Tied up. Stan bowes Smut.
You’re tired of working your useless job. Until one night you see an advertisement listing. You accept. What happens next?
WARNINGS! Bdsm themes. Daddy kink. Fingering. Oral! Fem recieving. Ropes. Age gap! Pnv!
You took another swig of the drink in front of you. You had worked late again. Your clothes were wrinkled, you needed to shower but you had to stop at the bar first.
“Another round?” The bartender asked, raising his brow when he saw the empty glass. You opened your mouth to say no, considering you had to work again tomorrow, but you decided to say fuck it.
You nodded and he proceeded to pour the liquor into the glass, sliding it over to you.
The television played the news, showing the same tragic events that happened yesterday. You hated watching it. All the negativity. All the people turning against one another. It made you sick.
You were a housekeeper. At a hospital of all places. You’d been there for two years. Your back permanently tilted from lugging around buckets and a trash can all day. Your scrubs were stained from bleach, your hair thrown up in a bun and you hadn’t worn real clothes in a week. You were only 21 years old, living in a shitty apartment downtown.
If you quit your job, you’d have to move back in with your parents and that’s not what you wanted. You wanted independence and freedom yes but you also wanted security and the ability to enjoy things around you. Everything was so fucking depressing.
You hadn’t been on a date, other than driving through a parking lot with some football player who tried to shove his hand up your skirt an hour later and you slapped him across the face. Your life wasn’t interesting. But you craved intimacy. Something. Something to make your life more enjoyable.
As you rode in the Uber, scrolling your phone you saw a ad on a job search that you forgot to unsubscribe too. “Wanted housekeeper.” It said. The pricing was more than you made and one day less than you worked.
Biting your lip as you walked inside your apartment, you looked around the room. You kept it tidy, given your job but you groaned when you saw it was after midnight. You’d have to be up soon. You glanced back at the add. Cleaning a house? Verses a hospital. Again, you decided to say fuck it. You clicked on the application and added your resume, contact information and photo. Throwing off your shoes, snapping off your bra, you climbed into bed and turned on your comfort show you’ve watched for the 100th time.
Your eyes drifted shut before you felt your phone buzz.
Groaning, you rolled over and selected your phone. It was an email. The message from from a name, Stan Bowes. And you skimmed the text before opening it. “When can you start?” It read. You sat up, surprised at the fast response. Normally that would be a red flag but you were desperate.
Waiting, you shimmied out of your scrubs and laid back down. Your phone lit up and you checked it. “Done. Here’s the address.” You breathed harder. That’s it? You had a new job. Sighing, you curled into a ball and fell asleep.
You arrived at the house two days later, wearing your stained scrubs. It was big, bigger than the house you grew up in and you realized something as you reached underneath the welcome Matt for the key. As you opened the door, the entrance welcomed you. This guy was rich, you thought while closing the door behind you.
Modern furniture, art and shiny hardwood floor adorned the living room. Your feet padded the space and you frowned. It was pristine. You went into the large kitchen, an island was wiped off. The dishes put away, and it even smelled clean.
Was this the right address? You checked again on your phone. It was the right address.
You climbed up the stairs, opened up the first door on the right. Finally, you saw the mess. Clothes thrown everywhere. The bed unmade. Trash bags everywhere. You nodded to yourself and set down your cleaning supplies. This would take you a few hours, with that including vacuuming, dusting and cleaning the window. You knew how to extend your time, making the pay fair.
The hours went by, you finished the bedroom and made your way to the downstairs. You felt unsure of what to do, you could vacuum and mop the already clean floor. Deciding to do that, you started humming to yourself as you twirled the cord. This was significantly more peaceful than scrubbing blood off hospital floors but you worried. Was this is? Cleaning a bedroom and tidying an already clean rest of the house?
The door opened and you turned, wiping your hands on your pant leg. A man entered, holding a briefcase and he was wearing a suit. He was handsome, brown hair, brown eyes with a strong nose. He was taller than you, lean muscle. 30s, you guessed. Younger than you imagine for having a house this big.
“Oh, hello, Y/N, right?” He asked. You nodded, and extended your hand for a shake.
He gripped your palm, shaking it gently. “Stan. Stan Bowes.” You smiled in greeting, feeling nervous by his attractive face.
