When Buggy first laid eyes on Crocodile, he was in shock. Part of it was fear, but another part of him was addled by the fact that the ex-Warlord was the perfect example of all of Buggy’s deep—rooted fantasies brought to life, wrapped up in a sophisticated and handsome package. Style, luxury, power. The man encapsulated everything Buggy found desirable.

This did not go unnoticed by Galdino, who warned Buggy not to make things even more awkward between him and his old boss.

“Is it the heavy make—up he’s not into?” Buggy asked.

“No, he hates worthless people.”

Well, damn. There’s nothing Buggy can do about that.

The first real moment of self—discovery comes after Buggy finds an unopened crate stocked full of jewelry meant for some kind of high—end deal, just by sheer luck.

That night, to celebrate his personal victory, he put on all the wearable treasures and jewelry and lied around like a king. Drinking a little booze and coasting on this high.

He felt up the gems, the precious metals, and one thing led to another, and before he knew it, in a fit of ecstasy, he was lying breathless on his bed after the best jacking off session he’s had since he was a hormonal teenager.

Then it happens again and again. It becomes a regular nightly activity for him to strip down and put on all his finest treasures, rubbing it all over himself and getting off on it.

He knew he was a greedy, treasure loving pirate, but even he didn’t expect he’d be this depraved about it.

He decides no one can ever know about this. His pride and reputation couldn’t allow for such a thing. He’s a fearsome pirate, not an insatiable degenerate.

At the very least, it’s a secret that’ll die between him and the ocean.

Now that he’s in the New World, Buggy has found himself running into Shanks more often.

They have an…understanding between them. The seas are a lonely place. Shanks is very obvious about what he wants, and Buggy has opened up to the idea despite his denial at first.

For the time being though, they agreed to hold off on making anything of it. To not label what they were to each other. Commitments can make or break a person, and Buggy doesn’t trust himself not to throw Shanks under the bus if things get hard.

Besides personal business, Buggy Pirates have a regular business arrangement with the Red—Hair Pirates. They have trading sessions every so often, where they bring out their wares and let others make bids and offers. It reminds him of the old days with Whitebeard and Roger when they did the same.

Currently, Buggy is evaluating a crate of goods he’s negotiating over with the Red—Hair Pirates, carefully assessing its value. He’s always been enthralled by the glitter and gleam of shiny, expensive things. Now, more recently, it reminds him of his secret activities, and he has to suppress any subliminal reactions. His attention is stolen when Benn Beckman calls his name.

“You gave me some good information on the last island, so here.” Beckman holds out to him a piece of gold jewelry decorated in fine diamonds.

Buggy is practically salivating at the outset. Though he’s quick to tamp it down, trying to play it cool.

He inspects the item up close like he’s determining its value. It has a complicated clasp on the back.

Buggy attempts to place it around his neck, but it squeezes his windpipe with how tight it is.

Beckman observes his antics with amusement. “It’s a bracelet. Here.”

Beckman shows Buggy how to work the clasp as he wraps it around Buggy’s wrist. The familiar, weighted feeling of the gold has him heating up as memories of his recent activities flood in. It’s mixed up with conflicted feelings at Beckman being nice to him for a change. (Usually the first mate is a condescending know—it—all who never fails to act like he knows Buggy is inferior).

The way Beckman holds his wrist is attentive and precise. Buggy’s face flushes against his will.

Then Beckman adjusts the size so it squeezes comfortably around his wrist.

He can’t hold back — he’s wracked by a full-body shiver, a tiny moan escapes his mouth.

Beckman freezes, which makes Buggy freeze in turn. Suddenly, any other feelings have been flushed out by dread.

Beckman doesn’t immediately jerk away, but he removes his hands in a very telegraphed manner.

Buggy flounders to save himself, “Wait! It’s not like that —“

“I’m flattered, but that isn’t territory I want to cross into.”

Buggy gets defensive in that learned, reflexive way he does. “Don’t flatter yourself! I’m not into — whatever it is you’re about!”

Beckman goes off to somewhere on the opposite side of the cargo area. Brushing him off like the condescending prick he is.

In his paranoia, Buggy swivels his head around to see if anyone else noticed his slip—up.

Most people are too engrossed in their own activities or secretly slacking off to carefully observe Buggy and Beckman’s interaction. The person he’s most worried about though —

His eyes finally land on Shanks across the cargo area on the far side of the center pile of merchandise. His body is half—turned away, not giving any indication he noticed something was up, staring intently at a crate of fruit.

Buggy works hard to block the memory of his slip—up with the Red—Hair Pirates’ first mate out of his mind. So the next time, when Shanks brings him a small box of jewelry, it comes off as such a sudden gesture it makes Buggy far too confused and suspicious to contemplate the motivation behind it.

“Thanks for that,” Buggy replies distractedly, unable to settle on anything else.

Shanks scrunches his brow, looking disappointed for some reason.

He lifts a silver chain with a dazzling pendant out of the box.

“I’ll help put it on you,” Shanks says.

“I don’t need help from a guy who can’t even put one on himself,” Buggy retorts.

Shanks fingers the chain of the necklace in his hand. “I’d like to give this to you, but I need to see how it looks first…”

Buggy snatches the necklace out of Shanks’ hand and detaches his head from his neck to put it on (he’s learned at this point not to allow anyone to put jewelry on him). Buggy turns away from Shanks and says, childishly, “You see that? You’re not getting it back now.”

