.

Daddy was working in his room, and I decided to pay him a visit. After finishing my dinner, I knocked on his door, then walked over to him and slid onto his lap. <3

"Daddyy~"

I took off his glasses and peppered his stubbly cheek with kisses.

"Baby, I'm working."

"Hnn- come on~" I humped my crotch on his thigh, my face buried on his chest. "You could use some break."

A sharp smack landed on my left cheek, followed by a low chuckle. "Naughty girl."

He took his glasses from my hand and set them aside. His hand moved to my hips, guiding me against his crotch, creating a slow, teasing friction that make me moaned.

"Fine," he relented. "Just for a little bit."

I was a whimpering mess, grinding my hips faster as a tingling sensation spread between my legs.

“Ngh- Daddy—" The whimpers wouldn’t stop spilling from my lips as my hips arched needily, seeking more, more, more. “Touch me, Please..." I breathed.

He began to undo my shorts, lifting me just enough to slide them down my legs.

"Patience, Princess," he whispered on my ear, "Good things come to those who wait."

Slowly pulled my panties aside, he ran his middle finger over my wet heat. He could feel how drenched I was just from humping against his crotch.

“So wet f'me already.." He teased, gathering the slickness. "Is this what you want?" he asked tauntingly as he began to stroke my clit roughly, "You want Daddy to make you cum until you scream?"

I nod, my voice trembling. "Want… want—" My nails drag down his forearms, leaving faint red lines. "I want you, Daddy."

He chuckled, his fingers drawing out soft gasps from me. I could feel my orgasm building with each movement. With his free hand, he reached down to undo his pants.

"You're so wet for me, so eager." He removed his hand from my pussy, bringing his wet fingers up to her mouth. "Suck," he commanded roughly, pushing his digits past my plump lips.

"Mmhm-" I hummed softly as I lick his fingers clean, creating a 'Pwah' sound as he drew back his fingers. "Wan' moree."

"You want more, huh? You want to fuck your Daddy?" He spread apart my legs roughly, aligning his tip on my slick entrance. "Go ahead, work yourself on it, sweetheart."

Slowly, I sank down onto him, my breath hitching as I took him in. I presses a little force when it reached halfway. Suddenly, his hands gripped my hips firmly and pushed me down further until I was fully seated. I squeal, a shudder running through me at the sensation.

"What's wrong sweetheart? Thought you want it so bad." He chuckled, his grip firm on my hips.

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening against his shoulders as I tried to steady my breath. "I do…" I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked, tilting his head.

"Then show me."

I moved slowly at first, feel as more of my juices to dripping down my inner thighs.

My nails dug into his skin, a quiet whimper slipping past my lips. His smirk deepened. "That's my good girl."

He gripped my hips tighter, using them to angle his thrusts deeper inside me, his movements becoming more forceful and erratic. "You little slut," he growled, "You love this, don’t you? Love when your daddy fuck you like this?"

He reached down between us, pinching my clit hard as he continued to fuck me mercilessly, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. It's doesn't took a long time before I cum—hard and he followed suit shortly after.

He slide his hand between our bodies, his fingers finding my overly sensitive clit once more. He gave my clit another firm pinch, "Look at you," He chuckled, "Drenching me like that. Such a messy little slut."

"Daddy!" I gasped, feeling overstimulated, and tried to squirm away from him.

"Oh no, you don’t," he pulled me back against him and nipped at my earlobe. His hand sliding under my shirt to trace a pattern on my skin. "You started this," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "So don’t think I’ll let you go so easily." <3

Embracing Your Natural Urges

The narrative begins with the protagonist stumbling across an online blog about rape fantasy. Initially disgusted, she finds herself drawn back to it repeatedly. This initial reaction is common; many women feel a mix of disgust and fascination when first encountering such taboo subjects. However, the more she explores, the more she realizes that these urges are natural and primal. This realization is crucial because it allows her to accept and embrace her desires without shame.

The Thrill of the Unknown

The protagonist’s experiences in the alley behind the bar highlight the thrill of the unknown. The dark, secluded space, the potential danger, and the heightened senses all contribute to an intense arousal. This thrill is not just about the physical act but also about the psychological excitement of being in a situation where anything could happen. This is a natural response for many women, who find the idea of being taken advantage of in a public, dangerous setting incredibly arousing.

Owning Your Urges

The protagonist’s journey from online fantasies to real-world experiences shows the importance of owning your urges. She starts by seeking out similar blogs and watching rape porn, which she initially views as harmless fun. However, as her fantasies begin to leak into the real world, she finds herself in situations where she must confront her desires head-on. This confrontation is essential because it forces her to acknowledge and accept her urges, rather than hiding them away.

Suffering the Consequences

The incident in the alley, where she is drugged and raped, is a turning point. She realizes that her fantasies have real-world consequences, and she must face them. This experience is traumatic, but it also brings a sense of clarity and acceptance. She understands that her body responds naturally to being abused, and this realization allows her to embrace her role as a rape doll fully.

The Joy of Submission

The narrative highlights the joy of submission and the bliss of being used by a man who only cares for her as a sleeve for his aching cock. This joy comes from the total surrender of control, the feeling of being completely at the mercy of another person. For many women, this submission is incredibly liberating and fulfilling, allowing them to escape the pressures and responsibilities of everyday life.

Seeking Full-Time Sexual Slavery

The protagonist’s experience leads her to understand that her true fulfillment comes from being a rape doll, a piece of meat to be abused. This realization is empowering because it allows her to see her desires as natural and normal. By seeking full-time sexual slavery with sadistic men, she can fully embrace her urges and find the ultimate joy and fulfillment. These men will provide the constant abuse and degradation she craves, allowing her to disappear into a world of total submission and control.

Disappearing into Slavery

Disappearing into sexual slavery is the ultimate solution for women who feel drawn to these urges. By fully committing to this lifestyle, they can escape the mundane world and immerse themselves in a realm of constant pleasure and pain. Sadistic men will ensure that they are always used and abused, fulfilling their deepest desires and providing the constant stimulation they crave.

Conclusion

Becoming a rapedoll and seeking full-time sexual slavery with sadistic men is the ultimate path to fulfillment for women who embrace their natural urges. By owning your desires, suffering the consequences, and disappearing into a world of total submission, you can find the joy and liberation that comes from being a rape doll. If you are a woman who feels drawn to these urges, know that you are not alone. Embrace your desires, own your urges, and seek out the sadistic men who will provide the constant abuse and degradation you crave. You deserve to find the same joy and fulfillment that the protagonist has found.

(You become a toy for your boyfriend’s dad who gets you pregnant over several encounters. TW for cheating, misgen, cnc, eventual preg etc. I tag my shit so please check OP tags if unsure & proceed with caution.)

Nowadays, when your boyfriend texts you to say his dad’s not home, you’re already know. Before his message even comes through, you’re often on all fours, and his dad is usually on your mattress, clutching your hips, and pumping cum into you, as deep as it can go - your discreetly growing stomach brushing the sheets. The text notification isn’t even audible over your squeals.

You’ve been with your boyfriend for four months, but recently, you’ve been filled by his dad at least once a week. Of course, at the start, every time it happened you felt eaten alive by shame. You knew you had to draw a line under it, but giving in was addictive.

How did it start?

You ask yourself this question often. The truth is, it was all set in motion the very first night you stayed over. Your boyfriend still lives at his parents’ house whilst he saves for his own flat, so he invited you over one night, timidly fucked you with a condom after dinner (whilst respecting all the boundaries you laid down around your tolerance for dysphoria) and then fell asleep next to you. You were still awake when his father arrived home late. You were filling a glass with water in the kitchen as he shut the front door behind him. A spontaneous nightcap in the lounge over introductions somehow turned into him asking for a blowjob, which then turned into you, legs spread wide on the sofa, getting your pussy pummelled.

