Guilty Pleasure This Guilty Pleasure That, I Don't Feel Guilty Abt Pleasure, I'm Not Catholic

Following Instructions

[Explicit] AO3

Silco x f!reader, BDSM, Smut, Established Relationship, Impact Play, Spanking, Sex Toys, Non-Penetrative Sex Toys, Dom Silco, Dom/sub, Praise Kink, degradation kink, Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Aftercare

Word count: 3.7k

Inspired by an impact play session/demo I got to enjoy this weekend, I wrote a Silco/reader fic. Thanks to my bestie for the lesson and my husband for indulging me and learning alongside me.

Silco does not take kink lightly. If you cannot follow his rules, he will not indulge you in your fantasies. You try impact play for the first time with your pain and pleasure entrusted to his practiced hands.

"Knees on the bench, elbows on the bed."

Standing in Silco's bedroom, your body buzzes with anticipation and anxiety. You've been wanting to try this for a while, but wanting and actually doing are two very different things.

A bench with a red velvet cushion on top of it sits at the foot of Silco's bed. When you kneel on top of it and bend over as instructed, you realize just how perfect the position and height is for both of you for this activity. Makes sense, given that's the exact reason he has such a piece of furniture.

The cushion is soft against your knees, but not nearly as soft as the thick comforter that lay across Silco's bed. Rich textures tickle your forearms and your palms as you get into position.

"Now repeat to me what we're doing."

Silco's voice is even, a calmness that comes with the quiet confidence he exudes. But you can hear the hint of possessiveness underneath it and it sends heat to pool in your core.

You wet your lips and nod. Silco was very clear that, if you cannot speak explicitly about what you're doing, what you're comfortable with, and what the rules are, he would not be indulging you in this. The professionalism you've come to admire as his business associate does not end at the bedroom door. If anything, he's even more strict.

"You will be…hitting— spanking me…"

Out of your periphery, you see him nod, beckoning you on.

"With a series of instruments."

The aforementioned instruments lay on the bed in front of you, just out of your reach. Silco has four in order of severity. Before you had crossed the threshold into his bedroom, he had made it clear that you are fully in charge of how many of these he will use. He had also told you what type of pain to expect from each.

"Good."

Your walls clench. He prompts you again.

"Where?"

"My… ass."

You hear footsteps behind you as he paces, watching.

"And?"

"The back of my thighs."

More footsteps. He walks into your line of sight, appearing to the side of the bed. A slender arm reaches down and picks up a leather paddle, its handle about five inches long. The business end of it is a rectangle about seven by three inches wide.

He straightens up, mismatched eyes locking with yours.

"What are you to do after each hit?"

You recall his instructions and recite them out.

"Tell you a number from 1-10 on my pain scale."

He nods, his left hand bracing the flexible paddle as he rests the flat end on the palm of his right.

"For today, the highest I will do for you is seven."

You nod.

"I will not do anything past seven until I've deemed you've had enough personal sessions with me."

He leans forward bringing you almost nose-to-nose.

"Do we have an understanding?"

Your throat bobs.

"Yes."

His eyebrows cocks.

"Yes, sir," you're quick to correct yourself.

He straightens back up, hiding the instrument of your pain and—if this goes as you think it will—pleasure behind his back before stepping out of your view to hover behind you.

"Last question. What do each of the colors mean?"

Your lips part as your eyebrows furrow, confused. But then, you suddenly remember.

"Green means to keep going. Yellow means pause or I need a break."

"And red?"

"Stop everything entirely."

You hear the unmistakable sound of leather creaking as Silco's grip tightens around the slapper. Your heart is in your throat, the molten lava in your core growing even hotter by the second as you wait. As you kneel with nothing but a pair of lace panties on, you wonder if Silco can see how wet the fabric is getting as it clings to your pussy.

"Good girl."

Your walls clench again and you almost sigh from his voice alone.

"Eyes forward."

Your eyes stare ahead at the wooden headboard. And then—

Thwack!

Silco hits your right cheek. The strength behind it is weak but your hips jump forward nonetheless, startled by the sensation.

That wasn't too bad.

Silco clears his throat behind you.

"One."

Thwack!

Silco hits the exact same spot again, this time with a bit more force behind it. You can feel the sting of his swing, a wonderful warmth blooming on your skin.

"Two."

Footsteps. And then—

Thwack!

Silco strikes you on the left cheek to even out the sensation. A small sigh escapes your lips and your eyes flutter closed. For a moment, you forget yourself, lost to the buzzing feeling in your head and the stinging sensation on your ass.

Silco says your name sternly.

"Sorry, sir!" You squeak out. "Three."

Thwack!

"Ah!"

Your voice comes out as a startled cry, Silco's timing between hits speeding up. You want it again, so you try to think of a number as quickly as your lust-adled brain can conjure.

"Three."

Thwack!

Silco hits the back of your right thigh and a low moan hums along your throat. You press your face into the mattress, eyes closed and lips curled into a drunken smile. Heat pools between your legs and you let you mouth fall open to let out a contented sigh. As you do, your number tumbles past your lips.

"Five."

Thwack!

Same intensity, other thigh. 

Your fingers dig into the comforter, balling up the fabric into your palms as you let out another sigh. 

Silco lets you savor the moment, not prompting for your number just yet. You wiggle your hips happily as you feel your pulse in your skin, little fires all along the places he's hit you.

Your head feels light, your thoughts a blank slate. All you are is this moment with Silco.

In his bedroom.

Face against the sheets.

Ass in the air.

Your pain and pleasure entrusted to his practiced hands.

"Five," you sigh.

Silco hums behind you. You can feel his warmth as he steps a bit closer. Without warning, he starts to tap the paddle against your right cheek, light and fast. Each slap is only a one on the pain scale, but he's doing each in such quick succesion that it makes your head buzz. There's a wonderful fluttering sound as the leather continues to slap your ass, a sweet stinging against your skin.

He adjust his grip and gives your left cheek the same treatment. Light taps, as if he's trying to keep the warmth underneath your skin from cooling down.

Just as you think he'll maybe do the same treatment to your thighs, he adjusts his stance, pulls his arm back, and sends the paddle thundering onto your right cheek.

Thwack!

"Ahhh!"

Your walls clench as your pussy weeps to soak your panties. Speechless, you arch your back as you ride out the stinging sensation. You can feel pleasure coursing through your veins, radiating outward from your ass until it's rushing through your limbs and settling behind your eyes.

Silco calls your name, a little warmer than before.

"Seven," you whisper.

Thwack!

Equal strength, left cheek.

A long, low, wanton moan purrs along your throat. You find your breath growing shallower as the line in your stomach tightens. You're desperate for friction against your core, to feel Silco's skin on yours. 

While you and Silco have had sex before, it was never after something like this. Before this session, Silco had made it clear that sex was most certainly on the table for tonight and that all you need is ask.

Correctly.

"Sir?" 

Your voice is shaky with anticipation.

"Yes."

"May I…"

He hums and your walls clench at the low rumble.

"May I have your fingers, please?"

Silco steps forward to stand next to you, one warm hand pressed against your left cheek where he struck you. He rubs soft circles into your skin and you hum, content.

"Just my fingers?"

Your throat bobs.

"I want your fingers and then your cock."

He hums in understanding as he soothes the ache in your other cheek with his hand.

"You're done with the demonstration?" he asks.

There's no disappointment or teasing in his tone. Simply asking for full clarity.

You nod your head. He squeezes your ass in response, his instruction from earlier ringing in your head.

I will not accept any non-verbal answers. You must use your voice to answer me.

"Sorry! Yes, sir."

There's a soft thud as Silco tosses the paddle onto the bed to join its unused brethren.

The hand at your ass smooths down, led by the pad of his middle finger. It glides along your panties until his hand is cupping your mound. Your walls clench and you briefly wonder if he could feel it.

He leans down, bringing his chest to push against your shoulder blade, his nose pressed into your hair. His breath is warm as he whispers into your ear and your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of being caged by his body.

"Are you done taking orders?"

"No, sir," you reply immediately.

The pads of his middle and ring fingers find your entrance and massage it over your panties. 

"Mmmm," you hum, smiling.

"You want to be my plaything?"

You wet your lips, arousal soaking through the fabric of your panties to reach Silco's fingers.

"Yes, sir."

You're rewarded for your ability to follow instructions with Silco's hands dipping under the waistband of your underwear to pull them down. You shimmy your hips as he does. You feel his hands maneuver your legs so he can fully slide them off you.

With your panties discarded to the floor, you're now fully naked, still on your knees with your ass in the air. 

Silco's hand is at your core again and you feel as if you're going to melt and fuse with the comforter with how good you're feeling. He coats his fingertips in your arousal and the skin to skin contact has you so high you might as well be on shimmer.

"You want these fingers?"

"Yes, sir."

A beat.

"Beg."

You let out a whimper, unable to form words with how desperate you are for relief. Finally, you find your voice.

"Please, sir! Please fill me up with your fingers. I need them inside me."

His fingertips massage your entrance and you mewl at the sensation.

There's a melody behind his voice when he speaks, a teasing, playful tone.

"What pretty begging."

He dips just the tips of two fingers into your pussy, leaving you wanting.

"But I think you can do better."

You whimper again, searching for the right words.

"Please, sir. I only want you. I don't want anyone else inside me. My pussy is all yours."

Both fingers breach your entrance, pushing into you until they can't push in any deeper. Your walls stretch around him and your voice comes out as a low moan. Silco curls his fingers and it almost threatens to send you over the edge.

For a moment, you can't decide how you want to come. Wait for his cock? Come on his fingers? If you come on his fingers now, will he let you come on his cock, too? Will he let you have multiple orgasms or limit you to one?

When all else fails, ask the question.

"Sir?"

"Yes."

"I'm — ah! — getting close."

He hums as if taking notes.

"May I come on your fingers and your cock?"

Another hum, this one with more teasing behind it.

"Such a greedy girl."

You moan at his words.

"Haven't come once and you're already wanting more."

As you continue to have this strained conversation, Silco's fingers curl within you. Meanwhile, your clit has gone completely untouched and seemingly isn't even necessary. You've never felt that before. You've always needed clit stimulation. But with the impact play as foreplay, you're so close already without him even getting close to it.

Your mind scrambles.

"I— I'll come as many times as you want me to."

He chuckles.

For the first time since you entered his domain, you panic. You realize you left yourself open to a very terrible possibility, one you know Silco would notice.

Your assessment is correct as Silco's voice teases behind you.

"Even if that number is zero?"

Your mouth opens and closes idly like a gaping fish. Maybe begging for at least one could work? But something deep within you wants to show just how dutiful you can be, just how well you can follow his instruction. 