“You’ve done a wonderful job.” He noted, glancing around the room.
“Well-honestly it was already clean when I arrived, Mr. Bowes. I’m a little worried to be honest. There wasn’t much for me to actually clean.” You confessed.
“I know. I wanted to be private about this job, because I couldn’t advertise my real intention.” He said, sinking onto the couch.
Your head tilted. “True intention?”
“I…advertise cleaning to keep things subtle. But really, my real hope is to have someone’s company.” You almost groaned when you realized exactly what he meant.
“So, you’re a sugar daddy? Is that what you’re saying?” You asked, withholding a cackle. You couldn’t believe you fell for something too good to be true. Granted you were a little tipsy, tired and you were about to fall asleep.
“I-I don’t care for that but…I-“
You held up your hand. “Let me guess. Cheating on your wife?”
He stilled, his shoulders dropping. You knew you hit a nerve. “My wife. We’re not together anymore. But she has my children most of the time. And I-I’m desperate. I’m desperate to have someone near me. My wife was more like a roommate. And after a while, I wanted to leave but she didn’t want that. I filed for divorce, she fought me the whole time and finally I’m here.”
You sigh, believing him. But what were you supposed to do with this information? You couldn’t just sleep with him for money. Well, you honestly could, he was hot as fuck but…would to be worth it? You needed the money. Badly. You hated your job. You hated your life.
“What would I have to do? Sleep with you?” You asked.
Stan shook his head rapidly. “No, no. Just…keep me company. Talk to me. Spend time with me. And I’ll take care of you in return.”
You went home after that statement, you got out of the shower and put on your robe. You hadn’t made a decision yet. Promising to text him after you did. Walking to your small bedroom, you sat on the bed and sighed.
Just spending time with him? Talking to him? That’s it. That’s all he wanted. A paid girlfriend basically. You would be responding to a 30 plus year old divorced single dad. It was every teenage fantasy you had but this was real life. How would you explain this to anyone? “Yeah, mom. My boyfriend. He um pays me.” You laid on your pillow.
You debated this. This wouldn’t last forever, who knows how long. It wasn’t guaranteed. But you couldn’t help the urge to try it. He seemed like a nice guy. Lonely, but nice. He saw you in dirty scrubs and still asked you to be a his sugar baby.
Picking up your phone, stopping yourself from thinking about it too long, you brought up his contact information on your phone.
“I’ll do it.” You typed. You pressed send.
“Meet me at my house tomorrow. 8 o clock. Wear whatever you want.”
You bit your lip, your heart quickening in pace. You didn’t have much to work with but you did have an idea.
The next day came, you rushed home from work, jumped into the bath and scrubbed yourself clean. You wore your hair down, threw on some eyeliner, lip gloss. You wore all black as you rode in the Uber on your way there, you dressed the same as you did in high school.
You arrived at his house, 2 minutes to spare and you jumped out. Walked up the stairs and knocked on the door.
He answered, wearing a white suit shirt, black trousers and his tie was loose. You felt underdressed. “I hope what I’m wearing is okay?” Stan guided you inside with his hand on your back.
“Of course. It’s perfect. You’re perfect, I mean.” He chuckles awkwardly and you both go into the living room. Sitting down, you press your knees together and wait for him to tell what was going to happen next.
“How was your day?” He asked you, settling next to you.
“Oh, it was-okay. Boring honestly. My life is boring.” You shrugged.
“Boring? You’re so young and you think your life is boring already?” Stan questioned. “Tell me more.”
“Tell you about me?” You parroted and he licks his lips. Nodding.
“I was a good kid. Always stuck to the rules. Pretty good parents. But I had a rough time in high school.”
“Why do you say that?” Stan asked and you could see his sincerity through his brown eyes.
“Oh you know, I was bullied. Asked out as a joke. Just typical high school shit.” You laughed.
“Someone asked you out as a joke?” Stan asked, disgust evident in his tone.
“Oh, more than once actually. The first three times, I actually fell for it.” You leaned back on the couch. Stan leaned forward, resting his hand on your knee. He gave it a soft squeeze before he pulled away. “I’m sorry that happened to you. You deserve better.”
