hello lovelies <3 this is a story about a pent up woman who misbehaves to get what she needs

kinks include: gangbang, rough sex, exhibitionism, humiliation, impact play, and more

this is a fantasy intended for mature audiences. please click away if these topics are not for you.

vengeance in a short skirt

“Seth, we’ve been talking about this for weeks!”

“I’m sorry, babe. I forgot.”

I paused with the phone in my hand, realizing I was in an all-too-familiar position. I’d gotten my hopes up, spent my precious free time arranging the location, booking my haircut, planning my outfit. I’d just spent the past three hours shaving and doing makeup, putting on the pretty new outfit I’d bought just for him. And it was all for nothing. Again.

The past few times, I’d sighed, maybe even made a snide comment or two. But then, it was back to the excuse-making, back to the apologizing, the minimizing, telling myself this was just how he was and it would be better next time. But something about tonight was different. Something about tonight made me realize this was never going to change. And my response to that revelation was nothing but silence.

“Lily?” he said after a moment, his voice suddenly clearer on the other end, like he’d just now bothered to pick up the phone. “You still there?”

“…You know what?” I said finally, the decision moving through me before I could even register it was made. “No. I’m not still here.”

“Babe, what do you—”

“Don’t expect to see me anymore,” I said. And I hung up, and that was that.

I stayed in my own stunned silence for a moment, realizing what I’d just done. Nine months of romance, down the drain. At first, there was just the frustration, the fucking finally of it all, the relief of letting him go. Then, there was the panic, the twinge of regret, the holy shit what did I just do moment that we all feel, even when we do something that we know is good for us.

But after both of those ran their course, I was left with nothing but the strongest feeling of all: pride. Nine months of apathy. Nine months of incompetence. Nine months of excusing away his bullshit. And I’d finally decided I’d had enough. It came down to something petty—I guess it always does—but I was so relieved that I pulled plug, I didn’t care. He’d forgotten a lot more than plans to go out over the course of our relationship. Maybe I just needed to get dolled up for no reason to finally wise up.

And then, I had another thought. No. I didn’t get dolled up for no reason. I’m still going out.

I unlocked my phone again and searched my feed to see what else was happening around campus. It was a Saturday night in the spring semester, that week right before finals when everyone rushes out to party one last time. There had to be plenty of parties I could go to tonight, with or without a boyfriend to drag around. And dressed the way I was, maybe I’d get lucky enough to finally leave Seth in the dust.

I scrolled for a moment, past the stories of friends pre-gaming and jocks tagging their location at bars. And then, I saw the party that stopped me in my tracks. My gut sank; it was such an evil thought. But part of me also knew I had to go.

Seth was in this frat. He was hardly an active member, usually preferring to stay home and waste away on the couch than do anything fun with his life. But his fraternity brothers were known for some of the best parties on campus. I’d never managed to get Seth to bring me to one in all our time together. I guess I wanted him to be proud of me, to show me off to his friends, to have the “sweetheart” experience that those other fraternity girlfriends get. But maybe the only way I’d ever end up going was alone.

And as it turned out, they were hosting a party tonight.

I drew a sharp breath. I knew I couldn’t actually do what I was thinking. Then again… it was official, right?. We had just broken up, but broke up we did. Would it really be so wrong to finally do what I’d always wanted to do, with or without him there?

I took a look at myself in the mirror. I was in a low-cut top and a tiny leather skirt, the kind that’s about an inch away from public indecency standing up, and undeniably whorish when bending down. I’d done my face up with heavy eyeshadow and lipstick, and made something to grab in the form of a perfect messy bun. I finished it all off with black boots and fishnet tights, and a bit of body glitter on my chest for good measure.

I was wearing the most fuck me outfit imaginable, one last desperate attempt to get his attention for once and get some release. Now, I had a chance to put that outfit to use.

I bit my lip as I debated with myself. Would it be so unlike me that people talked about it? Probably. But, in a way, it’d be exactly like me, to finally indulge the part of myself that had been craving attention for months, to allow myself to be everything I couldn’t while I was held down by a wet-blanket-boyfriend like Seth. I knew showing up alone in an outfit like this was going to be effective—probably even dangerous. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, exactly what ramifications could come from it.

But I didn’t care. Not after the semester he’d put me through. Not after the three hours I’d spent to look just right. I didn’t put on this skirt for nothing.

I grabbed my things and made my way towards the frat.

“You’re Lily, right?”

Didn’t take long, I thought. I’d been in the loud, crowded frathouse for maybe five minutes, surrounded by beers, chants, and a violent sea of movement one could call dance. It was all nice enough, but I was here on a mission. I was glad I got when I came for quick.

“That’s me,” I said, turning to look my suitor in the eye. He was a tall, athletic type, strong arms and a clean beard. For the type of rebound I was looking for, he was a perfect fit. Now, I just had to get past the small talk, and fight through the anxious swirl of guilt I was still feeling about the whole scheme that led me here.

“Glad you finally stopped by!” he said. “I’m Edgar.”

Rather than offer a handshake, he placed a hand on my shoulder, a gesture that could’ve been a simple, platonic kindness, were it not for the environment in which we found ourselves. I leaned into the touch in an effort to be obvious.

“Are you one of the fraternity brothers?” I asked. The music was so loud, I just had to lean closer to him so he could hear me.

“President, actually!” he replied. “That’s why I thought I recognized you. Did Seth come with you tonight?”

Panic fluttered in my chest, but I tried my best to stick to the script. “Seth and I aren’t together anymore. It’s just me.”

“Really?” He leaned a little closer. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Mm…I bet you’re not,” I said, turning away slightly to put the ball in his court.

“What do you mean?” he asked, the knowing flirtation already in his voice as he learned forward to look at me again.

“I think you know what I mean.”

A silence hung between us. He smiled, and I smiled back. Hook, line, and sinker, I thought. I pressed on.

“I’ve been meaning to come here all along. I guess I just had to get rid of him to finally show up.”

“Really?” he said, leaning so close he was hovering above me. “You know, you’re technically not allowed here without an invite. If you were with Seth, that would count, but…”

I shrugged, craning my neck to look back up at him with a challenge. “What are you going to do about it?”

He eyed me up and down. Any other night, I would have found it repulsive. But tonight, after so much frustration, so much rejection, I needed to be wanted. Taken. Craved. Held onto like I was an irresistible need.

He’ll do, I thought. He’ll definitely do.

“You know,” he said, whispering right into my ear, “you’re breaking the rules. If I do let you stay, there needs to be some kind of punishment.”

“Why?” I pressed, knowing exactly what I was doing. “Need to impress your boys?”

“Oh, Lily, trust me,” he said. “If they knew you broke up with Seth, they’d be all over you. I’m really doing you a favor.”

And then, I surprised myself again with what I said next.

“Maybe that isn’t such a problem.”

He grinned like a devil. “We can be pretty rough, Lily. Are you sure?”

I smiled back, my eyes cast up to his, lost in the immensity of his powerful figure. “Prove it.”

A deep lust flickered in his eyes. He grabbed the back of my neck and pressed his lips against mine, rough, rude, and exactly how I needed him to. I melted into him and let him have my tongue, let him know how serious I was, how much I needed this like I needed air to breathe.

Suddenly, he pulled back. “Follow me,” he said. And before long, we were on the second floor in a bedroom, a shut door and a bed all to ourselves.

Only, he didn’t quite shut the door. I saw him think for a moment, then leave it ajar, letting the music and commotion of the party downstairs carry through it. I heard a flush down the hall: a bathroom door not too far from this one. I knew what could happen. All it would take is another person passing this way, and I risked the whole campus knowing what a slut I’d become. But whatever had come over me, I didn’t care. I was suddenly electric, more alive than I’d felt in years, and there was no stopping myself now.

“Bend over,” Edgar said, not a hint of hesitation in his voice.

I did, letting my tiny skirt do its work. I loved that he didn’t ask permission. I almost wished I didn’t. Almost.

Within seconds, both of his hands were on me, firm against my cheeks and hiking my skirt, fully exposing me to anyone that happened to come by that open door. Then, he gave me a smack, not the playful, warmup kind, but a full-handed hit that thudded more than it stung. I yelped before I could stop myself and practically flew under his weight.

He braced me with another hand on my shoulder, holding me in place as he smacked me again. “Oh, what’s the matter, Lily?” he grunted as I yelped again. “Isn’t this what you what?”

“Y-yes,” I sputtered out, well past the point of denial. I felt his pinky brush past my dampened slit as he held he down in place, preparing for another smack that would rock my whole body and hurt me in a way I’d needed for months.

He held me down and spanked me again and again, each time harder than the last, each hit just as painful and just as incredible as I was able to handle, until the next one proved I could take even more. Soon, I was whimpering for him like a bitch in heat, my face buried in the bed to muffle my cries, my ass high in the air awaiting his touch, my clit pulsing with delight every time his hand so much as grazed past it. Every strike released something that had been dormant in me; every new tension was the result of deep relief.

And then, the inevitable happened.

“Woah, Edgar…”

I cocked my head up, startled and ashamed as I remembered everything that led me here, realizing my reddened ass in fishnets was entirely exposed to some other guy. But from my angle, I could only glimpse him in the slightest detail. Edgar still had me by the shoulder, holding me in place with hardly any effort. I was on display whether I wanted to be or not. And that was so fucking hot.

“She’s here without an invite,” Edgar said. “Said it wouldn’t be a problem if she was punished for it. Isn’t that right?” He prompted me with another strike on my ass.

“Yes!” I squealed, startled by his strike even though I should’ve expected it.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” the new guy asked.

“She said it wouldn’t be a problem,” Edgar replied. “Tell him, slut. Tell him what you want.”

I breathed heavily, trying my best to turn around and say it directly to him. “Yes, you can punish me,” I said. “You can do whatever you want.”

A smile crossed his face, and he started to undo his pants.

Edgar ran his palm over my damp cunt, and my back arched in response. He sharply ripped a hole in my fishnets and tugged my panties aside, plunging two fingers into me as roughly as he had treated me from the start. I tensed and writhed against the sudden fullness, equal parts overwhelmed and overjoyed. “Yes, please,” I moaned out without even meaning to. “Fuck, I need it.”

“I can tell, slut,” he said, pushing all the way in and rubbing against my walls with a feral heat.

The other guy came around to face me, his hard cock unsheathed and brought to my lips without needing to ask. I was practically an object, a fucktoy for these selfish, ungrateful jocks to use however they pleased. But I was wanted, so undeniably wanted, that I couldn’t possibly care. The powerlessness, the disrespect, the aggressiveness with which they took from me, it was all so much better than being ignored. I was mistreated and used, and my pussy gushed with approval.

I took his cock in my mouth and did what I know he wanted me to do. And I felt overjoyed. More than I had in a long time.

At some point, I heard a third voice enter the room, then a fourth. Something was said about me again, about my misbehavior and how much I deserved what I was getting for wearing this dirty little skirt. But it was all a blur to me then. Edgar worked his fingers in my cunt like it was my job to quiver and cum, and the second guy wrapped his fist through my bun as he abused my mouth with his cock.

My tights ripped more, my skirt hiked up to my chest, my shirt and bra came undone, my makeup began to run. It was all a cacophony of pleasure that I couldn’t get enough of, fingers in my pussy, cock in my mouth, hands running over my body and ruining me for them all.

I came hard on Edgar’s fingers, moaning deliriously on the cock in my mouth as cum shot down my throat. And before I could catch a single breath, I was hoisted up, brought to my knees on the bed and finally able to take everyone in.

By now, there were five men in total, each eyeing me with greed, as Edgar placed a firm hand around both of my wrists and held them behind my back.

“She’s not done,” he said. “Use her however you want.”

The rest of my clothes were ripped off in a flurry. One of them smacked my cheek and whispered degrading little nothings into my ear; one slapped my pussy and began to rub me for his own pleasure; one grabbed the small of my back from behind and began to bend me over to receive him. I could do nothing but moan in response, completely drunk on the pain and humiliation. I noticed, almost from without myself, that I was mindlessly mumbling one word, over and over again:

“More. More. More. More…”

No matter how far it went, no matter how much worse it got. I just wanted more. I didn’t care what a whore I was being, how I was going to come back from this, what it said about me that I needed this so fucking bad. I was nothing but a slut that needed punished. This was my penance and my salvation. This was how I made up for all the lost time.