And, hell, maybe if you deny yourself orgasm tonight, it'll make the next one even wilder when he does let you do it.

"Yes…sir."

Then, Silco does the most startling thing since you started the entire session. Fingers still curling within you, he leans forward, uses his free hand to swipe your hair away from your neck, and plants a tender kiss to the space between your shoulder blades. It's quick and soft and warm. When he straightens up, you realize you would do absolutely anything for this man.

"Don't worry. It's your first time."

His fingers pick up pace and your walls clench around them in response.

"I won't be that cruel."

The wet sounds of him pleasuring you and his words confirming he won't deny you your orgasm sends you toppling over the edge. Your voice cries out in a long moan as you come undone around him, pleasure flooding your system and making your body feel weightless. He guides you through it, pumping and curling his fingers into you as your walls flutter and pulse.

As the feeling subsides, Silco pulls his fingers out of you. You bask in the afterglow, right side of your face pressed into the mattress as your eyes drift closed.

Then, you feel something at your lips. You open your eyes to see Silco's hand—wet with your arousal—pushing two fingers into your mouth.

"Suck," he instructs.

Obediently, you suck on your own juices. As you do, you can hear and feel Silco's free hand working the button on the front of his pants.

"Very good girl," he hums.

Your walls flutter weakly.

He pulls his fingers from you with a pop and you swallow down your release, humming contently.

In your blissed out state, Silco rubs the head of his cock along your entrance, coating himself in your arousal.

"What a pretty little thing you are."

His cock slides along your folds and for the first time, you feel him rub your clit. A soft moan hums in the back of your throat.

"What pretty little sounds you make."

You whimper in response and you feel his cock stutter a little in reply.

"Does my pretty little thing want my cock?"

You hum, content to be used by him.

"Yes, sir."

He leans forward. The intricate textures of his waistcoat dig into your back as he brings his lips to your ear. He whispers and you can hear the slight shake behind his words as he allows himself to get excited.

"The only word I want to hear from your mouth from here on out is my name. No more 'yes, sir' or 'please,sir.' Do you understand?"

"Ye—"

You catch yourself.

A pause.

You nod.

"Good girl."

Silco's cock pushes into you inch by glorious inch, stretching your walls so that you feel the fullest you've felt since the last time you two fucked. The position allows him to push himself all the way to the hilt, reaching deep, deep within you.

"Silco!" you cry out, hips jumping as you feel his pelvis flush with your ass.

His hands are at your waist, long fingers curled around you as if to say, "Mine."

Silco pulls his hips back to draw his cock along your walks before pistoning forward again.

"Ah! Silco!"

Again and again, Silco's fingernails dig into your waist as he pulls out to the head of his cock before slamming forcefully back in. Over and over in a steady rhythm.

Slow out.

Fast in.

"My sweet girl," he hums, voice ragged with desire. "Being ravaged by my cock."

You whimper at the juxtaposition of his words, the tone of his voice, the heat of his hands on you. You want to hear more. More dirty words. More shaky breaths. But with only one word at your disposal, how can you make your desire known?

"Ah!" You hang onto the bed, desperate for release. "Silco?"

"Yes? What do you want?"

You let out a whine, needy and long.

"Do you want my fingers?"

That actually didn't even occur to you. While, yes, you would love his fingers at your clit, that's not actually what you think you'll need to send you over the edge. Not today. 

You shake your head.

He hums in surprise. He does nothing to hide the curiosity in his tone.

"You don't want my fingers?"

You nod.

"Then what do you want?"

You desperately look over your shoulder. Quickly you lock eyes with him. Some of his hair sticks to his forehead and the messy look causes you to clench your walls around him. As soon as you know you have his attention, you dart your eyes to his lips, lingering there for a moment before going back up to his eyes.

Understanding slowly paints across his face.

"You want me to keep talking?"

Your eyes alight and you nod enthusiastically.

He chuckles.

"Oh, my dear," he growls as he presses his chest into your back. "I'm happy to oblige."

His pace quickens and you can feel his cock harden further within you.

"Does my little toy want me to tell them how good they've been?"

Your eyes flutter closed and you press your forehead against the bedding, mouth hanging open as you sigh and moan.

"You've been so good for me," he whispers. "So obedient. So clever."

Silco lets out a groan of his own and you answer back with the only word you're allowed.

"Silco!"

"I must admit…" he continues to rut into you, less pistoning and more grinding into you, his cock seated deep within you as he does short staccato thrusts. "I am—ngh!— impressed by how quickly you picked it all up."

"Ah!"

"It's as if this is what you've always wanted," he growls, low and predatory.

"To be trained."

His speed picks up.

"To be used."

You feel your body relaxing into the sensation, your building climax promising to be the strongest you've ever had in your life.

"To be mine."

"Silco!" You cry out as you tumble head first into your orgasm, your walls fluttering and milking Silco's cock as he too reaches his peak. He lets out a long, low groan as he drives himself deep into you and halts, his cock pulsing and drawing out your pleasure.

You feel euphoric and weightless as the sensation goes on and on, flooding your senses. As your body ascends to the heavens, you have one fleeting thought.

I don't think I can go back to vanilla sex ever again.

Silco's death grip on your hips finally loosen. You could swear you almost feel the way his hands shake as he pulls out of you. He's about to step away when you stop him.

"Silco."

He wipes his forehead with the back of his clean hand.

"Speak freely."

"Don't go. Not yet." Blindly, you try to reach for one of his hands, which he offers. "We can get clean in a second; I just want your warmth."

He nods. Then, similar to before, he presses his chest against your back, caging you in. The weight of him is comforting and warm, drawing out your afterglow and the heady feeling of subspace.

"Ah, yes," he hums behind you. "It's hard to know what aftercare you want until your first time."

He speaks into your skin, fingers featherlight as they play on your arms.

"You're so good to verbalize so readily."

You hum.

"And you were so good to me," you whisper.

"Yes?"

For the first time, possibly ever, you hear uncertainty in Silco's voice. As calm, collected, and authoritative as Silco is in his daily life as a businessman, he is still, after all, just a man. A man with insecurities. A man capable of caring very deeply for his people. Who wants the best for them.

And does not want to hurt them.

"This was exactly what I was hoping for," you say with a soft, cockdrunk smile on your face. A look you're not sure Silco sees, given how your eyes have fluttered closed yet again. 

"I love the way you made me feel."

Silco shifts above you and you open your eyes to meet his.

"You enjoyed the impact play?"

"I enjoyed you."

His face softens and you continue.

"I don't think I've ever trusted someone as much as I trust you."

The scar at his lips tugs upwards slightly as Silco allows himself to smile.

"I'm glad I could give you that."

He continues to hold you, long after your respective releases have dried on your skin. When finally you signal he can get off you, he does so with a gentle kiss to your hair.

You remain in the same position as Silco retrieves two hand towels from the adjourning bathroom, which he's dampened with warm water from the tap. He carefully wipes you clean with one and then cleans himself with the other, discarding both into a small hamper in the corner.

Then, another unexpected turn. It would seem this encounter with Silco is full of them.

The two of you hadn't discussed what would happen afterward. So it comes as a pleasant surprise when you see Silco start to disrobe until he's as naked as you are. 

His hands at your hips, he guides you into the bed. With a lackadaisical push of his hands, he shoves the four toys onto the floor as he pulls the sheets back for you both. You climb in after him, quick to nuzzle your face to his chest.

In the warmth of his bed and the comfort of his arms, you feel calm. His hand plays with your hair, a light massage on your scalp. After pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, he whispers into the small space between you.

"Thank you for this."

Your eyes start to drift closed.

"I would like to do it again, if you're interested."

You hum content, drifting to sleep, two words a soft whisper on your tongue.

"Yes, sir."

A/N: Dom Silco but make it actually have healthy kink practices lol

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @delta-is-here  @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon @beardedladyqueen

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Cockwarming your dom while he plays a video game with his friends, everytime he thrusts up into you his friends hear your squeaky choked moan through the mic and they all compliment how slutty and cute you sound being so nonchalantly used by your dom

kitten i'll be honest daddy isn't sure he's cut out for full time employment

i am STILL HORNY in the middle of a pandemic. the grind never stops

nice sadists are so so underrated.

if a someone told me they loved that i suffer for them? omg im gonna nut

tenderly caressing my cheek, then slapping it? beautiful 10/10

that fake pity voice? GOD

when they give you a break between spankings to play with your pussy? i’m in love

on that same line of thinking, when there’s playful spankings, and you’re giggling and trying to get away until they’ve had enough of your squirming and they make you stay still? literally ughhh

orgasm denial bc they love hearing you whine?? YES

making you come so many times you cry because they love to see you cry? please please please

don’t even get me started on humiliation.

Fervency

Non-Ascended Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Synopsis: After falling into mysterious spores in the Underdark, you start to experience some... strange side effects. Astarion is more than happy to assist.

Warnings and tags: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough), aphrodisiac/glorified sex pollen, established relationship, discussions of consent, fingering, oral sex (both giving and receiving), blood drinking, multiple orgasms. Takes place post-game and includes mild spoilers.

Word Count: 5.7k

There’s not much that surprises you anymore.

It’s true - being kidnapped by illithids, having a tadpole implanted behind your eyes, facing the gods themselves - all of that does make it difficult for mundane life to come anywhere close enough to truly shock you. Your days aren’t necessarily peaceful, but they never seem quite as exciting as that blind haze of companionship in the aftermath of the nautiloid, trekking through the wilderness and shadow-cursed lands and the city, finding yourself in the company of strangers but soon-to-be family.

Still, these days, there’s something every now and then that catches you off guard. The trouble is, you’re never quite left in a space to know how to handle it. Unlike your earlier adventures, things are rarely solved with a dagger in your hand or a dash of flattery in your words. No, the burdens of day-to-day life are much more complicated than that.

Falling into a patch of mysterious spores, for one.

The Underdark is full of various mushrooms. Poisonous. Explosive. Befuddling. You could go on and on. You’ve had your number of close calls with them, but the sensation coursing over your skin feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced - and it doesn’t help that you’ve never seen spores like this.

Hells. Of course this is where your day would end up. 

Just a little stroll, you’d told yourself. It’ll be harmless. And it had been, for the most part. There’s an unearthly beauty to the Underdark that you’ve never encountered anywhere else, one you’ve come to appreciate just as much as the upper surface. But halfway through your usual route, your feet had snagged on a branch and you’d gone tumbling, and now - now you’re in a patch of glowing, red spores, feeling like…

Gods, what do you feel? 

Hot. You feel very, very hot. Sweat trickles down your back. Warmth blooms like poppies in a number of strange places - your cheeks, your lips, your neck. The feeling is spreading fast, bleeding through your ribs as you get to your feet.

