Author: Exhibit A

“Take them off.”

Kathryn let my cock slip out of her mouth and propped herself up on the pillow. “Why don’t you take them off for me?”

Brave move. Bad move.

“Ok, but if I have to do it for you, I’m not going to let you suck me again afterwards.”

I waited as Kathryn mulled that one over. We’d been passing my cock back and forth between us for the best part of half an hour. Her mouth. My hand. Her hand. She knew I wasn’t far off giving her what she’d asked for. Asked for as soon as I’d arrived home from work to find her sitting on my doorstep like a stray cat.

—

“I need to taste you. I’ve needed it all week.”

She said it as I jammed my key in the lock. Too hard. Yeah, my dick too. I glanced down and saw her looking at it. Big brown eyes, perfect hair and make-up – this wasn’t an impulsive visit. She curled a hand round the back of my leg and rested her cheek on my thigh. I could feel how warm it was even through my trousers. Kathryn got like that sometimes. Restless. Hungry. Hot.

The second the door closed, her fingers reached for my zip, and I knew she’d suck me off right there in the corridor if I let her, outside my neighbour’s apartment. It was tempting, but not quite what I had in mind. I wanted her somewhere private – somewhere I could unpick her and break her down at my leisure. Make her less pretty – and more pretty too.

I had to half-carry her up the stairs. Kathryn’s the best part of a foot shorter than me, but she knows how to turn herself into a dead weight, and her feet seemed to drag over every step as I pulled her along. That got logged away too. Months earlier, I’d told her how things were going to be. Yes, we can play, but each time you fuck with me, each time you’re defiant or disobedient or slow to do as you’re told, there will be consequences. I’ll take it out on your arse, and I’ll sure as hell take it out on that sweet little mouth of yours.

For the most part, that suited Kathryn just fine. She had a lot of strings to her sexual bow, but every now and then all she wanted was to have her throat fucked till she cried, and then curl up in my arms as I stroked her hair and kissed away the tears. Simple pleasures, right?

We made it to my room, and before I’d even kicked off my shoes, Kathryn had scooted over to the bed and stripped down to her underwear. No further though: that was always her way of telling me that she wanted it in her mouth and nowhere else, at least not yet. I was happy to oblige. She’s good at sucking cock – too good really, because she gets smug about it, and a bit too comfortable in the control it gives her. Any time that happens, I have to take steps to redress the balance, and that…well, that tends to hurt her more than it hurts me.

When I told Kathryn to take off her knickers, it wasn’t because I intended to fuck her. I just wanted to see her soft, lush body laid out on my bed: in the dictionary I carry around in my brain, that’s the image found next to ‘perfect’. I wanted to come in her mouth and over her tits; to smear it across her forehead and tell her what a good girl – what a special little slut – she was for showing up like that and sucking my dick. In other words, all I wanted was to make her happy.

“Why don’t you take them off for me?” After I’d given her a direct order? Yeah, bad move.

—

“Mm, please take them off. I’m really wet, so you can just put it inside me.”

I could see her point. It’s not like we hadn’t done it that way plenty of times before. She’d suck me, then I’d fuck her for a bit, or lie back and let her ride my cock. In the end, she’d still get to taste me, but only after having an orgasm or two of her own. This was different though. This required something different.

I swung round and rolled Kathryn’s knickers down off her hips. White cotton: the M&S Special. As I pulled them over her thighs, I felt the crotch – she was right, they were soaked through, to the point where the fabric almost looked translucent. Kathryn wriggled a bit, trying to force them down faster. There was something conflicted in the way she looked at me. Even though the decision had been made, I knew she was still trying to work out where she wanted my cock. Mouth or cunt. Cunt or mouth. Maybe he’ll change his mind and I’ll get both. Both would be great.

She got neither. I pulled her knickers all the way off and balled them up in my fist. So soft, even though she’d probably bought them years ago and washed them a thousand times. I knelt beside her, wrapped my other hand around my cock, and started to pump it up and down.

“No matter how many times I tell you, you just don’t learn. You wanted to taste me, right? Well you’re going to taste me. I’m going to come all over these knickers – I’m going to fucking ruin them, in fact – and then you’re going to suck as much of it out of them as you can.”