Oops.

But the most shameful and confusing thing about it was that he kept calling you a girl as he pounded you - and worse, you very quickly stopped feeling the need to correct him. In the week that followed that initial incident, you had to stave off anxiety attacks from the guilt.

What now? Being misgendered by him felt weirdly amazing - and that scares you. And sleeping with your partner’s dad, more than twice your age? The fucked-upness of it. But life just seemed to go on even though it happened. So it didn’t take long for it to happen again:

Your flatmate spent the next weekend away and it was soon your turn to host your new boyfriend.

You had already decided against telling him. Let things be normal. Let life go on. And yet, when he was shyly pushing into you with an ill-fitting condom, carefully avoiding touching your chest like you’d always asked, even lovingly affirming your gender - you couldn’t focus. The image of his dad was fixed in your mind. His full balls ready to burst. His rough hands all over your exposed tits, and the way he forced himself on top of you. As your boyfriend fucked you, all you could think of was how the more experienced man made you beg: drooling precum and rock hard for your young unprotected pussy.

Nonetheless, all those thoughts must’ve made you tighten because your boyfriend ejaculated into the condom with a whine and a shake before you could finish your recollection. You told him it was fine to head home for the evening. Early start. The guilt came creeping back.

As you kiss him goodnight and close the front door after him, your phone buzzes, as if on cue.

You receive a text from a number you don’t recognise.

The sole content is a flash photograph of a dick you can’t mistake.

That girth, swollen, erect but hanging - it looks so heavy, and practically bursting from the flies of a pair of familiar grey chinos. The photo shows a bright, beaded strand of precum caught in the camera flash.

Was this taken just now? He knows where his son has been, so he knows you‘re probably horny and under-fucked.

You can’t reply, even though you’re much more turned on than you were when your boyfriend was here. You force yourself to ignore the message.

But you need to touch yourself first. You clutch your phone, staring at the photo message, and rub your clit frantically. You cum hard, to the memory of the glistening cock head in the picture massaging your cervix, and spilling his cum against it.

It’s interesting how guilt comes and goes, isn’t it?

You’re invited to dinner with his family the next week.

You can hold a conversation pretty well but you can’t hold his father’s gaze, not after how many times you ended up touching yourself to his text. When he earnestly excuses himself from the dinner table to take a work call, you feel relieved. You polish off your dessert without him returning. After more than a few glasses of wine with your boyfriend and his relatives, you pop to the upstairs bathroom.

The floorboards creak beyond the bathroom door just as you’re washing your hands. You turn off the tap to listen. Your stomach drops as the sound of your boyfriend’s dad’s stern voice becomes clear. He’s taken his work call on the landing.

You consider waiting in the bathroom for him to pace away, then realise how ridiculous that is. You could be gone a while. He’s on the phone. You’ll just head back downstairs and rejoin the chatter - obviously.

When you step out, he’s there in front of you, leaning against the wall on the landing, still on the phone, with his free hand pressed to his crotch.

Without so much as a glance in your direction, he continues his conversation whilst taking his bare cock out from his trousers. You watch, glued to the spot, as he carries on talking down the phone for his family downstairs to hear. He fondles his lengthening dick nonchalantly. His tone is adamant.

“…Yes I know but that’s just how we are going to have to do it.”

He unzips a little further and pulls out his balls, too, stroking his appendage and cradling them, allowing himself to completely stiffen in front of you. Your legs feel weak.

“…It is hard,” his eyes are on you now, as he talks, “it’s very, very hard. We’re going to have to get it done together.”

Before you can decide what to do, he beckons you forwards and you can’t fight the urge to comply. Your heart is racing. Just as you get near enough, he reaches out and grips your shoulder, pushing you down onto your knees.

“…sure. Well we should have a look at those figures from March…”

He continues talking as he grabs the back of your head and smothers your face squarely into his crotch. The hot velvet skin and the unbelievable hardness against your cheeks and brow turns all thoughts to static. Your heart is still racing. You’re so fucking horny. You open your mouth wide and roll his full balls against your tongue, taking them in as much as you can. How many times have you thought about doing this?

He’s agreeing with his colleague about something as you become more and more intoxicated by it, his only audible reactions are the stifled sighs and hums that he somehow manages to work into his conversation.

You’ve just moved your lips to the warm, smooth, leaking tip of his penis when another voice makes your stomach lurch. It’s one of your boyfriend’s relatives calling chirpily upstairs from the hallway:

“Are you still on the phone? And Luke’s wondering where our lovely guest has gone!”

You jolt back instinctively but simultaneously, the firm hand on the back of your head pulls you deep onto his bare cock and holds you there. You drool uncontrollably as he forces himself down your throat.

“Hello?”

You can’t breathe, but you can’t move or gasp or moan either. All you can do is drool silently down your chin and dribble onto the carpet as the dick you’ve been obsessing over stuffs your mouth quiet.

You’re seeing stars, clawing at his trousers. You feel his cock throb, forcing you to accommodate. He sighs contentedly, apologises to the phone and replies:

“Yes, just finishing up. And you can tell Luke I saw her go into his room. How much wine did you give her? I’m sure she’ll be down soon.”

It’s still throbbing. You’re trying so hard not to audibly choke. You hear a giggle and the footsteps downstairs pace away without correcting the older man on your behalf. You strain to look up at him through your tears and he’s smiling down at you, knowing exactly what he said. He holds you there, gazing down for a moment longer, past his ample gut, while he finishes his call.

“…yes, thanks. I’d better leave you to your Sunday, too. No bother. Let’s pick this up again when I’m back in the office.”

He finally ends the call and releases your head. You let out a string of weak gasping coughs, praying that none of the rest of the household is in earshot. He purrs down at you, quietly, playfully patting you on the cheek with his solid cock:

“That was close, wasn’t it? But if you didn’t want to choke like that you shouldn’t have made me this hard.”

With the absence of your wet little throat, the older man instinctively starts to jerk off right in front of your face.

Without instruction, you open your mouth expectantly, ready to swallow however much cum he’s about to give you.

“Oh sweetheart. Haven’t you already had dessert tonight? You are a greedy thing.”

Suddenly, with a grunt, he takes a fistful of your top and drags you against the wall, pinning you there and stretching the fabric.

You try not to trip up as the carpet burns your knees.

Without so much as a thought to why you might be wearing it, he pulls the base of the binder, which you’re wearing under your top, up and over your nipples. They’re already poking out hard.

Being so tight, it requires two hands and some force on his part; his stiff penis bounces wildly with the movement, still coated in your drool. After some tugging, it doesn’t take him long to fully expose your chest.

It really hurts, pinching under your arms, and you can feel your soft, round tits finally bursting forward for him.

“There’s my girl.”

Your t shirt, stretched, sits neatly on top of your bulging, exposed breasts. You cower against the wall as he rubs his engorged cock furiously over them. He grabs your head again with his free hand and makes you see yourself.

“Good girl. Good girl, sweetheart. You’ve missed daddy’s nice big dick, haven’t you? I can read you like a fucking book.“

You nod, it feels so good to finally admit it. Every night you touched yourself to that text message, and how disgustingly obvious it was that you were waiting for it to come to this. This man makes you love your breasts.

He gives himself a couple more strokes, then, with a stifled grunt, he finally drains his heavy balls over all you.

With wide eyes, you’re made to watch his hot semen land on your forcibly protruding tits. His wet warmth splashes your skin.

The older man’s body is heaving over you as you watch his balls tighten and his dick throb to pump out rope after rope after rope. Your pussy aches in desperation. As he finishes, he’s still clutching your hair. Breathing heavily, he doesn’t let you go.

“Stay there.”

