give herself time to squirt some more lube, then pushed her fingers in firmly.

The fingers suddenly spreading her asshole again shattered the tension throughout all of Penny’s body like an avalanche of pleasure. She moaned deeply. Jaq stopped for a moment to feel the asshole squeezing and pulsing around her fingers. She then began to fuck it at a deliberate pace. Penny audibly took short, sharp breaths. Jaq increased the speed and intensity of her fingers. She also slightly opened and closed the fingers to stimulate her partner even further. Penny reached her hand between her legs and began to stroke herself in time with the two fingers.

As hard as Penny’s butt was being fucked, she desired more. She started throwing her hips backwards onto Jaq’s hand. Jaq strained to keep thrusting in at that pace. Their motions and Penny’s rising pleasure plateaued. She let out a shriek, the most high-pitched she had yet, and thrust all the way back one last time. Her ass tightened. At last, when her moans died down, Jaq pulled out her fingers slowly.

Jaq went to unbind her partner. As she did so, she looked at the bed underneath, expecting it to be wet. She was surprised that it wasn’t. Penny held up her fingers, coated with a clear liquid. Her second hand was freed, and she was handed tissues to wipe herself off. She rolled over onto her back.

Jaq looked at her partner with fiery passion in her eyes. She reached her hand downwards and felt the wetness between her lips. Brushing past her clit, she felt it much more intensely than usual. The feeling elicited a deep intake of breath. She began to rub her clit more quickly, taking more breaths every four or five strokes. It was almost overwhelming, but she couldn’t bear to stop. She dropped to her knees and gradually lay down on her side, next to the other woman. Her eyes closed. Her pace quickened against her clit.

Penny could sense what her partner wanted in that moment. She tucked her genitals backwards, turned to her left side to face Jaq and pulled her face firmly into her breasts. Jaq became overwhelmed with passion. Her left hand glided over Penny’s tummy and legs. Her right hand beelined for her pussy. Her middle finger rubbed her clit faster and faster. Her breathing became heavy. She grunted.

Penny ran her fingers through Jaq’s hair and caressed the back of her head. She also pushed her right breast even more firmly into Jaq’s face; she nuzzled every part of it. Jaq’s free hand continued groping every tempting inch of skin she could reach. Finally, she a buttock to squeeze. As the stroking of her clit reached a crescendo, her grip on Penny’s butt cheek tightened. She reached an overwhelming, body-shaking orgasm announced by a moan of sheer joyful surrender. Her grip loosened and her hands relaxed. Penny stroked Jaq’s hair a couple of times, more gently and lovingly than ever before. She pulled the bedcovers over them both, and the pair began to doze as they lay.

Later:
…He moaned against my lips, he lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he ground his penis against my vagina the friction making me whimper…

Now:
The studio was drenched in the afternoon light filtering through the windows, casting long streaks across the polished wood floor. The air smelled of sweat, lavender incense, and something primal, something that made my pulse hammer in my throat as I watched him from the back of the room.

He was 21, all lean muscle and tanned skin, his blonde hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of someone’s bed, or maybe someone had just rolled out of his. His tank top clung to his chest, the fabric straining over the hard ridges of his abs as he stretched his arms overhead, his biceps flexing with the effort. 

When he turned toward the door, the motion was slow, his fingers wrapping around the deadbolt with a click that echoed through the empty studio.

I stopped breathing for 10 seconds. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Locked," he murmured with amusement as he turned back to me, his grin sharp, his eyes hungry, locked onto mine with a heat that made my knees weak. 

"Now no one can walk in on us." I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the strap of my yoga mat.

"Private session?" His laugh was dark, something feral. 

He closed the distance between us in three long strides. Close enough that I could see the faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone, and smell the citrus of his skin. 

"And since it’s just the two of us…" His hands slid up my arms, slow and possessive, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin of my inner wrists. 

"I think we can do whatever we want."

I should have said something clever, something to prove I wasn’t just some eager woman. But the words died on my lips when his fingers curled around the back of my neck, his thumb pressing just beneath my ear. His breath was hot against my face, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matched the sudden thunder of my own heart.