Kathryn’s eyes widened and her fingers moved instinctively down towards her cunt. I batted them away with the scrunched-up underwear, and as I felt the first twinge between my legs, I buried the head of my cock in the warm cotton.

“No no no, you fucking bastard.” Kathryn smacked the mattress in frustration. I closed my eyes and smiled, then everything went a bit fuzzy, in the way it always does when you get swept off by that rush of pleasure.

As the last few drops pulsed out onto my thigh, I squeezed the underwear in my hand, letting the cum soak through it. Kathryn tried to sit, but I pushed her back down and straddled her again.

“Don’t even try it. You brought this on yourself, you disobedient little slut. Now open your mouth – don’t make me do that for you as well.”

She moaned, and as her lips parted, I stuffed the underwear between them, and poked it all the way inside her mouth. As I felt my finger hit the back of her throat, she clutched at my arm and blinked, water starting to gather at the corners of her eyes.

“You can taste me now, right? I want you to keep sucking on those till I tell you to stop. If you do a good job, I might even get down between your legs and taste you for a bit. When we’re done, you’re going to put your knickers back on, go home, and make yourself come in them. Is that understood?”

Kathryn nodded. She took her hand off my wrist and I pressed two fingers against her lips, forcing them to close around her knickers. I watched her chest rise and fall as she struggled to control her heart rate and breathe through her nose. I rolled off the bed and stretched. There was beer in the fridge, and it had been a long day. A long week, really. I walked across the room and into the kitchen. Kathryn wasn’t going anywhere – not yet, anyway.

I shut the door behind me.

I’m in a relationship with my recruitment consultant. We’ve been together for over a month now, and so far everything’s going great. We email back and forth, speak almost every day, and each time she calls me my heart beats that little bit faster. In fact, just the sound of her cool, clipped, slightly detached voice is enough to make my cheeks flush and my cock stiffen.

Ok, it’s not what most people would consider a conventional relationship – for one thing, she doesn’t even know we’re an item – but the bond I have with Joanna is very intimate. She asks me about my hopes and dreams: where I see myself in five years, what I want to do with my life. We talk about the things I’m good at and the things I’d like to be good at. I open up to her about my weaknesses, and she comforts me whenever an interview goes badly. We share the same interests – running, wine, travel – and with her Polish parents my life in Warsaw is a good source of easy conversation.

Sometimes, just to change things up, I play hard to get. I let my mobile ring through to voicemail and then ignore her messages. I send gnomic replies to her follow-up emails. She’s a very demanding woman, so it’s exciting to push back against that. And while she’s never stern with me, if we haven’t spoken for a while there’s an edge to her inflection, and I can picture the furrow between her eyebrows as she frowns down the phone.

I can picture other things too. Filthy things. I stroke my cock and imagine her standing in front of me, fully-clothed, telling me what to do. She has an eye for detail, so her instructions would be precise and purposeful – her voice is low, and I don’t think it would waver, even when she moved closer and lifted her tight pencil skirt so I could please her with my tongue.

Or perhaps she spends so much time in control of things during the day that when she gets home all she wants is to be bent over the nearest hard surface and fucked till the last coherent thought tumbles out of her brain. I’ve thought about that – oh yes – and about the mornings too, when I’d interrupt her meticulous preparations for the day ahead to push my cock down her throat, or suck and squeeze her tits as she stands half-dressed in front of the mirror.

She’s good at eye contact, is Joanna – the one time we met in person, her gaze barely strayed from mine. I wondered afterwards what it would take to unsettle her. Would she still look me square in the eye if I fucked her arse just before she left for work, my cock smeared with her spit and lipstick? Would she button up the jacket she wears over her tight cream blouse, reapply her make-up, and give me a last, lingering look as she walked out of the door on trembling legs, ready for another day at the office? Would she bother to change her knickers if they were sticky with my cum?

I don’t think I’ll ever know the answers to those questions. We’ve had a very happy month together, but it’s nearly time for us to go our separate ways. Yesterday I had my final interview for the last of the three roles she’s been working on. We spoke afterwards, a warm, light-hearted chat as I walked to the tube station. At the end of it, she suggested that we might go for a drink or two, once the verdict’s in – her treat, to thank me for being such a good candidate.

I was flattered. I smiled. I politely declined.