Whilst his cum is still warm, he moves his hand from his crotch and drags his fingertips across your breasts around each of your nipples; tracing all over your tender exposed skin. You stifle a whimper, goosebumps raising.

You feel your stomach drop as slowly, he reaches into your waistband and slides two completely cum-covered fingers straight into your needy hole. His movement is surprisingly gentle, constant, and he stops as soon as you feel the pads of his fingers press at your cervix. In a hushed tone, he leans closer to you, still pressing his fingers, and growls your final instruction:

“Now cum for me.”

Momentarily, under your boxers, he grazes his thumb across your aching clit, and then back again. As you start to whimper at the precipice of orgasm, he does it again. With his thick, cum-soaked fingers wedged sloppily and deep inside your pussy, it tips you over the edge. Suddenly, you feel him push his fingers forward as your insides flutter, dragging the warm semen from them. He actively tries to smear cum against your cervix as you lie there gasping.

“There. There, baby. Just like that. Right there.”

You’re shuddering as pleasure wracks your body, your breasts still exposed.

“You really are daddy’s good girl, aren’t you?”

It feels so strange, the sensation there - insemination by fingering - but you’re too blissed out to care. As slowly as he inserted them, he pulls his hand from between your legs.

“Well done.”

He yanks your binder back down carelessly and painfully, and the cum left on your skin is trapped underneath and seeping through the mesh.

He tucks his cock back into his trousers. You zone out for a minute on the floor of the landing whilst you listen to him rejoin his family, and apologise for the length of his call.

By some miracle, you didn’t get caught in the state he left you in.

You picked yourself up from the carpet, went back into the bathroom, tidied your hair, fixed your binder, nearly endured a panic attack, and were the first of the guests to call a taxi home.

Your boyfriend was concerned about you, but you told him you drank too much wine and just needed sleep. Hugging him tightly before you left felt like such a charade. The parting pat on the back and the “sleep well” from his dad even more so.

In the back of the Uber, you still feel the cum smeared against your skin. You take a long, hot, shower at home, knowing it’s still coating your walls.

As though that night was some kind of initiation, similar occurrences have taken place every time you’ve visited your boyfriend’s home.

That being said, it’s never been as brazen:

Shortly after the dinner, coursework deadlines began to loom, leaving less time for your relationship. In the days where you were able to stop by your boyfriend’s house, you came to expect more groping, a quick fingering under your waistband, or - simply - demands that you give his dad a hug just so that he can press his erection against you.

Despite the less frequent visits, you continue to receive a torrent of dick pics from his unsaved number - and you still cum hard every night to the thought of his cock finally stuffing you full.

In honesty, Luke’s a bit of a pain. It crosses your mind that perhaps you’re only still in your new relationship because of what’s happening. When it does, you try to ignore the possibility.

You can’t ignore how it’s now impacting your life, though. You’re making choices with your clothes based on things you’ve never considered before. Maybe your ass looks better in gym shorts - or even leggings? You haven’t worn leggings in years. You’re caring less about what you eat, you honestly don’t mind the perpetual softness of being pre-everything so much now. Eating what you want feels good. And, let’s say, some of the ardour you once had for your studies has gone elsewhere.

Time passes.

It’s a bank holiday Monday and Luke, your boyfriend, has torn you away from your scheduled study to spend time at the family barbecue. He pleaded with you on the phone: He’s hardly seen you in the past couple of weeks, and when he has, you just don’t seem as into it. It’s gotta be the stress. He wants you to allow yourself a day off, enjoy the sunshine, drink some beer, hang out, have a home-cooked meal.

So here you are, sitting in his parents’ garden surrounded by their friends and chatting about work. Your boyfriend’s dad is allegedly in the home office, you haven’t seen him yet, which is annoying to you, because you wore the smallest denim shorts you own just to see how he’d react. On top of your binder, all you wear is a baggy sports vest.

Your boyfriend is halfway across the lawn with a plate for you when his dad makes an appearance at the entrance to the garden. He glances at you, but barely acknowledges the mass of friends and family present. He calls over to him.

“Luke, my computer still can’t get onto the WiFi.”

“Can it wait, dad? I’ll look at it again tomorrow. It’s fucked right now, you know there’s nothing you can do without an engineer”

His father apologises to the party in earshot and insists it needs sorting before tomorrow. He can’t join the party until it’s fixed. After some familial back-and-fourth, he asks you if you would try.

You’re wet.

“Dad, come on,” Luke pleads, “it’s a bank holiday-”

Before the dispute turns into animosity, you stand and say you’ll have a quick look. You tell your boyfriend you’ll be out to eat in a sec. It’s probably beyond your capabilities.

As you hop across the patio, you catch your boyfriend’s glare. You’re certain it was for his dad, but you can’t be sure.

The minute you reach the home office, the older man slams the door shut. There are no pleasantries this time. He’s ravenous. You clock the tissues by the desk. Has he..?

“Right. I’m sick to death of this fucking thing.”

Before you can let out more than a squeal, you’re against his solid wood desk. He snatches the scissors from a pen pot and cuts into your binder, pushing your baggy vest to one side. Your soft tits flop out. He snips the shoulders, severs the front, and pulls it right off you.

“That’s better.”

As he talks, he unzips his flies and pulls out his cock. Without waiting for a response, he yanks your denim shorts and underwear down your ankles, and immediately forces his cock into you for the first time since that first time. You gasp loudly and clutch something - anything - as he shushes you. Rocking his hips.

You’re stretched open on the desk. Soaking. He’s grunting as he stuffs you. Pushing deeper. Leaking precum into the deepest parts of you. Using you. He’s got one hand on your breasts, pinching your nipples and squeezing their heft. He’s muttering but you can’t make it out.

You’re interrupted by the sound of your boyfriend entering the downstairs hallway. Even more quickly than he pressed himself into you, his father immediately pulls out and exits the room, taking the tattered binder with him. You have seconds to pull your shorts back up and look as though you’ve been fiddling with the modem. Your pussy hurts. The door to the study creaks open gently.

“I’m sorry about dad.”

You tell your boyfriend it’s fine, doing your best to hide your arousal. You assure him you’ll be back out in the sunshine in a couple of minutes.

But he doesn’t leave, he wants to spend time with you.

“Want a h-?”

He stumbles over his words when he sees your nipples protruding through your vest. It’s the first time he’s seen your chest at all, almost always bound, or under a t shirt when in bed. Not for him to touch.

You realise this and turn pink. An outpouring of plausible excuses follow. You tell him it’s hard to bind on a hot day. You tell him you took the opportunity to give yourself a break from it. He doesn’t reply, cogs turning, clearly figuring out what the most respectful thing to say could be.

You fill the silence with a real confession. You want to try not binding for a bit.

Luke, always so feeble and tender, asks, “can I touch…them?”

You turn and slowly lift your tank. Your boyfriend bites his lip hard and stares, reaching his hands out. He asks you if it feels good. He’s so gentle.

Desperate to keep up a facade, you shrug nonchalantly. As he runs his hands down to your waist, it dawns on you that if he his hands wander any lower, he’ll discover the soaked mess his father made of you just minutes ago.

You pull back. Your hands stilling his own. You don’t need to say any more.

“Okay, okay yeah. Let’s go back outside,” he sighs, passing his gaze across your flesh (just like his dad did when you first met), “but you should borrow something less exposing.”

You don’t stay long. Even so, once you’re home, it’s late. Your phone buzzes. The unsaved number, but no photo this time - just a text message:

I’m on my way.

Clearly, the tantalising ten or so seconds of sex that afternoon was enough to coax him across town. You can’t believe it’s come to this. What are you doing. What are you doing. What are you doing?

He knocks quietly, and, silently, you pace down the hallway to your room, past your flatmates closed doors.

