When she’s sat for long enough in the aftermath of her wanton behaviour – knickers down, bent over the desk in his office, palms smarting from the whipping that kicked off her punishment, he calls her through to the lounge.

Just one word, barked with force and anger:

“Come.”

Note: degradation/humiliation, consensual role play, beating, fucking-as-punishment, slut shaming. Catch up on part one (gang bang in a bar) and part two (tell me where you’ve been) then pop back here for the climax. 

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There’s a reason she turned up to the club wearing no knickers, and it’s a very very good one. As she’s getting dressed, she briefly contemplates which ones to wear – silk, lace, maybe a tiny black thong that can be easily torn off. Eventually she settles for ‘none at all’ though, plus a skirt that’s easy to hike up round her waist. That option seems like the best one, to achieve the end goal on which she’s so utterly focused.

Note this story contains degradation, a gang bang, dicks going into all the holes, cum, etc etc etc. 

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He’s alone in his office when she walks in. Shattered, trashed, spent, and covered in cum, when she nudges the door open she knows exactly how she looks. The dishevelled, post-fuck, ruined look on her face pairs well with the tattered remains of the shirt she once wore. The mess of her hair is a crowning glory of sluttery and shame. The bar, the beer, the men, the degradation… all of it happened as a prelude to this moment. She walks into his office, raises her eyes to meet his, and receives one simple instruction: “Confess.”

Note this story contains beating, punishment, consensual BDSM and humiliation. 

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Heat wave daydream time: everything’s melting, including my brain, and there’s very little I can do to conjure blog ideas when I’m sitting in my knickers sweating soup. But yesterday just as I lay down in bed, I had a very powerful horny image. Instead of trying to write that into a proper blog post, I’m just going to write a string-of-consciousness story prompted by that flash-frame idea: him stopping me in the hallway, making me face the wall and arch my back, yanking down my shorts and knickers then roughly lubing me up to get fucked in the ass.

This is a fantasy, it’s very consensual, and in fact it’s at the more consensual end of things I tend to wank about. But the first half has notes of dubious consent so don’t read on if that’s likely to distress you. Also contains: butt plugs, threats of anal as punishment, fetishisation of thick cocks. 

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It’s cold, so he wears gloves. He’s trying out new ‘looks’ lately, so they’re leather. Well… the vegan equivalent of leather at any rate. Soft, black, expensive. They cushion and protect his palms when he thwacks me on the arse.

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