That would be unprofessional.

This was written for Alison Tyler’s kink submission and rejected, in part, because the characters came across as too young. After re-reading it, I kind of get where that comment came from, though in my head they’re probably in their early-to-mid twenties. Anyway, I thought I’d post it here: let me know what you think!

—

Everyone remembers their first time. Alex and Kelly were lucky enough to experience theirs together, one cold afternoon in early February, when the snow on the ground outside lay as pure and white as the soft blanket and fresh sheets on Kelly’s bed.

Underneath that blanket they kissed, these two young lovers, and their trembling fingers took it in turns to remove the clothes they’d still been wearing as they’d tumbled into bed. A shirt was unbuttoned here, a bra unhooked there, and in no time at all Kelly’s hand was burrowing down into Alex’s underwear.

“God, I’ve wanted to touch you for so long. I can’t believe we waited till now to do this.”

“I want you so much, Kelly. Yeah, curl your fingers around it like that, baby.”

“You’re so hard! I never realised how big it would feel. Oh Alex, are you sure it’ll fit. Won’t it hurt?”

Alex looked down and saw Kelly’s hand wrapped around the thick shaft, barely able to make a fist. For a horrible moment, it felt like the laws of Physics were playing a horrible joke on both of them; that nothing so gloriously large could hope to fit inside the virginal tightness with which they both longed to sheathe it.

Kelly looked at the despair that flashed across Alex’s face, and immediately knew what to do.

“Get down between my legs and lick me, baby. Just for a minute. That’s it, just rip them off, I don’t care, and – oh fuck – yes, that’s the spot right there.”

Alex’s tongue was sure and steady, deft and skilful, as if it had found a natural home down there in the sweet spot that made Kelly purr with pleasure. It flicked and probed, till the tiny opening could accommodate a few exploratory thrusts, and then it pushed inside, causing them both to gasp in surprise and delight.

“Here, get my fingers nice and wet. I want to see whether I can get them inside you. You’re so tight, but I think you can take one, at least.”

Kelly sucked hard on Alex’s middle finger. A second digit soon found its way in alongside the first; they emerged a few seconds later, coated in saliva, and Kelly mewled at the sudden emptiness which they left behind.

“Please Alex. Please let me suck your dick while you use your fingers. I really need you in my mouth”

In a blanket-tossing, sheet-twisting frenzy, they each moved round, till his cheek rested against the inside of her thigh, and her breath warmed his navel. Alex’s cock stood high and proud, and Kelly licked it with a flat tongue; slowly at first, to savour its length and to allow this moment to sink in for both of them.

Meanwhile, Alex’s fingers adopted a similar rhythm. Languid and unhurried in their initial movements, they just parted the soft flesh between Kelly’s legs and held it like that, so the cool air could tickle the ripe, exposed core. When the first finger did finally enter, it curled upwards and stopped, just an inch or two inside. It slid silkily back out, then in again, pausing to allow Kelly’s muscles to clench around it : some things just feel too good not to take your time over.

Without needing to ask, each knew when the moment to accelerate matters had arrived. Kelly, mouth suddenly awash with greed, plunged down onto Alex’s cock, taking not just the head but most of the thick shaft deep inside; Alex responded by jamming two fingers in together and using them to piston in and out, matching Kelly’s fast, frantic, oral tempo.

“You’re so open now! I swear I could get three fingers in, or even four! Do you think you’re ready for me now, baby? I really want to fuck you and I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“Yes, I’m ready. Your dick feels so good in my mouth, but I need you to fuck me. I’ve never needed anything as much as I need this.”

Alex pulled Kelly in close and they rolled together on the big bed. When they stopped, Kelly’s soft curls lay spread out on the pillow. Alex looked down at them and tenderly wove a loose tendril around the fingers which, seconds earlier, had been used for much less delicate purposes.

With her other hand, Alex reached for the pot on the bedside table and swiftly lubed up her cock. The strap-on felt almost obscenely large between her slim thighs, and Kelly’s ass was still really tight, but she knew that once she’d squeezed the first couple of inches inside him, he’d beg to feel the rest as well. He looked so adorably vulnerable, her beautiful man just aching to be fucked.

