ajaxless

[ajaxless]

Fucking with Bailey

[ajaxless]

On Noncon/Dubcon as a Kink

A topic I get asked to discuss a lot.

♡ Foreword

As many of you are aware of, my name is Marie and I write fictional erotic thrillers, many of which contain either non-consensual or sadomasochistic sex—a trope often referred to as rape for titillation or more simply rape fantasies.

Firstly, before we get into the topic at hand, I wish to underline that rape fantasies can never be compared to actual rape—as rape is the action of conducting sex without consent, whereas one always has consent within one's own fantasy.

However, the question you may be asking or have at a point asked is why women have fantasies of sexual assault in the first place.

This is a question that I, by no means, can answer perfectly. Yet, in the spirit of philosophy and amateur psychology, I will lay out my personal theories as an author of such erotica. 

I’ve long wondered why we, women, fantasize about things that would appall us if manifested in reality. It makes little sense that an act so ruinous in practice is titillating when humored theoretically. In the vast complexities of psychology, no matter how much I drink of its depths, I can’t seem to get my fill enough to fully understand it. I’ve come to accept that attempting to figure out female arousal is like pulling hair from a clogged gutter and trying to undo all the knots—it’s a web of contradictions. 

Nevertheless, I shall try anyway.

♡ The First Theory — cultural and conventional reasons 

Through the age-old societal norms and customs we adopt while growing up, the world paints a picture of aggressive men dominating passive women from the very moment we develop the ability to comprehend. Even in kindergarten, it's considered cute when a boy pulls his crush's pigtails. 

Be it through bedtime stories of pretty princesses awaiting Prince Charming, historical tales of heroic men going off to war to fight for the wives they’ve left at home, or the simple but classic marriage constructed of a hard-working husband and stay-at-home housewife—we are, before we’re ever aware it, conditioned to believe that these stereotypical gender roles are correct representations of men and women—and furthermore, pushed to accept that this dynamic is what romance is supposed to look like—with men at the helm and women sitting pretty with nothing but a smile.

Thankfully, such fixed notions of gender and their place in society are increasingly frowned upon in modern parts of the world. Yet, for some odd reason, they remain no less fascinating to humor from time to time in the safe comfort of a good fantasy.

Why is that?

Think of it this way—if you’ve been served pasta all your life, it isn’t strange that you still get a craving for it every now and again, even after discovering you enjoy salad more. We find comfort and pleasure in what we know and have been taught to enjoy, even when those things don’t suit us—familiarity often trumps our true wishes. This is what conditioning is and does.

But there is more to it. The bra, makeup, and flattering clothes—we wear them not because they’re comfortable but because we feel uncomfortable without them. And we find the reason here: in our unyielding instinctive pursuit to attract men, we often sacrifice ourselves to see it fulfilled. It’s the same with wanting to be the damsel in distress awaiting the knight in shining armor—we aspire to take on that role because we know acting that way appeals to most men. 

♡ Second Theory — emotional and instinctual reasons

The Beauty and the Beast motif—featuring classic co-dependency. Women submit to abuse because we have an inbuilt need to nurture others, so when we encounter men who we deem damaged, we become obsessed with a desire to fix them or save them from themselves by showering them in affection, with often very little regard to the abuse dealt in return.

I dub it mother syndrome. Most women simply can’t stand the thought of abandoning someone they think needs them—the female constitution simply doesn’t allow it. We find purpose in taking care of others, it’s one of our core instincts that we often romanticize over all else—staying by someone’s side no matter what. It’s in most of the world’s wedding vows as the very epitome of romance—through thick and thin, til death do us part—even when the man you’re marrying might very well be the death of you, it's considered shameful to leave him—many might even call you weak if you do, when in reality, sticking up for yourself is the strongest and most logical thing you can do.

♡ Third Theory — physiological reasons

Note that it says physiological and not psychological. This one pertains less to the mind and heart and focuses purely on our instincts to survive.

Research has been conducted around women having another inbuilt self-defense mechanism—a seldom talked-about phenomenon—which shows that females tend to become physically aroused when they sense any possibility of sexual aggression in their environment in order to lower their chance of injury if they are raped. I suspect it’s somewhat similar to how some animals feign death or injury so as not to be treated like a threat.

