#rev.responds

but it’s something that you’ve gotten used to in the past two years, and it’s too late to care about it now, seeing as you’re about to graduate in a few months.

you’re home for winter break, and like always, your mother isn’t here to greet you after the long drive. she’s off somewhere, doing something, and will probably make up for her absence with a gift she brings back.

it’s okay, though. you doubt she would approve of the ritual you and her husband share, and it’s better that she’s not here for it.

jack’s only been in your life since you were eighteen, but he stepped into his role as your father quite seamlessly. your mother couldn’t have married a more perfect man. jack is an emergency physician. a decorated veteran. a loaded and handsome, handsome man. your mother is truly lucky to have him as her husband.

and you’re so lucky to have a stepfather who cares so much about you that he would forgo convention.

when jack was told by your mother that you’re a virgin two winters ago—her upper lips are as loose as her lower ones, he once said to you jokingly—he started the practice of inspecting your pussy to make sure that fact doesn’t change.

he explained that the heartbreak of giving your innocence to someone who would later stomp on it—as most college boys would do—would not be worth it.

it’s better to wait for that someone special to take your virginity, and you don’t want to find out what will happen to you if you don’t. jack is a kind man, but he has an air of authority that you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of.

by the time jack is in the bedroom with you, you’re undressed with your hands holding your legs by the crooks of their knees, spreading yourself open.

you’re not sure why you have to be entirely naked for a lower body inspection, but you don’t mind being in the nude. if anyone has the right to see your tits, it’s your stepfather.

you’re family. or so he reminds you. you recall being adamantly against this whole ordeal back then when it first started, but the memory is fuzzy now. this may be strange, wrong even, but it’s not like he’s being unfaithful to your mother.

you’re his stepdaughter. he’s just being kind and looking out for you in his own, unique way—

“fuck, what a pretty sight,” he grunts out as he closes in on you, running a single, thick finger over your inner thigh and making you shiver, “i always forget how perfect your body is, baby. let’s see if that cunt is still intact too.”

—and if he gets caught up in a storm of lust, that’s just him being a man. but he’d never do anything uncouth.

he gets down on his knees, kneeling on the pillow that you placed on the floor beforehand. the cushion is easier on his residual limb, and he’s always a little more gentle with you when he’s not in pain.

his hands frame your folds, and then he spreads them apart. the first time jack peeled you open like this you were a flustered mess, but now, you don’t even blink.

you do feel sticky down there, though. but that’s normal. he told you so.

i’m a physician. doing these inspections is also a good way to check on the health of your vagina. better me than some stranger, right?

he also told you that there is a surefire way to tell if someone with a vagina has had sex. the presence of an intact hymen proves virginity, for one, but apparently there’s some other trick of the trade you’re not aware of that can as well.

it does seem unlikely, but what do you know? jack is the physician in the family, and you haven’t taken a health class since the ninth grade.

he takes his time looking at your pussy. he observes how your slick gathers and leaks down the cleft of your ass onto the sheets and how your hole clenches when he makes the offhand your pussy is so goddamn wet comment.

what was it that he said the last time?

a pretty, fertile thing like you needs to be careful. any man virile enough could knock you up. good thing you’re not spreading these legs anytime soon, right, sweetheart?

that affected you more than you would have liked to admit.

jack hums in satisfaction after his visual examination, then shoves one, two, three of his fingers knuckle-deep into your hole, testing something or other.

“virgins like you are so tight, aren’t they?” he asks suddenly, wiggling his fingers inside of you. he groans, and you feel your face start to heat.

maybe he just missed you a lot this time around. there’s no other way to explain how much he seems to enjoy feeling your walls clench down on his fingers and how his other hand moves to palm his crotch.

your expression morphs to one of confusion, and he explains, “that’s a good thing. whoever you have your first time with will be very happy.” he bends down and gives your clit a little kiss and then pulls his fingers out of you. “you’ve been good. still a virgin.”

“for how much longer?” you grumble. “for the rest of my life?”

jack huffs. “there’s no need to rush these things, sweetheart. you’ll thank me for doing this later.”

“no, i know. i am thankful... i guess.” you shake your head and sigh. “just ignore me.”

he stands and sits by your side on the bed, and you let go of your legs to curl up beside him. he rubs a hand up and down your back in a gentle motion. he’s silent for a moment, but then he asks, “what if i took your virginity, sweetheart? would you want that?”

you turn your head up to look at him with wide eyes. “what?”

“i’ll make it special. won’t have to worry about having a bad first time. and i can show you what sex is supposed to be like.”

your heart races. this is...

“but... how about mom?”