I descended into a luxurious fuzz of pleasure, orgasms blending into one as I was held, thrown, and smacked by all five of them as much as they pleased. They hardly took turns, too greedy to wait for one another. Five mouths, five cocks, and ten hands were all over me at any given time, a hedonistic revelry that I didn’t have the willpower to resist. I was powerless to it, a vessel for the ferocious lust of all five of these men, the perfect whore I knew I could be and was never given the chance to let free.

At some point, maybe an hour after it all began, it finally began to end. When I came to my senses again, I was completely naked, save for some ripped remains of my fishnet tights. Tears ran down my face, my skin was reddened and bruised all over, and I was absolutely covered in cum.

And the only man that remained on top of me was Edgar, finally sliding his cock into me and thrusting so hard it shook the bed. I wrapped my legs around him as I lie limp and helpless, his little plaything, ready to accept his cum wherever he pleased.

“Damn, I can’t believe she used to be Seth’s girl,” one of them said, watching us.

“I know,” replied another. “He could’ve had a real good slut.”

The humiliating approval was just what I needed to cum one more time. Seth put a firm hand against my neck as he came, too, my needy cunt pulsing in rhythm with him to take all of his cum as deep as she could. As he rolled off of me, I was finally spent, laid out and used for all of them to take in.

“Well, Lily,” Edgar said as he recovered, “I think we can make an exception to the rule. As long as you keep coming like this.”

I nodded and let my eyes shut, about to fall asleep and spend the night in this disrespectful den. But I couldn’t be more happy with it. I was ready for my new role in Edgar’s life. Why be a sweetheart when you can be the frat’s favorite slut?

So long, Seth, I thought, a smile spreading across my lips. Who knew breaking up could be so fucking good?

aching for more? subscribe to keep up with every delicious fantasy. why behave when misbehaving feels so fucking good?

-Caitlyn Scott <3

Subscribe now

i hope to always offer my fantasies for free. if you’re able, consider supporting my next act of corruption with a tip <3

buy me a coffee

hello lovelies <3 this is a story about a bright young woman who unlocks a whole new side of herself, all thanks to the guidance of her new boss

kinks include: exhibitionism, group play, humiliation, choking, and more

this is a fantasy intended for mature audiences. please click away if these topics are not for you.

Subscribe now

if you’re new to this series, you can start from the beginning here:

chapter two: through his gaze

“To Gwenn’s new job!” Danielle cheered, beer glass raised above her head. The rest of the table, all dressed in their own versions of post-professional business wear, met it with a clink and rallied in support, and I blushed with humility and accepted my congratulations like I should.

None of them knew what had happened at that interview, or course. Especially not Michael, who, depending on who you asked, was on his way to becoming my boyfriend.

“We knew it wouldn’t take long,” he said, his cheeky smile met with a laugh from some of the others.

“Well, thank you,” I gave in reply, forcing myself to act natural. “It’s going to be…a dream job, I think.”

They nodded. And I knew they had no way of knowing, but part of me, sitting there with all their eyes on me, my recent accomplishment evaluated and exposed to a table of a half-dozen peers, felt like they did.

I wasn’t particularly close with many in the group. We were former classmates that all stayed in the city after college, all hoping to support each other—and let’s face it, compete with each other—for whatever professional goals we’d meet in the years to come. My guard was always up, because as much as I’d like to be admired, I knew my early successes set me up to be envied instead. I spent time with them less as a pleasure and more as a utility, just another area of my life that I’d learned to approach with my buttons always done.

Danielle was the only real exception; after three years as roommates and somehow getting our way through countless all-nighters before exams, she was the only one I could be sure had my back. Michael was becoming a close second. Though he was a recent addition to my social life, he had become a regular one. A lot of my portfolio building and interview practice happened with him in the room, and I still owed it to him to help him land a job, too.

But could I tell those two what had really happened between Richard and I, either? Could I tell anyone at this table what I did without them accusing me of putting out for the job? I mean, fuck, that’s what I did, right?

“So, what’s the onboarding like?” someone asked, jolting me out of my panic and back into performance mode.

“There’s an orientation next week!” I said. “The rest is on-the-job training. I think I’ll be learning most of it directly from him.”

Once again, their oblivious faces nodded along. If only they knew what I’d be shown during orientation. If only they knew what learning directly from him really meant.

“So, what made you choose this place over the others?” Danielle asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we all know you could get the job anywhere!” she said with a laugh. “What made you want this one more than the others?”

My mind stuttered. Under more normal circumstances, her supportive teasing and curious question would be welcome. But here, I felt like there was no good way to answer her that wouldn’t either spur the envy of my peers or reveal the dirty secret of my hire. I paused, contemplating my next words with my lips against my drink. Finally, I answered the only I could: honestly.

“I took the job for Richard Glass.”

It seemed my answer was good enough.

The rest of our evening has faded from my memory. I spent the rest of my drink and all of the next one managing my every comment and facial expression, monitoring my body language for any tells of embarrassment or secrecy and quelling them before they could start. My reputation, my goodness, still mattered to me more than anything. It wasn’t going to slip, not in front of them, not tonight.

But I do remember Michael catching up to me at the end of the night. I stood outside the bar waiting on my ride, leaned against the brick and enjoying the relief on the night air. His voice lilted through the hum of activity and met me as I was closing my eyes to take a breath.

“Sounds like you won’t be needing my help anymore.”

I turned to him, mentally scanning myself for propriety, like I was embarrassed to be caught even in the tiniest moment of rest. “Oh! No, I still owe you,” I reassured him. “We’ll find you something. I’ll help however you need!”

“Eh, you’ve helped a lot already,” he said, leaning against the brick to meet me. He had an adorable swankiness about him, overly confident and embracing of any space he was in, like a big dog with no bite. He was safe, and I enjoyed that, whatever it was we were doing.

“Well, it’s no bother!” I said, relieved that the night was almost over more than anything. “Seriously, Michael, just let me know. Maybe I could even…”

“You don’t have to put in a word for me at Glass,” he said, his palm in the air to reject the idea.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I admitted with a laugh. What am I even thinking suggesting that?

“Well look,” he said, his voice suddenly shyer, “I was just thinking…whether or not I land a job soon, I’d like to keep seeing you. And I don’t want to force you to help me with interviews every time we’re together.”

Right, I thought. Here it comes.

“So, I was thinking,” he continued, “and tell me now if you wouldn’t be—”

“You want to go out with me?” I interjected.

He blinked. “Well…yeah. I guess I do.”

I glanced at the street. No ride yet. Fuck.

“Well, Michael,” I started. “I…think I’d like that. It’s just…this new job. I might not be available—”

“No, totally get it!” he burst out, like he was equal parts dejected and relieved to be shot down. “You have a lot going on! I shouldn’t have asked. It’s okay!”

“Woah woah, hey!” I said. “I just mean right now is bad. I’m not saying…”

I paused. He paused. I couldn’t possibly sort out what I wanted right now, what this new experience with Richard would mean for the rest of my life. I was scared, embarrassed, ashamed, alive. Open, just like he’d said. I guess there was some part of me that didn’t want to say no to him, not quite yet, as crazy as it would be the try and live both lives.

“I mean…I don’t want to lead you on, but…maybe once I’m settled in for a while, I’ll have an answer?”

He nodded. “Yeah, of course! You have to get used to your new workload and all that. That…sounds good!”

“Okay? Yeah?” I glanced, and I saw my ride had finally come. Just late enough for me to stumble my way into…whatever this was.

“Yeah!” he said. “No problem, Gwenn! I get it. I…I’ll see you soon either way though, right? I’ll be around!”

“Yeah! I’ll see you!”

And I spent the entire ride home kicking myself for not just saying no.

Why do I keep doing this? I thought, pressing the front door shut with my back as I got home. I lived alone now, and had nothing to stop me from stewing in the confusing sea of emotions that had become my reality for the last two days. So I did just as I had done the evening after my interview with Richard Glass: I threw my shoes off in whatever direction they wanted to go, tossed my purse to my side and let it land where it landed, and paced around my bedroom wondering what the fuck I had just gotten myself into.

At least the first time, it was only the earthshattering admission that I had just gotten on my knees for a job interview, and that part of me loved every second of it. Now, I had to face that some other part of me was trying to cling onto business as usual, to go on a cute little date with Michael like my life hadn’t flipped upside down.

It had hardly been 24 hours since my interview, and it was all I’d been able to think about. I wanted to return to who I was before, to continue seeing myself as that prim and proper girl whose good grades and strong work ethic got her where she was. I’d thrown that away with just one interview. And now I was taking the job anyway.

I knew I should just say no to Michael. But I also knew I should’ve just said no to Mr. Glass.

And somewhere, deep down in the buried, neglected parts of myself that were finally beginning to come out, I knew why I hadn’t done what I was supposed to in either situation. I knew that some part of me wanted something I wasn’t getting, something that could only be fulfilled by acting out, by misbehaving, by being everything I’d told myself I was not.

I stopped my pacing, and caught myself in the mirror. I had a pencil skirt and a button-up blouse, and patterned tights underneath that cleaned up the whole look. Even getting drinks with friends, on a day I had no interview and no shift, I was still playing this clean, dutiful, put-together roll. I had acted this part in every corner of my life. Until now.

Something shifted in my breath, hitched in my neck and tingled down my spine, as I saw my outfit in a new light. I remembered Richard’s eyes on me, how it felt to be seen and known by him, how it thrilled something deep in me to look up at him from my knees. I started to see myself through his gaze. And suddenly, I wasn’t wondering who I was anymore. I knew exactly who I needed to be.

I took a step closer, admiring myself. I turned on my heels and rolled back my hips, taking myself in on full display. I imagined what it must’ve been like to see me that day, my tight slacks and high bun, my big eyes and deep breath, all offered to him the moment he shook my hand, all so obvious and easy and tender and takeable.

I imagined myself in his gaze, my self-image rebuilt through his lust. I thought of how wonderful, how primal, how right it would feel to look, to look at my ass pressing against this tight skirt, the shape of my thighs peeking out in the patterned tights, my chest straining against the buttons of my blouse as I arched my back. And I liked what I say. I liked being what I saw. I liked it all.

I unbuttoned the topmost button of my blouse, then a second, then a third. I unfurled the fabric like a present and left my cleavage out, rising and falling with my increasingly excited breaths as I drank in my beautiful skin. I unbuttoned a fourth, a fifth, letting the band of my nude bra show as my blouse gave way further and further, letting my full, vulnerable shape show itself, letting myself dream about my own body with an appetite I’d never admitted I had.

Through Richard’s eyes, I wasn’t just put together, impressive, proper. I was hot. I was so fucking hot. And I wanted to be, more than I wanted any of those other things.

I began to strip more, moving my hips as I did so, a deep desire guiding my body into a dance that I never knew was in me. I lifted my skirt to reveal more of my thighs, sheer against the stretched fabric of the tights. I let my blouse shrug off one of my shoulders, let the cups of my bra show through what little coverage I had left. My hands wandered me like I wished his would, firm and confident over every inch, up my thighs, on my shoulders, past the soft of my neck.

Finally, I sank to my knees, and I relived our interview, ready to admit to myself how much I loved it, how much I’d always craved it, how much I needed it to know who I was meant to be.

I sucked on my own fingers like they were his, only this time, I was twice as messy, twice as reckless, twice the whore I had already been for him, letting my tongue explore myself like I was hungry for the hand that feeds. I moaned pathetically around my own fingers, my eyes fluttering shut as I lost myself in my own fantasy, sucking more and more like he was there and I needed his pleasure like I needed to breathe.

Would Michael be ready for this ravenous lust that was building in me? Would he be able to handle the overnight whore I’d become? I knew Richard could. In just one encounter, he’d unraveled something in me, and I wanted to give him every permission to go deeper. I wanted to imagine every perfect, dirty thing he would do to me. I wanted to know what kind of training he had in mind for me, how he would guide my lust, stoke it, control it, take it, use it.

God, and it wouldn’t just be his hands all over me, would it? If this went as far as he was saying, I’d be everyone’s whore, wouldn’t I? I wondered what they’d all do to me, what kind of sick pleasures they’d have in mind, how eager I’d be to service them.