Additionally, as humans, we’re able to conjure such situations with scary accuracy within our very own heads. Thus, when imagining being the victim of sexual aggression, it isn’t unnatural to feel aroused. It’s sometimes simply your body’s own response, protecting itself from potential harm.

I find this one to be as depressing as it is fascinating.

Moreover, the sensation of fear shares many of the same components as the feeling of arousal—adrenaline, dopamine, and cortisol. So it isn’t so strange that our mind mistakes the two no matter the case—survival instinct or not.

♡ Fourth Theory — psychological reasons

Here is where we get the brunt of the knots clogging the drain. 

In fantasies and writing or viewing, we get to reframe traumatic experiences in a positive light or rework traumatic experiences in a safe environment. Victims of sexual trauma will often be drawn to relive the abuse as a type of exposure therapy, wanting to take control over something that once took control of them to try and regain a feeling of safety they’ve lost.

Another reason to relive the abuse is as a form of punishment women give to themselves. Many females who’ve experienced sexual abuse feel as though they have been ruined and rendered worthless and no longer deserve anything but the abuse. Which is obviously not the case. But even though many realize this, it can be hard to silence that voice. This means that these women, when feeling a sliver of arousal, subconsciously turn it into a punishment—making the fantasy violent and often degrading because it’s the only way they feel they deserve the eventual gratification.

♡ Fifth Theory — pertains to the ego

This is another of the many psychological reasons we’ll divulge as we try to untangle the knots in the drain. 

The needy roughness showcased by the aggressor within a non-consensual sex fantasy indicates an intense desire for the victim, which itself is an aphrodisiac of sorts. Here, we find a hidden wish for power, where non-consensual sex bolsters a woman's feelings of seductiveness and desirability in the way it has the ability to make a man lose his decency and self-control, driving him to commit crimes of passion despite great personal cost.

Put simply, some women enjoy the idea of being irresistible enough to drive even a good man crazy. The thought of being attractive enough to make a man love-sick is, in this case, a power trip and a turn-on.

One might say that, in some cases, this arises from a feeling of undesirability and insecurity. Feeling so self-conscious that we tip the scale completely, turning ourselves into succubi, so that men simply can’t resist.

In other cases, it’s simply an ego boost. 

♡ Sixth Theory — a form of projecting

Yet another psychological reason.

Fantasies of rape reduces the distress associated with sex, as it allows women to renounce any guilt they might feel as they are not, in this scenario, responsible for what occurs. The logic here states that when we are forced into something, we’ll have a lesser need to feel shame about acting out our own desires.

Put simply, some women wish to maintain their innocence despite having carnal desires only satiated by means of sinful acts. 

This reason specifically begs another question. Is there a lingering feeling of guilt and shame around female sexuality? To which I say, of course! Women are constantly met with disdain when they're open about their sexual desires. So, we’re left feeling a need to victimize ourselves, where transferring our own sexual desires onto another gives us permission to act them out without feeling guilty or dirty, because, inside this fantasy, it isn’t us committing the indecencies.

♡ More on psychological reasons — of which there are infinite

Control—to feel wanted, lusted for, obsessed over, and coveted by others—the power of driving someone to lovesick desire, a frenzied state, where they would do anything, even illegal, only for the chance to have you. Additionally, despite such harsh cases of ego, wanting none of the responsibility for it, wanting to be free of sin, to maintain innocence and purity in light of such dark desires.

Or is there a seventh theory? One found in our idyllic construct of freedom—this aimless goal of ours to make ourselves appreciate breathing through balancing the electric powerline between having and losing control—moreover, a wish for control and a juxtaposing wish to relinquish it.

Humans desire control just as much as they disdain having control. This is why BDSM (bondage, domination, sadism, and masochism) kinks and fetishes are found in some shape or form in nearly every romantic or sexual relationship in existence. You’ll have the dominant partner wishing to achieve control over a submissive partner wishing to relinquish control through such means of domination, humiliation, pain, and pleasure.

But it’s more complex than that, isn’t it? 

Yes, because, contradictory, a submissive partner may wish for control, and a dominant partner may wish to lose it. Human beings are an unyielding paradox, flexing across contrasting aims with no means to an end. And coming to this conclusion, I realized that such is the pursuit of many, even in endeavors not of the erotic kind.