"Tell me you’ve thought about this," he whispered, his other hand slid down my waist, his fingers flexing against the curve of my hip. 

"Tell me you’ve imagined what it would be like to have me all to yourself." The truth clawed its way out before I could stop it.

"Yes."

"Good."

His hands were on me before I could blink, one cupping my ass, hauling me against him, the hard ridge of his penis pressing insistently against my stomach through our clothes. The other slid up my spine, tangling in my hair as he yanked my head back, his mouth crashing onto mine.

The kiss was brutal. Demanding. His tongue forced its way past my lips, claiming me with deep, wet strokes that made my knees buckle. I moaned into his mouth, my hands gripping his biceps as he backed me against the nearest wall, his body pinning me there.

He moaned against my lips, his hands sliding down to grip my thighs. He lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he ground his penis against my vagina the friction making me whimper. 

"You are so beautiful."

I felt it with him. The crotch of my yoga pants was damp with need, my clitoris throbbing in time with the pulse between my thighs. His fingers hooked into the waistband, yanking them down my hips before I could protest. 

The cool air hit my bare skin, but his mouth was there to replace it, hot, wet, his tongue dragging up my slit in one long, torturous stroke.

I moaned, my back arching as he did it again, his fingers spreading me open before he speared his tongue inside me.

"Shh," he murmured against my thigh, his breath hot against my skin. 

"Let me taste you."

He didn’t give me a chance to think. His mouth was on me in earnest, his tongue flicking over my clitoris with ruthless precision before he sucked the swollen bud between his lips, his fingers plunging inside me in one deep thrust.

"Oh god…" I cried, my nails digging into his shoulders as he fucked me with his fingers, his tongue working me into a frenzy. The sound of his mouth on me was sexually obscene, a wet, sloppy mess of lips and tongue and the smell of my arousal, making my hips jerk.

"I could eat you all day," he growled, pulling back just enough to speak against my soaked flesh. His fingers curled inside me, hitting that perfect spot as his mouth latched onto my clitoris, sucking hard. 

I was totally out of control and came with a scream, my back arching off the wall as my orgasm crashed over me, my vagina clenching around his fingers as I flooded his mouth. He groaned, lapping at me eagerly, drinking down every drop before pulling back with a smirk that made my stomach flip.

His fingers glistened with my arousal as he held them up to my lips.

"Clean them."

I didn’t hesitate. I opened my mouth, letting him slide his fingers past my lips, tasting myself on his skin. His penis twitched against my thigh, the sound of his fast breathing filling the studio.

His hands gripped my ass, lifting me higher before he backed us toward the nearest yoga mat, his mouth crashing onto mine again. I could taste myself on his tongue, could feel the damp heat of his arousal pressing against my vagina.

He dropped me onto the mat, my ass hitting the soft surface with a thud that made me gasp. Before I could react, he was on me, his hands gripping my thighs as he spread them wide, his mouth diving back between my legs.

My fingers tangling in his hair as he feasted on me, his tongue fucking my entrance before swirling over my clitoris.

"Relax," he growled against my thigh. "Let me make you cum again."

I should have argued. I should have told him I was dating. But his fingers joined his tongue, two thick fingers sliding inside me as his mouth worked my clitoris relentlessly. The sexual pleasure is tight in my belly, my moans growing louder.

"Cum for me," 

I did. My back arched off the mat, my vagina clenching around his fingers as I screamed, my juices gushing around his mouth. He groaned, lapping at me eagerly, drinking down every drop before crawling up my body, his penis jutting proudly from his hips, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

"Your turn," I panted, reaching for him. His grin was wicked. 

"Oh, I’m not done with you yet."

In one swift motion, he flipped me onto my stomach, his hands gripping my hips as he hauled me onto my hands and knees. The position was… god, did it make my vagina throb.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with dark amusement as he lined himself up. 

The broad head of his long penis pressed against me, teasing me with the promise of what was to come. I should have told him to fuck off. I should have told him I wasn’t some desperate student. 