My lust took full control of me, and in my tidal wave of pleasure, the more intense, the more embarrassing, the more improper and unlike myself, the better it was to imagine, the better it was to make real. My other hand drifted past my skirt, rubbing myself over my tights. The sounds I made were so desperate, so animal, I almost scared myself. But I couldn’t possibly stop. There was no closing Pandora’s box, no putting away this sexual frenzy that was possessing every inch of me, making me shake with shocked relief with every building pulse.

I couldn’t stop myself. I ripped open my tights, too eager to fuck myself to bother taking them off. I pulled my panties to the side and found my clit with rough, urgent fingers, and I let my other hand trail with spit as it left my mouth and found my throat. I had never been so aggressive in my life. I pressed until I felt it, rubbed until I heard it. I fucked myself like I was making up for lost time.

I fantasized about all of it, the shame, the professional ruin, the ownership, the servitude, the control. I imagined sucking his cock in the office, being spanked when I misbehaved, wearing collars and gags and cuffs and whatever else he put on me. I imagined being shown to a room full of horny strangers, offered to them so they could indulge themselves, beaten on the ass until I was red, fucked until I could hardly think, hit and grabbed and pulled and fucked and smacked and belittled and praised and all of it all around me all about me on and on and on until I was nothing but a whore, until this prim and proper act I had been putting on my whole fucking life had no choice but to go away.

My breath grew sharp. I knew an orgasm was coming, hard and fast in a way I couldn’t possibly stop. With the last bit of my mind I have left, I thought about my peers, all of them judging me for this, all of them wondering what had become of me, or if they were always right about me, or how much they were going to judge me for this when I was gone.

And in that moment, I loved it. I indulged in it. I wasn’t the good girl I said I was, and I wanted everyone to know. I was going to be nothing but a slut, and I was going to be fucking perfect.

I gushed so hard it hit the mirror. The rest soaked and ruined whatever was left of my tights, leaving a puddle beneath my ass as I collapsed into the pleasure. I admired myself again through Richard’s gaze, outfit torn, spit on my chin, tits on display, my wetness all over the room, breathing like I was absolutely cracked open and spent.

And through his gaze, I wasn’t done. I was just getting started.

I ripped the rest of my ruined clothes off and fell to my back, rubbing again and again. I lost track of myself as it went on, the individual orgasms and fantasies becoming a ecstatic blur, leaving nothing but a fantasia of delirious pleasure in my memory. All I could tell at a certain point was that I was still getting off, still about to cum or cumming through every depraved thought, no matter how much worse it was than the last. I’d opened a well that only went deeper, and I didn’t think I’d gotten anywhere close to the bottom by the time I was done. But eventually, I was so spent physically, unable to rub anymore without tremors of overstimulation, that I just had to stop, left to lie in my filth and recover from what I’d done.

He was right, I thought, sometime after my mind had turned back on. You can’t deny what he saw.

I looked at my naked body, my aching pussy, my slick wet thighs, my trembling belly. I was a beautiful wreck. I loved every second of it, and there was no denying it anymore. Now, I just had to make it to next week’s orientation. I had to see how much of this fantasy I was willing to make real. If I had proven anything to myself, I’d be willing to go much farther than I’d like to think.

I knew then why I didn’t say no to Michael. Part of it was that I wanted to maintain normalcy, part that wasn’t the entire truth. In reality, I wanted to fuck his brains out. I just wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle this new side of me yet.

aching for more? subscribe to keep up with every delicious fantasy. why behave when misbehaving feels so fucking good?

-Caitlyn Scott <3

Subscribe now

i hope to always offer my fantasies for free. if you’re able, consider supporting my next act of corruption with a tip <3

buy me a coffee

hello lovelies <3 this is a follow up to “serving him right,” a story about a girl’s night out that becomes a mff threesome. i recommend reading that first, because this one builds on the chemistry, and is twice as rough, twice as dirty, and twice as gay

kinks include: submission, intoxication, sadism, rough sex, and more

this is a fantasy intended for mature audiences. please click away if these topics are not for you.

Subscribe now

serving her right

“Now look whose dress is short!” Adeline teased, her hands pressed to the doorframe as she dangled her head into view.

“Don’t rub it in,” I teased back, the tequila already warming my blushing cheeks.

It’d been just a few short weeks since we’d fucked the night away with Gabe. But the time in between then and now was long, spent alone with myself, wondering who I was becoming now that I’d had my world cracked open in a single night. It was so wonderfully agonizing, so drawn tight with the desire to see him again, it might as well have been years.

Finally, here I was in Adeline’s apartment, getting ready to spend the night with both of them again. I was trying to play it cool, but I was hardly able to contain my rising excitement, that delicious mixture of embarrassment and lust that had defined my every moment since that night. I was dreaming about it. Touching myself to it. Getting lost in thought with it every single day. And I was about to let it happen to me again.

Adeline sauntered my way and placed a hand on my hip. Her face relaxed into a soft, satisfied smile as she guided my gaze toward her bedroom mirror. “Look at us.”

I did as I was told. I took in my flowing white slip of a dress, all faux innocence and suggestive sways, the kind of thing that would “accidentally” expose myself at the slightest change in the wind. She stood beside me in a shimmering black bodycon, the curve of her ass just barely visible along the fabric’s edge, swaying hypnotically with her every step. We were still playfully undone, bare feet and fresh-washed hair, faces not yet painted just to be ravaged and roughed. But my mind had already begun to enter that altered place, the place where simple touch and lust was allowed to dictate my every inch.

I still felt like a visitor to this world, especially next to the fully embodied lust of Adeline. I sunk into my outfit shyly, while Adeline leaned into the full display. But that discrepancy was part of the allure, a newcomer learning from her companion in crime, cherished in all her novelty and tender-hearted eagerness to please. We were a fallen angel and a flirting succubus, the perfectly sinful pair, each one inspiring new levels of depravity in the other with every knowing look and subtle touch. I had been seriously humbled in our encounter with Gabe, and I was ready to learn everything I needed to serve him again.

“We look good,” I said.

Adeline hummed softly and laid her head on my shoulder, swaying her hips from side to side as she watched me through the mirror glass. “Oh, Amy,” she breathed. “We look fucking incredible.”

A flutter traveled up my chest, along with another liquor-addled blush. I still had my confusions about this new world, and this was one of them: Adeline’s head on my shoulder, the possessive heat in her eyes, her wandering hands the night of our fuck, her lips against mine as Gabe’s cum trailed down my cunt. What were we now? Did it matter? All I knew is that I was fighting something within me not to melt into her arms and kiss here then and there. Maybe the confusion was part of the fun.

“Ooo, I have a blush you could use!” she squealed suddenly, pulling me away from my moment of mouthwatering doubt. “I could do your face before we go. We can match!”

“Mmm…yeah, that sounds good,” I said, turning to look at her for real. “If you don’t mind.”

“Why would I mind?” she asked with a coy little laugh. “You know Gabe likes a full face of makeup. It’s more fun ruin, isn’t it?”

I couldn’t help but look to the floor, simultaneously appalled and allured at how openly she could talk about that night. But I knew it was true, and I knew I liked it, and I knew I wanted to do anything that would make that man satisfied enough to fuck me again.

“Wait here, babe,” Adeline said as she excitedly patted out the bedroom door. “Have another shot!”

I smirked, and did just that, treating myself from the quarter-drank bottle on her nightstand. I admired myself in the mirror again, loving what I saw more than I realized I would, savoring this new side of me that had come out to play. Adeline returned to me swaying my hips in view of the glass, watching my dress twirl and spin, revealing just the faintest suggestions of the white lace thong I wore underneath.

“God, you’re cute,” she said, letting out a flustered sigh. “Here, sit.”

I let myself be guided as she lightly touched my shoulder and moved me to a chair. “Sorry,” I said for no reason other than nervousness.

“Don’t be,” she replied.

I nodded, blushed.

She pointed amusingly at my cheek. “Blush.” The contents of her makeup bag jangled together as she retrieved brushes, palettes, lipsticks and more. “I was thinking of this color on your cheeks,” she said. “It would go well with your natural blush. Like right now. And maybe a pink lip, to compliment my red?”

I nodded wordlessly as she studied every detail of my face from a finger-length away. Already, a thin flush of wetness was parting from my lips. I squeezed my legs together as I lingered in her stare, trying and failing to quell the building warmth.

Finally, she nodded with a satisfied hm and started to prime my face. It suddenly occurred to me, with both agony and delight, that I would be sitting here in my building arousal, with hot, teasing Adeline inches from my stiffening breasts and parting lips, and I would have to stay put and be good for as long as it took my makeup to be done. I was already a wreck. And our night hadn’t even begun.

After blush and lipstick, she brought out a mascara wand and refilled both of our shot glasses with a rosy grin. “I can’t wait for Gabe to see you,” she said. “He’ll be all over you tonight.”

“Yeah,” I said, too lost in my own battle of lust to say much else.

“You know, I think we could put on quite the show for him,” she continued.

“…What do you mean?” I asked, the answer already tingling in my clit.

She laughed and pressed my shot glass into my hands. “Amy, look at us! I know you like how we look together. Why not give him something to look at, too?”

I let out a breath. This was not the answer to my confusion I was expecting to receive. The thought of Adeline’s body against mine, our slutty clothes yanked off and our bodies on display, our tongues against one another as the man who wrecked my mouth and made me happy for it watched…it was wrong. It was right. It was everything all at once. And immediately, I knew I needed it.

“Well…what would we—”

“Blink.”

I caught my faltering voice in my throat and obeyed as Adeline layered mascara onto my fluttering lashes. Fuck, years of keeping it together around her, of never wanting sex to ruin the friendship, and this is what we were spending our night doing now?

“Amy,” she said, her voice dripping like nectar along my ear. “I know you want to.”

I locked my gaze onto her. We sat in that anticipatory silence, her mischievous eyes practically daring me to object or make my next move. My soaking thong slid against my clit as I adjusted myself in my seat, and I did everything I could not to moan out in rapture right there in her room. It wasn’t just Gabe who took me that night. Adeline had me in the palm of her hand, too.

And then, she nodded and closed her bag. “Looks good!” she said, and she bolted right up and had another shot before putting her things away.

I sighed. I knew her game, pretending that her long, knowing stare was just her checking if my lips matched my blush, that she wasn’t torturing me by walking away. I knew she was telling me, If you won’t fess up now, you’ll just have to wait.

Okay, Ade, I thought. I’ll wait. But I already knew she’d get what she wanted. What I wanted. tonight was going to be the night. I was going to fuck my friend like I’d known I’d wanted to for years. And I was going to do it while a man I’d only met once sat back and watched.

“We’re here!” Adeline called through the club’s pulsing heat, pressing her hands against Gabe’s back as we approached him from the bar. I recognized his still and powerful face as soon as he turned. Then, I recognized his scent, one I’d submersed myself in completely within minutes of the first time we’d met. And I could already tell from the look in his eye that it wouldn’t be long before we were at it again.

“I love the look,” he said to me, his voice just loud enough not to be lost in the pounding haze of the night.

“Thank you,” I replied, fighting not to be embarrassed and own it like Adeline so easily could.

Ade leaned over me and nuzzled her head against mine. “You already corrupted her so much, Sir” she said, her voice one of genuine adulation.

“I see that,” he said, his eyes seeing right through me yet again, the world around him blurring away as a mix of intoxication and submission traveled down my spine and settled between my thighs.

“You’ve been thinking about him a lot, haven’t you, Amy?” Adeline teased, pressing her lips right against my ear.

“…Yes,” I let out sheepishly.

“Tell him,” she urged, her hands exploring my shoulder as she did.

“I…” My whole world went warm as I sank into the haze. “…I keep thinking about you…Sir.”

“You do,” he said, not a question, but a confirmation. “Tell me what you think.”

I let out a shaky breath, leaning closer to him so I could mutter my perverted thoughts into his ear. Adeline remained close at my side. “I…I want to suck your cock again. I want to make dirty sounds for you. I want to be hit again. I want…I want Adeline to touch me.”

Ade breathed a cooing moan right into my ear. “Yeah?”