Is it this act of switching places, the attraction and pull, the stimuli and response, the attack and retaliation—in this clusterfuck of contradictions and uncertainty—that we find a thrill that occupies our otherwise hibernating minds—bored to the degree that we become machines in our daily programs wanting nothing but to be jumpstarted into speeding on the highway?

Is it simply that we need a little extremity as a remedy for our dull lives? Do we fall in love with illegal things simply because we are denied them? Simply because they’re illegal? Self-harm, drug use, gambling, murder, rape…

Are these things a part of us? And are we, without them, left feeling unfulfilled? Is The Purge perhaps onto something vitally important? A cure for boredom to this mediocrity that leaves us all feeling so blue. The remnants of the wild before we became civilized—old instinct rendered as bygones left to simmer without any outlet.

Maybe a little…

But there’s probably a simpler reason.

♡ L’appel du Vide — the Call of the Void

Humans crave emotional fluctuation from time to time. Why? Because it’s stimulating, and stimulation feels good.

Your brain is a factory. Actions and experiences are what raw materials go into the factory, and emotions are what come out—rushed along on conveyor belts made of hormones such as dopamine, serotonin, endorphins, and oxytocin—to name a few of the good ones.

When we experience the same things every day—living life on autopilot—those conveyor belts shut down, and the factory comes to a standstill, leaving us with a single taxing emotion: boredom. And this is why we seek out new experiences and exciting ordeals—to make sure those raw materials going into the factory are of top quality.

But instead of going out and acting like a hooligan in order to harvest these raw materials, we’ve created a plethora of artificial and less incriminating ways to achieve the same thrills. 

Take violent video games, for example. The blind bounds of excitement others ascend to in the midst of shooting their friends wouldn’t go over so well in reality, but it works wonders in a digital platform. The rush of falling in and out of enemy territory, of danger and safety, from being a predator to becoming the prey, of victory and defeat, of chasing death only to be comforted by one’s remaining life, because, in reality, you're safe and sound in front of a screen.

Also, in other cases—rollercoasters, horror movies, extreme sports, driving over the speed limit, etc...

Yes, the need for emotional fluctuation, this wish to trip in and out of control, isn’t limited to the realm of lust but is present in most aspects of life. We find it in everything—drugs, gambling, and gaming, even in relationships and work.

It’s in the concept of West World that we’re introduced to human beings at their most wanton and violent—minds stripped of conscience and restraint. It’s an interesting prospect, and though we’re not technologically advanced enough as a society to live in a world that offers amusement parks such as West World, we can achieve some of the same delights in the safe enclosure of a good fantasy. Here, we can explore all our darkest thoughts without the burden of shame and guilt and without reaping any of the consequences.

I’m almost making us sound like demons, but rest easy, it’s natural.

The human brain, quite like the stomach, hungers for stimulation. Moreover, it isn’t only through entertainment, but education as well—both things we use to feed our heads. Our mind is a natural problem-solver because it feels gratification from figuring things out, and so, it questions things and seeks out answers all on its own, without us even realizing it, including questions we don’t even want answered. For example, have you ever wondered what it would be like to murder someone—what it would take, what it would feel like, why it would matter, how you would do it? Of course, most people don’t actually want to kill other people; nevertheless, your brain craves to have those questions answered anyway.

The French dub this philosophical conundrum L’appel du Vide. Translated, it means The Call of the Void, which speaks to our tendencies to entertain destructive thoughts. The most common example used to demonstrate this state is the urge to jump off a cliff when standing close enough. Of course, there is no logical reason for you to jump, yet your mind craves to know the logistics anyway.

And that brings me to my point—things that excite the human mind are our one true love. Those things that cause traffic in our head, making it spin and crash and build itself up again—those are the things we lust for.

As such, daydreaming about taboo sexual experiences is mostly only a symptom of this traffic—L’appel du Vide—our need to feed our forever-hungry heads.

So don’t curse yourself for enjoying it.

♡ On another note — and such another warning and disclaimer

I want you not to accept any of my work as love stories.

Personally, I think hints of toxic displays such as jealousy, obsession, and possession in a partner are natural—but a difference is made when such feelings become restricting to a degree you no longer feel free or safe. I implore you to make such distinctions for yourself when regarding yourself, and, in extreme cases, when regarding others.

In that regard, I do not condone the events or actions of the characters in my stories—neither offender nor victim. No one should allow themselves to fall prey to toxic partners. The signs are always there—keep a weathered eye out for them.