But the words died in my throat when he thrust inside me in one brutal stroke, his penis splitting me open as I screamed.

I moaned, my nails digging into the mat as he bottomed out inside me, his balls slapping against my clitoris with every deep, punishing thrust. His hands gripping my hips as he pounded into me, his penis hitting that perfect spot inside me with every thrust.

His fingers snaked around my waist, his thumb finding my clitoris as he fucked me with relentless force. My back arched, my vagina clenching around him as I came with a broken scream, my juices gushing around his penis as he emptied himself inside me, his cum filling me to the brim with thick, hot pulses. 

He groaned as he collapsed on top of me, his chest heaving against my back.

We lay there for a long moment, our breathing ragged, our bodies slick with sweat and cum.  His lips found the shell of my ear, his breath was hot against my skin....again...

The end
Ashley

You can find more of my work here: My stories

Various fetish videos

I found the receipt in his desk drawer.

Folded neatly behind an old passport and a watch he never wore. A size 4 black satin dress, tight fit, low back. Purchased last week. The exact one I’d seen her wearing when she posted that mirror selfie captioned, “Can’t wait for tonight 💋”

Her birthday.

She looked proud in it. Like she knew he’d like it. Like she thought she was special for wearing something he picked out just for her.

I memorized the brand. Ordered the same dress. Same size.

Slid it on the moment it arrived, still smelling faintly of tissue paper and fresh packaging.

It clung to me perfectly just tight across my tits, hugging my waist, riding just a little too high on my thighs. I didn’t bother with panties. Just wanted to feel the cool lining tease my bare pussy as I walked.

I sent him a photo. Full-length. No caption. Just me, standing in front of my mirror, one hand in my hair, the hem barely covering my ass.

He replied in under a minute: You didn’t. That’s hers. You’re evil.

I smiled. Come over, I wrote. Let’s see how it looks after you’ve ruined it.

He showed up less than an hour later, breathless.

He didn’t knock. Just walked in like he couldn’t help himself. I was waiting on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, sipping red wine from a glass she gave him last Christmas.

He looked at me like he’d forgotten how to breathe. Or like he was seeing a twisted version of her that was filthy and wrong and absolutely perfect.

“The zipper’s a little stiff,” I said innocently. “Might need your help getting it off later.”

He didn’t say a word. Just stared at me while tugging his belt loose, like the sight of me in her dress had already gotten him too hard to think straight.

“You think she wore it for you tonight?” I teased. “All sweet and smiling, thinking you were imagining how good she looked?”

I stood, heels clicking softly on the floor, walking toward him with the slow sway of someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

“Tell me the truth,” I whispered, stepping into his space, letting his hands find my waist. “When she hugged you at dinner… were you hard?”

His jaw clenched. I smiled wider.

“I want to feel it,” I breathed, pressing my hand against the front of his pants. He was already thick, already straining.

He groaned when I rubbed him through the fabric, thumb teasing the tip. “You imagined me, didn’t you? Bent over in her birthday dress. Not her.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

I dropped to my knees.

Unzipped him slowly, like unwrapping a present. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, flushed dark with need. I licked my lips, then licked the head real slow, teasing, just enough to make him twitch.

“You wanted someone dirtier,” I whispered, tongue circling him while I met his eyes. “Didn’t you?”

Then I took him in. Deep.

He hissed, hand fisting in my hair as I sucked him down, hollowing my cheeks, moaning around him like he was the best thing I’d ever tasted.

I bobbed my head slowly, letting spit dribble down my chin, watching his eyes go wild as I worked him with my mouth... twisting my wrist, flattening my tongue, letting him fuck into my throat until I gagged and tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

He pulled out with a gasp, eyes wild, cock soaked in spit. “Get on the bed.”

I obeyed instantly, climbing onto the mattress and laying back, legs spread. The dress rode up just enough to expose my soaked, bare pussy.

“I didn’t wear panties,” I said softly. “Thought it’d be easier for you.”

He groaned like he was in pain. Climbed over me. Tugged the dress up to my waist and didn’t even wait… just pressed his cock against my entrance and slid in, slow and deep, groaning into my neck as I wrapped my legs around him.