“You’ve been thinking about this every night, haven’t you?” Gabe asked.

My heart beat in my chest. And my clit. “Yes…Yes, Sir.”

“Then come on,” he said. “I had a bottle brought to the room. I’ll give you what you want, Amy. But first, I’m going to watch.”

I nodded as I looked up to him, docile and easy, his to order around for as long as he pleased.

I already didn’t have to think. Gabe led the way back to the private room on the second floor, and Adeline guided me every step of the way, smiling back at me as her fingers laced with mine and her swaying ass peaked out of her tiny dress to greet me. I felt like such a moldable, obedient whore. Was this really all it took to crack me open and get anything you want from me? And why did I love it so much?

Gabe leaned back on the room’s leather couch as Adeline pressed the door shut. “Go on,” he said, pulling a bottle of champagne from a bucket of ice. “I’ll join you when you’ve earned it.”

“Yes, Sir!” Adeline said, and she led me to the center of the room, then down to the floor, laughing with confident ownership as her lips finally pressed against mine.

Our tongues met, and I made the most pathetic sound I’ve ever made in my life. I whimpered and pleaded like I’d been waiting to fully taste her for years. And I had. So many years of my life spent buttoned up. Why hadn’t I been like this all along?

She was so perfectly aggressive with me, a firm hand on my cheek, holding my head in place as her teeth grazed my lips, another pressing deeply into my hip as I humped into her like a needy bitch. We’d spent hours drinking and dressing up just so we could be more wonderfully wrecked.

She hiked up my skirt while her tongue explored more of me, revealing my sopping pussy, pulsing in a thong that had become see-through with my nectar. Then, she yanked the straps of my dress off my shoulders, letting my tits rock against her forceful hands, reddened in her tight grip. I could hardly do more than take it, my mouth against her face, kissing and sucking and savoring in any way I could while I groaned with deep release.

My back arched off the floor as she slipped past my thong with ease, her knowing hands landing exactly where I needed them to be. “God, Amy, you’re so wet,” she said with an elated gasp. “Have you been soaking since we were at my house?”

I whimpered in reply. She knew the answer to her tease, and that only turned me on more. I flushed hot with bashful lust as she began to finger me, the soaked sounds of my pussy filling the room against the low throb of music and the high fizz of champagne.

“Fuck, you sound cute,” Ade growled. I’d never heard her so firm, so possessive, so totally and unashamedly taking from me. She sounded like she could break me. And I wanted nothing more.

My eyes landed on Gabe as I writhed underneath her touch. The calm hunger on his face as he studied me filled me with waves of luxuriating, tempestuous heat. I curled my toes, my voice high and fragile, my breath hot and quick, as Adeline mercilessly worked my pussy like she owned it. Her fingers pushed my G-spot and her palm rubbed my clit with each stroke.

She got harder, faster, like she was just as desperate as me, like she needed to force the cum out of me to release the burning desire she felt. I melted into her control and came hard, and her gruff moans came out through gritted teeth. At the height of my shrieking ecstasy, she bit down on my shoulder with primal delight, groaning carnally as I writhed under her touch.

“Holy fuck Amy,” she breathed, hiking her dress up and crawling to my face before I’d had even a second to breathe. “Holy fuck.”

In an instant, I was being used again, my mouth buried in her delicious wet lips, my nose against her clit inhaling her aggressive, animal scent, my eyes unable to take in anything but her perfect fucking body as she had her way. I was her obedient sub, her slutty little toy, hers to fuck and grind and growl at as she clawed her way toward an orgasm that she needed like air to breath.

“That’s it, Amy,” she grunted out. “Good fucking girl. You’re so fucking cute like that. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I let my tongue dance through every fold of her perfect pussy as my upper lip suckled on her clit, moaning with endless need as I struggled for breath. My own wetness continued to weep out of me as hers decorated my chin. I made her feral groans of lust my religion, worshipping her body in order to call them out, thankful for each one like a gift from above. And soon, she was rocking back and forth on me uncontrollably, her fist buried in my hair, tenser and tenser and on the verge of release.

“God, I always knew you were a fucking slut,” she let out. And with one more clench, she let out a guttural wail and flooded my face with her precious heat. I sputtered and whined, but I never wanted it to stop, the deluge of approval worth soaking up every drop. But eventually, she toppled off of me to catch her breath, and I was forced by the sheer limit of my body to do the same.

“Well, Amy,” Gabe said, crossing to us from the couch. “You look spent. Are you sure you’re still ready for me?”

“Yes…Sir,” I breathed out, splayed on the floor and covered in ejaculate on both ends.

Adeline laughed breathlessly. “God, you’re so desperate.”

“Good,” Gabe said, tossing his belt to the side. “Come here.”

Adeline and I both crawled up him, side by side as we pulled down his pants and took out his rock hard cock. She started on his shaft, but I was too electrified with need to wait, and my tongue met his thighs and traced a line to his balls. I sucked on him while deep moans escaped me, Adeline shoulder-to-shoulder with me, slurping and gagging on his length right by my side. We devoted ourselves to his cock like it was our lives’ calling. And I felt like the luckiest person in the world just to be there.

Suddenly, Adeline pulled away and put a firm hand in my hair. “You like when I’m rough with you?” she grunted.

“Yes,” I said, my tongue still all over Gabe’s underside.

“Good,” she said, and she yanked me up to his shaft and pushed my head down. “I want to hear you choke.”

I mewled at the overwhelming sensation, the degradation and praise mixing into one delicious blur of submission. I sunk into my role immediately, spitting and sputtering on his cock as Adeline forced herself onto me, roughing me up like a cheap fucktoy for her own sadistic need. My eyes blurred with tears as spit dribbled down my chest, every inch of me wet and used for one perfect purpose.

“Oh, you fucking love it, don’t you?” Ade spat through gritted teeth. I moaned in reply as she pulled me off to take a breath. She smacked my cheek and swore in my ear, her other hand exploring my spit-soaked tits and slapping them too.

Gabe’s firm hand found my hair, and he took full control as I was pulled into service again. Adeline took full possession of me, both hands all over me, ripping away what little was left of my clothes, then what little was left of hers, and pressing her naked body against mine as her rough hands explored me with no reserve. I was completely used and owned by both of them. The pure submission was enough to make me cum again, hot, wet, and fast, a deep, feral orgasm that burst from me like a sob.

I whined and gagged on Gabe’s cock until I finished, then heaved for breath as he pulled away. I felt my juices pooling below me as my blurry vision and used throat slowly recovered from their abuse.

“Holy fuck, Amy! You came just from sucking cock?” Adeline teased, her thumbs working over my nipples as I caught my breath. “I think you need to say thank you!”

“Th—thank you, Sir,” I sputtered out.

Gabe let out a satisfied breath as his ran his hand over my cheek. “She isn’t even done, is she?”

I looked up at him like a pliable pet. “Please, Sir. I’ll keep going.”

Adeline laughed at me in the best fucking way. Then, she pushed me to my back and kissed along my thighs. “You’re fucking perfect,” she grunted, and she buried her face in my pussy, soaking up every drop with her selfish tongue while I writhed with delight.

Gabe straddled over me and cupped my head with both hands. “You asked for this, Amy,” he said. “I won’t stop until I cum. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” I creaked out between moans. And without another second wasted, his cock was back in my mouth, buried as deep as I could take.

The world blurred as they used me. My wetness dripped out of me in a steady, endless stream to honor her; my saliva spilled from my lips to worship him. I was a mouth and a pussy, a filthy little slut who existed for Adeline and Gave to take their primal needs out on however they pleased.

I lost track of orgasms and began to know nothing but waves of pleasure and pain, tension and release, swelling and cresting and moaning and screaming and choking and spitting and submission, nothing but my defiled purpose, to serve and be of service.

My spit was a river on my chest. My eyes were crossed with blind, cockdrunk pleasure. My clit was swollen and pulsing with a want that felt like it would never end. I had no thoughts, no world but this one, no time but this moment, pleasure from top to bottom, used and let go, restrained and free.

And finally, Gabe came, and I swallowed it all, my tongue working every last drop out of him like it was my life’s work.

With one last tight grip, they both let me go, and I nearly passed out on the floor in an instant. Before I knew it, Adeline was at my side with a cup of water, her face warm and loving, her hands gentle and reassuring, like something deep and untamed had been released from her, and tender love and nurture was left in its place.

“You did so good,” she whispered to me. “So fucking good.”

“Thank…you…” I leaned into her, completely spent, in love with my new life as the plaything of their dreams.

Gabe placed his thumb on my chin. “I ordered another bottle,” he said. “We still have all night to dance.”

Adeline nodded to her things in the corner of the room. “I can freshen up your makeup, if you want.”

I laughed at the thought. She must’ve found it cute, because she kissed me deeply, her firm but gentle hands on my shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re a slut like me, Amy.”

“Me, too,” I agreed. It was all I could manage, and I knew, deep down, it was true.

“Take all the time you need,” Gabe said. “I want to bring you to the dancefloor before you’re gone. And if not…there’s always the next night.”

I nodded to him, relaxing into Adeline’s embrace. I didn’t know if I’d be able to serve them anymore tonight. But I knew I’d be serving both of them again.

I was going to be theirs for a long, long time.

aching for more? subscribe to keep up with every delicious fantasy. why behave when misbehaving feels so fucking good?

Subscribe now

i hope to always offer my fantasies for free. please consider supporting my next act of corruption with a tip <3

buy me a coffee

hello lovelies <3 this is a story about a bright young woman who unlocks a whole new side of herself, all thanks to the guidance of her new boss

kinks include: submission, age gaps, ownership, workplace misconduct, and more

this is a fantasy intended for mature audiences. please click away if these topics are not for you.

Subscribe now

chapter one: the interview

Believe it or not, I was a good girl once. Excellent grades, a promising career; I was the most prim and proper young lady you’d ever meet. To most people I meet these days, that’s quite a shock. But there was a time when my eyes weren’t so flirtatious, when my clothes weren’t so revealing, when my voice didn’t tremble in delightful anticipation whenever someone told me exactly what they wanted to do to me. There was a time when I was pretty dignified.

The old me could still count how many people she’d slept with. The old me wouldn’t dream of being degraded. The old me would be appalled that every morning, I look in the mirror as I adjust my collar, a thin, tight, pink ribbon of fabric with a metallic, heart-shaped ring. I always make sure to watch myself put it on, to remind myself of my place, to remember that all of me, mind, body, and heart, exists to bring pleasure to whoever may come and take it.

The old me would never, ever dream of acting like I do now. And all of that changed when I met Richard Glass.

It started like any other interview. I’d been through over a dozen by the time we met, and I knew I was a score for almost every firm I talked to. Sure, I was fresh out of college, and in hindsight, my lack of experience was probably more apparent than I’d wished. But I’d just finished an internship at one of the most highly accredited PR firms in the country, and my letter of recommendation spoke for itself. I was confident I could get my foot in the door almost anywhere I went. I’d only had so many interviews because I was waiting for the best.

And again, in hindsight, I was waiting for something else, too.

Glass Public Relations was my top pick. They were one of the most prestigious firms in the industry, and for an administrative assistant, they couldn’t have found anyone better than me: young, bubbly, ready to work late and pay my dues before I climbed the ladder. Such an entry-level position normally wouldn’t be my first pick. But I knew that if I worked for Glass, I could work anywhere. Besides, the job listing made it sound like I’d be assisting Mr. Glass directly. All the better for jumpstarting my career, right?

But I wasn’t ready for him to be interviewing me himself.

“Right this way, Miss Reid!”

The middle-aged receptionist gave me a warm smile and approving nod as she led me through the halls. I looked around the bustling office space, exactly the kind of straight-laced, productive environment I’d expected. I took in their outfits, hoping I was dressed well enough for my upcoming interview with the boss himself. Suit jackets, ties, cashmere, pencil skirts, patterned blouses; all simple, conservative garb, nothing too flashy to distract from their work.

All but one woman, that is. I watched as she approached someone’s desk with a fresh cup of coffee, dropping it off with a smile. She stood out so much, she was almost glowing: sleek shoes, sheer tights, and a black dress with a slit that showed about much leg as she could get away with. I watched as she bent over and chatted with the gentleman at his cubicle, letting her curvaceous cleavage hang on pull display.

