Yes - Stories of Submission

Yes

Stories of Submission

 

© 2019, 2021, 2023, 2024 All These Roadworks

 

The author asserts their right to be identified as the creator of this work under the name “All These Roadworks”.

 

All images in this book, including cover art, were created by All These Roadworks.

 

All characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters involved in sexual situations are intended to be aged 18 years or over, and any implication to the contrary is an unintentional miscommunication.

 

The events and themes presented in this story are for the purpose of erotic fantasy. They are not intended to depict actual events that have happened, or should happen. The author believes firmly that real sexual relationships should only occur between consenting adults, and be built on the principles of respect, communication, honesty, and risk-aware enthusiastic consent.

 

alltheseroadworks.com

 

Table of Contents
 

Foreword

Don’t Look Back

Anonymous Visitor

Bathroom Attendant

Everything She Wanted From Him

Evie’s Date

Evie After The Date

Inspection

Nicole Says Yes, Part 1

Nicole Says Yes, Part 2

Nicole Says Yes, Part 3

Not Good At Saying No

A Submissive at the Prom

The Threat

Train

Two Doors

Tyler’s Game

Bonus: Poster Gallery

 

Foreword

 

It’s a fantasy, not an instruction manual.

 

The stories collected in this volume are kinky fantasies. It’s normal to fetishise the forbidden. It can be a healthy way of processing trauma or frustration from our daily lives. It can be fun, satisfying, and exciting. Don’t feel ashamed to enjoy them.

 

But it’s the responsibility of everyone – and particularly people with these fantasies – to work to create a world where everyone – and, specifically, women – are safe, respected, and able to indulge their sexuality without shame or fear, whether that means consensually engaging in wonderful fucked-up kink, or living their entire life without ever encountering it.

 

Satisfying, sustainable kink can only be built on a foundation of firm respect for boundaries, respectful communication, and positive, explicit, enthusiastic consent. That’s a world where everyone kinky will find it easier to find partners and hook up for the interactions they enjoy, and where those who aren’t interested won’t be bothered – and that includes people who might be interested, but not now, or not under these conditions, or not with you.

 

Don’t let your kinks be your politics.

 

If you don’t already have anyone to share your kinks with in real-life, get involved in your local kink scene. Join an online community. Be polite, ask what the local rules are, listen to people who know what they’re doing before you go charging in yourself, introduce yourself and be prepared to make friends before you make partners. Confidence is sexy; not being able to hear a “no” is not.

 

I’m not your manifesto, and I’m not anyone’s plan for a functional society. Read, enjoy - and then go out and be fantastic, safe, respectful kinksters.

 

===

 

Speaking of which – if you obtained this document without paying for it…

 

Writing takes time. It’s easier if I’m paid for it. Please consider visiting my website and leaving a tip; buying this story collection or a different one; or subscribing.

 

alltheseroadworks.com

 

 

 

Don’t Look Back

 

The Laurel House stood at the edge of town – a huge, sprawling mansion, surrounded by lush gardens and swimming pools. It was rumoured to be owned by a very rich man, but no one in town would admit to having actually seen the owner, so speculation was rife.

 

Among the young women of the town, there was a very specific rumour about the house. Anika heard it from her friend Suki.

 

“It’s true!” said Suki. “A friend of my sister did it.”

 

“Really?” said Anika sceptically.

 

“Absolutely!” insisted Suki. “If you go to the large pool on a Sunday, wearing only a tight swimsuit, and bend forward, with your ass facing the house and your face towards the pool, the owner will come out.”

 

“And then what?” asked Anika.

 

“And then he’ll come up behind you, and pull aside the crotch of your swimsuit, and put something into either your ass or your pussy,” said Suki. “And if you hold your position until you hear him say you can leave, you get to keep it. But if you move before that, or if you look back or try to see him, he’ll capture you and keep you in a cage in his basement forever.”

 

Anika screwed up her face. “Ugh!” she said. “Why would I want that?”

 

“Because when my sister’s friend did it, he put two hundred dollar notes in her pussy!” said Suki. “And when she came back, he put a piece of expensive jewellery in her ass!”

 

Anika was doubtful – but the thought stayed with her, and a week later she found herself blushingly sneaking onto the mansion grounds in her red swimsuit. She located the pool, bent at the waist, and waited.

 

Soon she heard someone moving up behind her – heavy, forceful steps. She heard someone breathing.

 

“Do you know how this works?” a voice said – stern, masculine.

 

“Yes, sir,” squeaked Anika. “I don’t look back, and I hold still until you tell me I can go, and I get to keep what you put inside me.”

 

“Good girl,” said the voice. “And if you look back…. Well, you’ll regret it.”

 

A moment later, she felt his fingers pulling the crotch of her bathers aside, and then something being pushed into her pussy. She blushed. She was wet, she knew – very wet. Offering herself like this was erotic.