And no, I’m not blaming those who’ve allowed themselves to stay in toxic relationships. I, myself, am guilty of that—but I won’t excuse my poor judgment any less than I would anyone else. You know when something doesn’t feel right. We shouldn’t blur the lines of right and wrong in the name of love—or whatever else we may lend our self-control to—be it religion, culture, family, or societal pressure.

You are in control. Don’t allow anything else to become the case.

♡ Lastly

This discussion piece is also the foreword to my book College Years, wherein you'll find many other similar discussions after each of the twenty erotic thrillers, for those of you who're interested.

Marie's Collection of Erotic Thrillers

♡ NIGHTMARE'S HELPDESK

[ajaxless]

>>>prev reblog

grrrr thinking abt oops all orphans specifically how they come to the orphanage. robin we know a little abt his situation (like how he still keeps in touch with some family???? those fuckers???) and kylar is not hard to figure out he's got demon parents. whitney i believe also has some family lore confirmed particularly that it is Not Good so its also easy to draw conclusions abt how he ends up in the orphanage. but sydney........ sydney the orphan is tickling my brain.

already we have one parent out of the picture... we dont know how iirc but its easy to lump sirris in or have them taken out of the picture later on for more trauma (sorry sirris) but then begs the question of why the temple didn't take sydney in. oh the betrayal a young syd would have now that he's being tormented by bailey's payments bc what? he wasn't pure enough? he angered the temple somehow? what did he do to deserve being left in such a cruel place? what would that do to his faith?

ough thank u @just-dol-headshots for the brain worm

[ajaxless]

♡ TW: nsfw, rough sex, choking, expensive sex worker!reader, sorta toxic relationship, age-gap

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about the ruthless kingpin, owner of the city's most high-end escort business…

The one who took you in when you were still only a sorry street wretch—a child who fought with rocks over scraps before he taught you women didn’t need to draw blood in order to win.

Oh, and he taught you well... How you could make fools out of men, but never of him, with only a weaponized look in your eye.

You were a fast learner, too. The type of fast you only see in people who enjoy what they’re learning. You had fun slipping on those tiny dresses and heels, going out prowling for filthy rich men you could make your happy victims. You’d come away with their money and their thanks and seemed to bask in every second of it.

Back then, you were hungry. But too soon, it became too easy, and too soon, you realized money was a dull thing that would quicker leave you feeling sick to your overfull stomach than satisfied. 

You used to think you could buy a house and call it home, but you’ve since learned it doesn’t work that way. 

So you always come back to him. Home-sick little thing that you are.

You wear his shirt and coy eyes, crawling into his lap, daring him to fuck you now that you’ve made yourself so priceless.

“Think you can still afford me, old man?” you ask, looking at him through that sly smile he taught you to perfection so many years ago.

“Brazen,” he scoffs. “But coming crawling back here with your tail tucked between your legs isn’t exactly a good sales pitch, little girl.” 

Sighing, he acts as if he isn’t interested—and by god, how you missed getting played with like that. 

“I thought I taught you better than to show people what a wretched street cat you used to be, and yet here you are, begging me for the same scraps.”

You moan with aggression, a gleeful smile splitting your painted lips, looking at him with a twinkle in your eyes whilst purring, “Mmh, how I missed your dirty talk. Nothing gets me wetter than watching you deny how you don’t wish you’d collared me when you still had the chance.” 

He scoffs then, half-mast eyes watching as you unhurriedly unbuckle his belt for him. In his lap like a loyal pet. “Why would I put in the effort when you come back to me so willingly?”

“You trust me that much? That while you take your afternoon nap, I won’t find myself someone else to entertain me.” Your smile doesn’t waver, nor do your hands, and how they work oh-so-painfully slow at unbuttoning him, taking your sweet time, baiting him both with your actions and with your words. “I mean, you’re getting on in your years... I’m not sure how much longer you can keep up.”

That does it, of course. Older than you or not, he’s got the strength of a bull and the stamina of one who’s seen red, grabbing you by the fat of your ass as he springs up and strides to the bed where he all but tosses you down.

You only giggle and receive him, ready for your punishment like a convict pleading guilty. Feeling the same type of urgency take you when he bears over you, you rush to unbutton his shirt, attacking each other with tongue and teeth.

He tugs you close by the hips and doesn’t wait for any word of consent before filling you up.