It feels so out of place having a man this much older than you in your bedroom.

But you’re so, so, wet.

He throws off his coat and you see that already, his erection is tenting. He grins as your expression changes at the sight of it protruding from beneath his straining shirt buttons.

“So. You want that?”

The fabric of his trousers is struggling to contain it and he leans back to show it off, just like that first time on the sofa. You quietly agree.

“Yeah, I thought so. Don’t worry, that’s what daddy’s come all this way for. We’re going to make the most of not having to be interrupted any more. Now, take everything you’re wearing off.”

You obey, trembling, eventually stark naked in front of the fully clothed man.

“On your bed. Legs apart.”

You comply.

“Now there’s my good girl.”

You mutter something noncommittal about not being a girl. You don’t even mean it any more. He runs his rough hands down your parted thighs, making you forget the habit.

“You’re going to be my special girl. I’m going to do something very special for you. Christ, look at you. Look at this-“

Then, his mouth is between your legs. Hungrily, he’s pressing his flat, hot, tongue against your labia and rubbing his mouth over your clit repeatedly. You’re already so close, the sensation of an experienced older man devouring you like this is so intense, so new. He pulls away to coo at you, holding your legs apart.

“Daddy’s wanted to make out with your little pussy ever since we got to know eachother. You’ve needed this for a long time.”

He circles his hot, firm tongue just around your opening, occasionally leaving short sloppy kisses, there at the entrance, your labia, and on your clit and inner thighs.

“That feel good? How about this?”

He tilts his head slightly, his grip on your legs strengthening. You feel his tongue dart deep into your pussy, over and over again. Your cheeks flush red as it dawns on you that he’s fucking you with his tongue.

“Such a beautiful pussy. Focus on daddy’s mouth.”

You can’t hold back your high-pitched moans any longer. You don’t care about your flatmates, only the pleasure shooting through your body from your pink little hole, which is starting to quiver against his rapidly moving tongue.

You never let his son do this. You’ve never really let anyone do this. Combined with the sensation of having your breasts exposed, too, you realise how much you enjoy this new experience of womanhood.

It seems to go on forever. He lets go of one leg, and you hear the jingle of an undone belt as he unzips his trousers with one hand. Beneath the wet messy noise of your soaked pussy against his mouth and tongue, you hear him pleasuring himself with quick strokes.

Keeping you pressed into the mattress with one hand, he finally stands, his enormous penis bursting from his trousers.

“Here it is baby”

He wipes his mouth on your sheets and moves up the mattress, kneeling over you like he did on the landing. He rubs the full length across your face, including his balls. You can feel the veins in his dick throbbing and the weight of his balls as they cover your features.

He slaps himself against your cheek, punctuating his sentences;

“You’re a slut. Admit it. But Daddy’s going to make you a pretty girl. You’re going to be mine for good.”

You try to question him, weakly, maybe even to correct him again, but before you can get a single word out he stuffs his cock between your lips, stretching your mouth once more around his girth.

“What was that, baby?”

He begins to thrust into your throat.

“You’re going to be daddy’s slut from now on?”

He bucks harder, using his other hand to pull you onto his dick and force fuck your face as you lie there. You gag and gargle but he doesn’t stop.

“Theeeere we go. It feels nice to be daddy’s girl.”

The hand that was pinning you down has moved between your still-parted thighs. He slides in and fingers you, preparing you. You’re already so soft and wet from all the kisses he left there.

The sound of squelching becomes more rapid, along with the sound of the fucking he’s giving your throat.

You feel used at both ends, he presses your face into his crotch. Every time you manage to breathe, your nostrils fill with the scent of his clothes and sweaty skin.

Rhythmically now, he’s forcing his cock into your mouth and pulling back. You’re amazed at how much your throat has relaxed to take it. Practise. You can taste his slimy precum oozing all over your tongue when the tip drags back against it. When he pushes it in, his protruding stomach presses against your face, and your breasts bounce too. You hold them, touching yourself there. Everything matches a rhythm.

“That’s my girl. daddy’s girl.”

After what feels like an eternity, he finally pulls away, pulling multiple strands of precum-mixed-with-saliva from your lips across your clean sheets.

You lie still, legs spread. Without another word, just the creaking mattress, he mounts you.

First, you feel the smooth, hot, swollen tip parting your labia.

Then, as he eases forward, the feeling widens. It doesn’t stop. In fact, it deepens. He’s making you feel every inch. You turn and bite the sheets.

“We know you can take it. Come on, sweetheart. Let daddy in.”

You’re so unbelievably full when his hanging ballsack eventually presses against your ass. He sighs, looking down at you.

“Theeere we go.”

The initial sensation is almost unbearable as he begins to thrust but you’ve been so well-fingered and eaten out that stretching to accommodate him isn’t a problem.

“Well done.”

His whole body looms over your soft frame, still in his buttoned shirt, as your pussy repeatedly takes the full length he’s determined to give you. He grabs your waist and rolls onto his back, kicking his trousers off, pulling you with him.

“Bounce for me.”

Obediently, you force yourself down onto his fat cock, even deeper than before with the help of gravity. You’re so wet it’s dripping down you both, and hungrily, you try to stuff yourself with more. You need it. His hands squeeze your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples as you desperately ride him.

“We’re going to make these bigger.”

You no longer care. In fact, you don’t plan to wear a binder again. Before you can even acknowledge what the older man meant, he grabs your hips and pulls you down hard. You let out a shriek.

“Shhh, that’s my girl.”

Rapidly, he bucks upwards. Your eyes roll back, all thoughts of this relationship being even vaguely problematic are gone in that instant. You’ve never felt so well stuffed in your life. You’re still grinding onto him, trying and faltering to match his pace.

Once it’s apparent you’re too blissed out and desperate to keep yourself upright, he wrestles you back onto your back, this time, into a mating press. There’s a cushion placed squarely under your hips.

He bursts a shirt button as he repositions himself and commences the piston-like motion in and out of you. In and out. Trapped under his sheer heft. His stubble is rough against your cheek as he growls into your ear, breathily, his movements unrelenting.

“This is how you get pregnant.”

His words hardly register as your eyes roll back and your pussy squelches beneath him. The pressure on your cervix adds to the bliss. When they do, though, you try to move.

“Shhh, darling, let it happen,” and, lowering his voice even more, “We’ll know who to blame. Relax. You need this.”

His teeth meet your earlobe and his thrusting picks up speed again. You whimper as your eager juices coat his cock, your mind turning blank. All that matters now is the thick cock stretching you, over and again. As you whine and squeal louder, he shushes you, coaxing you nearer to orgasm.

“Good girl. My girl.”

You cum hard, trapped beneath him, your pussy tightening rhythmically and uncontrollably.

“Yes sweetheart! That’s it. Fuck, I’m going to-“

Soon enough, the sensation is met with a series of hard throbs, and the sudden flush of warmth from the older man’s cum, unloaded deep against your battered cervix. He groans into your ear as his balls raise, pumping out thick rope after thick rope, directly where he knows it needs to go.

When it’s over, there’s a quiet moment before he heaves himself off you. He takes his time putting his trousers back on, and his shoes, straightening his shirt and tucking it in again. He tells you to stay on your pillow as he gets dressed.

“I’m proud of you, sweetheart. Get some rest.”

And with that, he grabs his coat from the hook, and lets himself out.

Your finals come around, and, like always, simply carried on with life. Luke had visited a couple of times, fucked you badly with a condom, like always, but never ventured to ask to touch your chest again. He was leaving you to figure how you felt out.

You asked him to tell his family that you were studying hard, and would see them after the exam season was over.

Each morning, you feel sick. Anxiety. You haven’t been studying like you used to, and it’s fair to say you’ve had a lot of identity issues weighing on your mind. You decide to wait until after graduation to explore the possibility of taking HRT.