 

But soon her bathers were back, and the voice said, “You may go.” Anika scampered away, careful not to look back – and when she was far enough away to check what had been put in her cunt, she was delighted to find it was three hundred dollars in banknotes.

 

She went back a week later, presented her ass, and again the man came out to her. But this time after he exposed her crotch, she squeaked in pain. Whatever he had just pushed into her pussy *hurt*!

 

When he told her she could go, she waddled away uncomfortably, and once she was far enough away to check, she discovered that all he had put into her cunt was a wooden stick, broken off a tree. She pouted in disappointment.

 

But she still remembered the three hundred dollars, so a week later she returned again. This time she ended up squealing, because the insertion was not into her wet cunt, but rather her unlubricated asshole – and it was *cold* - like metal!

 

But when she was given permission to go, she was overjoyed to discover that what was stuffed in her ass was a necklace of real gold! She kissed it with delight, not caring where it had just been.

 

That week, she barely left the house. Her pussy was wet all the time. She spent most of each day lying in bed, completely nude except for her new gold neckchain, and masturbating furiously. Being penetrated by this anonymous figure made her wetter than anything in her life. She couldn’t wait to go back.

 

On Sunday she went back eagerly. As the owner approached, she wiggled her ass cheekily, and sighed with happiness as he pulled aside her bathers. She waited for his gift to be pushed into her pussy or anus – but when it came, it was hot and wet and fleshy. It was his cock! He was putting his actual cock into her cunt!

 

She squeaked, and almost straightened, but he put a hand on her back, and said, “Stay.” And then he began to vigorously fuck her.

 

She didn’t know what to do. She could get pregnant from this! But – did she care? No, because this felt amazing. Being fucked by a man she didn’t even know, whose face she had never seen. She moaned lustfully.

 

Why wasn’t she allowed to look at him? Her mind ran through possibilities. Was he horribly deformed, some disgusting monster? Were they a hermaphrodite, possessed of a man’s cock but other aspects of a woman? Were they some kind of Beastman, a huge furry monster with a monster’s dick? Was it somehow a member of her own family engaged in impregnating her this very second?

 

She didn’t know – but with each possibility, she felt her body buck and orgasm. Her mind conjured worse and worse ideas of who might be fucking her and why she couldn’t see them, and each one just made her wetter and wetter and sent her body cumming uncontrollably.

 

The anonymous man noticed her slutty orgasms, and chuckled, and fucked her harder.

 

“Sir,” Anika heard herself say, “what happens if I look at you?”

 

“You must never look at me,” said the man, still fucking her.

 

“But if I do?” asked Anika.

 

“Then I will keep you here forever, in a dog cage, and you will be my permanent fuck-slave and pain doll,” said the man. “I will torture and degrade you and treat you as less than human, and you will never leave. And I will keep you blindfolded, so you will never again see what is about to happen to you, or who is doing it.”

 

Anika moaned, and bucked her hips against him harder. And then she breathed, “Do you promise?”

 

His only reply was a deep, cruel chuckle.

 

Slowly, deliberately, Anika turned her head back to gaze at the man raping her pussy.

 

Anonymous Visitor

 

Her Master made her feel used and humiliated in all the ways that she wanted and needed - and she loved him for it.

 

Each day he would take her out the back and have her strip naked, close her eyes, and spread her pussy for inspection. Then she would hear some shuffling of feet, and a sound that may or may not be a man masturbating.

 

Sometimes, something warm and wet and sticky would splatter on her open cunt, and then be pushed up inside her by a pair of fingers before the outside of her cunt was wiped clean by a wet cloth.

 

Then after some time had passed he would have her open her eyes, and dress. And he would tell her that someone she knew had come by, and looked at her, and masturbated, and ejaculated on her pussy. Sometimes he would tell her it was a male friend. Sometimes one of her school teachers. Sometimes a co-worker. Once he told her it was her brother.

 

And she would never know if he was telling the truth, whether the sperm of someone she talked to every day had been pushed into her cunt, whether someone she knew and trusted had used her as a masturbation aid, or whether he had just looked at her and shuffled his feet and dripped warm baby oil on her pussy and lied to her.

 

But she would think about what she must have looked like every time she saw these people, blush every time she looked in their face, and wonder if when they looked at her face they pictured her splayed, slutty cunt...

 

Bathroom Attendant

 

Drunk at the wheel of her car, Sarah let it veer off the road and demolish some expensive statuary on the lawn of the Verhammer Mansion.

 

Unable to pay for the repairs, she was initially grateful for Mr Verhammer’s offer to let her work off the debt at a very generous hourly rate by serving as a bathroom attendant at his weekly invite-only parties.