“don’t worry about her,” he replies simply. “let’s just keep this between us, alright?”

you think for a second. if there’s anyone you can count on to give you a good first time… it’s jack. and he’s just trying to set a good example for what you should expect with an actual partner in the future, right?

“i’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. i promise.” his hand trails down to your rump and squeezes a cheek in emphasis.

“okay…” you trail off, ignoring the sight of his cock swelling, big and thick and trapped inside of his jeans. “i guess it wouldn’t hurt to do it with someone i’m comfortable with.”

robby chuckles, running over his knuckles with the palm of his other hand. “i want you to handcuff me to the bed.”

shaking your head, you insist, “but why?”

“does there have to be a reason why?” robby’s eyes soften, and he smiles lightly as if he’s trying to convince you to agree to this with just his good looks alone. “just thought it’d be something fun and new to experiment with.”

you level a glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest. robby takes the opportunity to openly stare at your tits that have pushed up and are practically spilling out of your bra. “i dunno… can you really handle me being the one in charge? i won’t let you get off easy. i might not even let you come at all,” you tease, voice sultry and sweet.

“who says you’ll be the one in charge?” robby teases back, eyes glinting. “if i asked, i’m willing to bet you’d undo the cuffs and let me have my way with you. that’s just how good of a girl you are.”

you wrinkle your nose and make a small noise of disapproval. maybe it’s time to turn the tables on him. make him work for what he is always able to pull out of you so easily. “we’ll see about that.”

robby smirks, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer to him so he can whisper in your ear. “give me your worst, baby.”

“where did you even get these?” you ask quizzically, turning over the two sets of metal handcuffs in your hands as you straddle the hips of robby’s supine body. he grunts and squeezes the tops of your thighs when you move a little too much, unconsciously grinding down on his hardening cock. “and when?”

“would you stop asking questions?” robby takes one of the handcuffs from your hands and clasps it onto a single wrist, reaching over and attaching it to a bedpost with his free hand. “help me with the other one, sweetheart.”

you worry your lower lip into your mouth, moving from your position to help him with the other handcuff. once he’s secured to the bed, you sit yourself back down, your cunt and his cock separated by nothing but the thin layers of the both of your underwear. “these are metal cuffs, robby. they’re going to hurt if you pull on them. why didn’t—”

he raises a brow at you, daring you to continue. right, no more questions. you proceed, self-correcting, “you should’ve gotten the fuzzy ones.”

robby shrugs, a smile teasing at his lips. “i’m okay with it hurting a little. i’m a big boy. i can handle it.”

you roll your eyes and shake your head. sitting up and hovering above robby’s hips, you unclasp your bra and start peeling off your underwear, maneuvering your legs to free it from under your knees and finally shucking both garments over the edge of the bed.

robby groans, testing the strength of the handcuffs by instinctively reaching—and obviously failing to reach—for your soaked underwear. “fuck, i would’ve loved a sniff of that. your scent’s always stronger after a shift.”

you scoff in annoyance and in mild humiliation but feel yourself getting hot, molten liquid dribbling out of you onto robby’s briefs. “shut up, you pervert.” robby’s cock jumps at that, straining to point completely up and toward the ceiling while trapped underneath the offending material and your body weight. “oh, did someone like that?” you tease in a singsong voice.

this reversal of roles is turning out to be a lot more fun than you had initially thought it would be. you slip into dominance like a second skin, and robby seems nervous about it. he’s starting to sweat along his hairline and collarbone, flushed and moist, slick skin contrasting nicely with the gold of his magen david necklace.

you haven’t even done anything yet.

“i did,” robby says with a strangled rasp. “i’ll never be ashamed of how fuckin’ crazy you make me, sweetheart.”

you let his words run over you like water off a duck’s back, keeping a straight face, but on the inside you’re already debating on sinking down on him and riding him until the both of you come.

“stop… just—” you cover robby’s mouth with a palm and shiver when you feel his warm breath hit your skin. “stop talking or this will be cut very fucking short because i was not prepared to do this today, and i am extremely horny.”

you meet eyes, and robby nods, kissing the palm of your hand in apparent agreement. you move your palm away, but he continues, smug as all hell, “you got to keep it together, baby, because ‘m not going to be able to keep my mouth shut. my words are all i got, remember?” he emphasizes with a pull of his wrists.

robby’s right. he’s either going to tease you or beg for you. but you think you have a—at least temporary—solution to this problem.

you scoot up robby’s body until you are hovering over his face. “you’re going to eat me out and make me come. can you handle that, robby?”