Alright, you think to yourself, ignoring the sharp, bleeding panic in your throat that’s threatening to take over. Situations like this call for a sense of rationality. You’re going to get out. 

It takes much longer than it should for you to slowly stumble back to familiar ground. Your movements are jerky, as if you’re being puppeted around, and it’s getting harder to think straight when you’re feeling as if - whatever this is - is slowly consuming you. The heat is in your lungs, coursing fire near your pounding heart, raging with every inhale. 

You need to get this off of you, and as quickly as possible. After that, maybe it will fade and maybe it won’t. You’ll… you’ll figure it out. 

By the time you make it to the river, your knees are trembling so much that you nearly fall in. The water barely scratches the surface of the fire when you splash it over your skin, but the coolness of it is euphoric. You go as quickly as you can, covering area by area - your clothing, your arms, your face and neck - until most of the spores are off, but the feeling pulses and throbs in you all the same. Whatever it is, it isn’t killing you, but it certainly isn’t pleasant. 

You could tell Astarion. He’d tease you a little, but he’d also be certain to search endlessly to find something to stop your discomfort. And you ache for him. His touch, his voice, the fondness in his eyes when he looks at you. 

Had it really been just this morning when you’d last seen him? It seems like lifetimes away - lost to a very, very different type of ache in your veins that won’t seem to fade. You’ve just made up your mind to go find him, rising to your feet again, when the heat rushes to a very specific place between your legs and all thoughts of looking for Astarion are instantly cast out.

Oh, you think, somewhere between dizzy, needy, and utterly humiliated. So that’s what this is.

You’ve read about things like this - plants, pollen, potions -  but most of them had been in bad romance novels, and none of them had ever come with any mention of an antidote. And, needless to say, you won’t be making your way to the Myconid Sovereign to learn more. It’ll have to be handled on your own. 

You could risk going home and pretending to be ill, but Astarion is far too perceptive for that. He’d see through your ruse immediately. Which leaves the only option: hiding in a cave and waiting this out, praying he won’t notice you’re gone and come searching for you before you’re back.

And really, how bad can it be?

Bad. It can be very, very bad. 

You’ve been sitting in this cave for who knows how long, and your sanity is fading more and more by the minute.

It had been manageable at first. The heat spread through you like warm cider on a cold night - a slow, steady increase, the way a candle gradually burns down to the wick. You’d thought it would stop at a certain point (it had to, didn’t it?), but no. It just… kept going. 

Now, every inch of your body feels like it’s on fire, and it’s not slow, or steady, or even remotely bearable. It’s a strange, pleasurable flame, but a flame nonetheless. You can’t even decide whether touching yourself would even help at this point. Even just grazing your hand along the length of your thigh sends the fire rising, and you’re not keen on experimenting at the moment.

Your hands have gone stiff from balling your fists. Your mouth keeps switching between being as dry as sand and overly salivating. Each breath ignites more warmth, and you’ve been trembling for so long that you don’t remember how it feels to be still.

Gods. If you trusted yourself to get to your feet, you’d go see the Sovereign - a lifetime’s worth of humiliation or not. You don’t have any clue what time it is. There’s no sun or moon down here to guide you, no mechanism to spell out the hour. Has Astarion noticed your absence? How long until he’s concerned?

You know enough to know that you should have been back by now - that it’ll be unusual for you to have been gone so long. At least this spot you’ve found for yourself is relatively private. A dark, dry little place with a stone floor; fluorescent ivy in shades of lavender and coral; remote enough that, if your willpower fails and you end up making some noise, no one will be around to hear. 

You attempt to swallow, but the action dies on your tongue. You attempt to breathe, but you can’t seem to suck in any air. You’re just thinking you really might die in this painful, mortified state when the pad of footsteps on stone hits your ears, and your whole body pulls as taut as a rope. 

Oh, gods. Please not him. Anyone else. The Sovereign. The Society of Brilliance. Anyone.

But it’s him, because of course it is. He slowly makes his way inside, pressing through the narrow entrance and around the corner, and when he sees you curled against the cave wall, his brows rise - alarm.

“Wait,” you blurt out, determined to speak before he can. “Don’t come any closer. Please.”

Astarion stays where he is, but his eyes start instinctively scanning you over, searching for ailment or injury. “What’s wrong?” he asks, tilting his head. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, even though you’re anything but. You want to say more, but your thoughts trail off as another wave of heat flares inside of you. You’ve started trembling again. Your fingers accidentally graze against your thigh, and you let out a small, involuntary noise.

Astarion hesitates, then takes a step closer. “Darling,” he starts, raising a brow, “you make a terrible liar.”

Of course you can’t fool him. Not even a little. You let out a laugh, but the sound hitches into a strange, choked sob. You pull your knees to your chest and let out a long, shaking breath, trying to get a grip. “I know,” you say softly. “Gods. I’m sorry.”

He takes another step closer, and concern writes itself into his expression. “Gods below,” he exclaims. “Er - my sweet, I don’t mean to be rude, but you look...”

“Horrible?” you finish for him. “I know.” 

“I… was going to say ill, actually,” Astarion replies, laughing a little. “This dark cave lighting looks beautiful on you, my dear.”

You can’t resist another laugh. It’s less burdened this time, but it fades away as you hesitate, very pointedly gazing down at your fingernails instead of meeting his eyes. “I may or may not have fallen into a patch of mysterious spores.”

“And?” Astarion says, lifting a hand into the air and giving a small, contemplative gesture. “Go on, darling. Seeing as you aren’t dead - I’m assuming they weren’t poisonous?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard. How the hells are you going to phrase this? “No,” you answer. “I just feel… hot. Not like the explosive ones, just… hot.”

“Well,” Astarion says, “That’s… interesting. Alright - let me take a look at you.”

Half of you wants to protest, but what’s the point? He’ll find out the truth sooner or later. So, instead, you nod.

He steps closer, kneeling down at your side, and you have to ball your fists to keep from doing something stupid. You’re expecting more flame at his touch - a painful flare, like when you’d grazed your thigh - but when the back of his hand meets your forehead, his touch is like a salve. Soothing, cool, sweet. It mellows out the fire, makes you feel sane again.

You shut your eyes in relief, staying as still as you can, and when you open them, you find him giving you a look you know all too well. Smug. Affectionate. A glint in his eye that can only mean trouble.

“My, my,” he purrs. “Darling, I’m no healer, but… a racing pulse, dilated pupils, feverish to the touch? That, I know.” He leans in, his voice low in your ear. “And I can smell how much you want me.”

A shudder runs down your back, betraying you. Astarion leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours - soft and gentle and perfect - and it takes everything in you to pull away.

“Wait,” you protest. 

He instantly halts, pulling away from you and scanning over your expression. “What is it?” he asks. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine,” you say quickly. “But you don’t… I mean - I can manage this on my own, you know.”

His brows rise. “My dear, you do realize I am very capable of helping you in this situation?”

“Gods, Astarion,” you say, biting back a delirious sort of laughter. “Believe me, I’m well aware. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. I can manage this.”

A fondness enters his expression - the rare kind, reserved for the most meaningful of moments. He leans closer, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I know,” he says softly, the words tender and delicate. “Trust me. I want to do this.” He trails a finger along your thigh, and you shiver again. “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs. “And, unless I’m wrong, you’ve missed me, too.”

After searching his gaze and finding him entirely present, you let yourself relax into his touch. “I’ve missed you more than anything.”

“Good,” he says. “I was almost worried.”

He skims his knuckles over your jaw, leaning in to kiss you once more, and the flame in you seems to bend to his touch. It rages in you like a furnace, bellowing and cruel, but with every frigid brush of his fingers, the feeling subsides. Even the feel of his lips on yours seeps away the discomfort.

He’s slow with his actions, but he doesn’t tease, even though you can see the amusement in his eyes when he pulls away to look at you. He’s enjoying this, and if you’re honest with yourself, you are, too. If only it didn’t come at the price of your dignity - but if it’s going to fall away in front of anyone, it might as well be him. 

His hands slide down to your thighs, and your whole body pulls tight, torn between wanting him to touch you now and not wanting him to stop what he’s doing.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against your ear. “I’ve got you, darling.”

You let out a shaky breath and try to coax your body into cooperating, shutting your eyes and letting the feel of him drown out the path of your thoughts. The sensation of his mouth, trailing down your neck, ranging between feather-light kisses and the barely-there sting of his teeth against the skin, making every inch of you melt into his touch like clay. His hands, sliding to the front of your top, deftly unlacing it and pulling it away from your skin.

Thank the gods no one is anywhere around this area - if anyone were to interrupt you, you’re sure you’d die right here and now. The simmering need that lies under your skin is bordering on painful, a white-hot delirium of impatience that will not be ignored any longer.

Astarion’s fingers skim across your sternum, further soothing the burning inside your chest, and his lips soon follow downward. You let out a soft noise from the back of your throat, something choked and desperate, and he hums against your skin in response.

When your eyes flutter open again, you find that he’s staring up at you as he kisses down your abdomen, eyes dark and hands curled lightly around your ribs, ardor and affection both palpable in the heat of his gaze.

Your instinct is to shut your eyes again - to shut out the intimacy and vulnerability that comes from holding his stare - but you don’t. Instead, you move the stiff muscle of your arm and coax your hand into working again, gently tangling your fingers into the silky-smooth, silvery curls in your lap.

He gives you a roguish grin, tugging on your bottoms until they finally, mercifully, pull away from your skin, leaving you in nothing but your smallclothes.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he mutters, the words dark and heavy on his tongue, but they feel more for him than for you. His brows crease together and his actions turn sure and firm and quickened - as if he can’t wait to have his mouth on you.

Beautiful. It’s the second time he’s called you that word tonight, but it doesn’t stop the heat from rising back into your cheeks, and that feeling of the warmth seems to spark a chain reaction. 

It’s as if his voice is stoking the fire - more heat, all rushing to the very place his lips are heading to now, only to be soothed by his touch. He gently pulls at your thighs, coaxing you to lay on your back, and you’re so desperate that you nearly knock your head against the hard floor laid out beneath you in your effort to obey.

Your mind isn’t processing things the way it usually does: in an even, progressing line of events, every moment spread out from one to the next. Rather, everything comes in bursts of feeling, flashing between being a thousand miles away and all too close, all too present. You barely feel the graze of fabric when he removes your smallclothes and leaves you entirely bare, but the gentle, wet press of his tongue against you feels amplified a thousand times over.

“Astarion,” you gasp, your hand tightening in his hair. 

