Let’s start with the obvious: hard and heavy and thick and copious, deep down the back of my throat. After a few rounds of me teasing you with my lips and tongue and hands and spit and all the bells and whistles. Building you up and up and up in time to the music, then letting you plateau for a while in that moment, on the beat, with movements that are almost-but-not-quite fast or forceful enough to tip you over the edge. Once, twice, then three times before you ask me: “Do you want my cum? Are you ready for my cum?” and I mumble my assent through a mouthful of dick with eyes that flash ‘yes please’, so you let go. Pumping it – like I said – hard and heavy and thick and copious. Right down my throat so I almost gag and choke. But instead of gagging, I make a point of guzzling. One big, hard swallow with an almost cartoonish gulp, amplified so you can hear. Then another one, just in case you didn’t.

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Here’s a dilemma. A conundrum. A thought experiment, perhaps? If you know you’re going to be shagging someone for the very last time ever, how do you do it? You know your relationship has to end, and will soon be over for good. The pair of you can’t go on like this any longer, it hurts too much… but fate has given you one last shot to do the thing you both love to do. So. The last time you ever fuck them, how do you fuck?

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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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