 

She was less excited once she learned the full nature of her duties. She was to wear nothing by high heels, and spend the night on all fours on the bathroom vanity, poised over the sinks. The people - men and women both - who used the bathroom would wash their hands, and she would help them dry them - either by having them wipe their hands on her face, hair, or tits, or by passing them a pair of her panties to use as a towel.

 

It soon became clear to her that the parties were sex parties. Many of the men entered the bathroom with obvious erections, and more than a few of them told her to use her mouth to clean their cocks. She wasn’t sure if this was an intended part of her duties, but, nude and vulnerable, she did as she was told, and obediently did her best to lick their dicks clean in a pleasing fashion.

 

As the night went on, she realised she was becoming incredibly aroused. Something about being reduced to nothing but a human towel felt liberating and more than a little sexy. She felt her pussy grow wetter and needier with every hand wiped across her tits, every cock pushed into her mouth, until she could barely think about anything except who would touch her next, overcome with a consuming need for someone to penetrate her pussy with something - anything.

 

Later, women began to enter the bathroom, many of them nude themselves, with cum leaking from their pussies from recent (apparently satisfying) intercourse. The first few came in a nude, giggling gang, and one of them - a pretty big-titted redhead - told Sarah to clean her cunt with her tongue.

 

Sarah wasn’t a lesbian and didn’t like the idea of licking a stranger’s cum from a woman’s pussy, but then one of the other girls - a petite blonde - began to idly poke at Sarah’s cunt, prodding her pussy lips and pulling at them, and with a mewling sob of need, Sarah brought her face to the redhead’s sperm-filled fuckhole and began to lick.

 

When the blonde began to lick Sarah’s cunt in return, Sarah orgasmed almost immediately, and then twice more straight afterwards. The girls took turns playing with Sarah’s pussy - some of them deliberately trying to hurt Sarah, others being nicer - and in return Sarah gratefully licked each of their slut-nests clean, no longer caring whether she was a lesbian or not.

 

At the end of the night, after the guests had left, Mr Verhammer came in to see how she was. Sarah begged him to fuck her, and he obliged, telling her happily that she had done an excellent job, and in only 19 more of these parties she would have worked off her debt completely...

 

Everything She Wanted From Him

 

He told her he had booked the entire nightclub for the two of them, and when he brought her there it was empty. She thought tonight might finally be the night he proposed to her, but at first he seemed to have more physical pleasures in mind. He stripped her naked, kissing her, stroking her, making her deliriously eager and wet. He shackled her leg to the chair, and that made her even wetter... until he picked up her clothes, her phone, her wallet, and stepped away.

 

“If you ask to be released, we’re through,” he told her. “But if you stay till closing time and orgasm at least five times, I will give you everything you want from me.” And then he left, and the regular clientele began arriving, smiling as they saw the naked decoration which had been left for them...

 

She thought about asking for help. But she didn’t. She blushed, and lowered her hand to her pussy, and began to masturbate as the strangers watched, and by the time she had reached her second orgasm she had begun to realise that “everything she wanted from him” was to be treated exactly like this, for the rest of her life...

 

Evie’s Date

 

Evie had never had much luck in romance. She met nice guys, she dated them, she got as far as sex - and then the problems would begin. She never seemed to get very aroused. The men would think she wasn’t interested - and the truth was, she kind of wasn’t. She wasn’t asexual - she wanted sex - but her pussy just never seemed to get very wet when the time came. The men would politely back off, and the relationship would end. They clearly thought she was frigid, and Evie began to think that they were right.

 

Eventually, Evie’s friend Shauna, frustrated, set Evie up on a date with a man named Julius.

 

“Shauna, I don’t need another date with some guy,” Evie complained.

 

“Give this a go,” urged Shauna. “Julius is… different. If it doesn’t work, I’ll stop hassling you.”

 

And so Evie found herself dressed up, nervous, waiting on a stool at a cocktail bar for Shauna’s mysterious friend. She had come early, and now regretted it, as she was filled with pre-date nerves.

 

Julius arrived exactly at the agreed upon time. He was dressed in an expensive suit and white shirt, with no tie. He walked directly to her, and sat next to her. His gaze was direct and intense. Evie shivered.

 

“You’re Evie,” he said. The way he said it, it wasn’t a question.

 

“Yes,” Evie replied.

 

“You’re on time,” he said. “Good girl.”

 

Evie blushed. The way he said it - “good girl” - was demeaning, like she was a child or a pet - but at the same time it felt pleasant, like receiving praise from a parent.

 

“Hi…” Evie started to say, but Julius talked over the top of her.

 

“You’re attractive, and you’re interesting,” he told her. “I’m not here to fuck around. If you don’t like what’s happening, at any time, you say ‘red’ - nice and loud. If that happens, I make sure you’re taken care of, and then I leave, immediately, and you never hear from me again. Understand?”