you stare down at him while he stares up at your wet slit, mouth agape like a fish out of water. he tugs on the cuffs, hissing when the metal bites into his skin. “yeah,” he nods vigorously, “yeah, i can handle that, sweetheart. fuck, could you—could you pull my cock out first, though? i’m so fuckin’ hard it hurts.”

you think on it for a second, but not in a serious fashion. “hm, no. but i’ll consider it if you make me come on your tongue.”

robby grunts. “it’s not a matter of if, but how fast.”

you don’t bother with a snarky response; instead, you slowly seat yourself on robby’s face, clit perched on his strong nose and winking hole and dripping folds in reach of his pink tongue.

robby eats you out as if his life depends on it. and maybe it does. you’re not necessarily holding back from putting the full force of your weight on him, but if he’s uncomfortable, he makes no sign of it. in fact, with all the groaning and jerks of his hands and pelvis to reach for you and for some form of relief, you think he rather enjoys this.

you pull on the bit of thinning hair at the top of his head and grind down on his face, making sure to catch your clit against his nose. his lips and tongue work in conjunction to split the swollen, fleshy halves of your cunt apart, gathering the wetness from your hole on the lower half of his face. his beard scratches your delicate skin just so and makes you moan. your face heats and your toes curl as you get close, and when you hear robby grumbling a smothered version of “your pussy tastes so fuckin’ good,” you come.

after the rough shift you had, this sudden, white-hot euphoria blurs the edges of your vision and makes you feel as though you’re floating on cloud nine. you collapse to the side of robby, still cognizant enough to lift your weight off him and allow him a full lungful of air again.

you cuddle up to him, high off the rush of endorphins washing over you from head to toe, completely forgetting about robby’s neglected erection. you’re reminded of it when you hear the clinking of his cuffs and robby shifting on the bed, blinking an eye open and seeing his biceps bulge and his calves straining as he starts thrashing.

“okay, sweetheart. i made you come. you did so good for me, but now i’m going to need you to take these cuffs off. need to be inside you. i’ll handle the rest, okay?” he rattles off, breathless and with a hint of panic in his voice.

you start to come down, buzz still lighting fires across your skin, and nuzzle your face into robby’s armpit, inhaling deeply. this can’t be weirder than him liking the smell of your ripened underwear, right?

“baby,” robby pleads, “did you hear me? fuck. it really fuckin’ hurts. don’t make me waste the load i should be putting inside of you.”

you giggle. “are you saying you’re going to come in your underpants?”

he groans, and you giggle even more. “this is no laughing matter.”

you sit up, stretching an arm across his front, and grip his cock through his underwear, stroking the thick length and pulling a gutted moan from him, then rest your head on his chest and give the warm skin a light kiss. “you’re right, robby. it’s not. because you’ll only come when i say, okay? you can watch as i ride you, though.”

robby laughs, a little manic, and thrusts into the air as your hand leaves his cock. “ohoho, you’re going to pay for this later. you better hope i don’t break these bedposts.”

whether he's cruising through town, searching for his next bust, or is in the station processing the next son of a bitch who broke one too many laws, he always keeps an eye out, just in case someone happens to catch his interest.

for that reason alone, after a string of robberies—cash from the register at a gas station and a corner store when the attendant was distracted, lifted purses and shoes from the shopping mall—however minor, charlie gets involved.

a deputy chief has better things to do than spend his free time searching for a petty thief, but one glance at you, the purported perpetrator, from over the shoulder of one of his cops staring at your enhanced image on the computer screen, is all it takes; he has to be the one to catch you.

it really is a shame on the police department, though, that he finds you so easily. tracks your movements and knows where you'll strike next. but it's just as well. he wouldn't be able to do what he is now if you'd happened to have been caught.

it's late evening. most businesses are closed. you're plan is to hit a jewelry store, a step up from your previous targets. you'd probably get away with robbing the owner blind if charlie let you. you're a clever, sneaky thing. light on your feet and quick with your hands. innocuous enough that no one would suspect you to be a criminal.

but charlie knows just who you are.

he pulls up to the back lot of the jewelry store, steps out of his suv, and leans against the hood as he waits for you to arrive. if you're half as decent a thief as he believes you to be, you would already know that this place has a vulnerable security system and that the owner frequently forgets to lock the back door. it's honestly a miracle he hasn't been robbed yet.

distantly, grass rustles and stone pebbles crunch beneath canvas sneakers. a rush of two feet across the pavement, then sudden silence. charlie swivels his head in the direction of the noise, expecting to see you, and you both make eye contact. he can make out your shape, your entire face, really, even in the low light of the evening.

your eyes scan his features, then his hand at his hip, where his gun and badge lie. he can barely savor the look of fear in your eyes before you break out in a run, out of the lot. he had expected you to be a runner and gives chase.

you go down a barren road to where construction of a new building is taking place, presumably to lose him in the maze of metal beams and pvc pipes. but despite how much older he is than you, despite how fast on your feet you are, somehow charlie catches up to you.

by now you both have run out the other end of the in-progress building and are blocked off from going any further by a chain-link fence that spans this side of the property.

you turn around to face charlie, backing up into the fence. "please, officer, i—i didn't do anything. i don't want any trouble."