I huffed to myself. There’s always one, isn’t there? I’d been trying to work on my judgmental nature, especially when it came to other women. Office culture was tough enough, and we should be in this together. But sometimes, I couldn’t help myself. There was a fine line in my head between using a bit of beauty to your advantage, and showing it all to whoever wanted a look. I was not going to be that office assistant who used her sex appeal to climb to the top. It just wasn’t in my nature, even if that woman was undeniably radiant.

I took pride in my own outfit as I caught my reflection in the glass: classy flats, tight slacks, a ruffled blouse, and a tight bun. I looked good. I was on the other side of the line, even if I knew my hip-hugging pants and perfectly subtle lipstick were doing me some favors. If I’m honest, I was doing exactly what she was doing. But I told myself I was doing it right.

Finally, we reached the office. The receptionist gave me a nod as she opened the door and ushered me in. I stepped through, my professional binder full of notes, pens, and references in tow, as she shut the door behind me and left me alone with the man at his desk.

That was the first time I heard his voice. Thinking about it still makes me blush.

“You must be Gwenneth Reid.”

He voice was a resonant baritone, aged but lively. It fit well with his slick hair and trimmed beard, both of which were starting to show their first years of grey. “Happy to finally meet you,” he said as he pushed up from his desk and walked my way, hand extended for a shake.

“You too!” I beamed, laying the enthusiasm on thick as I returned the gesture. His hand was firm, almost twice the size of mine, yet his handshake was surprisingly gentle. “I didn’t expect to meet you so soon!”

“Well, this position would require that we work together quite frequently. I’d rather get to know you myself.”

He nodded as he said it, looking at me with a level of consideration that I wasn’t usually given in an interview. His hand was still on mine, and his eyes, even though they were kind, had some sort of flicker of mischief in them. He seemed like the kind of man who never lost his spirit, someone who took his job seriously, but who put just as much emphasis on unwinding after a long week.

I suddenly realized I’d been starting back at him for a little too long.

“…Well, let’s get to it!” I said, pulling my hand back with a flustered laugh.

“Sure thing,” he said, heading back around his desk.

Fuck, I thought. That wasn’t professional. I’d let the stress of meeting him so soon get to me. I needed to be on my A-game for this interview to work out. I instinctively straightened up my blouse, taking a seat across from him as he sat and laced his fingers together on the desk. I tried my best to look back his way with nothing but politeness on my mind. He was handsome, intimidating, and accomplished. But I wasn’t about to let that keep me from getting this job.

“So, Ivy League graduate,” he mused, a small smirk emerging at the corner of his lips. “Three-point-nine. So close to perfect.”

“Chemistry,” I said with a sigh, fighting to maintain a smile.

“Ooh,” he winced, feigning a playfully pained expression. “The death of many a student.”

“I needed it for my minor,” I said, “but it’s never been my strong suit.”

“Oh, no need to defend yourself!” he said, letting out a small laugh. “Close to perfect is exactly what we look for here. It lets me know you can cut loose.”

“…Oh,” I muttered, giving him a nod. I found myself studying his face again, wondering what he was getting at. But all I saw was that same, mirthful look. And all I felt was a flash of warmth.

Get yourself together, Gwenn, I thought. I did everything I could to keep my cheeks from turning red. What’s wrong with you today?

“So,” Mr. Glass continued, “did you imagine yourself in as assistant position when you were studying?”

“Oh, well…I guess I imagined starting in something like this!” I said, fighting to regain composure.

“Starting? So you would consider yourself a more ambitious person?”

“Well…I guess so! I’d love to be at the front of a company someday! Not that I won’t enjoy working in this position. I think—”

“Of course,” he said, nodding and raising a hand. “Take a breath, Gwenneth. You’ve already proven yourself. I just want to see if we’re a fit…do you go by Gwenn, by the way?”

I nodded, hanging my head in embarrassment. He could see how flustered I was getting, how much I wanted this job. I knew I had to be blushing at that point, something that made it all the worse. I wanted him to see me as an equal, and I was giving him every reason to see me as a nervous rookie. If I didn’t get it together, this opportunity might slip right past me.

But then, in the silence, Mr. Glass began to lean forward.

“Gwenn,” he said, his voice becoming more quiet and smooth, “do you mind if I ask you a real question? Not a résumé question, I mean. A real one.”

I looked back up to him, studying his eyes again for some sort of hint at this charming man’s game. “…Of course.”

“What really brought you into this office today?” he asked, a playful shrug meeting his words.

“Uh, well,” I stammered, “Glass PR has quite the reputation, and—”

“No, no. Deeper than that. What drew you to public relations to begin with?”

I sat there for a moment, dumbfounded by the question. Somehow, it was the one thing I didn’t expect anyone to ask. I’d spent so long focusing on how to get my education and start my career, I’d hardly thought about why. The why was usually assumed, wasn’t it? Money, skill sets, a family member who taught you about the industry? What did Mr. Glass really want to know?

“Well…I guess it’s always mattered to me that I have a good image,” I concluded. I didn’t even know I was going to say it until the words had already left my mouth. But I guess, in a way, it was true. I did take pride in being more “put together” than that other woman in the office, didn’t I?

“Hm…I can see that about you,” he said, his eyes studying mine more intensely than before. “But I can also see something else.”

“…What do you mean?” I asked. The words came out almost like a whisper. Whatever he was about to say about me, I was already convinced it would be true.

Mr. Glass took a measured breath and kept his gaze fixed to me. “I think you’re very aware of image, Gwenn. But I also think it doesn’t come naturally to you. You work at it. And I don’t mean that as an insult. In fact, I think it will help you in this industry. Public relations is all about knowing the rules of the game we’re all playing.”

“Okay,” I mumbled. It just sort of came out, my curious eyes lost in his.

He leaned forward, as though my mumble was a cue. “Because it is a game, isn’t it?” he continued. “All these rules, appearances, the prim and proper ways of doing things. I’ve built my life around them; I’m not ashamed of it. But I also know that we’re just animals underneath it all. And I think part of you knows that, too.”

Another hot rush met my chest. Jesus Christ, am I ovulating?

I folded my hands and gripped them tight. “Mr. Glass,” I stumbled with a small, unbecoming laugh, “I…I don’t think I know what you’re getting at.”

“Yes you do,” he replied. Simple. Direct. Spoken like there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that he was right. And he was.

I sat with the churning feelings building up inside of me, anxiety, shame, indignation, guilt, all cresting into foamy peaks in the rising sea of my ribcage. All these feelings were trying to protect my dignity, to spare me the damage to my pride by continuing this interview any longer.

But underneath those peaks, churning in the undercurrent, were feelings that were getting harder and harder to ignore. The embarrassment was its own thrill, the boldness, its own invitation to surrender. They grew in the shortness of my breath, the rising tension in my collar, the flush on my skin, the weakening in my knees. Slowly, I was beginning to fill with a heat. And I couldn’t force it back down, no matter how hard my pride wanted to try.

Mr. Glass stood, slowly and confidently, and my gaze followed him up. Something deeply instinctual unfurled within me at the realization that I was now looking up to him, my wide, curious, naïve eyes awaiting his next word.

“I think you’ll be a wonderful fit here, Gwenn,” he said, beginning to round his desk and come closer to me. “I have no doubt you’re capable of the work. But if you want to spend your days here, I think you should know what else my firm gets up to. We’re a much different company at night. Less presentable. But a lot more alive.”

“What…um…” I cleared my throat and looked away from him for a moment. I suppose I was trying to clear my mind and return to a normal, professional demeanor, as if there was any chance in the world I could. “What kind of things…does Glass PR do?”

“We’re a private club,” he replied with a genuine smile. “We have a whole basement floor dedicated to company parties, as well as appeasing new partners, sealing new deals. It’s an…open secret of sorts in our industry. If I’m honest, it’s the thing I’m proudest of building.”

“And you’re…asking me if I’d be interested in these…private parties?”

He smirked coyly as he shrugged. “I’m only letting you know they exist. No one is required to participate. But I have a feeling you’ve love it if you did.”

The reality of his proposal finally settled in, a tidal wave amongst all the other feelings in my chest. “You’re asking…”

“Only inviting,” he replied. “It’s all up to you.”

I stood up sharply, all my common sense and propriety finally back in my system. “Mr. Glass, I don’t know what you’re thinking!” I said. “This is…highly inappropriate! It’s coercion, and I’d be your direct assistant, and—”

“I’m not forcing you do anything,” he said. “I wouldn’t! You can take one end of the job without taking the other. Plenty of people do! And if any part of this isn’t for you, you can walk away from me now.”

His reassuring tone both comforted me and pissed me off. “So why did you bring it up to me in the first place?”

“Oh, Gwenn,” he said. “You’re not that out of touch with your desire, are you?”

I hesitated, looking to the floor with a flash of embarrassment. “What do you mean?”

“Please,” he said, a darker demeanor beginning to cloud his gaze. “You’re flush. You’re open. You couldn’t pull yourself away from my gaze the second you got in here. You’re looking at me like you’re desperate for instructions. Even being told this right now is waking something up in you, isn’t it?”

I looked up at him with disbelief. This was blatant misconduct, abuse of power, everything I’d prepared myself for as a fresh graduate and was ready to avoid. What he was telling me should have been met with a middle finger and a brisk line to the door. So…why couldn’t I leave? Why was there something keeping me in place, like there was some locked door within me, and only he had the key?

“Like I said, you can walk away now,” he said, like he’d read my mind just by studying my eyes. “Or, you can take the assistant job, and we’ll be nothing but professional. We can admit that I was wrong, and forget that this entire conversation was had.”

I let out a revealingly shaken breath. “Or…what’s the third option?” I asked. Some part of me just wanted to hear him say it, so I’d know I wasn’t going crazy and could storm out of his office and never see him again. Another part of me just wanted to hear him say it, to be told what I already knew I was going to do.

“Or,” he said, a knowing smile on his face as he took another step closer, “we see if I was right about you. And you’ll be welcome to both parts of this job. As little or as much as you want.”

Don’t ask, I thought. Just thank him for his time and walk away. There are a dozen other firms you can work for.

But Mr. Glass had already placed his spell on me. He saw right through me, and he gave me that fucking smile. I can tell you now, in hindsight, a small part of me, then and there, had already become his.

I fought through all that was left of my good nature, and asked what I needed to ask, what my body was begging me to learn about before this man let me out of his gaze.

“And…how will we see if you were right?”

He took one more step towards me, close enough to feel his breath. “With an interview,” he replied, his voice a breathy rasp. “Just…not one that needs any words.”

I nodded to him. My eyes were wide, my legs trembling, my chest tight with anticipation. My brain was a tangled fog of reasons not to do this, overshadowed by the pulse I felt building between my legs, warm, wet, awake, in bloom in a way I hadn’t been in God knows how long. Whatever he was about to do to me, I was ready.

He nodded in return. And my anticipation only grew as he remained slow, gentle, and precise. He brought a hand to my face, letting the pads of his fingers brush my cheek, his palm cup the edge of my jaw. Then, he ran his thumb over my lips, and I let out a breath and parted them without any conscience decision to do so.

“Good,” he muttered, his breath right against my ear. “Now, forget all those things on your application. Forget all the ways you’re trying to look professional and put together. Forget all the ways a young lady is supposed to behave. Just listen to your body, and show me. Show me what you want to do.”

I sank into his instruction, my eyes meeting his with a melting focus as my shaky breath glided past his thumb. Little did I know, he had just given me an invitation that I’d been waiting for my whole life. And I took it, faster, harder, and deeper than I’d ever expected I would.

I wrapped my lips around his thumb, and let my tongue massage against it. My vision began to blur as my attention glazed away from the interview and into his hands. But still, I maintained eye contact with him, waiting for his approving word.

“Good girl, Gwenn,” he purred. “Go on.”

My eyes fluttered shut, and my world became nothing but blurred edges and lust. I let out a moan, long and low, as I continued to suckle his thumb. I felt myself forgetting everything that had led me here, all my worries, all the “shoulds” of my upbringing, all the things I thought I had to be to get by. I was just a young woman, wet lips, innocent eyes, and a delicate voice, offering myself to the hands of an older man, one who could put my body to good use. The wrongness of it all only turned me on more, like I was finally admitting something I’d always wanted for the first time in my life.