“What’s your story? I mean. I know you’re lonely. Divorced. With a couple of kids. But what else? What makes you Stan?” You inquired.
“I’m as uninteresting as they get. I’m afraid. My life is meaningless. I go to work. Come home and go to sleep. Start it all over again.” He rubbed his hand over his face.
Now, you were curious. He was sitting with his legs spread. He had muscular legs, you had to admit. He was desperate. Paying a stranger to spend an evening with him, just talking. “Who do you work for?” You quipped.
Stan quirked his eyebrow. “Donald Trump.”
“Oh shut up,” You laughed. “No you don’t.” Stan’s eyes slid over to you before he reached inside his pocket. He pulled out his badge. It was an identification from the building downtown. One that Donald, orange trump owned.
“No way. So, that’s your secret huh? You work for him, you make a bunch of money and you’re a sugar daddy? I don’t think that’s meaningless.” You giggled and he rolled his eyes before smiling to himself.
“Yeah, well. Tell that to my ex wife.”
“When was the last time you went out, Stan? Got out of your house that obviously doesn’t need cleaning?” You flashed your eyebrows at him, the words flowing off your tongue like honey. His veiny hands extended down his legs as he leaned on his knees.
“It’s been two years since I’ve partied. What about you? A shy, young girl, living in a studio apartment. Working as a housemaid. Surely, you like to go out?”
You hummed and pulled your legs up to your chest. “Last time I went out, it was to a rock concert. A tour of three bands. I stayed out until 3am. I had just turned 20. It was the best night of my life.”
“A rock concert huh? For some reason, I took you as a Ed Sheeran fan. Or Taylor swift?” You smirked.
“I like other things too. And I’m not just some young girl. I have dreams, goals, you know.” The more you spoke, the easier it was.
“I want to get my psychology degree. I want to help people. Make a difference actually. Instead of what I’m doing. I’ve always to reach someone. Pull them from the darkness.” You spoke with your eyes focused on his white ceiling. You felt him shift.
“I want you to do that too. I can tell you would be good at helping people.” You turned your head to look at him. He had moved closer.
“Because you’re helping me. Right now.” He whispered. And glanced at your lips. Your heart thudded louder against your chest. You knew what he was thinking. But would you let it happen?
The request hung in the air like a ringing bell and everything went silent. His eyes flickered down to your mouth, to your eyes. Then down again. What would happen if you said yes? Would that be it? You wouldn’t know unless you gave in…
Stan leaned in slowly, his hands still on his laps as he breathed in your scent. His lips encompassed your lower one, softly sucking on the flesh. Your hand went to rest on his chest, gently gripping the fabric as he deepened the kiss. Turning his head to the side, he brushed his tongue against your lip, asking for entrance and you granted it.
He groaned into your mouth, his hand reaching to cup your jaw. His mouth was warm, his hand calloused as he ran his thumb across your cheek.
Stan leaned his weight down, pinning your back against the couch as he kissed you, hungrily and desperately as his hand moved from you face, to your neck, squeezing softly.
You pulled back at the contact, breathing heavily and glanced at his hand encircling your neck. Stan leaned back, almost ashamed of his actions. “I’m sorry. I know…it’s not part of the deal. I just couldn’t seem to help myself-“
“It’s okay. I liked it.” You whispered, caressing your neck.
He looked at you again, eyes darting to your own hand. “I haven’t-kissed a woman in a while. I know this situation is extremely complicated. You don’t owe me anything. And if you want to leave, you can. I’ll still pay you for everything. But-“
“Stan, it’s okay. It’s just a kiss.” You reassured him before biting your lip. Kissing him, your core tightened at his heavy breathing. Soft romantic eyes…
You went to your hands, crawling over to him and you straddled his lap. Either legs on the side of his pelvis and his eyes widened. Your hands settled on his shoulders, before trailing to his hair. It was soft underneath your fingertips. Could you do it? Your hips rolled against his, you felt him harden beneath you and you smiled at him. You didn’t know where this confidence was coming from, but you didn’t want it to end. “Mmmm,” You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his neck. “You seem so nervous, Stan? What’s wrong? You’re not used to being wanted?” Your mouth settled on his sweetspot by his collarbone and he shivered at your tongue brushing against it.