He hums again, and the feeling of it has you shivering, muscles going slack in pleasure. Short, soft flicks of his tongue over your clit and you’re left a shuddering mess, not thinking to try to be quiet - not really thinking at all, anymore. He grips at one of your thighs, looping it over his shoulder as he pulls away for a moment, nipping at the tender flesh there. Soothing it with a gentle kiss, then returning to his work.

You’re a walking - or perhaps laying - contradiction. Your arousal is lava hot, but your pleasure is cold as ice. You can’t decide if you’re cold or hot or both or neither. You’re not in a place to think, not as blinding bursts of pleasure course up your spine, rendering you a lump of skin and bones and not much more. His mouth is nothing if not fervent.

You aren’t sure how long it lasts - your hand in his hair, his mouth against you, writhing in dizzying pleasure against the hard, stone floor and barely feeling the discomfort. It might not be very long at all - but it feels like hours before his fingers enter you.

You’re soaking wet. If you weren’t so focused on, well, everything else, it’d be humiliating. Still, when two fingers slip into you and meet no resistance whatsoever, Astarion groans. The pace he’s setting with both hand and tongue is torturous, slow and even, and it takes everything in you not to beg him for more. 

But when he goes a little faster, a moan pulls from your throat, and you look down to find him grinning as he pulls away, fingers still at work. “Look at you,” he says, praise lilting the words as he curls his fingers - sending your hips rolling. “You’ll come for me, won’t you, darling?”

And as if he’s flicked a switch in your mind, you’re coming around his fingers, gasping and shuddering and clenching. Electricity seems to coarse through your veins, hot and sharp, flaming and radiant, and when it’s gone, there’s only the slickness between your thighs, a slight breathless laughter that escapes from you without a thought, and the fading warmth of the spores.

For a moment, it seems as though there might be relief. Your thoughts clear and the heat wanes, but after a sparse second or two of relief, it comes back as strong as ever. 

You’d be disappointed at its reappearance, but then Astarion is crawling over you, using his knee to coax your legs apart for him, so how could you ever be disappointed? Everything else slips away except for him. His eyes, dark with want, his lips, molding against yours, his tongue, gently pressing into your mouth as he buries a hand in your hair.

He’s hard for you. You can feel it, and that realization has you grinding against him. He groans, cursing under his breath, then reaches down to undo his trousers. “Are you ready for me, love?” he asks, his voice half-broken with want.

You laugh, still trembling from your climax. “You know I am.”

“Mm,” he hums, his eyes glimmering in the dark. “But maybe I wanted to hear you say it for me, darling.”

Gods. He’s beautiful - always so beautiful - even here, in this dark, cold cave you’ve found. A work of art down to the dark circles under his eyes, the crow’s feet around his eyes, his smile lines. 

You could spend a thousand years studying the art of him and never, ever get bored; not of his voice, and the way his confidence sometimes, ever so rarely, breaks into something real and raw. Not of his hands: nimble fingers and the calluses from his blade and soft skin - and not of his eyes, which seem both dark and light depending on his mood, and which can seem so sharp and severe at times, but sometimes soften into something soft and round. Sometimes. When they’re looking at you.

You could spend a thousand years admiring him and never, ever get tired of him, and never, ever deserve him. And he’d never believe it.

He’s noticed you staring, because of course he has, and he tilts his head. “What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours?”

You can only smile, deliriously happy and wanting and both hot and cold - hot where the warmth burns uncontained, and cold everywhere his skin meets yours. “I love you.”

Your words must catch him by surprise, because it’s shock that meets his expression first. It fades away into affection, placing itself on his lips in a soft smile. “I - I love you too,” he answers, brushing a stray strand of your hair out of your face. “More than anything.” 

He clears his throat and shifts, and as you feel his erection brush against you, only then do you remember the conversation you two had been having. Him between your legs. You, still needing him inside of you.

“I’m ready for you,” you breathe. “Please. I want you.”

“How could I say no?” he asks, leaning in and biting at the lobe of your ear.

He presses into you slowly, even though you don’t need it - not after the effects of the spores and your first climax still evident on your thighs. Only when he once again begins a slow, torturous pace do you realize that he’s doing it to tease you, and when you look up and find a certain amount of devious intent in his eyes, a shudder runs down your back.

He’s always seemed to enjoy watching you fall apart. How many times have you looked up in the middle of one of your late-night trysts to find his eyes on you, the darkened ruby gaze that seems as starved for you as his hunger for blood? 

How many times has he eased your arm away from your face when you felt the need to hide yourself, and how many times has he gently pulled your hand away from your mouth so he could hear the noises you made for him? 

There’s never really been a question about it; Astarion gets off on your pleasure, and the feeling is very, very mutual. Vulnerability aside, it does something beyond words to you to know how much he enjoys giving you pleasure. And, sure as the hells, you like to give it right back to him. So, keeping your gaze locked on his, you grind your hips down to meet him and let out a moan.

His jaw clenches and he swallows hard, his thrusts deepening as he props himself over you. You watch the lovely path of the action over the bob of his Adam’s apple, then flit your eyes back to his, letting out another noise.

“Gods,” he says, and his pace quickens. His hands wrap around your shoulders and he groans, panting as he rocks into you, his grip turning into something almost bruising. 

Part of you desperately wants him to keep going - but the other part of you wants to give him something, and now seems the proper time for it. So you tilt your head to give him access to your neck and murmur a few, soft words, and he slowly comes to a halt: breathing heavily, nails digging into your skin as he tries to regain some semblance of composure.

He kisses down your jaw, slowly drags his teeth along the skin, then sinks his fangs into your neck. You’re used to the sharp pain of his bite, but it’s different today. Intensified. It’s as if his mouth on your skin, the barely-there pain, is salving through that fire and every single limb of yours goes slack with…

What is it? Pleasure? Affection? Relief? It’s something in between, something warm but not scorching, something sweet but not overly-saccharine. He starts moving his hips again and you’re instantly on the edge, planting your hands on his lower back underneath his scars and resisting the urge to dig your nails into the skin.

He’s drunk from you enough times since you met to know where the limit lies, even on the cusp of his climax. He drains you until you’re sufficiently lightheaded, but not enough to harm you, then pulls away, planting a messy kiss on your mouth. 

Messy. It’s how you know he’s close. His actions are usually so graceful, his movements lithe and calculated. Only on the edge of orgasm do the pretenses fall away - his shaking thighs, soft moans into your lips, panting, blood smeared across his lips and almost certainly yours. 

There’s a blinding moment of pleasure as he thrusts harder, deeper, neither of you caring about the level of noise you’re making, and your nails dig into his back. He lets out a groan of approval, then - gods, you’re climaxing again, your whole body trembling with the waves of pleasure that crash over you. Overwhelming at first, then receding into the brief moment of clarity that lasts a minute or two this time. 

Then the spores start their work again.

The heat isn’t nearly as intense this time, but it’s still there. Part of you wonders if it’ll ever really fade. You lay still, gasping, as Astarion slowly pulls out of you. Then he brushes the damp hair out of your face and kisses you again. 

“Darling,” he starts breathlessly, flashing a mischievous grin at you, “if this is where we’ll end up, you should fall into mysterious spores more often.”

You laugh, sending a playful, light hit toward his shoulder. He catches your hand mid-action, pressing a kiss to your palm, holding your gaze the entire time. “You’re not the one who feels like they’re on fire, Astarion.”

He hums, kissing back down your neck, cleaning up the remnants of blood from his bite. “I wouldn’t say that,” he says, his voice gravelly with want. 

That gives you pause. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he says with some effort, propping himself above you, “whatever those spores were - they seem to have entered your bloodstream, my dear. It’s - an interesting sensation, I’ll admit.”

You’re searching his face for a tell that he’s not being serious, but instead you find wide, blown out pupils, flushed cheeks, and nothing beside his usual mischievousness. Any blood left in your face quickly exits. “Gods, I didn’t even think. I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be. I’m not.” He presses another soft kiss to your lips, and you see a small smear of your blood on his lips. When you lick your lips, you can taste the iron of it on your tongue.

Astarion is watching you. His gaze darkens, and he lets out another thin, broken groan. “Darling. At this rate, we’ll be going the whole night.”

And, honestly? With the rate the heat is returning - you don’t doubt it. 

Still, you gently ease him off of you to sit up, then make your way into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck. 

There’s something addictive about Astarion - there always has been. From the moment he’d had you against the dirt, a dagger to your neck, he’s been your fix.  

In those first days when you’d had to hide your want for him - not even lust or sheer desire, but want; the ache to run your finger through silver curls, the warmth in your cheeks when he held your gaze just a moment too long, and the rare moments of vulnerability that came more and more as you’d gotten to know him - it had been torture. 

And then he’d propositioned you. And all at once, you’d found yourself in a clearing under silver moonlight, alone with him, long before you ever knew the extent of what had been done to him - and after all this time, the craving for him, the need to lay beside him in the long nights and find him there come morning, has only ever gotten so much stronger.

The heat is somewhat bearable now. Enough to take a moment to admire him, head tilted as he gazes up at you, pure need simmering in his eyes. Dark, glinting rubies. His fangs, barely visible under parted lips. Flushed cheeks. That will fade before long; the rosiness of drinking never lasts more than a few minutes, but you admire it all the same. 

“You’re beautiful.” The words are hushed. You hadn’t even meant to speak them, but your mind isn’t really yours at the moment, not wholly, not as firm as it should be. You feel half-drunk, half-needy. 

The corners of his lips flick into a smile, and he raises a brow. “Oh?” he asks, clearly stealing for more flattery. “Do you think so?”

You lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You know I do.” 

You gather a single, loose curl in your fingertips and gently roll it between your thumb and index finger, admiring the softness of it. You could use the same soaps, wash your hair with the same things he uses a thousand times over, and it’d never matter. It’d never be as soft as his.

“Anything in particular?” he asks. His voice is particularly airy; he’s battling between begging you for what he needs, and the compliments he likes so much.

You think back to when you’d first described him - that night beneath the stars, when he’d tossed the mirror aside and asked how you viewed him. Words hadn’t been enough then, and they still aren’t, but you’ll try.

“Your eyes,” you start, running your finger over his crow’s feet. “They change color in the light. Right now, they’re dark. Hungry. I can tell you want me, and I like that.”

His hands, which have strayed to the back of your thighs, tighten against your skin. “And? What else?”

The heat’s strength is back, clawing its way up your abdomen. “The way your hair curls around your ears,” you murmur.

He frowns, and you know you’ve gone too poetic. To distract him, you lean in and nip at the lobe of one, and any of his upset disintegrates. 

“Gods,” he murmurs, bringing his hands up to your waist. “Darling, I can’t wait much longer-”

You’ve trailed down to his jaw, alternating between kisses and sharp little nips just like the ones he likes to give you, and the words die in his mouth in favor of a sharp inhale. 