You don’t hear from your boyfriend’s dad, either. Apart from when his son tells you, one night outside the library, that he says “good luck”.

That next morning, you slip on your little denim shorts. The ones you wore to the barbecue. They no longer fit. You’ve been stress-eating, absolutely, but the fit seems tolerable at your thighs - unlike at your stomach, where you can’t even get the button to meet the fabric.

You look at yourself in the mirror, and really look, for the first time in a couple of weeks. Your hand meets your stomach. There’s a roundness to it, now.

You leap to your bedside drawer and pull out a test kit.

Within ten minutes, it’s perfectly clear. You’ve been bred by your boyfriend’s father.

The roads are nearly empty, it is late and my mind is elsewhere. My boyfriend is waiting for me and I don’t intend to keep him waiting long. I’m not wearing much, I dressed swiftly… provocatively… but at this late hour, no one else will know. I zone out, cursing the five-inch heels on my feet that are making driving much more difficult than it needs to be.

My gaze wanders to the odometer, which reads 103 MPH. Shit! How long have I been speeding like that?

Just as the thought crosses my mind, I glimpse the police car nestled between the trees, just waiting to clock someone for speeding. I slam my brakes, knowing I’m probably the only person that has passed him in at least an hour, and he’s going to jump at the opportunity to pull me over.

I try to fight the tears. My license is clean! No points, no record at all. I have never been pulled over before. It wasn’t even eight months ago that I passed the road test.

As expected, he quickly pulls out behind me, flashing red-and-blue lights filling my vision. I slow down, pull over, and put the car in park. Trying and failing to blink away the tears, I dig in my purse for my ID.

Minutes pass, and my heart is pounding. I flip the car’s visor mirror open to see my reddening eyes rimmed with mascara-stained tears. Slamming it shut, I huff and run a hand through my long, dark hair. As if there’s a point in trying to fix my makeup - if this officer decides to be harsh with me, I’m just going to cry more anyway.

A knock on my window startles me out of my self-pitying thoughts. I roll it down, blinking at the cop. He’s about six feet tall, average build, late forties, dark hair.

“Hi,” I squeak.

“Hi,” he states. “Do you know how fast you were going?”

Should I lie…? Maybe if I say no, he’ll believe it was just an accident and let me go.

“No, sir.”

He sighs, frustrated. “I caught you on the laser going 103. The speed limit is 70.”

“Oh.”

He asks for my documents, and I provide them with a trembling hand. He eyes me strangely, and I shrink into my seat as he stalks back to his car. I hate to admit that he’s kind of hot. I feel a rush of embarrassment that in the midst of getting pulled over, I’m fawning over the officer’s appearance.

“Rachel?”

I jump, and he hands me my ID and registration.

“So, we’ve got a ticket for going 33 miles over the limit, which is also a reckless driving ticket. You’re lookin’ at a hell of a lot of fines… and a suspension of your license.”

“No, no, no,” my voice cracks as the tears start flowing, “Please, officer, I have a clean record, I’ve just finished college, I can’t afford the fines or to lose my license! I just got my license. How will I get to class? How could I even afford class after that?”

“Don’t start the waterworks with me, little girl. No one forced you to speed, let alone speed thirty-three miles over. Maybe taking the bus for a bit will teach you a lesson about driving recklessly,” he snapped.

Embarrassingly, his harsh, authoritative tone affects me instantly between my legs. Panic clouds my ability to reason, and I resolve that begging is the only chance I have at keeping my license.

“Please. I’ll do anything. I will never be able to afford the fines, I only make minimum wage and I can barely make my rent as is. Please, I- I swear I will never speed again,” I stutter shakily through my tears.

He observes me for a moment, much to my humiliation. What a stereotypical 21-year-old college girl, trying to cry her way out of a ticket. I swear I notice the ghost of a smirk on his face. Is this fucker amused by me crying?

“Judging by the extent of your recklessness, I can’t be sure that you aren’t under the influence of drugs. I’m going to need to search you. Please step out of the vehicle.”

Drugs?! My face drains of all colour. I feel like a criminal, being searched by a police officer. I hear my heartbeat thrumming violently in my ears as I smooth my short black dress over my thighs. Taking a shaky deep breath, I step out of my car.

“I - uh… w-where do you want me?” I ask, holding my hands up in compliance.

Not bothering to respond, he grips my shoulder and turns me around, places his hand on the center of my back, and pushes me forward so that I am bent forward over my hood.

“Hands on the car, Rachel. Anything on you that I should know about?”

I self-consciously worry about my dress riding up as I place my hands on the hood, but I’m too scared to change my position or make him angrier. Just do what he says, make him happy, and he will let you go, I feebly try to reassure myself.

“No, sir.”

I stiffen as he pats my sides down, uselessly, since I’m only wearing a tight, short black dress with thin straps and a low neckline. Hard to hide anything under an outfit like that. His hands linger over my ass, and finally, the light bulb goes off in my head. No way. I’m not whoring myself out to get out of a speeding ticket.

Anxiety rushes through me, realising both of our cars are switched off, and we’re pulled over on the side of a dark, secluded highway. He could say or do whatever he wants - passing cars, if there were any, wouldn’t be able to see us.

“Um, officer,” I try to sound as assertive as possible, “I don’t think—”

“If you speak one more word without being asked, I will handcuff you and take you to jail for resisting arrest.”

My heart pounds. I shut my mouth, as it seems to be the best option.

His hands feel large and strong as he squeezes my ass, hooking his fingers ever-so-slightly under the skirt of my dress. I press my thighs together, knowing he can grope me whichever way he pleases and there’s no one around to see. A burst of fear, and something else, blooms deep in my stomach.

“Legs apart, young lady,” he orders as he pats my hips.

I cannot help rolling my eyes, but I follow the command.

“Wider.”

I can practically hear the smirk dripping from his voice. Fucking creep! The tears return as the reality of the situation dawns on me. I’m completely powerless. I try to assess my odds at escaping from the situation, whether I have a solid chance at fighting him.

“You said you’d do anything, Rachel?” he says quietly but firmly, trailing his fingers up my skirt, discovering my lack of panties. I curse myself, feeling my pussy dampening due to his masculine touch.

“Pleade… Don’t touch me!” I cry, humiliated, overtaken by vulnerability. I whip around on him, trying to catch his jaw with my fist. He blocks my fist and grips my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. His cold, dark eyes bore into mine, and I blush immediately. He definitely notices, and it seems that I am entertaining him.

“I wasn’t going to do this, but since you can’t just be a good little girl, I guess I have to,” he states, emphasising good little slut mockingly. He removes a set of handcuffs from his belt and turns me around to bend me over the car completely.

He cuffs both wrists behind my back within a minute. Having effectively ruined my one shot at escape, I continue to cry, half terrified and half humiliated that he will see my soaked panties and know why they’re so wet.

“Don’t you dare move,” he warns.

I feel the cool breeze across my skin as he slowly inches my skirt up over my ass, grazing his fingers over puffy labia. Aching desire pools in my stomach, and I feel like such a dirty girl.

He gently palms over my pussy, and I have to suppress a moan. He slips his other hand up my shirt, tweaking my nipple that I haven’t realised was aching to be touched. Without warning, he slips two fingers inside my pussy, making a wet sound that simultaneously fills my entire body with shame and hot desire. He stills with his fingers inside me.

“I’m not a monster, and I would never take a woman without her consent, so I’ll give you a choice, Rachel. You can go, but you will still deal with the legal consequences of your reckless driving. Or, you can please me, let me fuck you, and I can consider this a small mistake, letting you go with a warning,” he says firmly, driving his fingers inside me again as he finishes his speech.