Your eyes roll back, digging your painted nails into the muscles of his back and locking your legs behind him, thinking it feels nothing short of homecoming the way he stakes his claim as if he owns you.

“Playing games even when you know you’re mine,” he growls against your lips, his fist finding its way around your throat, squeezing tight. “Say it.” 

He owns you. He made you. Sculpted you with his bare fucking hands. You’ll never escape him. And you know it, so you should admit it with your chest. You’re his. No matter how many others you may go out hunting at night, you’ll always come back to your owner to present the kill. So be honest. His grip on your throat tightens. He owns you. 

“Say it.”

“I love you.”

All movement stills—breaths and all—hanging poised in the air as if stuck in the suspension. His heart flinches within his chest, rifts with hope so brutal it’s reminiscent of terror.

It hadn’t been what he’d expected to hear, nor was he aware he’d even wanted to hear it, and still, even now, he’s a little unsure as this feeling within is something he’s never before felt but always dreaded, and yet here you are, taking him by surprise.

You’re betraying the game the two of you’ve been playing. Throwing the knife away and asking him if he won’t do the same. But you’re not supposed to do such silly things. You’re supposed to have more pride than that. You’re supposed to be fangs and all, not soft-spoken confessions and those big eyes full of raw hope that bring him to his knees. Oh no, what have you done?

“Then marry me.”

Oh no, what have you made him do?

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Enji, Aizawa, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ BLLK – Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[ajaxless]

Daddy!

[ajaxless]

Ask/other

Honestly, you're lucky he even filed out the marriage paperwork to begin with. I understand a huge part of Nokka's character is being a possessive husband, but I think the dragon verson of him wouldn't care for other humans or their culture very much- and by extension- not giving a shit about human courtship.

I don't see him calling you his wife, i think he'd prefer the term "mate". I think you'd have to talk this version of him into having an actual wedding. He's a stubborn little bastard and getting him to do normal human stuff is like pulling teeth. Wdym he has to get on one knee and propose with a ring? Baby, he's already given you like thirty. You're already bound for life, the fuck do you mean it doesn't count because he never officially asked?

The only reason he agreed is because of the promise of a honeymoon and the idea of being able to flaunt his new mate as *his* in front of all your friends and family members.

So when you get all pissy with him and start nagging him about divorce, your lawyer, and signing paperwork, he doesn't take it seriously. It's just you having a tantrum as per usual. Doesn't occur to him what's going on because he doesn't know what a divorce is. You stomp off to the bedroom, and he shrugs it off and naps in a deeper part of the cave until you cool off and give him an apology blowjob like usual. When he wakes up and notices you're gone, he'll finally read the divorce papers and catch onto what's happening. He'll hunt you down pretty quickly and drag your sorry ass back home, ranting that he knew playing along with your human customs was silly. Dragons mate for life, toots, you don't get to back out just 'cus you feel like it. Shame on him for letting those other humans put silly thoughts in your head that it was even possible for you to leave.

I think he'd hold the divorce papers right in your face and breathe fire to burn them. Then threats to roast your divorce lawyer the same way if you don't tell em to fuck off. If you guys aren't married anymore, he'll just have to marry you again, yeah?

Yknow what? New marriage, new town, new cave, and a brand new ring. Something far larger and heavier that doesn't fit around your finger. Oh no, no, no, no, it fits 'round your ankle this time. Big gold chain keeping you locked inside the cave. The best part of getting married a second time is the second honeymoon. Good luck running once he gets you swollen full of his brats.

Let's say.... the reader successfully files for divorce from Nokka. What will his reaction be?

I shall let yall guess out of these options.

[ajaxless]

baileyfuckers will see this n think hell yeah

[ajaxless]

I find it interesting that Wren and Robin both have bird names. My hc is that they're siblings. Wren ran away from Bailey to work at Remy's farm, similar to how PC can run away to work at Alex's. Might explain why Wren's got a soft spot for PC and doesn't snitch to Remy when they're trespassing on the farm + why they're so willing to help them escape the prison. PC is like Wren when they were younger + they protect Robin

[ajaxless]

Can’t stop thinking about the q&a I vaguely remember where Vrel said Bailey would teach PC how to kiss now imagine him taking matters into his own hands on teaching PC how to properly kiss/pleasure people because if they’re good in bed that earns him more money and ofc he’s only doing it for that and not because he’d enjoy corrupting PC or have a pretense to touch them. They’re his property after all and he has every damn right to do with them as he pleases, who’s allowed to judge him for wanting to use what he owns.