You won’t keep him waiting much longer. In fact, you have a plan. A plan that’d hatched from the moment you’d realized that the spores were in his system, too. Since you’d seen the hungry look in his eyes - every inch a predator circling around its prey.

Only, you’re not content to be the prey. You want to disarm him, and if any of the time you’ve spent together means anything, you’ve gotten very, very good at that.

His shirt is still on, so your hands are quick to remove it, tugging it away from cooling porcelain skin, silky under your fingers as you drag them down his sternum. He shudders, and you remember how it’d felt when he’d first touched you. If it’s anything like that, he’s probably dying to beg you for more.

Your lips soon follow the path your hands are sitting, taking your time with the softness of his abdomen before you pull his trousers away. He’s panting now, and a frenzied sort of desperation lies in his gaze when you look up at him.

And he’s hard again. Leaking.

You lightly trace your nails down his thighs, silently relishing in the way his breath hitches - the way his hips unconsciously buck toward you. 

“Gods,” he says again, and though it isn’t a direct request, with the broken way it falls off his tongue, this time it is every bit a plea. 

And you’re in a mood to please.

You take his cock in hand, swiping your thumb over the head, where precum is slowly leaking, and he lets out a long, breathy noise. You hum in response, taking his length between your lips, and the sound becomes strained, more needy. His hand gently makes its way into your hair, very lightly guiding you where he wants, but not forcefully.

You alternate between things: long, even movements of your mouth as you drag your tongue down the shaft, swirling your tongue around the head, then sucking him hard and slow. Eventually, simply following the guidance of his hand. His grip tightens in your hair - not painful, just encouraging - and his noises become more drawn out, less coherent.

When you pull away for a moment, using your hand to continue what your mouth had just been doing, you find him dangerously close. You press a kiss to the head and take him in again, increasing pace, accommodating him as you take him in as far as you possibly can, and he starts whimpering. 

“Please,” he says, and if that isn’t a rare word to hear from him. 

On another day, you might tease him, but you don’t want to. Not now, while he’s begging to have you. Instead, you take him as deep as you can again and suck harder. Astarion tugs at your hair and his thighs shudder and you know he’s close.

“Please,” he says again. “Gods, don’t stop.”

And you wouldn’t dream of it. What you can’t take into your mouth, you use your hand to stroke, and that’s it. He’s coming.

There’s something artful about it - the tremor that runs through him, the salty taste of him in your mouth, and those seeking, breathless sounds that come out of him as he spills onto your tongue. A long, shaky inhale as he pumps his hips, still chasing out his pleasure, then the trembling exhale as his mind starts to come back to him.

He doesn’t soften, and you don’t take your mouth off him. Not yet.

Usually, Astarion can be counted on for two orgasms, but if those spores are doing anything remotely like what they were doing to you, there’s certain to be much, much more than that.

“By the hells,” he murmurs airily, running a hand down your back. “You’re going to kill me, darling.”

You pull away for a moment, kissing at his abdomen, keeping his eyes locked on his as you do. “Does that mean you want me to stop?” you ask sweetly, trailing your nails along the skin of his thigh.

He swallows hard. “Gods, don’t,” he pleads.

And you don’t.

i like my men long haired and deranged

this might not be your cup of tea, if it isn’t please ignore it :) but could you do a fic like the one you wrote about abi x john but the reader is the camp’s working lady. and arthur, john (in a world where he’s not with abigail), kieran, micah, etc. all pass her around with dutch also watching and kinda making comments while smoking a cigar? then he joins somehow idk. i just want some humiliation and exhibitionism lol. if it’s not something you’re comfortable with please ignore this!! and i’m sorry lol

Welp, here it is anon, The Smuttiest Fic to End All Smutty Fics! This took me a really long time to write, it’s 15 pages and pretty much all the VDL Gang guys get a look in. I did have to make some cuts just so it wasn’t obscenely long, so sorry to any fans of Hosea, Trelawny, Strauss, Swanson and Pearson.

This does involve basically a gang bang (though all the boys are very polite and wait for their turn), but I fully appreciate as anon said this might no be everyone’s cup of tea! If you’d just like to read your favourite feller, I have separated them out into their individually named sections. However, some might still have interjections from Dutch and other members in the gang!

I think I’m basically going to say this is my Christmas present to you all. So happy holidays and happy gang gang banging with the VDL lads!

Warning: Degrading language, humiliation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, choking, hint at breeding kink, explicit sexual content - including penetrative sex, group sex, oral sex, anal sex.

“Well, gentlemen. Looks like it’s that time again already.” Dutch smiled as the men gathered around, and you heard several chuckles of amusement, along with mutters of approval. Dutch had you naked, sitting on his knee, facing the half-shadowed forms of the other Van Der Linde men. You could just make out Arthur, Micah and John at the front, but the others were following shortly behind them.

Dutch’s hands firmly squeezed your breasts, before trailing down your stomach and forcing your legs apart, so everyone gathered could get a good look at you. He popped his thumb in his mouth, then brought his finger back down to your slit and began to circle your clit. You let out a small moan and involuntarily thrust your hips against his right hand, though the firm grip of his left on your leg meant you had to keep your legs open. The coldness of his rings pressed down against your thigh.

“I have asked our darling Miss Y/L/N, and she has very kindly agreed to this once more, though I think she’s just as keen.”

You’re were growing wetter by the minute and could feel Dutch’s hard cock pressed into your ass. You wiggled your hips against it, but he shifted your weight and then slipped a finger inside you so you forgot all about your attempt.

There’s a shuffling around as the men draw lots from a hat. For those who got to go first there followed a satisfied, pleased hum. Those going last kicked up more of a fuss.

“Oh, come on!” Sean yelled out, his tone frustrated and disappointed.

“Wha’ number you get?” Arthur asked.

“Eight! Why, what’d you get, English?”

Arthur chuckled heartily on hearing it. “One.”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“That’s enough, Sean,” Dutch commanded, as your head lolled back against his broad shoulder and his fingers ensure you’re ready to take any man present here, no matter how big their cock. You watched as the men sat or stood around in a circle. In the centre there was a table and a chair, around the edge a few tents and a bedroll or two, should a man prefer a little more privacy. Though there’s very little you can keep private during this event.

“Are you ready, Miss?” Dutch asked you softly.

You nod and he slowly removes his fingers from your pussy, you feel the muscles try to tighten around him as he withdrew from you and you let you a little sobbing moan of complaint.

“There, there, my dear. We shan’t keep you waiting for long. Arthur, my boy, are you ready?”

Arthur nodded. You could see the thick outline of his cock pressed tightly against his jeans and immediately wanted to help him.

“Alright then.” Dutch soothingly helps you off his lap and Arthur gently picked you up into his arms. Your intimate knowledge of the men goes without saying, and Arthur had always been a romantic, even if he didn’t like to admit it.

He gently brushed his nose against your ear, inhaling your scent and softly murmured, “Glad I get to have you first.”

Arthur

You weren’t going to lie, you were glad that Arthur was the first in line. He was usually far softer and more patient than some of the other men, and would always make sure you were ready to take him.

He carried you over to the tent, where Charles was sitting nearby, and then lay you down gently on the bedroll. Arthur kissed your neck, his lips trailing down to your breasts, your nipples hardening against the roughness of his stubble. One of his hands found yours and entwined your fingers with his.

He continued to kiss you down your stomach, where he chuckled at the slight tension in your belly as nipped at your skin, until he eventually reached your mound and looked up at you, as though waiting for your permission. You nodded and his warm hands pushed open your legs further, and he dove in immediately sucking on your clit. You moaned at the contact and arched your back, your hands scrabbling in his hair and your feet pressed against his shoulders.

He continued sucking and licking, his tongue sliding down to your entrance and then teasingly run back to your clit, till you could feel your thighs shaking and an ache building between your legs.

“Arthur, I need-!”

“I know, darlin’, I know,” he murmured soothingly and then slipped his forefinger inside you, and you gasped at the sensation. Your hips rolled involuntarily and you more felt than heard Arthur’s chuckle of approval. His thumb grazed your clit and you closed your eyes, desperately chasing the sweet relief of your orgasm. You would probably come many times tonight, but Arthur was always so considerate and almost loving towards you, that you adored coming apart in his arms.

“C’mon, son. There’s others who are still waiting,” Dutch’s voice came out of the gloom and was a key reminder that you weren’t alone in Arthur’s tent.

“Alrigh’, alrigh’,” Arthur muttered and pulled his fingers out from your slit. The cold evening air made you shiver when he sat up on his haunches, but as soon as he had undone his pants and lain back down on top of you, the warmth that emanated from Arthur made you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

You felt his cock twitch as he pressed it against you and he rubbed it against your clit, making you whine and try to reposition your hips so he would slip inside you.

“Easy now, girl,” he crooned, then he cupped your face and forced you to look up into his eyes. “You know how I like you looking at me.” You nodded and then he slowly began to push his cock inside you. You let out a moan and dropped your head back, as your slick enabled him to sink deeply inside you.

His arms encased you, as he began to slowly thrust until you could feel every inch of him. A strong hand cupped the back of your head, bringing your gaze to his and you felt like you could drown in his ocean-coloured eyes. His other hand wrapped around the back of your leg, raising it around his hips and you whimpered at the intensity of it all.

He ran his nose over your cheek and jaw. “So goddamn beautiful,” he whispered against your cheek. You brought his hands to your breasts and Arthur complied, giving them a gentle squeeze and then teasing your nipples. He raised his hips slightly and one hand snaked down to your clit.

“Goin’ to make sure you feel good too,” he said.

“I already do,” you panted back, his clever fingers finding some slick and then lightly playing with your clit, until you were moaning in his arms.

You could feel the first delicious waves creeping up on you, the wonderful sound of Arthur’s thighs slapping into yours driving you wild and you bucked your hips up harder as his movements grew rougher and faster. He kissed your neck and then bit down hard, and you smiled at that little possessive streak of Arthur came out knowing he was determined to leave his mark on you. You felt your toes curl as the delicious whirl of pleasure shot through you and you found yourself whining and shaking in Arthur’s arms.

He let out a muffled groan, and you always got the sense he would love nothing more than to cum inside you, but, as always, he pulled out and stroked himself to completion. Warm streaks of white cum painted your belly and thighs. He gently cupped your sex and soothingly rubbed down your thighs.

“Good girl,” he said. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiping you clean and then tucked himself away, before scooping you up in his arms again. He did not have to walk far though, as Charles extended his own arms towards you and Arthur tenderly placed you in them, your head lolling against Charles’ firm shoulder.