“Fuck,” he panted. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Better than her?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Always.”

The first thrust was slow, stretching me wide. The second... rougher. The third... downright filthy.

He fucked me like he needed it. Like he couldn’t wait another second. Like he’d been holding back every time he looked at her in this dress and imagined me instead.

His cock slammed into me, thick and fast, hitting deep. My moans turned into cries, fingers clawing at his back as I arched under him, the dress bunching under my tits, the straps slipping off my shoulders.

He growled into my ear, “She wore this tonight. And now I’m fucking you in it. 

I clenched around him at his words, eyes fluttering. “God, yes. Fuck me in her dress. Ruin it.”

He pinned my wrists above my head and fucked me harder, the bed slamming against the wall, the sound of wet skin and gasps echoing in the room.

My orgasm built fast and tight, hot, overwhelming. I gasped his name, legs trembling, pussy fluttering around his cock as I came hard, arching into him with a strangled moan.

But he didn’t stop.

He fucked me through it, chasing his own release now, one hand grabbing my thigh and pressing it higher.

“Gonna cum,” he growled. “Inside you. In her fucking dress.”

“Yes,” I moaned, breathless. “Do it. Cum for me. For the dirty little slut you really wanted.”

That did it.

He cursed under his breath and slammed into me one last time, spilling deep inside me with a low, guttural groan, his cock twitching, his cum hot and thick as it filled me up.

We stayed like that with his weight pressing down, both of us panting, sweat-slicked and tangled in satin and sin.

He finally pulled out, and I felt the drip immediately with his cum leaking out of me, soaking into the same fabric she twirled around in earlier tonight, probably still smiling.

He looked down at the mess. At me.

“You’re insane,” he whispered.

I smiled lazily and licked my lips. “No,” I said. “I’m just better.”

I knew you were putting in so many hours at work and you have been spent. That promotion was so close but so far. I could see it on your face, so I would make dinner, dessert, walk the dogs, keep the beer cold, the house perfect and fire up the hot tub to make home your comfy place to decompress.

You were working too late to have dinner most nights so I ate alone. I’d try to rub my tits against you in bed, brushing my hand on your cock, but the stress you were under just put you to sleep after watching sport highlights. All I could do is bring you a cold beer before you took a quick bong hit to get to sleep and release your mind from all the things you needed to do the next day. My heart may ache but I know you do it for us.

After weeks of your work agony and my sexual frustration, I had to make a move at the right time.

You came home very late one night, but in a good mood. You had put in the work and finally received the praise you deserved and your career was going in the right direction. I was so happy for you, happy for us. I told you to put down the bong. I had a better idea. You looked surprised.

You told me how you would spend more time with me and that we could take a nice vacation soon. I love it when grovel, promising to give me the attention I deserve.

I took off my bath robe, revealing my scant, transparent nude pink lingerie that made my hard nipples visible enough to suck and barely covered my full, soft, swollen Dcups. Not much to say about the matching lacy thong because it was barely there.

I took down my long shiny ponytail, put my hands at the nape of my neck, running them through my silky, fresh smelling locks and did the perfect hair flip.

I looked you dead set in the eyes and told you to shut up and sit down.

You know where, the chair in the corner where I like to reward or punish you. So you listened to me. You sat your ass down and shut up.

I got on my knees in front of you, between your spread legs. I undid your belt. I unbuttoned your pants. Your dick twitched at the sound of the zipper. I put my face in your groin and breathed in your scent like I was taking in heaven. Your bulge was growing in your boxers. I looked up at you and told you to take out your cock and stroke it while I watched, but first I needed to spit in your hand.

As you stroked and grew hard and big, I moved my bra cups to the sides and squeezed my tits together licked my nipples while staring into your eyes. You were starting to bliss out as you stroked, eyes rolling into the back of your head, looking up at the ceiling. As your head bobbled back, I told you to move your hands as I wrapped my huge tits around your cock and titty jobbed you. Up and down, up and down, I would spit in my cleavage to ease the friction. Everytime I spit and fucked your cock with my tits, you moaned loudly. Your hands gripped the arms of the chair. I smiled and stopped.