I brought my hands to his wrist so I could guide it down, and I sank to my knees in a trance. I fully lost myself in the act, bringing more of his fingers to my lips and spreading messy, slutty love to them all. I dragged myself closer to his legs so I could feel his warmth as I debased myself. I was exactly what he’d said: flush, open, and desperate. So, so, so desperate. I sucked on him like he was water in the desert, and I had no plan of stopping until he told me to do so.

And then, suddenly, he did.

“That’s enough, Gwenn. Stand up.”

I looked up at him from the floor, still in a blurry world of lust, a line of spit between his index finger and my parted mouth.

He laughed warmly at the sight. “And now you want more, don’t you? Seems I was right. But not now. Come on, get up.”

Stunned, I got to my feet. I cleared my throat as the real world returned to focus, rubbing my lips with the back of my hand as a wave of embarrassment crested over me.

“I wouldn’t worry about your grade in chemistry,” he said, rounding back to his desk. “You have plenty of chemistry of your own.”

I let out a polite laugh at the joke, still in utter disbelief at what I had done. “So…what do we…do?”

“The job is yours,” he said with a shrug, wiping my spit from his hand with a handkerchief on his desk. “Both jobs. If you want them.”

“…Okay,” I mumbled. I went to gather my binder, as if that mattered anymore, and prepared to walk away. I had no idea what I had just signed myself up for. But, to my horror, I wasn’t mortified, or outraged, or too above it all to care. I was excited. Awake. Open. And I wanted another taste of whatever I’d just felt as soon I as I could.

“Oh, and Gwenn?”

I turned back to him. “Yes?”

“I can tell you dressed for the job. Feel free to dress down in the future.”

I met his all-knowing smile with a look of disbelief. As prim and proper as I’d thought I was being from the start, he’d still seen right through me.

I pressed through his office door and back through the halls, racing through the inhibitions that were challenging my every step. How was I going to come back here after everything that just happened? God, who was I kidding. How could I not?

I passed that same woman on my way out, the sheer tights and black dress that I’d thought I was so much better than. She must’ve noticed me stopping to take her in again. She met my look, and smiled warmly. I could almost swear she was smiling knowingly. Maybe she’d been in my shoes once. Maybe she’d knelt down in Mr. Glass’s office and had something unlocked in her, too.

I took note of her outfit before I left. Maybe I wasn’t so much better than her after all. Maybe, even, she had something I wanted. I had a lot to think about before I came back.

I’d gotten the job of my dreams. But there was going to be a lot more in store for me than I’d ever thought.

aching for more? subscribe to keep up with every delicious fantasy. why behave when misbehaving feels so fucking good?

-Caitlyn Scott <3

Subscribe now

i hope to always offer my fantasies for free. if you’re able, consider supporting my next act of corruption with a tip <3

buy me a coffee

kinks include: submission, degrading language, drooling, feeling dumb and empty-headed, and more

this is a fantasy intended for mature audiences. please click away if these topics are not for you.

Subscribe now

a lesson from my tutor

I know what you’re doing.

I remember thinking that from the very first moment he hit on me. I even remember telling him as much, more than once. But it didn’t seem to matter to him. He just kept talking, making all these moves like it would somehow win me over.

I think it didn’t matter to him for two reasons. One, he was an asshole, plain and simple. And two?

It was working. And he knew it.

I first ran into Dave at a bar not far from campus. He must have caught me and my friends lamenting Calculus II, the class that became the bane of my curriculum as soon as it began.

Everyone knew I was a full-ride student with a top-of-the-class record, and that I’d hardly ever struggled in any of the classes required for my double major. Calc II had become my first real roadblock, and I knew if I didn’t wrap my head around the material soon, my perfect record would be in trouble fast.

After a while, my friends peeled away to dance, and I stayed to order another drink. That was the moment he chose to make his move.

“Sounds like you could use a tutor,” he said, his voice closer to my side than I’d expected.

I turned to see an unfamiliar face, a cocky and presumptuous male student, perhaps two years my senior. His arrogant eyes were already fixed on me like he’d been taking me in for minutes, and I knew in an instant exactly what kind of conversation we were about to have.

“And what?” I replied dismissively. “You know one?”

“I am one,” he said. “You sound like you could use help.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure. I bet you say that to everyone.”

“I’m serious!” he said. Then, he leaned in, and his voice dropped lower, like he was about to share a secret. “I mean, I’m usually not teaching calculus.”

“Oh yeah?” I was just curious enough to turn and give him my full attention.

I could feel him taking me in as I did, admiring my cleavage in my cute Friday-night top. I didn’t care.

“What do you teach then?”

He smiled suggestively. “I teach women like you that you don’t need to know everything. It’s okay to be told what to do.”

I stared at back at him, absolutely indignant, my cheeks flushing immediately with shock and embarrassment. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I said, scoffing and turning away and hoping he’d get the hint to leave.

“I only offer it to women who seem like they’d really benefit,” he said, leaning forward to be near by ear again.

“Oh, how flattering,” I sniped. “And how often does that work for you?”

“More than you’d think,” he said with an obnoxiously confident shrug. “There’s a lot of women like you who want the chance to feel dumb.”

I scoffed again, locking my eyes in an icy stare with his.

But that’s when it happened, the first trickle of excitement that took me completely by surprise. I’d never been called dumb before. It was everything I was not. It felt wrong. Demeaning.

And…freeing?

He smiled back at me, and I knew with immediate frustration that my eyes were betraying me.

I turned away and quickly tried to regain myself. “Well, I have no interest in that,” I said briskly. “I’ll get a real tutor if I need one.”

“Hm, I don’t know,” he said, that irritating fucking confidence all over his voice. “You seemed pretty interested just now.”

“I didn’t—that wasn’t even—” I struggled for a good, long moment to find any means of expressing the strange mix of frustration and curiosity that was beginning to move through me. “I…I know what you’re doing,” I finally said.

“Oh? What’s that?” he asked, leaning an elbow against the bar.

“You…think I’m so wound up, I’ll crack under the pressure if you just say the right things! You think I’ll go home with you just so I can forget about everything for a while.”

“Well, I wouldn’t tutor you tonight,” he said. “We’d schedule it, obviously. I need you showing up ready to learn.”

I stared daggers into him again. And again, I felt those daggers losing their edge as I considered his ridiculous offer.

What’s happening to me? I thought. Do I really just…want to be told what to do? To not think on my own for once?

And I knew that he saw right through me. Fucking again.

“Look, I think you could learn a thing or two, that’s all,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“…Sandy,” I said, despite myself.

“Dave,” he replied with a smile. “And I think you know I’m right, Sandy. It’d be nice to not have to know anything for a while, wouldn’t it?”

It would, I thought, some part of my subconscious responding before I could think to judge it. Instead, I just stared back at him, not quite ready to say yes, but completely unable to say no.

He slipped a nearby cocktail napkin between us, retrieved a pen, and began to write out his number. “You just let me know if you change your mind, Sandy,” he said, leaving the napkin near me as he stood up.

“All you need to do is show up with an empty mind.”

And without another word, he left.

On the one hand, it was a relief not to be interrogated for the rest of the night. On the other…only a man who was absolutely confident that he’d won me over would have the nerve to leave our conversation like that.

What an asshole, I thought, turning back to my drink and trying to banish my growing thoughts.

But it didn’t work. And he knew it wouldn’t. He had me already.

Fuck, I realized. I want him to call me dumb again.

And so, there I stood, hardly even a day later, ringing the doorbell to his house, ready to enter and receive my first lesson. I didn’t even both bringing my math books. I didn’t know exactly what was in store. But I didn’t have to know. And that was all part of the twisted allure.

I’d thought about it all night and all day since, my anticipation only growing the more I tried to fight. Some part of me was getting something it needed, and that part of me led me straight to his door whether I liked him or not.

Finally, he came. “Come on in,” he said, opening the door to let me inside. “You look great.”

“Oh…thank you,” I said. I slid my flip flops off at the door, tinging with embarrassment as I looked to my bare feet. I’d repainted all my nails in a matching dark blue. Just for today; just for him.

I could hardly tolerate knowing that there was some part of me that wanted to look sexy, wanted to impress this man of all people. And yet, here I stood, matching nails, perfect eyeliner, and a set of lace underwear underneath my clothes that I’d put on just for him.

I’d already stopped thinking and started listening, even without being told what to do. And I couldn’t believe how good it already felt..

He led me calmly into his kitchen, a clean and spacious room with an empty table at its center. It was just the two of us. I couldn’t believe what I was doing already. But there wasn’t a single part of me that wanted to turn away.

“I’m glad you came back, Sandy,” he said. “Are you ready for your lesson?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice shaky and embarrassing, most of my common sense still struggling to admit what I wanted.

“Good,” he said. “Why don’t we get you wearing something more appropriate first? I think it will help put your mind in the rest place.”

I hesitated. Did he already know? “You…already want me to…”

“You don’t need to think,” he corrected. “Isn’t that right?”

“Y—yes,” I stammered out. Fuck, I thought. Why is that working?

“Good,” he said. “Now, take off that outfit for me.”

I let out a shaky breath as my trembling hands reached for my shirt. I’m really doing this, I realized.

I felt my heart race as I slowly grazed the fabric up and over my head, letting my laced purple bralette and my soft, flush belly show.

Then, I slowly fought my nerves and unbuttoned my jeans, bending at the waist to slide them down my legs and off my ankles, revealing a matching purple thong, one that’d made me feel like a slut since the moment I’d put it on.

Finally, I stood before him, my clothes in a pile on the floor, and my body embarrassingly and exhilaratingly free.

“Good, Sandy,” he said, taking a slow step closer to me. “I knew you’d come ready to listen. Now, are you ready to stop thinking for me?”

“…Yes,” I said, meeting his gaze with a building excitement and lust.

“Good.” And then, his voice grew lower, darker, gentle but fierce, like there wasn’t a doubt in the world that his words were true. “Turn and put your hands on the table.”

I did it without a second thought. I breathed out heavily as I felt his hands gently caress my back, slowly moving over my shoulders and down my spine at a tantalizing pace.

“You seem to like being told you’re a good girl,” he purred.

“…Yes,” I admitted, feeling the heat building in my body as I did.

“You probably try so hard so you can be called one, don’t you?”

I let out another tense breath. “Y—yes.”

“But you don’t have to try so hard here,” he continued, his hands wrapping around my waist and exploring my chest. “In fact, I think you’re a good girl when you’re dumb.”

Oh my God. I let out a sharp breath and arched my back. There was no denying my reaction; being called dumb sent a bolt of electricity through me, made me soft and obedient and eager to please in a way that nothing ever had before.

It was humiliating. And I wanted more.

“Oh, you really like that, don’t you?” he teased. “Is it good to feel dumb for me?”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, not even planning on giving him the title. I was slipping fast, losing my dignity and submitting to his control in a way that was absolutely addictive.

His grip began to firm on me, his excitement building with mine. “Good girl,” he breathed into my ear. “I knew you’d like learning from me.”

Fuck you, I thought. But it was no use. I moaned as my knees went weak and I pressed my bare ass into his groin. I began to rock my hips back and forth on him, letting my frustration and arousal blend into one as he continued to have his way with me.

“Good girl,” he said approvingly. He tightened a hand on my hip to pull me closer, letting his other continue to explore my collarbone and neck. “You’re already so dumb for me, aren’t you?”

Another jolt of delicious, demeaning arousal coursed through me. I let my legs spread further apart, and my chest bend further over the kitchen table, arching my back as I melted into his grip. I was giving up the act, bit by desperate bit.

“God, I can feel how wet you are,” he groaned. I felt his warm, hard cock pressing back into me as my ass caressed him, working him up in a way that only made me hungrier for approval.

He slid lower, his shaft sliding along the wetness that had already overtaken the entirety of my little thong. I made a humiliating sound as he began to spread my wetness between my thighs.

“Are you ready to feel even dumber for me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I moaned out, my body helpless in his hands.

With a suddenly and startling amount of force, he threw me up onto the table. “Ass up,” he growled. “And hang your head off the edge.”