[ajaxless]

Every time I see the teacher from Daria, I think of Bailey lmao

[ajaxless]

I think we all could use some power bottom Bailey in our lives. Something about him taking PC's penile virginity makes me giggle. Bailey would 100% spend the entire time mocking their cock and then force PC to eat their load out of his ass while he jerks off

[ajaxless]

‘whitney’s core characteristic is being a tsundere’—i think whitney’s core characteristic is being an asshole.

[ajaxless]

I refuse to accept Harper as “barely 25” he’s a freaky middle aged man like the rest of them 😤😤😤

[ajaxless]

Angst headcanon time :)

Bailey is amazing with babies.

If a baby cries all Bailey has to do is brush his hand on the baby's head, and it chills out. Bailey sneers with disgust at the babies at the orphanage but secretly personally deals with PC's baby. Claims that his employees look after the little shit and charges PC for it, but the truth is that he dotes on PC's baby when they're not around. The second the kid hits the age that they're old enough to remember Bailey's affection, he will stop.

When Bailey was a kid, he used to play with the babies. He remembered each and every last one of their names. Secretly hoped someone would adopt him to save him from the attic. Bailey had a favorite baby that he wanted to be adopted along side as a younger sibling. Then he got older and realized nobody would ever want him. (unless it was for his body, according to the caretaker). He still hoped someone would at the very least adopt the babies and love them as much as he did.

These days he's just as bad as the person he wanted to save them from. He's the one hurting them now. He can't stand babies. It reminds him of the time when he was naive and not in control. He still remembers all of their names, even if the buyers don't return them after.

Bailey can't explain it, let alone acknowledge it, but PC's kid is an exception. Likely because it's one of the first times Bailey has seen someone actually give a shit about their offspring. Especially given how much harder they have to bust their ass off to avoid paying extra each week. That's sure as shit more than his parents ever gave.

At least he got that sibling he wanted, right, Eden?

[ajaxless]

Whitney cries when getting pegged. No arguments. Tears are pricking the corners of his eyes, Building up on his lashes, And he's biting down on his lip or tongue to not make slutty noises. He hangs his head and refuses to have sex in any position that would let you see his face. He refuses to make eye contact, And his eyes are red, Glossy and puffy after the sex ends. You cannot convince me otherwise and I will die on this hill.

[ajaxless]

Dol confession: I always sleep naked on Saturday nights so Bailey can see me when he collects his money on Sunday morning. He always tells me to get dressed and get the cash for him, but if I had the option I would get out of bed and hand him the money while naked. I'm unwell.

[ajaxless]

I can't think of a title

This post is basically just me rambling on about F!Briar fucking a AMAB PC who can't cum LMAO. No pronouns mentioned, Briar gets silly with a strap on. Maybe sorta yan Briar at the end idk she's nasty.

(I wrote this at 4 am while eating cheerios. I'm going to bed so you can fuck off if there's spelling/ grammar mistakes)

AMAB!PC can stroke and rub at their cock for hours and get nowhere. Money is tight and they think making money at the brothel should be easy. They've seen freaks in this town rape and violate each other to cum, yet poor little PC just doesn't get it because their cock just isn't sensitive. They meet Briar and she gives em the dirtiest side eye when PC awkwardly explains their misfortune. At first, Briar doesn't believe it. Why would she? Some prick wanders into her building, claiming they can't get it up and has the audacity to ask her for a job? Spoiler alert, dipshit. Nobody likes a limp dick. She figures PC's lying to get a free handjob out of her, but she's feeling generous. It's been a while since she was able to fuck one of Bailey's orphans free of charge

Oh boy, is Briar wrong.

PC sits across from her at the table while she's puffing on a cigarette, stroking themselves and cupping their balls on her command. She'll tell them to speed up or slow down, not tearing her eyes away from the sight of their rock hard cock. It twitches and leaks pre everywhere, but even after 15 minutes of torture masturbation, PC just can't cum. Briar figures it's because the runt doesn't know how to touch themself, so she decides to lend a hand.