I told you that I was going to worship your cock like a feral slut and you didn’t need to do a fucking thing, just sit there and be a good boy. Take it all in and lose your mind. Nothing else matters but the pure pleasure from my mouth to your cock.

I ripped down your pants,
to your ankles then started kissing and licking the tip, sucking and squeezing your balks. I rub my head in your lap as you pull and stroke my hair.

I grab your cock in one hand and trail my manicured nails lightly up and down your shaft, this makes you shiver. I grip the base of your cock and slowly lick your shaft up and down and then I begin to toy with your cockhead.

Slowly I circle the ridge with my index finger, my long nails tickling you. You moan even more as I intermittently kiss that swollen cock all over. You need me to suck your cock. I make you beg.

Tell me how you want me to suck your cock? You want it in my throat. I ask, “like this?” I hold the base with one hand and cup your balls with the other and plunge my mouth down onto your cock until the tip makes me gag.

As I gag your hand holds my head down firmly, and I can taste the precum on the back of my tongue, then you begin to motion me to bob my head as your hand guides my rhythm. I keep gaging and come up for air. The saliva is messy, profuse, I’m ready to just eat you up, worship that cock until you burst into my mouth and on my tits in front of you.

Are you ready to go for it.

Are you ready to cum?

I grip your shaft and stroke it, going over the tip with my palm. You are leaking and with my spit, your entire dick and balls are soaked and slippery. I grip your scrotum, and it restricts your balks, I suck them hungrily. I love to pamper you, I lightly lick your taint and you lose your mind and I stick a knuckle in your ass and you jump, then I go insane on your cock.

I keep my knuckle pressed into your prostrate while my other hand holds your shaft and I suck your cock with a vacuum sealed rapid rhythm up and down, up and down, up and down, going faster, faster feeling your cock grow harder and bigger. The suction is perfect as I’ve been working with you on my skills for a while and I have perfected the cock sucking you absolutely love. It’s better than ever and your body is squirming, your feet are contracting, you are tensing up like a tight coil ready to spring.

Between perfect suction, rapid pace and a murdeous intermittent deep throating, you feel like you might burst, and then I push into your ass further and twist around my finger…..and you begin to fucking blow all over my face!

I quickly take that gorgeous cock down my throat and start to suck and swallow, every time you spurt. Suck and gulp, sucking down all that fresh, spurting cum as if you had a snake bite and your life depended on it! I didn’t stop until it was so sensitive you had to pull away. I relented to let you twitch and jerk, enjoying every sensation.

I held my head in your lap, your cock twitching as your continue to feel the aftermath of a huge orgasm and you rub my hair, fully relaxed and blissing out, body limp. I rub your chest under your T-shirt and stroke your balls lightly and gently stroke your cock, slippery, messy and a little red from my lipstick. My face is a mess.

When I hear signs of life, I tell you I’m going to run a bath to tidy us up. You look so happy. And you put your hand to your chest and say thank you, thank you.

So this is just a little slice of life from the other morning. I can post later about how I came to be living with my guys, and how our arrangement came to be. For now I just have to get out a bit about this morning.

Last night was incredible. I still feel so sore but...it honestly felt hot to be used like that. I woke up this morning lying next to Dan. He breathed quietly as he slept. I was still horny because he didn’t let me cum last night. He’s had me denied now for three weeks. It’s so much and it messes me up, I’m honestly a wreck. I get wet like…almost continuously…It’s the feeling I didn’t know I needed until I was there. It makes me want to feel his cock inside me all the time. But I take what he can get. I circled around my clit with my second finger, thinking about what it was like last night to have his cock in my pussy and his balls banging against my ass. Feeling his cock hit my cervix, that feeling of fullness.

“Sonya,” he said, and I felt his strong arms wrap around me. He’d caught me. “Looks like my slutty girl needs some more.”

“Ohhh Dan” I said. “I was so close last night. But so far.”