Charles

Charles reached a hand down to your wet pussy and circled your clit, letting you shudder and whine at the sensitivity, before he reached down to push two fingers into your aching slit. He stretched you out and you saw Dutch’s look of approval as you were opened up for the other men to look at you. You gazed up at Charles, feeling dreamy and warm in his arms, and he softly kissed you.

Charles’ cock was long and thick, so his preferred method was having you turn away from him and slowly fuck him at your own pace. He would still press his fingers on your clit and make you gasp, as the sensitive bud of nerves sent spirals of pleasure running through your body.

He positioned you gently and let you sink down onto his length, allowing you to take you time as his length stretched you out. You moaned and rolled your hips to grow used to him.

‘That’s always a pretty sight, seeing Charles’ cock split you, darling,’ Dutch said, his dark eyes watching you with an excited gleam in them.

Charles leaned back comfortably, his fingers digging slightly into your hips. He didn’t thrust up inside you as you began to fuck him, he knew all too well that doing so would mean he hit your cervix, and it would be painful for you if you weren’t ready.

‘How she feel, Charles?’ Dutch asked.

The man behind you let out a soft, grumbly groan, he gripped your waist and brought you down on his hardness more firmly. You let out a whine as the pleasure built rapidly, getting to control how you fucked him and the speed meant your orgasm was building up quickly and easily.

‘She feels good.’ Charles gave a single thrust up inside you, unable to resist. ‘Really good, warm and wet.’

‘Bet she does. I pity whoever has to go last, she’ll be a sloppy mess by the end. That pretty little cunt will be ruined.’

Several laughs from the other men follow Dutch’s comment. You let out a moan as Dutch’s filthy words sent a shiver through you. It should have disgusted you, but being used like this, being made to feel utterly debauched and all these men having a claim over you, made you feel so good.

Charles’ fingers circle your clit more furiously, the lube on his fingers makes it feel so good and you could feel yourself heading towards the peak of your pleasure rapidly. You grip Charles’ wrist tightly, your thighs slapping against his and pushing him onwards.

‘C’mon Charles, or you’re going to be there forever,’ Sean whined. He was palming himself through his pants and you bite your lip seeing his desperation. Sean makes a noise of both complaint and pleasure when you do.

You’re so close to coming undone, but Dutch approached you both. ‘He has a point, son. Can’t keep everyone waiting.’

You see the thick outline of Dutch’s cock pressed against his pants and you look up at him with deep longing in your eyes. Dutch chuckled and touched your lower lip with his thumb, your tongue slipped out and you sucked hard on it. He pulled his hand back, the finger slipping out with a loud pop.

‘You can put that mouth to better use later, my dear.’

Charles grabbed hold of your hair, forcing you back and begins to pound into you. His cock reached deeper inside you and a moan slipped from your lips, as you lay your head back on his shoulder. Little sparks of pleasure began to build through you and you could feel your pussy fluttering around him. You closed your eyes, your thighs being gripped by Charles, and felt your toes curl as a wave of bliss washed over you. You’re left gasping as a sharp jolt of pleasure coursed through you and then kept going as Charles thrust into you harder and faster, until he let out a muffled groan into your hair. He buried himself to the hilt in you and you knew he had come inside you.

Bill

The orgasm had left you feeling boneless and weak, you rest your head against Charles’ chest, longing for nothing more than to curl up into him and fall asleep. But Bill was having none of that. He yanked you upright, making you whimper as you were roughly pulled off Charles’ cock, and then picked you up and dropped you on the table like you were a sack of potatoes.

“Come on now, Bill.” Dutch smiled as he watched you both. “Be gentle with her.”

You heard Bill spit into his palm and watched him coat his cock with it, then without much warning thrust inside of you. You guessed you should be grateful that you were already sopping wet from your time with Arthur and Charles, but Bill barely gave you time to think as he began to roughly and furiously fuck you.

You gripped onto the edges of the table, as his sloppy thrusts pushed you backwards and when you heard Charles give a tetchy sigh, you looked over to him. His dark brown eyes stared back into your own and you felt at least a little pleasure begin to build, when you remembered the wonderful orgasm you had shared with him. But a thick, heavy hand grabbed hold of your jaw and forced your head back to look at Bill. His face was red and flushed, his brow furrowed and he was biting his lip hard.

“Goddammit, don’t look at him, when I’m fucking you.”

You heard a soft huff of laughter behind you. “He’s quite right, my dear,” Dutch said. “You know the rules. Once you’re done fucking one man, you must only have eyes for whoever’s fucking you next.”

You suddenly felt Bill pull out of you and were surprised that he was apparently already done. But you had been mistaken when the man coated his fingers in your slick, and then began to tease your arsehole. You keened and tried to pull away, but Bill determinedly pulled you back and worked his forefinger into your tight hole. It felt intrusive and more intense, but was already starting to feel good.

He dragged your legs closer to the table’s edge and then began to push into your arsehole with his cock. The burning stretch was unbelievable, even with his preparation beforehand and Charles’ cum coating your thighs and butt. You scrabbled against Bill, trying to gain some leverage but he caught hold of your wrists and pinned you down to the table. Finally, he bottomed out inside of you and you let out a deep groan.

“What a pretty noise that was,” Dutch remarked.

As though pleased by the approval Dutch had given, Bill began to fuck you. You were glad he was going slowly, but his cock pushed into you further every time. You were still pinned to the table, so could do nothing but lie there and take it.

“Wrap your legs around me, girl!” Bill demanded.

You obediently raised your legs around his hips, though the movement made you feel every stroke all the more and you whimpered as he began to move faster.

“That’s it, that’s it, just like that. Just like the goddamn whore you are!” Bill muttered furiously. Though you had been fucked in your arsehole before, it certainly felt different, more intense and you felt vulnerable. Utterly used and spent. But Bill gave your clit or sensitive nipples no attention, so by the time he let out a strangled groan and poured himself into your ass, you were feeling a little frustrated and needy.

As he withdrew, and your legs helplessly flopped over the edge of the table, you felt his cum spill from your ass. But you closed your eyes enjoying the brief respite.

Lenny

“Come on, who’s next?” Dutch demanded, as the pause went on. Eventually you heard footsteps approaching you and you looked up to see Lenny.

“Can I not just have her in my tent?” Lenny asked, you saw him fishing around in his pocket for something.

“You know the rules, part of the enjoyment comes from seeing everyone make use of her.”

Lenny sighed softly, but he had reached you and was gently stroking the damp curls between your legs, you felt his thumb brush lightly against your clit, making you whimper and squeeze your thighs together.

He pushed your legs open and you soon realised he had been looking for a handkerchief. He gently cleaned up the cum Bill and Charles had left behind, before he went to his knees and you pressed your lips together. Lenny watched you intensely, before pressing the flat of his tongue to your clit and you let out a hopeless moan. His warm hands crawled up your waist to your breasts, gently teasing your nipples with his fingers. For all he had been rather naïve to the ways of women at first, you had to give it to him, he was a fast learner!

You found yourself wondering if he was deliberately making up for Bill’s lack of attention, as your nipples stood hard against his fingers and his tongue dipped inside your wet pussy. You weren’t sure if you truly had much left within you to give, even though the heighten sensitivity meant you were soon trying to escape the relentlessness of Lenny’s tongue and pushing away his hands.

“Goddammit, boss, he’s taking forever! Just fuck her, boy!” Micah’s callous voice rang out.

Dutch chuckled at Micah’s impatience. “Come on, Lenny. She’ll come enough times without you doing that.”

Lenny lifted his head and you watched him loosen his cock from the confines of his pants, before he sunk into your aching cunt. “Fuck,” he murmured softly against your neck, before he trailed kisses down your chest and began to lick your nipples.

You whined and wrapped your legs around him, Lenny placed his arms by your head, so you were slightly obscured from view as his length slid over you wet clit.

“You feel so good,” he whispered gently. “Some time this week I’m going to have you in my tent, away from everyone else. Don’t want anyone else to watch.”

For all his promised plans though, his cock was hard, he’d still been turned on by seeing the others fuck you. But you knew Lenny enjoyed being gentle and warm with you. You cupped his face, feeling the light brush of hair on his upper lip and the man let out a strangled whine as you did.

“Take me, Lenny.”

He sighed against your hair and began to press kisses against your neck again, then his cock slipped inside you and he let out a soft moan of pleasure. You ran your hands down his waist and over his butt, pushing him deeper inside you. “You’re so perfect, so good. Hold me.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, as he began to pick up the pace and slid his cock in and out of your soaking wet slit. “Lenny, please I need you.”

He kissed your lips, his tongue slipping between them and moaning into your mouth. You could feel his cock sliding deeply inside of you and his groin rubbing against your clit, you let out a whimper.

“Fuck…” he murmured. “You’re too wet, I’m not going to last long.”

You ran your hands over his back soothingly and pressed kisses against the warm, dark skin of his neck. “You don’t have to last, just let me hold you, you’re such a good man, Lenny.”

You were surprised when Lenny let out a choking groan and buried his face into your shoulder. You felt his buttocks clench tightly and then he stilled while still inside you.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I was out on a job last night and hearing what you said-”

You tenderly cut him off with a kiss, then stroked his cheek. “It was still good, Lenny.”

John

Lenny awkwardly got up, giving your slit a quick wipe with his thumb, but otherwise leaving you leaking all over the table. As you raised your head, John nodded and beckoned you to come over to him. You got to your feet, though staggered a little, but eventually managed to make you way to him. John watched the sway of your hips intensely and you could see his erection was pressed against his pants.

He unbuttoned his pants and then lay back, allowing you to straddle him and shift your hips till his cock brushed against your entrance. John was looking at you, his brown eyes wide and drinking in you in, but otherwise he was silent.

He always liked you taking control with him and riding him. Though after the previous experiences you’d had with Arthur, Charles, Bill and Lenny you wished for once he would just pound into you. Your legs felt like jelly and doubtless this would be a sloppy ride. Then again, when John was like this, flushed, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and biting his lip hard, he rarely lasted long.

You sunk down onto him and John let out a loud groan as you did. You rolled your hips and John’s hand eagerly found your waist and then your breasts. You trailed your hands up John’s chest, grazing your nails over his nipples in the way he liked and heard that pretty raspy whine he would always give.

He pushed his hips up to meet yours and you sat more heavily on his thighs, so his movement would be restricted. You grabbed hold of his hands and pinned them above his head. John choked out a moan as you began to fuck him faster. He struggled under your grip and you allowed him to lift himself up a little, so his mouth could eagerly find your nipple and suck on it fiercely. You closed your eyes and moaned as he wrapped his tongue around the taut bud.