I crawled forward to obey, staying on all fours and letting my ass stick out in the air. I heard him unzipping his pants as he came around to me, and I fluttered with excitement as I realized what was coming next.

God, I’m excited to suck cock, I thought. What has he done to me?

But there was no resisting it anymore. I breathed out with relief as his cock came to me. I kissed the tip and felt him pulse, his precum already beginning to dribble onto my lips as I looked up to him and waited to be told what to do.

“You see how wet you’re getting just from listening to me?” he said.

I nodded, letting the tip of my tongue roll along the underside of his shaft as I listened to him.

“Then be a good girl and empty your head for me,” he continued, placing a hand on my chin. “I want you to make a fucking mess. Be a good dumb slut and drool all over my cock. Make yourself choke. Does that make sense, Sandy? Can you do what I tell you and take my cock like a dumb fucking slut?”

My eyes nearly crossed from pleasure. I’d hardly even been touched, but I felt so turned on, I could practically cum from a single pulse. Every respectable thought left my head as he looked down at me.

I didn’t care how much of an asshole Dave was anymore. He was freeing me, and I wanted nothing more than to listen to him and make him happy.

“Yes, Sir,” I gasped, and I took down his cock as far as it would go.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “Take my cock.”

“Yhhm, Srrh,” I garbled around his length, too degraded into submission to take it out of my mouth.

I moved back and forth in slow, deep strokes, letting the tip of my tongue touch his balls, plunging myself deeper and deeper with every thrust. A deep, animal sound escaped my throat as I took in all of him, a lust that had never been satisfied until he came into my life and called me his dumb little slut.

I felt myself begin to gag. But before I could even feel shame, I felt his firm hands petting my hair. “Good girl,” he encouraged me. “Keeping choking on that cock like a dumb, helpless slut.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I grabbed his ass and pulled myself even closer, my vision blurring with tears as I worshipped his body like I needed him to think for me for the rest of my life. I made messy, shameful sounds as I threw myself into him, refusing to let up for air just to hear him call me good and dumb again. I felt my spit slopping down my face and hitting the floor, and my pussy had gotten so wet, I could feel the sopping puddle that was forming every time I rocked my hips.

Holy fuck, I thought, grunting and moaning on his cock. I’m going to cum just from sucking him off.

“That’s it, Sandy,” Dave grunted, his hands tightening in my hair and on my back. “God, you’re so fucking dumb for me. Cum in your thong like a dumb fucking slut!”

And that was exactly what I needed: his command.

I squealed with my mouth full of his cock as my orgasm quivered through me, shaking me so fiercely that my body went weak. My hands pawed at his ass, and my hips fucked the air desperately as my wet pussy grinding against the table. It was the most degrading orgasm I’d ever had. And now, with this new submissive side of myself wide awake, that made it the best.

I gasped desperately for air as Dave pulled his cock away and flipped me onto my back. He lifted my legs up and spread them out, pushing my knees all the way to my ears.

“Hold yourself open, slut,” he ordered, and he pulled my ruined thong to the side and barely teased my entrance before plunging straight in.

I reached desperately toward him and tightened my grip on his forearm, using my other arm to hold my legs back as he wished. With every thrust of his cock, another layer of resistance left my body, and another boring, exhausting thought left my brain.

I was totally and absolutely his, his little dumb toy to order around, his thoughtless, messy, slutty plaything that needed him to think. And I fucking loved it more than I even knew I could.

“So, good girl,” he huffed as he continued to pound me, “do you think I was right?”

“Yes Sir!” I cried, hardly able to breath as I writhed with pleasure under his weight.

“Do you want to keep letting me think for you?”

“Yes Sir!”

He yanked at the straps of my bralette and let my tits spill out, bouncing under the force of his strokes. “Do you want to keep feeling dumb for me?”

“Yes Sir!” My voice practically came out as a scream. “I want to be dumb!” I begged. “I want to be dumb!”

“Oh, good girl,” he growled. “Keep begging. Make me cum.”

His approval coursed through me like a drug. “I’m your dumb slut!” I cried. “I’m so fucking dumb, Sir! Please think for me! Please let me be dumb! Please please please please please please!”

His pace only grew stronger as I babbled like a stupid, cockdrunk whore. Before long, I wasn’t even saying words, squealing and weeping with delirious pleasure as he plunged harder and harder into me.

“Just like that,” he groaned. “I’m gonna cum.”

He stuck his fingers into my mouth as his slapping balls tightened against my skin. I suckled on him desperately, continuing to garble out half-words of dumb lust with a full mouth, letting my drool leave a degrading mess all over my chin.

I’m so fucking dumb, I thought. And soon, it was my only thought. I’m so fucking dumb. I’m so fucking dumb. I’m so fucking dumb. I’m so fucking dumb.

His grip almost left me breathless as he finally let out his cum inside me. Pulse after pulse of pleasure overtook me, and my body entered a convulsing blur of delight that moved in tandem with his. Sir’s thoughts were my thoughts, and Sir’s pleasure was my pleasure. I was drunk on his praise and approval, and I felt a deep sense of relief as the trembling thrill finally wore away, finally at peace.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Dave breathed into my ear, collapsed over me as he caught his breath. “I bet there isn’t a single thought in your dumb little head.”

“Yeah,” I exhaled. My degradation was complete. I was dumb. I needed to be thought for. And I didn’t want it any other way.

“You did so good,” he said, his praise a salve for my trembling body and empty mind. “But, I think you’ll need more than one tutoring session. I just need to make sure my lessons have really sunk in.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said, a smile on my face. “If you think so.”

“Of course I do,” he said, confident as always. “I think for you now anyway, remember?”

aching for more? subscribe to keep up with every delicious fantasy. why behave when misbehaving feels so fucking good?

-Caitlyn Scott <3

Subscribe now

kinks included: submission, revealing clothing, deepthroating, tipsy decision-making, spanking, and more

this is a fantasy intended for mature audiences. please click away if these topics are not for you.

serving him right

“Adeline…isn’t that dress just a little short?”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt like a prude. I usually wasn’t the type to ruin someone’s fun, especially when we were pregaming for a long night out. But could she really blame me in a dress like that? We were just going out for a girl’s night, and here she was in the tightest, tiniest slip of fabric I’d ever seen, all black lace and sparkles, accompanied by a pair of high leather boots and patterned fishnet tights. It was an ensemble that I’d only expect to see on a woman who was working for the night, not going out with her friend for a drink.

And yet, she met my question with a sly smile, her face done up with a dark red lip and a smoky black eyeshadow, just to bring the whole rebellious look to a new height. “Not too short where we’re going,” she replied, her sultry tone melting into a low laugh as she poured herself another tequila and shot it down.

“Right,” I said, “where are we going again?”

“I told you!” Ade said, still laughing to herself with silly, tipsy delight. “It’s my new favorite place! You’re gonna love it, Amy. You’ll see why I can’t stop coming back.”

“Sure,” I replied, pouring my own less-confident shot of tequila as I took in her energy with a self-conscious bent. “Well, I wish you’d warned me better. I’m not sure I’m dressed for the part.”

“Girl, you’re gorgeous!” she squealed, rushing over to me and rubbing her hands all over my shoulders. It was a relief for sure, though I wasn’t totally convinced she loved my, by comparison at least, rather conservative choice of a red dress and black flats. Maybe the self-consciousness would melt away with another drink or two. That’s why we were here in her apartment in the first place, right?

“Trust me, Amy,” she continued, lingering in a close moment with her hands still gently stroking along my arms. “You’re going to feel so good tonight. I can’t wait to see you.”

“…Okay,” I said, studying her and swirling the tequila in my hand. “Ade, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Yeah!” she said. “I’m…incredible.” She tiled her gaze and smiled at me. For a moment, I could swear the moment was…No, of course not. We were both bi, sure, and open about our pursuits with each other in the past. But bi or not, we’d always just been friends. Still, there was something different about my friend tonight than usual, even beyond the bold choice of clothing.

“Okay, I believe you,” I continued. “You’re just being…well, I don’t know.”

“Sluttier?” she asked.

“Ade!”

She laughed, letting her hands trace down my arms as she spun away to pour herself another drink. Don’t get excited, I chided to myself. It’s just the liquor. She’s getting touchy like she always does.

“What’s so wrong with admitting it?” she cooed. “I’m gonna to be a slut tonight! There’s nothing wrong with giving into what we want, is there?”

I laughed. But it was a strange laugh. Something breathy and excited escaped me as I did, something that was equal parts offended…and excited.

“Are you sure it’s what you want?” I asked.

She locked eyes with me, raising the shot glass to her dark red lips. “It is since I met Gabe.”

Right, I thought, the relief hitting me in an instant. This is all just about some new guy. Adeline was known to go all in on her relationships, but they rarely lasted long. Maybe this was just some new phase, not a fundamental shift of priorities in the easy-going friend I once knew. But something remained there in her gaze that was more serious than usual. Whoever this Gabe was, this seemed like more than a fling. She was down bad. I figured I should do some digging.

“And who’s Gabe?” I asked. “He can’t be this good, can he?”

She raised an eyebrow to me, maintaining her eye contact while she slowly sipped the contents of her glass.

“Adeline,” I said, that strange, embarrassing laugh escaping me again. “You’re not this crazy over some guy, are you?”

Ade took a step closer, then another, her statement-piece boots making a delicious sound across the floor. “Gabriel makes me…hm. I guess crazy is a good way to put it.”

“Yeah, it seems like it,” I replied, my nervous voice almost a whisper. Stop it, I chided again. But it was too late. Something in me, whether it had more to do with the tequila or my friend’s advances, was starting to wake up.

Despite my best interests, something about this whole display was turning me on.

“Amy, you’d love him,” she said, stepping even closer, our noses practically touching as she reveled in the thought of her man. “He makes me feel free. I mean, you remember! I used to be so stuck up and moody! He just…helps me let go.”

“This is letting go?” I asked. “I…don’t know if it suits you.” Listen to yourself, I thought. You hardly sound like you believe yourself.

“Hmm,” she cooed, leaning even closer and tilting her head. “I think he could help you let go, too.”

Finally, I broke out of the haze and backed away. “What? Adeline, are you serious? You want me to…hook up with the same guy as you?”

Ade shrugged, as if my rejection hardly had an affect on her mood. As if she knew I wouldn’t reject for long. “I think you could use some help, is all,” she muttered. Then, she looked back at me with a smug, all-knowing grin. “I think you want to give in, too.”

She’s serious, I realized. It scared me. It excited me. But on top of all of that, in that moment, it irritated me. Who was she to know what was best for me?

I shook my head, setting down my tequila unfinished. “Look, I’m happy you found someone…I think. Let’s just get on with the night and have fun, okay?”

She shrugged again, turning away from me to head to her apartment’s mirror, fixing up her tiny dress and tossing her wild, natural hair over her shoulders. “Well, if you change your mind, he’ll be at the club tonight.”

I scoffed. The boldness of this setup. “Well, good,” I feigned. “I can turn him down then. Serves him right.”

“Oh, Amy, I think I know how to serve him right,” she replied, letting out a laugh at her own joke that almost sounded more like a pleased moan.

I took another look at my unfinished tequila. However this night went…I was gonna need that shot. I sighed, and downed it faster than any of the others.

And still, there was a thrill of energy in my belly, a steady, excited warmth growing in the depths of my heat.

Don’t let this get to you, I thought. Just make it through the night, and you can rub one out when you’re home. But the stir of possibility remained with me all throughout our walk down the block, all throughout our ride to the venue, all throughout the night no matter what I did to resist.

I was already drunk enough for the edges of the room to blur by the time we’d arrived. We were in a dark sea of bodies, my senses consumed with laughter, joy, lust, and sweat. Lights flashed purple and red, casting everything in a sensual glow as the bass of the music pounded so deeply I could feel it between my legs. Normally, all these facts would be a good thing. If only my dear friend Adeline wasn’t trying to ruin me.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom before we dance!” Ade shouted, her voice still nearly indiscreet amidst all the pulsating sound.

“I’ll stop by the bar then!” I shouted back. I couldn’t tell you what I was thinking getting another drink. Maybe that if I got ahead of it, I could keep Ade from ordering me something even stronger? Whatever my reason was, it seemed good enough for her, and she slipped away into the crowd without a moment more.