“I-I don’t know. You’re so young. So inexperienced.” You gently bit down, and he moaned, his hand moving to your lower back. His other went to your breast.
“Shut the fuck up. And do as your told.” Your hand went to his neck, squeezing the sides and your other hand went to his crotch. You started massaging his cock outside his pants, giving the erection a slight squeeze. Stans head lulled to the side but you straightened it, gripping his jaw.
“Stay still.” You whispered in his ear.
You went to lower yourself down, before his hand went to your hair. He maneuvered you over his lap, his arm pinning you down over his knee and you gasped in shock.
“I think you have me mistaken for some little boy who likes to be dominated. But I think you’re mistaken, baby.” His voice was soft and commanding.
But his hold on your hair tightened, pulling your head back, your breasts arched above his knee and his other hand settled on your ass.
“You know, I want you to count. Count to 10. And if you don’t, I’ll stop touching you. And I don’t think you don’t want that.” Your breath shuddered as his hand came down. Hard.
“Ah! Fuck!” You cried out at the stinging. But you obeyed him, any urge to take control was futile. “One.” You winced as he continued spanking, but you counted to ten.
“Good girl.” He leaned to whisper that in your ear before releasing you. You went to the ground on your hands and knees, shocked at the sudden turn of events. Your head whipped to him as he stood up.
“You have two options, Y/n.” He started, resting his hands on his hips. “You can walk away right now, like I said. Or,” He trailed towards you, leaning down to brush his thumb across your lips. “you’ll do whatever I want.”
You were speechless as his eyes narrowed hungrily. “You seem nervous, Y/n. What’s wrong? You’re not used to someone wanting you?” He repeated your words and you inhaled sharply.
“I’ll do whatever you want.” You whispered, looking up at him with your mouth watering. Stan nodded. A new, dangerous confidence building inside him.
He aimed his head towards the stairs. “Go upstairs. On your hands and knees.” He ordered softly.
It took more time, going up the steps on your hands and knees but you made it to the hallway with Stan behind you. He remained silent. “We’re not going to my bedroom. We’re going to the spare room.” You turned and saw him holding a key.
He walked ahead of you, his posture stiff as he turned the key to a door at the end of the hall. “One last chance to back out.”
You shook your head. “I want to see.” You insisted. He sighed and opened the door.
“Oh my god.” You whispered.
It was red. A red room. Dozens of tools hung from the walls, fake candles flickered around and in the center was a large bed that had black bedding but underneath were crimson LED lights. A black chandelier hung on the ceiling, but what caught your attention were whips, riding crops and robes that adorned the wall.
“This is…my secret. This is why most people run from me.” Stan sighed and clicked his tongue.
“Your secret? That you’re super kinky and you have some sort of sex dungeon?” You realized the hypocrisy of your statement, given you were on all fours but you couldn’t help it.
Stan chuckled and put the key in his pocket. “I’m waiting.” He said to you and you entered the room, crawling forward.
“Stop.” You did and you sat on your heels and Stan approached you. Holding rope. Surprisingly, despite the situation, he still seemed somewhat unconfident.
“Stan,” You began as he secured the rope around your wrists. “I want to do this.” He paused and looked down at you. “I want you to use me. Anyway you want.” You pleaded.
Stan grounded his teeth before he yanked you from the floor, crashing his lips to yours in a fevered kiss of tongue and teeth. Blood quirked from your bottom lip as he tugged it with his teeth, pushing you onto the bed. He pushed your hands above your head, holding you in place. Your center pooled as he ripped himself away.
“I want you to spread your legs.” Stan growled. His hand flexing.
You separated your knees, your underwear sticking to your pussy as he licked his lips. Stans fingers circled around your pants, pulling them down slowly and your underwear. Your pussy glistens and he flicked his pointer finger, inside the wet walls before trailing your clit.
You trembled as he inserted it into his mouth, his eyes drifted shut and he hummed to himself. “You taste so sweet.” He groaned before leaning down.
He trailed kisses along your inner thighs, close but not close enough. His tongue moved along your pussy but pulled away last second.
“Fuck, Stan. Please don’t tease me.” He launched himself up, his fingers plunging inside you. You threw your head back, as he went knuckle deep and sank into you.