It goes on for ages, it's to the point where her hand is sore. She's tried everything. Stroking, squeezing, licking. She's dragged her knuckles across it, filled a condom with lube to use as a makeshift fleshlight. Fuck, she's even pressed against it with a vibrator or two. Nothing aside from a puddle of clear precum and staining PC's cock with rings of red from her lipstick.

This is such horseshit. She doesn't even remember the last time she's struggled to make someone cum. What is she? A virgin groping up some stranger in a closet while at a shitty highschool party?

"Goddamn it." She'd hiss in frustration. The fuck do they want? Foreplay? They're already hard. What's their issue? Briar's annoyance becomes more and more clear, and PC trying to push her hands away only serves to piss her off more. It's an insult at this point, do you have any idea how many freaks she's fucked? How many customers have cum so hard from just one of her fingers that they start crying?

Briar pins them down after another string of apologies from PC. They really don't want to be here anymore. Sex must not be their thing, that's all. Only for Briar to cut them off and force their cock into her pussy. She humps away at it 'till her thighs are shaking and she's panting. They go at it so long that she can hardly even hold herself up right from exhaustion. The worst part is how apologetic and polite they are about the whole thing. "Thanks for trying!" They'd pant beneath her, hardly acknowledging the way her tit's bounce in front of their face or the way Briar's cunt clenches around their cock so hard it makes her feel numb.

Suuuuch bullshit. She'd be thinking to herself before she begrudgingly pulls off their cock. For once, she wouldn't have been pissed at someone for fucking a load into her. PC tries to climb out of the booth they were in, only to get bent over the table. Guess Briar's not done with them after all. The sound of metal and leather fills PC's ears before their ass gets filled next. They're already soaking wet down there from the lube and Briar's several orgasms. PC can only yelp and cry out with each long stroke of Briar's strap nudging into them. For the first time in a while, PC's squeezing their eyes shut and rolling their hips with her. They grind their sore cock against the table while Briar let's out a string of curses. Her thighs are burning and she feels exhausted, but her pride would take too much of a blow to give up at this point. She'd never admit it, but their moans from having their prostate rammed into have her clenching around nothing. Poor PC's losing their mind as they feel that coil in their gut snapping for the first time, shooting out the messiest load of cum Briar's ever seen.

The first thing she thinks of is Remy's bulls. Good lord, so much cum and they haven't even been turned into a cow. The thought of that pisses her off. There's absolutely no fucking way she's letting anyone else take her new favorite employee. She never hired them? Well now she has.

"Get your clothes on and get the fuck out. Your first day is Saturday"

Saturday's her new favorite day of the week. She has them fucking the customers for hours without breaks. Best part is? They don't even need them. Fills her with pride seeing various men and women try and fail to make them cum like she did. She watches some greasy girl in the most disgusting hoodie she's ever seen ride their cock while begging them to make her a mommy, only to cry from frustration when they couldnt fill her up.

Another time, she watched your principal come in and spank you for a while, and the only reaction they gave was the slightest twitch of their length and a sigh when they finally came in their pants and left. Some blonde haired douche wandered in and made a comment about their slut craving cock so much that they began to work at the brothel, only to get thrown out by the bouncers. Who the fuck did he think he was? His slut? No, baby. They're Briar's now.

At the end of each shift, Briar fucks em with her strap on the same way she did on that first day. She knows they it when you can see her boobs bouncing while thrusting into them and how they like being teased with just her knuckles on their leaky tip. She's gotten into the habit of sliding a bullet vibe into their ass an hour before their shift ends to make them nice and ready for her. It's to the point where even on days when PC isn't working they come into the brothel just to fuck Briar. Always getting really whiny and desperate about it. Begging and pleading for her to just please please please fuck them already. They've humped away at their pillows and fucked their orphan friend's mouth, but nothing feels as good as Briar's pretty manicured nails wrapping around their cock and jerking them to completion. PC would happily take 100 cocks a day if it meant Briar would sit on theirs after, even if it's only for a few minutes.

It's to the point where Briar's trying to buy them from Bailey to have them live in the brothel full time. Makes PC sleep on a heart shaped bed with a sex swing only a few feet away. PC's dropped out of school to become a prostitute and everyone's talking about Briar's new cockpet. Briar drags them everywhere with her, doing whatever she pleases with them and their body because she knows she's the only one who fucks her as good as this.

Who needs cock cages when you know your bitch can't cum without you?