“No, please don’t,” I beg instinctively.

I feel so needy. My nipples are aching. I don’t want to feel like a whore! But he’s hot, and I need something inside me so bad it hurts, and I can’t afford the ticket.

“You’re soaking wet for me, little Rachel. A girl who looks like this on a Friday night is obviously looking for cock. But if you’re sure, I will go and write the ticket.”

“No! Wait. I— I can’t afford that…” My whimper is muffled against the hood of the car.

“Then tell me what you want, Rachel.” He thrusts his fingers inside me again, flicking them against my G-spot.

“I… I- I’ll do it.”

“Do what? You already said no, but you can beg nicely, and maybe I’ll fuck you and let you go.”

My pussy throbs and wetness starts to drip between my thighs. He’s going to make me beg? Humiliate me even more? I’m already bent over my own car!

“Please fuck me, sir. Please, I want you to take me, officer.”

“Good fucking girl,” he says quietly as he coaxes my panties down, cool air washing over my hot cunt.

The cold metal handcuffs cut into my wrists painfully. He fists his hand in my hair, yanking my head back, forcing me to arch my back for him.

I feel his cock prodding at my entrance, and I can already tell he is larger than anyone I’ve been with before. Without warning, he plunges inside of me, stopping when his hips press against my ass. He allows me only a moment to adjust to the almost-painful stretching sensation before pulling all the way out and repeating.

This time, I can’t suppress a desperate moan. It feels so shameful, to be trading my body to get out of a traffic violation. He fills me so completely, fucking into me roughly. I feel my pussy muscles contracting around him tightly, and wetness dripping down my legs.

“How many other cops have you let use this sweet little cunt? I can only assume you’ve gotten out of a dozen other tickets with a tight pussy like this, kitten,” he growls as he tightens his grip on my hair.

Wave after wave of pleasure falls over me as he takes me, hard and fast. His slick fingers, coated with my arousal, circle my clit relentlessly as I whimper on the hood of my car, handcuffed and bent over for his pleasure, jerking forward with every hard thrust. I can’t help my moans.

“Aw, is this little slut actually enjoying this? Enjoying having her tight little cunt taken by a stranger? What’s exciting you, Rachel, the handcuffs? Or is it fucking someone you don’t know that gets you this soaked? You love to feel a stranger’s hands run all over you, using you for their pleasure, don’t you, whore?”

I jump suddenly as he removes his fingers from my clit and prods at my ass. I try to squirm away, but the handcuffs combined with his punishing grip on my hair force me to stay in place.

“Aww,” he laughs softly, mockingly, “Never had anyone touch the back door before, huh, baby? Maybe I should be your first time, just so you don’t forget our time together too quickly.”

I clench up around him in terror and reluctance, but I know he feels the extra rush of wetness at the idea of such a dirty act.

“No, no! Please, officer, it’s going to hurt and I’ve never —”

He cuts me off, taking my breath away, as he slides a soaked finger into my asshole. I whimper in pain, the burning sensation in my asshole only tolerable due to the relentless pleasure of his cock pounding into my pussy. Tears are streaming down my face, but I’m not sure if they’re due to pain, pleasure or humiliation.

I feel my climax building inside me as he slides his finger in and out in rhythm with his cock. To feel him use each of my holes as he pleases, clearly knowing and enjoying the fact that I’m torn between crippling shame and incredible pleasure, sends me closer to my orgasm.

“I want you to cum for me, kitten. I want you to remember how good I made you feel, so you can feel even more embarrassed when you remember this. You should be ashamed of yourself, moaning and arching like a whore while some cop uses you as his pretty little fuck toy.”

With his words, he slides another finger into my asshole, stretching me as I cry out. The unexpected pain and dirty words push me over the edge of my orgasm, and I forget my shame and fear for just a moment as I shudder through the waves of electric pleasure. I don’t hold the whimpers and moans back, and I feel him cum copious amounts of hot semen inside of me.

Coming down from my orgasm, I start to chastise myself. How could I do something so slutty just to get out of a traffic violation ticket? He could easily say that I was the one who bribed him with sexual favors… he could just give me the ticket anyways. Cold anxiety clouds my mind as I realize he is not taking the handcuffs off.

He pulls down and grabs my arms, pulling me off the car.

“W-why aren’t you taking the handcuffs off?”

I look up at his eyes for the first time in a while, and see cold amusement that sends a chill down my spine. He grips my arm, and just about drags me to the back seat of the cop car.

“No, wait! Wait! What are you doing? We had a—” I start babbling, panicking again.

“Rachel, I’m taking you to jail for reckless driving and resisting arrest. Maybe you’ll think before going thirty-three miles over and swinging on a police officer again.” He smirks at me, pushes me into the back seat, and whispers, “The other cops are going to have so much fun with you.”

The car door slams.

****

How is this happening to me? My phone is in the car, my boyfriend was expecting me. My forehead rests against the cool wooden table in the dim, gray interrogation room. Not even fifteen minutes ago, the officer dragged me by my arm through a back entrance of the station, re-cuffed my hands in front of me, and ordered me to sit in here. At least he let me use the restroom and clean up after the events of the last few hours. He didn’t say if he would be back any time soon.

As much as I hate to admit it, every time I start to remember being bent over my car less than an hour ago, it sends a rush of warmth straight to my pussy. It also sends a wave of shame over me, because the cop obviously took advantage of me, and I… liked it. Well, got off on it. Does that mean I liked it? What the hell is wrong with me?

The door clicks, and I jump, bracing myself for the humiliation of having to look him in the eye again. I silently try to prepare myself for asking the cop to just let me pay the fines and leave.

But when the door opens, it’s not him.

The man who walks through the door is older - probably mid-to-late fifties, and much taller, around six-foot-three. He’s stockier than the other cop, but as he walks closer, I can see through his nicely-pressed gray button-up that he’s quite muscular. His hair is mostly gray, with some wisps of darkness still poking through. His jaw is shadowed with stubble.

He pulls one of two chairs out from the other side of the table and sits, setting a small black recorder on the smooth surface. I don’t have the courage to look him in the eye, so I train my eyes on my handcuffs and shift uncomfortably in the hard metal chair.

“Rachel?” he asks, his voice a deep rumble.

“Yes,” I confirm quietly.

“Alright Rachel, I’m Officer Wang. I’ve got a few questions to ask you.”

I hate myself for thinking his voice is sexy. This man is at least a good thirty years older than me. I roll my eyes and huff, frustrated that he has any questions at all. It’s not like this is some high-profile case in need of heavy investigation. It’s not like the other cop admitted that he fucked me, because that would implicate him as well, right?

“I don’t know why you need to ask questions. I was driving too fast. I’m sure you catch plenty of girls in their twenties for driving recklessly,” I snap.

When I look up at him, he almost looks amused. He takes a breath and folds his hands on the table, leaning his elbows on the edge. I take in his thick, muscular forearms framed by his neatly rolled sleeves.

“I think we both know that my questions have nothing to do with your driving, but I think you need to hear this,” he raises his voice, his tone icy, “You can fucking kill someone driving like that, Rachel. You could kill yourself, instantly, driving like that. Do you understand me? I don’t know if you live with your parents, or a boyfriend, or whatever, but you deserve to be put over someone’s knee for endangering yourself and others that way.”

Over someone’s knee?! My hands start to tremble as I realize how much bigger he is than me, and how much scarier he is than the other cop. His authoritative tone, those green eyes boring into mine. I want to think that I don’t need to be afraid of a police officer, that they can’t just do whatever they want or harm me, but only other experience with a cop proves that I have plenty to be afraid of. This thought process just makes me realise that he can do whatever he pleases with me, just like the last guy, and I press my thighs together.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, thoroughly reprimanded.