Kelly spread his legs. His swimmer’s body tapered down in a long V from shoulders to waist, and there was something graceful about the way he moved his knees back, either side of his chest, till he looked like one of his diver buddies, suspended in the tuck position. He watched Alex tease her dick down between his balls, and gasped as he felt the cool silicon, slick with lube, press experimentally against his hole. He tensed – they both tensed – and then, with an ease that brought a happy smile to Alex’s face, she thrust inside.

Alex and Kelly’s first time, like that of so many others, did not take long to reach a wide-eyed, toe-curling climax. Alex pressed down on the backs of Kelly’s legs till the kneecaps rested flush against the dips either side of his collarbone. She whispered words she’d never dreamt would come out of her mouth, and he responded, his hand desperate and shaking as it sought out his own erection. He was already leaking pre-come, each drop clinging briefly to the very tip of his cock, then falling into the valley between his chest muscles.

With the base of the dildo grinding into her clit, it didn’t take Alex long to find the gathering swell of her own orgasm. As she succumbed, she collapsed down onto Kelly, her strap-on still deep inside his ass. He held her to him, and they both felt his cock pulse once, then send a stream of come between their bodies.

Alex fell back onto the bed next to her lover. The snow continued to fall outside the window, and she knew that they’d be going nowhere that evening. That was fine; in fact, it was perfect. Alex propped herself up on one elbow, turned to Kelly, and with a mischievous smile said the words that everyone wants to hear after their first time:

“We are doing that again.”

The hooded figures filed into the back of the church, four from one side and four from the other. When all eight had entered, the back man in each line turned to pull shut the heavy oak door behind him. The soft whine of the early evening wind was instantly replaced by a stifling silence, and the torches on the walls seemed to burn a little brighter in their sconces.

The men stopped halfway down the aisle and bowed their heads. When they raised them again, their faces were set into grim masks. Each wore a dark brown cowl, clasped loosely enough for the cold air inside the church to raise goosebumps on the naked skin half-hidden inside. The men were lean and well-muscled, and when they passed through the torchlight it was obvious that the days spent grafting in the fields had tanned their skin a deep, chestnut brown.

Brother Simeon, on the other hand, was not brown. His body was smooth and fair, though no less stocky or powerful than that of his fellow monks. Even after being stripped and lashed to the altar, his jaw line retained a defiant jut; bent over and splayed across the hard black marble, coarse rope criss-crossing his torso, he looked almost like a racehorse mid-jump, coiled and tense where he should have appeared supine and submissive.

Brother Simeon was to be punished that night. Punished for each sin he had committed in the six months since he’d first strolled through the Abbot’s door, 60% carefree insouciance, 30% stonewashed jeans, and 10% steel; the kind of steel that men missed at first, but in time came to lust after and fear in equal measure.

When they reached the altar, the members of the disciplinary committee fanned out and unclasped their cowls, allowing eight soft pools of wool to hug the cold stone floor. Brother Stephen was the first to step forward. He was the oldest of the monks, and at 40 his hair was flecked with grey, but he still moved with an easy, supple grace. It was the tattoos on his dick that confirmed his seniority: 12 deep blue rings, circling his thick shaft, one for each novitiate he’d trained.

Brother Stephen walked calmly around the altar. He stood directly in front of Brother Simeon, slid a callused finger under his chin, and lifted it almost tenderly, till the two men were able to look each other in the eye.

“Simeon, you know why you’re here. Our God asks little of us: only that we work the land, harvest the crops, and fuck the women who come to us in search of the pleasure their boyfriends can’t provide. You’re a hard worker, and every man here would give his left nut to be blessed with your good looks, but every night you turn away the girl we send you. For that, you must be punished. Do you accept this judgement?”

As Brother Simeon opened his mouth to vocalise his assent, Brother Stephen tilted his hips and gagged him with his cock. Acceptance was irrelevant – this was their God’s will.

Quickly, Brother Saul and Brother Solomon swept in from opposite sides and descended upon Simeon’s trussed hindquarters. Saul was the youngest of the monks, a rangy stripling of 22 years, with a mere three rings inked around his dick. He knelt between his bound compatriot’s legs and carefully parted his soft ass cheeks.