“Ahh, Marston, always one to be bossed around by his woman,” Dutch chuckled, and you heard a few mutters of agreement from the other men and short bursts of laughter.

John pulled his mouth off your breast and you thought that his usually argumentative nature would mean he would bite back at Dutch. But instead, he found your other breast and began to lavish the same attention to your other nipple.

“Though, I do agree with him. Not enough of you have been paying attention to our darling girl’s breasts this evening, and when they’re as pretty as that how can you not?”

You felt a hand, heavy with rings, wrap around your other breast, fingers teasing the nipple until you gave a throaty moan and dropped your head back. John’s long cock was still pounding into you, but he managed to get away his hand from your grip and pushed away Dutch’s hand.

“Mine,” was all he muttered, while his thighs slapped into yours, the obscene squelching between your thighs making you realise how much cum was being pushed further inside you. You heard Dutch’s laugh, but he walked away to allow John to finish undisturbed.

You pushed John back down against the bedroll, scratching back down his chest and further down until you reached where you were joined. You slipped your hand amongst the thatch of hair between your legs and finding your clit began to stroke it, the growing ache sparking back into life. John was watching you closely, his eyes dark and his teeth biting into his lower lip.

You squeezed your thighs tightly around John, you usually found that the second or third orgasm was more difficult to reach, your body already tired. But you rode him harder, your pussy clenching tightly around him and making John grunt and whimper into your shoulder. You pushed your breast against his mouth and he eagerly sucked on the nipple, the sharp sweet pleasure spiralling down and making you drop your head back as your third orgasm swept through you. Not as strong or heady as the others, but still good.

John suddenly let go of your breast and bit down on your neck, sucking hard and letting out a strangled moan before burying himself deep into you. He fell silent and still. You ran your hands several times through his hair and wiped the sweat away from his brow.

“You’re such a good boy, John,” you murmured softly and he nodded, pressing his face against your chest. You gave him a kiss on his forehead and then carefully got up, a trail of cum slicking down your leg and walked back over to the table, waiting for whoever was next.

Kieran

Kieran nervously approached you, he already looked worried and apprehensive. His hands covered his crotch and at first you thought he was hiding his erection, but when you went to undo his pants, you realised his cock was flaccid. His cheeks were pink and he looked down, but avoided your eye.

“I’m sorry, I just… with everyone here…” Kieran stammered.

You gently caressed his cock and it twitched slightly in your hand, but remained resolutely floppy. You took him into your mouth and began to suck, feeling the cock growing harder. But as Kieran took in a gasp of air, he looked up, and seeing everyone’s eyes on him meant he lost it.

“I’m sorry, you should just have whoever’s next,” he said miserably.

“No, Kieran,” Dutch answered for you. “You want to be part of this gang, you fuck that girl. After all, she’s treated everyone so well.”

Kieran gave a whimper as you continued to move your head back and forth, but it didn’t seem to help much. Finally, you got up and removed the kerchief around Kieran’s neck. You walked him over to a chair, so he was more hidden from view, and then tied the kerchief around his eyes. You knelt between his legs and undid his shirt, so his pale chest was before you.

You stroked a hand up his stomach and saw his cock jolt slightly. “It’s just you and me here, Kieran. Just listen to me and pay attention to everything I’m doing.” You sat in his lap and began to stroke his cock. “Does that feel good?”

He let out a shaky whine and nodded fiercely. “I keep thinking though…”

“Shh,” you whispered, then kissed his cheek, moving your lips down his cheek through the scraggly hair of his beard and sucking lightly on his earlobe. He let out a small gasp and thrust up into your hand.

“I’ve seen you looking at me,” you whispered so no one else could hear. “I’ve seen you gazing after me when my shirt gets soaked while I’m doing laundry or when I bend down to pick something up. And yet you’ve always been so sweet and polite, keeping your distance. Have you never wanted to fuck me?”

Kieran’s cock became heavy and hard in your hand and he let out a moan. He nodded once more. “I have, but… you’re so busy… and the other men…”

“Kieran, sweetheart, I’ll always make time for you. You’re allowed to call on me,” you said sweetly and felt him shudder against you. He suddenly lifted his right hand from the box and managed to find your waist.

“Can I… Can I touch your breasts?”

You almost melted at how sweet he was, in asking so considerately. You raised his right hand to your breast and he instinctively kneaded the flesh, before finding your nipple and slowly rolling it between his fingers. You let out a soft sigh.

“Mm, Kieran. You might have never touched me before, but you sure know how to.”

Kieran moaned against your neck, his hips furiously thrusting upwards, your hand slick with his pre-cum.

“My dear, you might want to-” Dutch began to say, but he was cut off as Kieran let out a garbled cry and his cum spurted all over your hands and fingers. He whined into your shoulder, as you milked him for all his was worth. You felt Kieran’s body shudder against you and then he let out a sigh, his body going limp. You heard Dutch’s testy sigh of annoyance.

“Dutch, he’s new-” you started to say, hoping to defend Kieran.

Dutch rolled his eyes and shook his head at Kieran. “Duffy, at some other time you best take Miss Y/L/N into your tent and actually fuck her properly. I’ll let you off this once, but don’t let it happen again.”

Kieran nodded weakly, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to you. You kissed the warm red flush on his cheeks, then began to lick away the sticky mess from your fingers. Kieran watched you, his eyes wide. You smiled as you felt his cock twitch against your leg. Maybe Dutch’s plan would happen sooner than he thought.

Javier

“You done yet?” Javier was waiting behind Kieran and the he watched the other man scurry away quickly. You finished wiping your hands and looked at Javier. He gave you a quick smile and then sat down in the chair.

“How do you want me?” you asked.

Javier tilted his head slightly and gestured to his lap. “How do you think?”

You smiled sweetly and then undid Javier’s pants, pulling free his length and straddling him. Your dripping pussy rubbed along his cock and you felt him grind up against you. But Javier let out a testy sigh.

“You ain’t even going to try to romance me?”

“Everyone else keeps telling me to hurry up,” You said.

“And will do the same with you, Javier! Ya ain’t here t’ have a chat!” Sean complained loudly.

Javier waved his hand flippantly at the other man, dismissing him. He pulled you closer against him till your breasts were pressed tightly against his chest. Javier’s mouth ran along your jaw and up to your ear, lightly pressing kisses and then sucking on your earlobe making you shiver.

“There’s always time for a little sweet talk, ain’t there mi amor?” he asked you, before rolling his hips against yours and making you let out a small moan of pleasure as the head of his cock pressed against your clit.

You pulled back so you could look into his eyes. “For you, Javier, always.” You ran your hand through his hair, that he had loosened, and felt him eagerly press into your palm. You stroked down his chest, lifting yourself up slightly so you could reach down and push his cock inside of you. Javier dropped his head back, letting out a small sigh and immediately thrusting up.

“Mm, you feel good, sweetheart.”

You barely had to do a thing, as Javier kept a smooth pace of thrusting in and out of you, which you were certainly grateful for now that your legs felt like jelly. His mouth found your neck and jaw, nibbling and kissing the bare skin, one hand cupping your breast and squeezing the nipple.

“How did we get so lucky?” he crooned softly. You only managed a quiet moan in response and he began to push you harder against him, forcing you to grind your clit against his groin. “Come on, sweetheart, want you louder than that.”

You whined at the sensation already sending small waves of pleasure through you as Javier’s hands travelled down to your ass and forced you to rotate your hips. He was always so attentive to you and you were flattered that he cared so much about fulfilling your own desire, as well as his.

“Ah, Javier, always such a charmer!” Dutch chuckled slightly. “Always so polite with the ladies.”

Javier’s eyes stayed fixed on you as he rhythmically fucked you. “When the lady is as beautiful as Y/N, it’s easy to be charming.”

You let out a breathy groan, but he quickly silenced you with a deep, passionate kiss. Javier’s tongue slipped past your lips and you moaned into his mouth. His hands made their way down to your waist, your thighs and then around your butt. Forcing you to ride him harder and faster.

You stopped the kiss and pressed your forehead against Javier’s, the sensitivity making you close your eyes and squirm. One of his hands stroked gently over your thigh and then slipped between you, finding your clit.

“Javier, I can’t!” you whimpered.

“Yes, you can. One for me, mi amor. It’s not fair everyone else gets to see that pretty face of yours lost in pleasure.”

You were too far gone to even point out that not everyone had tried to bring you to orgasm, but Javier’s sweet words and clever fingers soon forced your body into another wave of release. It was less strong and almost caught between both pleasure and pain. You ended up clinging to Javier as he pounded into you, holding you close and riding through his own climax. You barely heard him groaning into your hair.

“So pretty, so goddamn pretty,” he whispered, his lips trailing down your cheek. You gasped softly, wishing he could lay you down in his tent and the tender way he would usually rub your back and legs.

Instead, he helped you up from his lap and placed you down on the table, so you could get your breath back. He pressed a soft kiss against your forehead, then turned around and headed back towards the other men.

Sean

“Ah feckin’ finally,” Sean said, eagerly making his way over to you and sitting down on the chair that Javier had vacated. He undid his pants and pulled out his cock. You sat back on the table, your legs still felt weak and tired.

“How do you want me?”

“Jus’ suck my cock first, then we’ll see.” Sean grinned excitedly, but you frowned slightly, you were all too aware that Sean tended not to last long.

“You sure?”

“My dear, it’s not your job to argue with the men about their choices. Just do as Sean says,” Dutch’s commanding voice came from behind you, so you gave a slight shrug and got to your knees in front of Sean.

You ran your hand over his cock, gently teasing his balls and watching him try to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning too loudly. He eventually gave up and stroked the back of your head. It always surprised you how gentle Sean could be, he was almost tentative with his touch.

“C’mon, darlin’, need your mouth,” he murmured, he thrust his hips up and his cock bumped against your lips. You gently slipped your tongue over the tip and Sean moaned loudly, trying to push your head down further. You grabbed his hands and held the wrists tightly, before opening your mouth and slowly swallowing Sean’s cock.

“Oh yes, darlin’, tha’s it, tha’s real good…”

You smiled as Sean began to babble away, never quiet even for a moment. You pulled back a little and then began to suck on his cock. You let go of his wrists, running your nails down his thighs and bobbing your head up and down. You moaned around him and Sean thrust harder up into your mouth.

You let him slip out of your mouth, trying to ensure he at least lasted a bit by squeezing his cock and placing a firm hand on his thigh, but Sean had grabbed the back of your head and desperately brought it down on him. Even with your lips closed, he futilely thrust against them, his cock twitching against the slickness of your lips.

“C’mon, open your mouth!”