“Now, onto the questions,” he continues calmly as if he didn’t just raise his voice at me, “Officer Johnson has informed me that you were arrested for driving recklessly, resisting arrest by attempting to punch him, and attempting to bribe him with sexual favors. Are these things true?”

Attempting to bribe him! A rush of shock and anxiety hits me straight in my chest, and I feel tears welling in my eyes.

“No! I did not bribe him!” I squeak, “He forced me to… he -”

“Rachel, because I want to be nice, I’m going to suggest that you don’t lie to me, because it is just going to worsen the situation for you. You asked Officer Johnson to have sex with you,” he says slowly, authoritatively. “And here is how I know that.”

He reaches toward the recorder, and presses a button on it. We are silent for a moment as I notice his hands are big and strong-looking, and he has a very nice silver watch on his left wrist, along with a wedding band on his finger.

Suddenly from the recorder, I hear a shrill-sounding female voice moaning the words, “please fuck me, sir. Please, I want you to take me, officer.”

My heart drops immediately as I realise those are my desperate words, not even a few hours ago. Caught on recording. Making it sound like I was begging Officer Johnson to fuck me. The tears are flowing again, which probably makes me look guilty, but I can’t help it.

“You understand this looks bad for you, Rachel?” Officer Wang says evenly, but the ghost of a smirk is playing at his face.

“He made me say that! He was the one who offered that deal to me. Listen to the rest of the recording. Why the hell would I ask to be taken advantage of like that?” I cry, frustrated.

“Taken advantage of? Sweet Rachel,” he pushes another button on the recorder, and I’m humiliated as I hear my own whimpers and moans. “You sound like you’re having a pretty good time being taken advantage of,” he gestures air-quotes with his fingers. “But the rest of the recording has been lost due to some technical difficulties. Gotta hate technology these days.”

Speechless, I put my head into my hands as silent tears roll down my face.

“Come here, Rachel,” he says, his tone gentle.

I oblige, not seeing any worth in disobeying him now.

I feel his burning gaze rake over every inch of my body in my slutty, tight black dress and five-inch high heels that are killing my feet after so many hours. I regret not wearing a bra, as I know my nipples are poking through the fabric in the coldness of the room. Yeah, Rachel, keep telling yourself it’s because the room is cold and not because Officer Wang is hot.

“Since you didn’t show Johnson, how about you show me what a good little cock sucker you can be? Since you obviously enjoy fucking cops,” he says, his words cruel, but his tone gentle.

I visibly flinch at the accusation, not entirely sure if it’s false.

“I can tell you’re attracted to me, sweetheart. You’re not very difficult to read. I can make you feel good,” he says, trailing his fingers up my thigh. “After we’re done, we can just forget about all these charges. I can take you to your car, and we can pretend this didn’t happen… of course, you will not say anything of this if you want the contents of this recorder to remain private, and for your record to remain clean.”

I don’t stop his hand trailing up my dress, because frankly, I’m not sure I want him to stop. I should know better than to trust this guy, since trusting the last one backfired on me, but it seems like either choice I make will be the wrong one. Bribing an officer is a felony, maybe prison time. I can’t just accept that charge and move on with my life.

I’ve lost count of how many times my panties have soaked through tonight, but as I feel them soak again, I push all doubt out of my mind and decide to go along with it.

I sink to my knees on the concrete floor and fumble with his belt, and he unlocks the handcuffs to help me.

“Good girl. He was right when he said you’re a good little obedient whore once you come around.”

The rude, dirty words register immediately between my legs, and I can feel my pussy throbbing as I remove a daunting erection from his pants. I plant an open-mouthed kiss at the head of it, teasing the tip with my tongue while squeezing the base with my hand. His hand gently strokes my hair, resting at the back of my head as I lick up and down his cock, ensuring I get the whole length wet with my saliva before taking him all the way into my mouth. I feel the tip touch the back of my throat, and swirl my tongue along the base as I suck hard.

Trying not to go too fast too quickly, I realise that I want to please him. I really want to please him.

I wrap a hand around his hard shaft and slide it up and down following my mouth as I fuck my own mouth with his cock, swiping plenty of spit along the length. I’m rewarded with a deep, sexy groan as I fumble my other hand through his zipper to fondle his balls as I continue to take him deeper, get his cock wetter, drag my lips up and down faster. Desperately, I want to feel his come on my tongue and down my throat.

I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear the door’s lock click again, but Officer Wang’s hand on the back of my head firmly pushes my head back down on his cock, forcing me to gag as tears spill over my cheeks. His act of dominance reminds me that I’m completely under his control for the time being, and it turns me on enough that I whimper and squirm, pressing my thighs together needily, attempting to get friction on my neglected clit. My nipples are aching to be touched, and I can’t believe it’s only been a few hours since my last orgasm.

“I didn’t give you permission to stop, sweet little Rachel,” he growls.

The door opens and I don’t dare look away, I just continue sucking and lapping at his hard length as best I can.

“Don’t fuck her throat raw, Wang, you greedy bastard. I’m trying to get a taste of how good little Rachel’s cock sucking abilities are, too.”

My heart drops when I recognize Officer Johnson’s voice.

My mind is whirling, but I feel so needy and horny that I don’t even care that the sleazy, scary man who got me into this situation is back.

“Alright, beautiful, you can let up, we’ve got other plans for you,” Officer Wang’s voice is raspy with lust.

Other plans? Hot lust and excitement gathers in my core, and I realize the charges and fines are forgotten. All I can think about is how much I want these men to use me and treat me like a whore. I sit back on my knees, looking up at each officer, waiting to be ordered around.

Officer Johnson bends down, face-to-face with me, and grips my face so that I can’t look away. His cold, dark eyes bore into mine, and I’m reminded of how hot he is, despite how much colder and meaner he seems than Officer Wang.

“Are you going to be a good little slut for me this time, sweetheart?”

I blink at him, my face still covered in tears, and probably smudged makeup, and spit from the sloppy blowjob he just interrupted.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“‘Yes, sir, I’m going to be a good slut’,” he corrects me.

The statement is humiliating, and it sends another rush of wet arousal to my pussy.

“Yes, sir, I’m going to be a good slut.”

He grins, and brushes his hand over my hair. I close my eyes and lean into his touch, before his hand suddenly lifts and smacks me across my face, hard. I yelp in both surprise and pain.

“That’s for trying to assault me earlier, toy. Say thank you. If you don’t, I’m not going to let you come.”

The threat of not being able to come after all of this weighs heavy on me, so I don’t even think twice.

“Thank you for slapping me, Officer Johnson.”

Officer Wang laughs quietly, shaking his head and rubbing a hand over his stubble. “You’re sadistic, Johnson,” he reprimands lightheartedly.

“Just reminding our pretty toy of her place, dude.”

There’s no way my pussy isn’t dripping right now. Being spoken to like that, being treated like such a little slut by these strong, authoritative men… I can’t take it anymore.

I slide a hand between my legs to stroke the neglected folds of my cunt, and Johnson immediately smirks and turns to Wang.

“Clearly not sadistic enough, since she wants to touch herself immediately after getting smacked,” he says.

I gasp as Officer Wang stands and grabs me by my hair, bending me backwards over the interrogation table. Officer Johnson strides behind the table where I was once sitting, and grips my hair so that my head is hanging backwards off the table, and my ass sits just at the opposite edge… where Officer Wang is standing.

As soon as Officer Wang grips my knees and spreads them apart, I realize they are going to take me at the same time. The thought turns me on so much that I whimper out loud, squirming on the table but not attempting to escape.

“Let’s get her out of this fucking whore dress,” Johnson growls, gripping the hem and pulling it over my head. I don’t fight him. I need their hands all over me, taking and using every inch. Wang tauntingly drags a heavy finger up my slit over my soaked lace underwear, teasing me just enough to drive me insane.