Saul’s tongue had already brought countless women to shaking, sobbing orgasm in the two years since he’d swapped his novice’s tunic for the monk’s habit he was now permitted to wear. With Brother Solomon watching, and methodically applying holy oil to his stout cock, he dragged it between Simeon’s balls and up, till he was able to lap gently at the exposed hole. Saul was a serious young man, thorough and tireless in his work; again and again, his strong tongue deposited a milky pearl of saliva onto Simeon’s skin, before pushing it skilfully inside him.

Although his body shuddered and convulsed under Saul’s tongue, Simeon stayed silent. Brother Stephen’s huge dick filled his mouth to the point where he was forced to breathe through his nose, and a small puddle of drool had already formed under his chin, but he bore his punishment with the stoicism demanded by his order.

Brother Solomon laid the pot of oil down on the altar and eased Saul to one side. He was a tall man, with hawkish features, jet-black hair, and a coarse, clipped beard. Not yet 30, he’d still accumulated nine rings around his dick, though it was a testament to his prodigious length that there remained room for many more along the heavily-veined shaft.

Solomon pressed one hand down into the small of Simeon’s back. His dick glistened in the torchlight, and with great ceremony he positioned it between the prisoner’s buttocks. Brother Stephen nodded once: it was time. The muscles in Solomon’s ass rippled as he thrust firmly forward, deep inside Simeon’s tight hole; a low moan vibrated around Brother Stephen’s cock and echoed out into the church, where it was met by a rumble of approval from the watching monks. Solomon quickly settled into a heavy, percussive rhythm, sawing his dick in and out with deliberate force. It was not his job to bring pleasure to his compatriot; only to purge him of the sin which had wrapped itself around his soul. Harder and harder he fucked the helpless Simeon, until the altar itself appeared to tremble under the power flowing through his dick.

Only as he neared orgasm did Solomon’s movements become jerky and staccato; his knees buckled slightly, and with one final thrust he flooded Simeon’s hole with thick cum. After his dick had finished pulsing, Solomon pulled out, mindful not to allow any of his seed to fall onto the sacred marble. He walked back to his position on the outside of the semi-circle and Brother Saul replaced him, to penetrate Simeon’s ass with his tongue once again. Solomon’s cum tasted sharp and bitter, but Saul was not deterred; he knew how important it was to swallow as much as he could, to prevent any leaking out and defiling the altar.

Brother Silas was next to step forward. His easy, laidback manner had made him a favourite among the ladies who passed through the monastery’s doors; his endless stamina and curved dick, with its fat, plum-coloured crown and seven tattoos, only served to enhance his reputation still further. He fucked Brother Simeon as he fucked his women, allowing him a few seconds to adjust to the initial shock his girth never failed to induce, before rolling his hips and gradually delivering inch after inch inside him.

After Silas had shot his load, and Saul had sucked as much of it from Simeon’s hole as his tongue could reach, it was the turn of Brother Shiloh, followed by Brothers Seth and Samuel. When the last monk, Brother Sheva, approached the altar, cum ran in long streaks down Simeon’s legs, and his back and shoulders shone with sweat. Still he held Brother Stephen’s cock in his mouth, with a discipline and focus that his colleagues could not help but admire.

Sheva’s would be the seventh and final dick to enter Simeon’s body that night. As he thrust it into the tunnel that five others had already mined, Brother Stephen also abandoned his watchful stillness and began to fuck Simeon’s mouth with equal fury. The air in the church, cool and fresh just an hour earlier, almost shimmered with heat; it smelled – tasted, really – of a dark, rich musk, of the nine men whose sweat and spit and cum had been spilled in the service of their God.

The moment had almost arrived. Brother Saul reached underneath Brother Simeon’s body, and deftly unknotted the thin rope around his cock.

“Now, Simeon”, intoned Brother Stephen, “now your punishment is complete and you must release the sin from your body.” As he finished speaking, his dick swelled and he laced his fingers through the soft blonde hair of his young protégé. He and Sheva came together, pouring their hot semen into Simeon’s mouth and ass. The eight monks stepped back and watched the tip of Simeon’s cock flare once, twice, and then coat the stone surface underneath it with cum.

Finally able to slump down onto the altar and rest, Brother Simeon allowed himself a small smile. The punishment had proved even more enjoyable than he’d dared to hope it might. One thing was for certain: his sinning days were far from over…