"should've thought of that before you ran, sweetheart. and before you robbed all those poor innocent people," he adds. your eyes widen as you realize the situation you're in. you're caught. plain and simple. "that's right, i know what you've been up to." he makes a spinning motion with his pointer finger. "face the fence. don't make this harder on yourself."

you do as he says, head turned down and shoulders slumped in defeat. seeing you so downtrodden and ready to give up nearly breaks charlie's heart.

he pulls out his cuffs and gathers both of your wrists in a single, large hand, clasping the metal bands closed, while reading you your rights. once he recites them, he adds, "gotta search you before we go back to the station."

charlie wasn't planning on doing anything less than the right thing. he got to you before anyone else could. got you into cuffs. he'll take home with him the memory of your teary eyes and wobbling lips as he drags you into the station and hold onto that until the next pretty thing comes along.

and yet—when his hands pat your sides, your legs back up to the pockets of your jeans, and you push back against his hands, pleading, "wait, wait. i'll—i'll do anything you want. anything. just let me go, please? i won't—i won't be any more trouble. i promise—" he listens. the reality must be dawning on you. you're bargaining with him, and he's not one to turn down a good deal.

"are you trying to bribe me, little miss?" charlie asks, a teasing lilt to his tone. "aren't you the troublemaker. what're you willin' to do?"

"i'll... i'll suck your dick."

charlie barks at that. "oh, yeah? better get in line, sweetheart. no, what i want is to finish my search." he proceeds to feel you up, more than would be necessary to clear you of weapons, if you had any. it unreasonably frustrates charlie to think you had nothing on your person to defend yourself with in case things went left.

one of his arms wraps itself snug around your waist, his fingers on his free hand dipping beneath the waistband of your jeans, rubbing you through your underwear. his ears are greeted with a small gasp and then a sharp screech.

"what're you doing?" you hiss, jerking away from his hand only to be met with his firm chest. "what do you gain from—from touching me like this?"

charlie chuckles, low and directly against the shell of your ear. he looks down between your bodies to see your hands balled into fists, unable to land the blow he'd assume you'd gift right to his face. "i like makin' a girl come. you come on my fingers… and i'll let you go."

your breaths are labored. "are you—are you fucking serious?"

"would you rather get locked up?" charlie asks, withdrawing his hand from inside your jeans. "'s your call."

"okayokayokay. f-fine. oh my god," you whine. "i can't believe this is happening."

"maybe this'll make you think twice about breaking the law, hm?" charlie's hand moves back beneath the waistband of your jeans and into your underwear. he runs his fingers along your slit and sucks his teeth, surprised to find you already wet and wanting. "fuck, this turn you on, sweetheart? gettin' your pussy pet in public? or are you always like this? i almost wish someone would walk by. see how fuckin' wet you are for me."

"just get it over with, you pig," you grit.

"with pleasure." charlie tucks two thick fingers into your hole, groaning at how easily he's able to slide them in. he curls them inside of you, rubbing them against your inner walls. you moan, and the sound goes straight to his cock. "that's it. just focus on how good 'm makin' you feel."

if charlie were a more rational man, he would've taken you up on your offer to pleasure him. because, truly, what does he gain in rewarding you for such bad behavior? but doesn't everyone deserve a second chance? and (maybe he's softened over the years) he just loves making a sweet thing like you fall apart.

and fall you do. almost, that is. with expert strokes against your g-spot and the heel of his palm grinding into your clit, your legs start wobbling, and you can barely hold yourself upright. charlie's a brick wall at your back, though, and he keeps you on two feet as you gasp and writhe against him.

"oh, fuck," you whimper. "ohmygod. i'm gonna—"

"give it to me," charlie grunts. as you cum, he pulls his fingers out of your hole to directly rub your puffy clit, extending the pleasure to the point of oversensitivity. you mewl like a wounded animal, and charlie ponders how much louder you would get if he were to put his cock in you. likely enough to draw the attention of anyone within a mile or two from here, he thinks half-heartedly.

your orgasm ebbs after a little while, and he gives you a few more seconds to recover, running featherlight strokes over the seam of your cunt and softly shushing you when you start to cry after such an intense moment. but then, as soon as you stop twitching and your sniffles die down, he pulls his hand out from inside your jeans and unwraps his arm from your waist, forcing you to stand on your own. you lean forward against the fence for support, the mesh openings cutting into the fat of your cheeks.

croaking, you ask, "are you going to let me go now?"