“Sean-” you warned, but he took advantage of your mouth being opened to say his name and forced his cock in between your lips. He grabbed the back of your head and began to thrust harder and faster, his long, thin cock hitting the back of your throat. Before you knew it, Sean stood up and continued to face fuck you. He was finally quiet, just grunts and groans slipping from his lips.

“Love hearing the noise of Miss Y/L/N’s mouth as someone fucks her like that,” Dutch said jovially.

You tried to grip onto Sean’s thighs and draw back, but he was too lost in how you made him feel and when you looked up at him, eyes wide and almost pleading, he suddenly came with a strangled gasp. He almost staggered as the hot, salty cum poured down your throat, and finished with a few small thrusts.

Finally, he stopped moving, his cock now flaccid in your mouth, but eventually he pulled it out. “Goddammit,” he muttered, then grinned and chuckled slightly. He wiped away a small streak of cum from the corner of your lips. “Tha’ mouth is just too good.”

“I did try to warn you.”

Sean shrugged and patted your cheek. “Still had a good time and ol’ Sean Maguire junior had the best of times!”

He stretched his arms out wide and strolled off, as though all the men gathered would be mightily impressed by his display. You hid a giggle as he walked off, his cock still dangling between his legs, and saw Arthur roll his eyes.

Micah

You had only managed to get back to your feet, when you spotted Micah shoving Sean out of the way and walking over to you. You grabbed hold of the chair to give you some strength and support, but Micah kicked it away from your grasp.

“Hey, Micah, come on, don’t be like-!” Lenny called out.

“You’ve had your turn, boy. Now it’s mine with the little whore and I’m going to show her how a real man fucks.”

He pushed you onto the table, so your breasts were against the hard wood and you felt Micah’s finger push into your pussy. He let out a disgruntled noise of disgust. “You enjoy letting every man have his way with you here? You like knowing that you got their cum mixed inside ya?”

You nodded weakly and felt a sharp, stinging slap land on your exposed cunt. You let out a whine of pain and jolted away, but Micah pulled you back and sharply pinched your clit.

“Micah!” you whined.

“As if your sopping cunt can feel anything at this point!” He began to furiously rub at your clit and you submitted to his rough touch, pressing your forehead against the table and moaning as the intense sparks of pleasure and pain ran through you.

Until a hand made its way under your throat and forced you to look up. You found yourself gazing across the circle, Arthur’s eyes on you. He looked pissed, but unable to do anything and turned his head away.

“Hey boss, mind if I break the rules a little?” Micah asked Dutch.

“What do you mean?”

“Think I might like it if she keeps her eyes on Morgan, while I fuck her.”

“You petty bastard,” Arthur growled.

Dutch chuckled indulgently. “Alright, I’ll allow it as that’s what you want Micah.”

“Good,” Micah said and then abruptly thrust inside of you, his cock hitting your cervix and making you almost scream, more with surprise than pain. You saw Arthur’s jaw clench tightly at the sound.

But there wasn’t much time to adjust as Micah began to roughly fuck you, his balls hitting your ass. He grabbed your arms, forcing you to arch your back and then wrapped a hand around your throat, so you were helplessly looking into Arthur’s eyes. There was always that rivalry between the two, and it led to both needing to show you a good time, though you never admitted who you liked being fucked more by.

“Come on, boss. May as well take advantage,” Micah growled as he continued to thrust into you hard and fast. He kept a hand wrapped around your throat, until you were gasping for air.

Dutch smiled and unbuttoned his trousers.

“Dutch,” Arthur said warningly, presumably going to remind Dutch that when one man was fucking you, it was only meant to be one man.

“You ain’t in charge, Arthur.” Dutch’s hand squeezed one of your breasts firmly and he seemed to admire Micah’s cock disappearing into your aching cunt. Dutch unbuttoned his pants, pulling free his length and bringing it to your face. You greedily opened your mouth and swallowed him to the root. Dutch sighed with pleasure and placed a hand at the back of your head.

“That’s it, darling.” Dutch was thrusting his hips, his cock choking you and bringing tears to your eyes.

He looked up at Arthur, who was watching the situation with a low burning rage in his eyes. For all the man insisted he wasn’t a good one, he certainly had a strong sense of fairness. “Don’t you worry, Arthur, I’ll call on your help in just a moment.”

“Lot of rule changes for Micah,” Arthur muttered, but you noticed his eyes were still on you. The way your clit was being bumped and grinded against the surface of the table, brought tears to your eyes as another wave of pleasure surged through you, but the way Micah was pounding into you gave you no opportunity for rest.

Micah slapped your ass several times and you could already feel the bruises that would blossom there. “That’s it darlin’, oh you sure know how to take a man’s cock. You sure know how we like to ruin ya.”

The swirling, dizzying feel of him meant you were barely able to focus on sucking Dutch’s cock. But finally, at long last, Micah groaned and let go of your neck, instead leaning on the table. He let out a raspy groan and you felt his hot cum spill inside of you.

He certainly wasn’t interested in murmuring anything sweet or romantic to you. Instead, he pulled out and you felt the cum dribbling down your thighs. You panted and clung onto the table, feeling completely spent and used, though Dutch had yet to take his turn. You rolled onto your back and tried to get your breath back.

Dutch

You watched Micah stagger away and tried to close your legs, your slit feeling sopping wet and aching a little. But two firm hands pulled your legs apart and you let out a small whine of complaint. Dutch’s dark curly head was between your thighs and his hot gaze was studying the cum dripping from your pussy. His eyes caught yours and they gleamed with satisfaction. He pushed back the cum inside you with his thumb.

“Very pretty, my dear.”

His thumb grazed your clit and you tried to pull away, the sensitivity almost making you black out. You weren’t sure if you could take much more. Dutch tutted and shook his head.

“Now, that certainly won’t do,” he said. Then got up from his haunches and looked pass you. “Arthur, come here.”

You heard Arthur approaching you and then he was at your side. His eyes were on Dutch, but you saw his eyes flick down to your breasts. Dutch smiled and reached a hand down to your breast, pinching the nipple between thumb and forefinger harshly. You squealed and tried to roll away, but Dutch grabbed your arms and brought you back to where you had been.

“This is exactly why I need your assistance, Arthur. If you could take her arms.” Arthur’s warm, large hands gripped your wrists and pinned them to the table. “Perfect.” Dutch unbuttoned his pants and slowly slid his cock against your wet slit. You moaned and Dutch tapped his cock against your swollen clit, enjoying your gasp and the way you tried to move your legs back.

He grabbed hold of your ankles, then placed your legs over his shoulders, his cock teasing your entrance. The swirling feeling of pleasure was overwhelming and you found tears coming to your eyes.

“Please, please Dutch… I can’t take much more,” you begged.

“Oh, but my dear, you did so well this evening. It was only Kieran and Sean who missed out on your very sweet, sensitive pussy. And now, it’s so wet, so slick. Do you think if you got pregnant, you would even know who the father is?”

You shook your head dumbly and watched as a smug smile grew on Dutch’s lips. It was just as well you had got that herbal remedy to stop a pregnancy from happening, but that was why you were all the men’s favourite. No risk, all reward.

Dutch’s hand drifted by your slit again, before his large finger pushed into your entrance and you moaned. He chuckled. “I’m surprised you even felt that, you’re absolutely drenched.” You felt another finger push inside, the cold ring sending a shiver down your spine as Dutch began to work the digits in and out of your pussy.

You heard Dutch’s mocking laughter once more. “I’m surprised Arthur still has it in him, but I think hearing how wet your pussy is and seeing your breasts move like that has got him going again!”

Arthur gave a muffled grunt from behind you and you tilted your head to see Arthur’s groin almost near your face, the hard outline of his cock clearly visible against his pants. Dutch’s fingers slipped out of your pussy quickly and grabbed hold of your chin, so you could no longer gaze up at Arthur. Dutch smirked and slipped his fingers into your mouth, and you tasted the musky scent of yourself mixed with the salty bitter taste of all the men who had just had you.

As Dutch slowly slipped inside of you, you tried to pull your arms away from Arthur, so you could gain some leverage and place them against Dutch’s chest. But Arthur had your arms in a vice like grip, and with your legs over Dutch’s shoulders all you could do was cry out as the man filled you.

“Absolutely depraved, my dear. You’re dripping. This whole situation turns you on doesn’t it, having all the men have their go with you and not even in the privacy of their own tents? Shameful, my darling.”

He began to slowly thrust inside of you, plunging deeper and hitting that sensitive spot that made you tilt your head back and groan loudly.

“That’s it, my dear. Just the way I like it. Arthur, why don’t you play with her nipples, they certainly haven’t had enough attention this evening.”

Arthur’s rough fingers began to teasingly stroke your nipple, his other hand still gripping tightly onto both of your wrists. Dutch’s hand reached down between your legs and brutally slapped your clit several times, causing you to whine and try to twist away, but the way you were kept prostrate between both men meant there was no escape. Another orgasm was building as Dutch continued to fuck you, though at this point you were so exhausted you could do nothing but lie on the table and moan.

“Arthur, put your thumb in her mouth, don’t need her keeping everyone else awake.” Dutch grunted a little and Arthur complied, removing his hand from your breasts and sinking his thumb in your mouth. You greedily sucked on it and heard the man gave a groan. You gazed at Arthur, who was grinding his hips against the table.

A heavy hand forced your head back to look up at Dutch as his hips slapped forcefully against yours. He offered you a wicked smile and then said to Arthur. “Why don’t you tease that pretty little bud of hers and I’ll let you watch her have her last orgasm tonight.”

Arthur released your wrists, you could feel a slight bruise blossoming on both. As Arthur circled your clit with his fingers, you almost blacked out by the jolt of pleasure that ran through you. It was too much and you cried out. Dutch’s movements were growing faster by the minute. You could no longer keep the overwhelming rush of pleasure at bay, as your oversensitive clit was pushed further and your muscles clenched tightly around Dutch’s cock. The dwindling wave of pleasure grew in strength, before overcoming you. It surged through you and you let out a hoarse scream.

You felt like you almost had blacked out or otherwise become so loss in your pleasure that you were only half aware when Dutch groaned, pushed deep inside you and shuddered slightly. The camp had fallen quiet and your eyes focused on the soft light of a lantern. You barely realised that Dutch had pulled out, until he swept you into his arms and began to walk to his tent.

Dutch lay you down on his cot. You heard him fiddle around with the wash basin next to his shaving set, before he walked back over and you felt a damp cloth cleaning up the mess between your legs. The pleasurable exhaustion was already setting in, you were half asleep by the time he slipped in behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Well done, my dear.” He pressed a kiss against the back of your neck and you drifted off feeling content and warm.

The feminine urge to be fucked stupid by a bulky, dominant and protective fictional man with big tits.