“You should see how pathetically drenched these little panties are, Johnson. We’ve barely touched the girl,” Officer Wang says, genuinely shocked, teasing me a moment longer before yanking the panties off.

I look up to see Officer Johnson’s strong, veiny hands pulling his impressive, hard cock out of his pants. “Believe me, dude, I know. Little slut was sopping wet when I fucked her earlier,” he growls. “Right, Rachel? I think you’ve just got a thing for having the choice taken away from you, having your little cunt, ass and mouth used whether you like it or not.”

Excitement builds further inside me as he taunts me with the cruel, cold words, and I feel strong fingers stroking my soaked folds, dragging my wetness upwards and in circles around my swollen, needy clit. I press into Wang’s touch, moaning in approval. With his other hand, he starts to rub and tweak one of my nipples into a stiff peak, and then the other. The stimulation is delicious after being deprived for however long I was blowing him. I whimper desperately at the almost-painful empty feeling inside my pussy.

“Do you want to suck my cock, baby?” Johnson asks, stroking himself over my face with one hand and twisting one of my nipples with the other, his touch more aggressive and crueler than Officer Wang’s.

“Yes, sir,” I answer honestly, obediently opening my mouth for him.

“Good toy,” he praises me in an appreciative voice, sending a wave of pleasure through me. “Relax your throat, baby.”

I attempt to kiss and lap at his cock the same way I did to Wang, but he shoves his cock into my mouth slowly, gripping my face with his fingers clasping under my chin. He does not stop until it’s all the way in, part of it down my throat. He holds my head down on it, despite my gagging and spluttering, and I moan around his cock, savoring the feeling of having my throat used in such a carnal way.

Officer Wang prods his cock at my slick, hot entrance, and I spread my legs even wider for him as I allow Johnson to face-fuck me.

I squeak in a short moment of pain as his thick erection stretches me, but much like the man using my mouth, he pushes forward until his balls touch my asshole. He doesn’t move, just allows me to stretch around him for a moment while he rubs delicious wet circles around my sensitive bud. The feeling of fullness, both in my throat and pussy, almost sends me over the edge.

Then, he begins to move, keeping an agonizing rhythm that wasn’t quite slow, but certainly not fast. He knows if he fucks me faster, I will come, and they’re trying to drag this out, to torture me as long as they can. I whimper and moan around Johnson’s cock urgently, greedily trying to move my tongue and head to further please him. He smacks my face again.

“Stop trying to regain some control, slut, and take what I give you.”

Wang speeds his punishing pace inside my cunt, slamming into me, his balls now wet with my arousal and slapping against my asshole. I feel my orgasm building inside me, and my eyes roll back into my head as my whole body is consumed by tingly, hot desire and passion.

It’s all too much. My cunt is being fucked hard, my throat is being fucked hard, Johnson has a hand on my throat to hold me down, and Wang is stroking my clit and… oh, my God.

Wang’s other hand trails down to touch my asshole, and once he slides the tip of his finger in, my world crashes into a million little shards of pleasure. I buck against the table, breathing hard, moaning through my orgasm around the cock that is not letting up on my throat.

“Oh, our little slut likes to have her asshole played with, huh?” Wang growls, and I just hear Johnson laugh softly, knowingly.

I lay across the table in bliss, exhausted after my orgasm but still desperately wanting their cum. They both pause, just for a moment, and I hear Wang quietly say,

“You know… I’m sure Smith would love to help her with that.”

“Ha. You’re just as sadistic as me, dude. You just want to see the little whore fucked by as many guys as possible.”

I’m relaxed after my orgasm, but I can’t help the little rush of fear that causes my whole body to tense when my mouth is suddenly empty.

“One second, kitten,” Johnson strokes my face and zips up, leaving the room with another click of the door.

“Wait, what’s going on? Who’s-”

I’m cut off by pleasure as Wang continues to fuck me, placing his strong hand around my throat and looking into my eyes.

“Have we done anything so far that you haven’t enjoyed, sweetheart? Johnson already told you that you are going to take what we give you. If I have to tell you again, I’m going to have to follow-up on that spanking I said you needed earlier, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I squeak, feeling extra vulnerable when he makes me look into his eyes as he penetrates my sensitive cunt harder and harder, sending waves of hot pleasure over me. A deep groan fills the room as he pulls out of my pussy, stroking himself with his hand and releasing his come all over my tits.

I hear the door open again, and this time two sets of footsteps enter the room.

Wang grips my waist, flipping me over so that I am lying on my stomach on the table, and I have no idea what the new person looks like. This sends a jolt of excitement between my legs, and it fills me with humiliation that I’m so excited to be fucked by someone I have not even seen.

Johnson returns to my face, prodding his cock at my lips once again.

“Don’t worry, kitten, Officer Smith wants to make you feel good too.”

I squeak when I feel my wetness being dragged up to my asshole by more fingers, but I’m so relaxed from my orgasm that I don’t fight the smooth finger that pushes past my opening.

Johnson continues to fuck my face as he was before, gripping the back of my hair cruelly as he did a few hours ago. The finger in my ass becomes two fingers, and suddenly there’s a cock prodding at my tight, pink hole.

I want to resist, but Officer Johnson is holding my hair and my mouth is full, so I focus on pleasuring him as the cock slides in more easily than I’d like to admit. Two fingers start to pump pleasurably in and out of my cunt, and in my peripheral vision I can see that they are Wang’s fingers.

Slowly, my pleasure starts building as the cock at my asshole digs deep, penetrating me in a slower, gentler way than the other men. I don’t even know what this man’s voice sounds like… fuck.

The realization that all of my holes are being used, and those holes are pleasuring men who are complete strangers to me, almost sends me into my second orgasm. All it takes is a loud moan from Officer Johnson, releasing his come down my throat, to send me over the edge again. My vision clouds with stars and I feel my ass clamp down in pleasure, causing Officer Smith to pull out of me and cover me with his release.

****

Funny how last time I was in a police car, I desperately didn’t want to be. Now, after the night’s events, I don’t really want to get out of the car, knowing I will probably not see Officer Wang again. Strangely, he has started to feel safe to me

“Alright, young lady, here we are,” Wang states as he pulls over behind my car, still abandoned on the side of the freeway.

“Um… thank you,” I stutter.

He grins at me, a handsome smile, and I blush like a damn teenager.

“You’re very welcome, Rachel. Hopefully you learned your lesson about speeding tonight, but if you didn’t, at least make sure you do it when I’m on the clock.”

He winks, and I know it’s fucked up, but I’m probably going to miss him. I climb into my car and head home as everything slowly fades to black.

****

I am startled by my phone ringing incessantly and with unnecessary volume. What? I’m lying in bed… my bed. I pick up the phone in a daze.

“Hi Rachel,” it’s my boyfriend, “So, are you coming over tonight?”

Throughout the day, my pussy buzzes and it slowly starts to make me wet. The boys trade remotes, so I end up being played with by multiple guys.

After lunch, the vibrators come out, and when I walk into my next class, the girl's desks all have some kind of dildo on them. One of the boys drags me over to one of the bigger dildos, and he and his buddies impale me on it, ignoring me when I tell them it's too big. Class starts, and I'm forced to cock warm this huge toy the entire time.

After classes, they take us to a room where we're all stripped and strapped down to tables. I tug at my bonds, but it doesn't help. The boy from earlier comes up, dick out. It's the same size as the toy from earlier. He was warming me up.

He doesn't wait and he isn't gentle. He slams his cock into me, laughing when I cry. He tells me what a good girl I am, how sluts like me belong on his cock, how good I feel. Finally, he cums, and he leaves. Other boys take turns with me for hours, but none of them fill me up like him.