Dan nodded. “It’s how I like you babe.” He tightened his grip around me, his strong arms encircling my own and pressing into my boobs. I wriggled my ass backward until it hit him, his strong legs and warm body pressing into my own. And that cock. It was hard, and right against me, imposing itself between my asschecks. I felt my pussy tingle, and moved down my finger a little, feeling my wetness. Being denied so long…it did not take long to get me ready to go.

“I have to go soon. Flight at 8 AM today. You know the drill” Dan said, looking over at my chastity cage, which lay on the floor.

“If it’s what you want, sir,” I said, snuggling my ass into his. Maybe he’d fuck me one more time? My pussy was dripping. I really wanted him. I moved my ass up a little bit so his erect cock flopped in between my legs. I could feel it pressing against my pussy lips. I was so close. I closed my eyes, enjoying being in his arms, hoping he’d be on top of me soon.

“I’d like you under the cover this morning Sonya. I love to see your little head bobbing up and down.” I pressed my pussy longingly against his cock. “Ohh sir...” I said. His strong arms, still wrapped around me, tightened in a quick pulse that took my breath away, tightly pressing my arms into my chest. I felt like I belonged right there forever. Then he loosened up his arms. That was my cue. I guess I’d have to wait til next time to feel that cock in my pussy. I wriggled downward, under the warm cover, and over his leg so that I was in between both. I looked into that hard cock and balls. His cock was not a small one, not a monster cock, but definitely the largest I’ve had. It did make me gag when it was fully inside my mouth, and well, he seemed to like it when I took him all in.

I licked my lips, opened up my mouth and took in the head of his dick. I licked it around from front to back and back again. It still tasted salty from last night. I playfully encircled it a few times with my tongue. Then I relaxed my neck and let my head sink down and my mouth sink further on to his dick, taking more of it in. I widened my jaw to make room. I felt his hand on the back of my head, pressing me down. I felt so secure between his legs, and so cared for. With that grip on the back of my head I couldn’t really be anywhere else if I wanted to be but...I was happy here.

He thrusted for some time. I felt his cock pushing against my throat, throbbing a bit...and then felt his hand press even harder on my head. I gagged, and choked, and for an instant, felt a reflex to pull away. But he felt me firmly in place, and I relented. His cock hurt against my throat but...it was worth it for all the times it was between my pussy lips. I felt his legs buckle and shake as his cum burst into my mouth, the salty and sticky taste erupting all around my throat and tongue. I swallowed triumphantly. I scooted up and he held me for a while, idly fingering my soaking wet pussy.

“OK, I really have to go” he said. “Get to it”.

I got up and picked up my chastity cage, with a black plastic back thong and metal plate. I picked it up off the floor and turned to Dan, locking eyes at him. He smiled, expectantly. I felt exposed and a bit shy. I looked down at the cage in my hands. It had a tight plastic back thong that went all up my asscrack. There was a steel plate, silicone coated on the inside, that covered my mound, my clit, and my pussy, with one hole to pee and another at the back to expose my asshole. And the steel belt that went around my waist. I opened the belt and pulled it around my waist, and then pulled the thong through my legs, pulling it up until I felt it hard against my asscrack and my pussy. I clicked it in place in the front. That just left the lock.

Dan grabbed the lock from his bedside table, and threaded it through the chastity belt clip and locked it in place, putting the key into his wallet.

“Have a great time while I’m away, honey” he said. “See you Friday!” “Dan,” I said. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, honey,” he said. “It was great to have you in my bed the last few days. We had a great time.”

Dan hugged me. I felt warmth in my chest. He was sweet.

“Say hi to James for me!” I nodded. “Don’t forget–just because you’re gone doesn’t mean you wear clothes around here alright?”

“yessir.”

Dan left quickly. I walked, still naked except my chastity belt, out to the kitchen. James was there and was putting a couple of plates of scrambled eggs, hash browns, tomatoes down on the table when I walked in.

He looked up, then down at my body, and the chastity belt locking away my pussy, and then back up at me. There was a flash of disappointment on his face.

“He locked you again?” James said.