 

Evie was taken aback at his brusqueness. “Yes…” she said, hesitantly.

 

“Show me you understand,” Julius said, holding eye contact with her. “What do you say if you don’t like what’s happening?”

 

“Red,” said Evie.

 

“Louder,” said Julius.

 

“RED,” said Evie, loud enough that a man nearby turned to look at her. She blushed, and shook her head in a way that indicated that she was okay, she didn’t need an intervention, and the man turned away again.

 

“Good girl,” said Julius. “You say ‘red’ again, for any reason, I make you safe, and I leave.”

 

“I understand,” said Evie.

 

“Good girl,” said Julius again. Evie realised she was beginning to like hearing him say that. She wanted to make him say it again.

 

“Should we order drinks?” she asked.

 

“No,” said Julius. “I want you sober. I want to know you know what you’re doing.” He broke eye contact to look around the bar briefly, and then smiled. “Take off your panties and give them to me.”

 

Evie was startled, and she blushed, embarrassed. Had anyone heard him say that? “What?” she asked, although she had heard perfectly well.

 

Julius’ smile vanished. “Evie, if you make me repeat myself again, I will slap you across the face. I’m telling you that so that if you have a problem with that, you can leave right now. Now listen carefully - take off your panties and give them to me.”

 

Evie realised she was breathing very quickly. She should leave. He had threatened to hit her. That wasn’t okay. Only - had he? She could leave. If she didn’t want to be slapped, she *should* leave. And she *didn’t* want to be slapped, so….

 

Except that, for some reason, her pussy was wet. Like, distractingly wet. Wetter than it had ever been on a date before. It was throbbing.

 

She felt herself obeying. She felt distanced from it, like it wasn’t her doing it. After all, she wasn’t the sort of girl who’d just take off her panties for a man she’d only just met. She lifted her ass off the bar stool, slid her fingers under her short skirt, hooked her fingers in the waistband of her panties, and slid them down her legs, to her ankles, then over her high heels and free. She looked at them - pink, lacy panties. Fuckable panties. Although not, she supposed, as fuckable as going without panties altogether…

 

Had he hypnotised her? She wanted to think he had. Then this wasn’t something that she was doing. It was something she was being made to do. Was it better if she was being forced? Her pussy throbbed at the thought. It *liked* the idea of being forced. Only, she knew it wasn’t hypnotism. It was all her. He had told her to give him her panties, and she *wanted* to obey. She wanted to obey because…

 

She handed him the panties. She didn’t think she could possibly blush any harder.

 

“Good girl,” he said, taking them from her, and smiled.

 

Sheer pleasure rushed through her. Yes, she *liked* it when he told her she was a good girl. She *wanted* to be a good girl for him.

 

This was all so confusing. Her nipples were so hard. She almost wanted to cry, but not bad crying - just that she needed time to process, to understand why she was behaving like a slut, why she wasn’t leaving, why she wasn’t saying “red”.

 

“Stand up and follow me outside,” he said. He stood up and walked to the exit, not bothering to look to see if she followed.

 

She did follow, trailing behind him like a pet. A pet that didn’t have any panties on. She felt like everyone in the bar must be aware of her, aware that she wasn’t wearing underwear, aware of her bare (and increasingly wet) cunt, aware of the submissive way she was following Julius outside.

 

He led her to a nearby car park, to a sleek black car. He opened the rear door, and pointed to the back seat. She thought he was going to tell her to get in - but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out, and grabbed a fistful of her hair. She squeaked with surprise - and she was glad she had squeaked, because if she hadn’t, she would have moaned with lust. His hand felt so *good* in her hair. She felt so *controlled*.

 

He used his grip to push her down, towards the car, and she obediently climbed into the car, until she was seated, and he released her.

 

“Sit in the middle,” he told her, then took the driver’s seat himself.

 

As he started the car, she shivered. Not only had she given this man her panties, but she was now letting him drive her away. She didn’t even know where she was going. He could be driving her anywhere. He could be abducting her. Maybe he was going to rape her. Shauna knew she was out on a date with Julius, at least, but that didn’t make Evie safe.

 

She should say “red”. She should say “red” before she was raped.

 

She stayed silent.

 

Julius drove silently until they were away from the bars and nightclubs. Then he said, “Spread your legs.”

 

Evie pressed her lips together tightly, willing herself to stop blushing. She couldn’t. She knew what she was going to do. She couldn’t stop herself.

 

She parted her legs.

 

She could see Julius’ eyes in the rear view mirror, flicking from the road, to her in the back seat, and back to the road. He must have a perfect view of her in the mirror. A perfect view of her crotch.

 

“Spread them further,” Julius said.

 

Evie spread them further. They were wide apart now. He should be able to clearly see her shaved, engorged, aroused sex mound.

 

His eyes met hers in the rear view.

 

He didn’t say anything else.