“You don’t order me around. Do you understand?” He pumped his fingers inside you, and your back arched as he went deeper, impossibly deeper.
“Yes-yes I understand.” You squeaked.
“Yes what?” His thumb grazed your clit before pulling away.
“I-I don’t know.” You whimpered. Stan removed his fingers and shoved them into your mouth.
You tasted yourself on his digits and you tried to fight against the ropes but they were tight. “What did you call me that first night? I want you to say it.”
You realized what he meant.
“Daddy?” You questioned. He nodded.
“Now, ask me. What do you want from me? You can ask me. Nice and proper.”
“Daddy…please. Taste me. I need it. Please?” You begged.
Your begging killed him and he forced your legs apart. “Moan nice and loud for me okay?” Stan whispered as he laid on his stomach, lifting your thighs over his shoulders.
He laid his tongue flat against your pussy, kitten licking your clit repeatedly, before diving down to your entrance, then bringing it back to the top. You moaned, loudly in your chest and throat before you turned your head to the side, your eyes squeezed shut as Stan increased the pressure on your clit.
You shuddered as his fingers swiped against your entrance before he slid two fingers inside, pumping slowly as he slowed his pace on your sensitive bud, torturing you as you neared your climax, before he would change paces again.
“Daddy-please don’t tease me-“ You inhaled and Stan chuckled against you.
“I don’t think you should tell me what to do right now, baby. Do you? Not when I have you splayed out like this.” He licked a long, stripe against you before he pulled away. Keeping his fingers deep inside you.
Sweat gathered on your forehead as your back arched into his hand. His free one settled underneath your midsection as he hovered over you.
“You’re being so good, taking my fingers like this baby. You’re being such a good girl, right now.” His mouth went to your neck, he peppered kisses along your skin. “Such a pretty little slut. Doing whatever I want.” You were about to burst.
“Let go for me, it’s okay. And then I’m gonna fuck you like an animal.” Stan reached over to the drawer, selecting a plastic wrapped condom. Sliding off his pants and boxers, he wrapped his dick inside the protection. His hand locked on your shoulder as he turned you over on your stomach, forcing your tied hands on the bed with your ass up.
His hand pushed down on your head, “Spread your legs. Nice and wide for me, okay?” He ordered softly and you listened, breathing heavily as he pressed himself inside you.
You buried your head down, exhaling long and hard as he thrusted inside you, shifting to hold your hips in place as he moved deep and hard into you. “Fuck.” He moaned as your walls clenched around him, welcoming him in the deepest parts of you.
You stayed like that for several seconds, him moving roughly against you with his hard cock pounding you, animalisticly like he promised. He gripped you in place as you tried to move your hips to create friction. He leaned down, whispering in your ear. “I’m gonna play with your pussy now, okay? Can you hold out a little longer for me? You’re doing a good job, princess.” He groaned.
You couldn’t hardly see straight as his fingers circled around your clit as he continued thrusting, you weren’t going to last much longer. This was better than anything you had, better than your own pathetic fingers.
“I’m gonna-daddy I’m gonna come-“ You managed before your release came over you with a powerful rush. You stilled and then felt Stan stop moving as he came, releasing into the confines of the condom.
He pulled out of you, releasing your fullness and he collapsed next you. You turned over on your back, panting heavily as he started untying your hands. As they were free, you stretched out your arms over your head as he laid next to you.
You both stayed silent, breathless and then you moved over, leaning your cheek onto his chest. He glanced down at you before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Was that submissive enough for you?” Stan asked and you chuckled with a blush.
Soon after, you ended up falling asleep.
The next morning, you woke up late, still naked on the bed. When you sat up, you noticed a note next to you.
“Had to leave. Hopefully…I see you soon on your next work night. Maybe we can make this a regular occurrence…S.B”
You bit your lip. It was the most passionate night you’d ever had. But he had to leave. Without establishing the next step.
As you left the house, you turned one last time before making your mind up. Next time? He would be the one tied up and helpless.
Taglist. @spill-the-t @icannot3 @howtobesasha @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @demxnicprxncess @evanptrss @randodummy tagging @frankenkyle19 and @scene-and-dandylover because they requested it tonight