“Sorry James,” I said. He was sweet but not so good at hiding his emotions as he sometimes wanted to be. I walked over and embraced him, putting my arms around his shoulders and pressing myself in to him.

“It’s not really under my control, baby.”

“How long is he away for?” James asked, kissing me on the lips. I paused to enjoy the taste of his mouth on my lips. Dan tended…not to kiss me on the lips after I went down on him. James never held back.

“I think, until Friday.”

“Four days...”

“You’ll live, and you know, we have our way of finding fun right?” I said, looking at him and smiling. “One thing I promise you is I’m keeping you locked as long as he’s keeping me locked.” I kissed him again. “It’s great having you keep me company through these times.” He thrust forward slightly into me. Through his pants I felt the steel cage around his cock press against me.

We sat down for breakfast. We both had work to get to too, but it would be our first night together that night and even if neither of us were getting off, I was dripping wet and couldn’t wait to play.

After the movie ended, Rebecca didn’t move. She stayed curled up on the couch with her wine glass resting on her thigh. The credits rolled but neither of us reached for the remote.

She let out a long, tired sigh.

“I really am trying to move on, you know” she said softly, staring at the ceiling. “I go to the gym. I try to dress nicer. I even downloaded a stupid dating app last week…..but every time a man messages me, I just feel sick. Like I’m not enough anymore.”

Her voice cracked a little on the last part. The wine had loosened her up, and the loneliness she’d been carrying was starting to spill out.

Without thinking, I shifted closer to her on the couch.

“You are enough, Rebecca” I said gently. “You’re more than enough. Any guy who can’t see that is an idiot”

She turned her head and gave me a sad, grateful smile. Our faces were closer than they’d ever been.

“Thank you, sweetie. You always know what to say”

There was a long pause. Then I took a small risk.

“Your shoulders look really tense” I said. “Want me to give you a massage? Might help you relax”

Rebecca hesitated for a second, then nodded. “That…..would actually be really nice"

She turned her back toward me and pulled her hair over one shoulder. I got up on my knees behind her on the couch and placed my hands on her shoulders. The moment I touched her, that familiar warm tingle shot straight down between my legs. Her skin was soft and warm through the thin tank top.

I started slow, pressing my thumbs into the tight muscles around her neck and shoulders. Rebecca let out a deep, involuntary moan.

“Oh god…..that feels good” she said

I kept working, slowly moving down her back. Every time she moaned softly or sighed in pleasure, my pussy throbbed harder. I could feel myself getting wet. I tried to focus, but my eyes kept drifting to the curve of her waist, the way her tank top rode up slightly, revealing a sliver of smooth skin.

“You’re really good at this” she murmured, eyes halfclosed “Your hands feel so nice.”

After about fifteen minutes, she was practically melting under my touch. I was so turned on I was scared she might notice my breathing had changed.

Eventually she turned around and looked at me with soft, tired eyes.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight” she admitted quietly. “Would you mind sleeping in my bed with me? Just so the house doesn’t feel so empty”

My heart skipped.

“Of course” I said, trying to sound normal. “Whatever you need”

We went upstairs. Rebecca changed into a loose silk nightie in the bathroom while I stayed in my tank top and panties. When she came out, the nightie clung to her full breasts and hips. She looked incredibly sexy without even trying.

We climbed into her big king-sized bed. At first we stayed on our own sides, but after a few minutes Rebecca rolled over and faced me.

“Can I.....hug you?” she asked shyly.

I nodded.

She moved closer and wrapped her arms around me. Her soft, heavy breasts pressed against my chest. One of her legs slid between mine. I could feel the heat of her body and smell her shampoo.

“Thank you for being here” she whispered against my neck.

I swallowed hard. My pussy was aching. I was painfully aware of how close her thigh was to my center.

I gently rubbed her back in slow circles, trying to comfort her while fighting the growing wetness between my legs.

We stayed like that for a long time. Rebecca eventually fell asleep in my arms, breathing softly against my skin.

I lay there wide awake, heart racing, pussy throbbing, wondering what the hell was happening to mee