Remember my free use secretary from about a month ago? How she got fucked in the middle of a job interview while doing a sterling job of pretending it was completely normal to get railed over your prospective boss’s desk while discussing salary expectations? Remember how we’ve talked about my kink for misogyny and the fact that it manifests in fantasies but should never be practiced in real life outside of a safe (and consensual) playspace? OK sweet. Well, she’s back. This is the next in the wank tales series. There are multiple free use secretary scenarios (catch the third, like wank-fantasy-Pokémon, if you support me on Patreon). This one’s called ‘the phone call’, and it features dubious consent (possibly coerced, maybe outright non-consent, I’ve tried to write in some consent cues but it’s borderline), plus other things that might be triggering to some people like choking, voyeurism and aggressively entitled posh bankers called Tarquin.

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This is the first in a series I’m going to call ‘Wank tales’ – some of the stories I see in my head that get me off when I’m wanking. This one – Free use secretary (The interview) – has elements of free use, power imbalance, and I think some elements of non-consent. Not sure on that, though. I’m consenting to this scenario, because I created it, and none of these people are real – they’re just manifestations of my own perversions as they play out in my head. They’re not real human beings, they’re my fuckpuppets. Were this sort of thing to happen in real life I would be straight on the phone to HR. As explained in detail in last week’s post, I have a kink for misogyny. I get off on scenes and behaviour that I abhor in real life, so while this could make for a hot (consensual) role play, it should never be taken as an instruction manual, or a desire I would like to fulfil in any way other than as play. As I say, it’s hard to judge whether this needs a warning, so here’s a summary instead: this is a story about a dismissive boss interviewing a woman to be his secretary in which he aggressively fucks her like he’s using her holes while she has to continue with a job interview as normal. Dunno where that falls on the content note scale.

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In drama at school we used to play a warm-up game that involved cutting a deck of cards to determine each character’s status. We’d be given a scenario, let’s say person A is a teenager who’s broken a vase during a house party while their parents were away, and B and C are the parents returning home. If you just tell people to play what they think those characters should do, the scene will run in a fairly obvious way. Parents discover the accident, interrogate their kid about how the breakage happened, the child is suitably apologetic/nervous of the consequences, etc. However, if you have each person cut the deck of cards and replay the scene, this time assuming status and power depending on which card they got, things look very different. Let’s say the kid gets a Jack or a Queen, Mum gets a 9 and Dad picks a 2. Now the kid has the most power, and might end up berating their parents for owning something so expensive in the first place. Mum is the kid’s semi-obsequious sidekick, agreeing with him while occasionally sniping at Dad for not anticipating that this might happen before he booked their weekend away. Dad grovels before both of them, frantically trying to make amends for an accident that, in his low-status role, he’s entirely reframed as his fault. See what I mean? Status isn’t inherent to each character, it’s determined by the luck of the draw. And status, power and playfulness are all at the heart of my idea for a Blackadder Threesome. Here’s one for all the horny switches.

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There are two levels on which I’m enjoying dinner. On the surface, the main conversation – catching up with friends I’ve not seen in years. Beneath the table, something even better – his thigh nudging against mine. The oh-so-casual initial pressure that could easily be written off as an accident conjures a flash of possibility as I realise that… yeah… this guy just might want to fuck me. A rush of teenage horn flushes across my skin as I decide that I’m gonna nudge him back to find out for sure. Meeting his pressure, thigh-against-thigh, I remind myself that this guy has a wife.

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This story contains elements of dormophilia (i.e. wanting people to touch me up while I sleep), all very consensual. Don’t do this sort of thing unless you have discussed in advance with your partner and you’re sure that they would enjoy it.

The night before Christmas, he tiptoes into the bedroom to make sure he doesn’t wake me, but he doesn’t need to be that careful: I pretend to be asleep anyway. Lying on my stomach, head turned away from the door he’s just entered through, I keep my breathing soft and calm and make out that I’m sleeping. If he knows I’m awake he might try to talk to me, and at that point sleep will be impossible. Besides, if he thinks I’m out for the count, it’ll be way hotter if he tries to do The Thing I Like. I’m wearing my silk knickers, just in case. I really want him to do it.

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