So there I stood, alone in the fog of a club, my judgement already questionable, and my senses already wired alive. I made my way to the bar and did my best to order a cocktail, but I struggled against all the other people and the noise. But, before long, I heard another voice nearby, one that spoke with more confidence and clarity, ordering on my behalf.

“Another whiskey on the rocks for me,” he said, “and I think she asked for a Manhattan.”

The bartender nodded and disappeared into his work without another beat. I turned to my mystery advocate, only to find a tall, broad, and long-haired man, who gestured to me in solidarity with a raised glass.

“Thank you,” I said, instinctually moving closer to be heard. “I don’t know how long that would’ve taken.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” he said, his voice oddly calm and smooth despite the clamorous environment we were in. “I could tell you aren’t quite used to a place like this.”

“I’ve been out before!” I protested. But I knew, on some level, he was right.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

Here we go, I thought. But at least I was getting a drink, and Ade would be able to find me before long.

“Amy,” I said.

“Beautiful,” he replied. “And I take it you’re coming here to let loose?”

I laughed, but I also blushed. Was I that obviously wound up? “I guess you can say that,” I said. “My friend definitely has that idea.”

“She has the right idea,” he said with a smile. “You look like you’d enjoy letting go.”

I looked up to him, that thrill of possibility that never quite went again bringing itself to my attention again. He was gentle, in a way, but there was a fire behind his eyes. It was like he was seeing right through me, seeing past all the usual pretenses and presentations, looking into who I really was. It was vulnerable. It was a bit mortifying. And it was very, very hot.

Our drinks arrived. I took a long sip, trying to regain my thoughts before I did something stupid. What did Ade do to me?

“Tell me, Amy,” he continued, leaning closer to speak directly into my ear. “Are you here tonight to meet someone?”

“I…wasn’t planning on it,” I replied, leaning up to touch my chin to the side of his face so I could speak into his ear, too. “But…I guess that could change.” Fuck! I thought. Why can’t I stop myself?

“That sounds good to me,” he said. “Would you like me to change that for you?”

My defenses were fading fast. Adeline wasn’t even out of the bathroom yet, and I was about to prove her right. I had one last modicum of resistance, and I felt it rise up in me just in time to ask him another question, a sneaking suspicion I’d felt growing since the moment we met.

“What’s your name, by the way?” I asked.

He smiled, as if I already knew the answer. And I did. “Gabriel,” he said. “Adeline calls me Gabe.”

“Seems like you’re getting along,” Adeline said, her arms suddenly around my waist as she rejoined my side.

Of course. I had been completely played, from Ade’s apartment all the way to this bar.

And somehow, despite all my better judgement, I didn’t mind. I more than didn’t mind. I liked it. I felt desired. Pursued. Wanted. And inside me, there was a deep want in response, one that didn’t care about keeping up proper appearances or saving my dignity.

I suddenly knew exactly was Ade was talking about. I was electric with nothing but desire. I was free.

“We should dance,” Ade suggested. I nodded, practically in a trance. And so, I finished my drink, and she led me by the hand out to the dancefloor. I was completely at the mercy of the two of them now. And despite the fear that was running through my body, the heat between my legs only grew.

My inhibitions left beat by beat as we danced together. The pulsing of the music only fueled the pulsing of my groin, and my lust began to overtake every move my body could make. Adeline laughed her sweet, slutty laugh as she pulled me closer, and she spun me into putting on a show for Gabriel. I didn’t mind. Fuck, I needed it. Some undeniable part of myself was finally being let free. Was I really going to fuck these two?

My answer came when Ade slipped away from me to grind her ass against him, her dress hiking up and revealing practically her entire ass as she shamelessly moved her hips in circles on his pants. She looked up to him with a delicious smile as he placed a hand on her neck. The sight of it was so dirty, so animal, so…right.

And then, Adeline sent her flirty gaze over to me, and she slowly moved away from Gabriel and pulled me in, encouraging me to take her place. Nervousness shot through me, but my own lust overtook any chance I had to reconsider. Between the layers of fabric, I felt the soft skin of my ass press up against his long, hard shaft. And as I moved my body back and forth on him, I knew that I wanted all those layers of clothing to be gone.

“See what I meant?” Adeline teased, running a hand through my hair. “It’s fun to let go, isn’t it? To serve someone.”

“Yeah,” I replied, too turned on to even put together another thought.

Ade laughed that painfully erotic laugh again. “She’s going to do good, isn’t she?” she said up to Gabe.

“Oh, she will,” Gabe replied, his hand finding its way to my hip, bucking me in even closer. I hoped I knew exactly what they meant.

“Did you reserve our favorite spot again?” Ade asked him.

“Of course I did,” he said, and before I knew it, his hands were guiding me up and leading me to walk with them again. Whatever was about to happen, it was happening right now.

We went up a flight of stairs, ending up in a hallway of private rooms. Gabe led both of us to one, unlocking it was a key in his pocket and shutting the door behind us. The room had a carpet and a couch, meant for bottle service and a meeting perhaps, and there were no windows to the outside on any wall. Suddenly, it was just the three of us, even as the intense sounds of the raving club carried on below us, still loud enough to feel the thump of the bass right where I needed to feel it.

“So, you want to serve someone?” Gabe asked, circling toward me as I settled into the new space.

“Yes,” I replied sheepishly.

“Serve me?” he said.

“…Yes.”

“Hm.” He stared down at me, once again seeming to look through me, not to order me, but to tell me what he knew I’d want. “Then get on your knees.”

I obeyed. I obeyed like there was never a doubt in my mind earlier in the night. I watched with short, lustful breath as he unclasped his belt and slowly readied himself to receive.

Then, Adeline knelt right next to me, shuffling on her knees to be closer to Gabe. “Can Amy watch us first, Sir?” she asked. I didn’t even question her use of Sir. In fact, the thought of those words leaving my mouth filled me with a whole new wave of steam.

“Why’s that, baby?” Gabe asked. “Do you want to set a good example?”

Adeline giggled with glee as she nodded her head. She crawled up to him like a delighted whore and stuck out her tongue as she waited.

My patience was tested watching her go first, proof that I had been so, so wrong about what I’d want. But my desire to be obedient, to serve, took precedent over my own lust. I remained on my knees, right where I’d been told to stay, and watched as the couple’s beautiful sex began to unfold.

Gabe let his long, firm cock out of his pants, and quickly slid it into Adeline’s mouth. To my surprise, she mostly stayed put. It was Gabe that began to fuck her, his hips slowly gaining speed as he slid his cock nearly all the way out and back into her mouth, reaching the back of her throat with each stroke. Ade made a sound I’d never heard her make as she took all of his length. But she also rolled her eyes back and moaned with dumb delight, her knees sliding apart on the floor as she sunk into absolute pleasure.

“Oh my God,” I trembled, watching them with rapt attention. In all of our friendly flirtations over the years, I’d never imagined Adeline having rough, unapologetic, messy sex like this. But here she was, a pure embodiment of unashamed lust. I felt every thrust like a tiny trill of pleasure in my clit. I knew what I wanted more than ever before.

The act continued for longer than I expected, longer than I figured Ade would have the air for. Spit began to rope down her chin and off of Gabe’s cock, leaving a growing mess on her collarbone and all over her dress. Not only did she not seem to mind it, she seemed to like it, moaning in delight between the slurps and gasps as she ran her hands through the mess and gathered it at the base of his cock, using her own spit to jerk him off. Her makeup became a smeared, runny mess, but in this new world I’d entered, that made her all the hotter, an object of service that put every facet of herself into pleasuring others, no matter how it made her look.

Gabe looked to me, relishing in my patient, burning lust. “Do you think she’s set a good example?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir,” I gasped, flushed as the words escaped my wetting mouth.

“Then crawl to me and take her place.”

I did as I was told. Adeline finally pulled away, gasping for air like she’d come up from sea. But she was happier than I’d ever seen her, rolling over on the floor and laughing as she caught her breath. I looked up and locked eyes with Gabe, my tongue out, ready to stay put and receive him for as long as I could, just like her.

The beautiful feeling of his hard fucking cock slid in and out of me, and I sat and took it with all the obedience I could find. Sounds escaped me that I didn’t know I could make, desperate, whining, slobbering sounds that the old me would’ve been embarrassed about. But I was different now, different for the better. How could this be wrong when it felt so fucking right?

Adeline’s arms wrapped around me as he continued, pawing at my dress and exposing my breasts as it slowly came undone. “You’re fun when you’re a slut, Amy,” she whispered, her voice controlling and evil in all the best ways.

I released an involuntary squeal in response, flooded with pleasure at the thought of being such a free and serving slut. Her hands wandered further down to my pussy, and the sound of my absolutely flooded panties joined the haze of lust as she pressed her fingers against my lips. A delicious mixture of sweat, drool, arousal, and tears left me as I let my body serve both of them, pushed to my limit in all the best fucking ways.

Finally, Gabe pulled away, reducing me to the same gasping, sputtering mess that Ade had been just moments before. She held me up as I recovered, breathing with trembling glee as she undressed me, and then undressed herself, leaving on all the slutty accessories of both of outfits, but letting out our tits, asses, and cunts for our new Sir to see.

“She’s doing so good, Sir,” she moaned out. “I think you can be rough.”

“Face down,” Gabe grunted, his own lust beginning to drive him into blind passion, too. I felt that mix of fear and delight course through me again as I obeyed, putting myself into doggystyle for him without a second thought.

The head of his cock teased my entrance, so dripping wet that there was no need to warm me up. But then, I felt his hand clap down on my ass, loud and hard enough to make me squirm in both pain and delight.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Adeline squealed, laying down beside me to watch.

“Yes, Sir!” I gasped, knowing all too well what I’d just gotten myself into by agreeing. His hands came down again and again, harder each time than the last, the sound of my punished ass sending another flood of pleasure to my pussy with each strike. Adeline positioned herself in front of me, letting me watch as she took delight in my service, rubbing herself and sucking her fingers and mumbling dirty talk every step of the way.

Finally, as my pussy gushed out another stream of slick wetness, he slowly slid his cock in, filling me entirely with seconds. I made a high, squealing sound I’d never made before in my life, feeling a deep and fulfilling fulness as he used my body for his pleasure. And then, he began to thrust, just as roughly as he had treated my mouth. I practically screamed from the sensation, so overwhelmed that I buried my face in the ground and felt myself clawing and quivering with each stroke.

And I loved it. I loved it so. Fucking. Much.

“Sir!” Adeline yelped. “I’m going to cum!”

“So am I,” he growled, and I realized in my delirious, yelling moans, that I was going to cum, too.

“God, Amy,” Ade moaned out, “you love this even more than I do, don’t you?”

I locked eyes with her as Gabe’s strokes picked up in speed, wracking me with so much pleasure I could hardly breath. There wasn’t a need to say anything. She was right. She’d won. And she fucking knew it.

I felt my wetness gush onto the floor as I came. I cried out so deeply that my vision nearly blurred, like I’d let out a breath I’d been holding my whole life. And with a proud grunt, Gabe came too, pulse after pulse of his hard cock rubbing within me, his hot cum shooting from his head and running down my pussy as I overflowed with him. Adeline shook and trembled as she came alongside us, and the three of us were brought down into a sweating, breathing mess, tangled overtop one another in a bundle of raw lust. We laid there together, the beautiful, dirty smell of sex, and the heavy breathing of all our chests making up my entire mindless world.

“So,” Ade breathed out, the first to regain herself enough to talk, “do you still think my dress was too short?”

I laughed. “Mine wasn’t short enough,” I said. Then, drunk on sex, I started to kiss her all over, wreathing her in affection and desire, the best thank you I knew how to give. The delicious taste of her tongue filled my mouth as she returned the favor.

“Well Amy,” Gabe said, standing up to start gathering his clothes, “I think we might be doing this again.”

I smiled as I looked up to him, my friend and I tangled on the floor, two sluts covered in spit and cum who couldn’t be happier if they tried. “Yes, Sir,” I said, the words coming out so naturally, I no longer had to question if they were right.

I couldn’t wait to serve him right again.

aching for more? subscribe to keep up with every delicious fantasy. why behave when misbehaving feels so fucking good?

-Caitlyn Scott <3

Subscribe now