"give me a minute," charlie replies, pulling out the key for the cuffs from his pocket. "i better not catch you again, you hear? you're damn lucky the department's useless."

you nod, stretching your arms back in a desperate manner so he can uncuff you all the faster. "you won't ever see me again, sir."

somehow charlie doubts that. "call a man who made you come by his name. charlie," he supplies.

"charlie," you parrot, voice wrecked.

he uncuffs you, and you turn around to look at him, rubbing your wrists with a strangeness in your eyes, before scampering off in the other direction. he watches you go until you're out of sight. when charlie makes it back to the lot to get into his car, he takes a few minutes to jerk off with his other hand, sniffing his fingers—smelling you—all the while.

he inevitably catches you again sometime later, after you plan a heist at another jewelry store, and you ask him if he'd like to eat you out this time in favor of letting you go.

it’s all about the humiliation for him. he brings it up once casually as something to explore, and you’re so embarrassed about the idea of peeing on his face, into his open mouth, that it spurs him on into trying it with you someday sooner. maybe even the next day.

you two have a shift together, and throughout he makes sure you take breaks (when you can), gently goading you into getting a bottle of water from the break room each time. it’s in good faith. he does want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, but on the flip side, he knows you both will be so swamped that you probably won’t get the chance to pee until you get home. when the both of you do make it home, that’s when he body blocks you to stop you from running into the restroom so you can use his face as your toilet instead.

he already has towels and plastic tarps prepared on the floor somewhere. he gets flat on his back, then eats you out as you’re sat on his face, applying pressure to your lower stomach with a single hand. he’s so filthy with his words; once your stream starts, they’re honestly more disgusting than the act itself.

“fuck, you’re such a dirty girl, pissing all over your chief attending.”

“you taste so fuckin’ good.” (he made sure you drank more water than anything else throughout the day so the taste of your piss wouldn’t be as acrid).

“you like using me as your toilet, hm? couldn’t even hold it a second longer?”

i think the first pussy inspection that jack has with you comes out of left field, like, at a house party that your mother is throwing or something. maybe over summer break when you’re at home for a while.

your mother doesn’t care about you and is more focused on her guests, so jack fills you up on drinks. the music is blasting; everyone is dancing and singing and having a grand old time. the party stretches on, you get drunk as jack keeps topping you up, and what do you know, suddenly, you’re both in the bedroom sitting on the bed, laughing at inside jokes while the party goes on outside.

in your drunken state, you’re more than usually comfortable with jack, and you feel warm, get sleepy, and rest your head in his lap, the little dress you’re wearing riding up and barely covering your ass as you curl up next to him.

jack says, in a low, gruff voice, “just rest. i’ll stay with you in case someone stumbles in.”

an unspecified amount of time later, when you wake up, your underwear is missing and your legs are spread open, pinned to the bed by your stepdad.

you’re further up by the head of the bed now, as if he dragged your sleeping body from where you were resting by his side on the edge of the bed so he could watch you while lying flat on his stomach instead of having to get down on his knees.

easier on his residual limb, you offhandedly think, before the reality of what he’s doing crashes down on you.

he’s looking at your pussy, watching it flutter around nothing, the slick collecting and dripping from your hole.

what. the. fuck.

you’re so shocked by what’s going on that you can’t say anything, your jaw going slack and your breaths coming out in short, rapid puffs. you can only watch as jack licks his lips as he memorizes the outline of your cunt, the way that your clit nestles between your folds, following with his eyes the curve of your ass.

when you finally come to your senses, jack is prepared for your freakout and provides his doctorly and fatherly advice about keeping your virginity intact and saving it for that special someone, reassuring you that this—pussy inspectin’—is just a preventative measure to protect you and your precious cunt.

his words relieve you.

he’s just a concerned parent.

he kisses the inside of your thigh and adjusts your dress once he’s done with his inspection.

your pussy’s perfect. let’s keep it that way, yeah. no one fucks your cunt unless i say.

when you return to the party, you realize, as you slowly sober up, that he didn’t put your underwear back on.

to this day, you don’t know where it went. but you do have a good guess as to who’s been keeping it safe (and warm, wrapped around his cock when you’re away at school) for you.

—