The touch of Shanks’ rough fingers alight on his neck as they hook underneath the chain, running down the length to the pendant at the center.

“It really suits you,” says Shanks.

Buggy, full of suspicion, looks up and meets his eyes.

Shanks glances down at the necklace framing Buggy’s neck, then raises his eyes back up, looking straight back at him with a daring gaze.

A little itch starts in the back of his mind, and he’s certain that Shanks  knows.

 Observation Haki can’t read minds!  He reminds himself, trying not to panic.  He’s trying to trick you into saying something damning!

Buggy hurriedly takes off the necklace and stuffs it back in the box. “This isn’t a gift exchange, so don’t expect me to get you anything back.” He stuffs the box of jewels under his armpit and flies for safety to avoid any further scrutiny.

Buggy has done a good job of avoiding any further complications for the past few weeks, especially avoiding any accidental overlap between the Red—Pirates and his proclivity for getting a hard—on for treasure. Those are two things that need to be kept separate until Buggy is certain he won’t find himself in a situation of some kind. He doesn’t need to start collecting them all by adding Yasopp to the list of men who think he’s a pervert because he can’t contain himself over a little treasure.

Then he thinks: who cares what Shanks thinks? Certainly not him. But he’s suddenly stricken with another thought like, what if Shanks thinks he can make fun of Buggy for his treasure loving kink?  What if he’s making fun of Buggy right now?

Should he be worried that Shanks might be turned off by it? That he’ll think less of him for it? Even though they haven’t actually promised to be anything to each other…

Buggy knows that he means  something  to Shanks. Except neither of them are in positions where they can have a standard commitment. So they are both aware of a shared underlying desire, but nothing has been agreed upon in the open. It’s an unspoken agreement on both their parts to not act rashly or try to give up their current lives for a typical relationship. They aren’t like other people.

Except, Shanks has made attempts to make something more of it. He keeps trying to bring those underlying feelings to the surface, making it obvious, and showing more overt affection. He keeps trying to speak his feelings into existence in whatever small way he can.

Buggy suspects that Shanks is an inherently lonely person at his core, and for all his outward friendliness, there are a lot of things about himself he can’t explain to people. He’s bottled up a lot of personal things and developed incomprehensible layers over the years. Growing up, he probably made himself think he needed to have certain things in his life to have a fulfilling future, and now he’s starting to unravel his old influences and find new ways to live with himself. Buggy knows this because he is the same.

So with all those clumsy feelings being unearthed, Shanks has latched onto the shared thread he has with Buggy like a deprived, lovelorn animal.

Buggy is kind of a cruel bastard for refusing to let Shanks open up and air out this thing between them. He’s still trying to reconcile the kid he knew with the adult man he’s become in the last two decades.

The way Shanks looks at him is a mixture of longing and heartbreak, the face of a buried man who's looking to the surface.

Whatever it is that Shanks needs from him, it’s a lot of pressure.

It’s a while before Shanks makes another one of his attempts to keep in touch with Buggy.

It’s strange not to see Shanks around at all whenever Buggy is aboard the Red Force. Buggy usually never has to go looking for him.

Buggy walks into the room he knows is Shanks’ quarters and immediately halts after one step inside.

Standing in the middle of the room is Shanks, dressed up in a layered dark suit, made up of a white dress shirt without a tie, a black suit jacket, and a black cloak similar to his usual one draped over his shoulders, except this one is lined with delicate gold embroidery and has a brooch with a gold chain pinned to his chest. The left sleeve is hanging empty by his side, everything put together neatly.

Buggy feels like he’s walked into a stranger’s room.

Shanks spreads his arm out and flashes a stunning grin. “How do I look?”

“Like you’ve finally cracked. What’s all this for?”

Shanks fiddles with the front of his cloak, and Buggy notices the heavy stones on the rings adorning his fingers — hello there. “It’s about anything expensive, right? That’s what you’re into.”

Buggy lets out a sound like a dying croak. He refuses to let himself lose face though.

“So what? Are you trying to mock me?”

“Actually, I thought we could try it together.”

Buggy’s mind stutters like a stalled engine.

His mouth clicks repeatedly as he tries to get the right words out. “You want to — what, watch me surround myself in expensive stuff and rub off on it?”

Shanks nods, entirely genuine. “Except we’d do it together.”

Buggy wants to laugh hysterically.

Shanks is being an idiot, as usual. He thinks he can just waltz into Buggy’s private, intimate space and blow through all pretenses and guarded fronts, somehow trying to make it work through a positive attitude and sheer determination. What is this, a company team bonding workshop?

Buggy gives Shanks a critical onceover. It’s not such a bad result, considering Shanks’ usual fare, though it is a bit monotone for his tastes. The gold is a nice touch. The biggest change here is that Shanks looks freshly laundered for once.

“How did you find out about the suit?” Buggy asks, knowing he never made any hints about it.

“Galdino told me how you were with Crocodile.”

Fucking snitch. He supposes it was Galdino’s revenge for Buggy acting stupid in front of his former boss.

Now Crocodile — that was a man who knew how to dress. A man who found the time to look impeccable even during a prison breakout.

It’s clear from his body language that Shanks isn't used to wearing stiff formal wear. His posture is awful and he keeps fiddling with himself, clearly he does not know how to handle finely tailored clothing.

Then again, there’s the appeal when someone who always wears loose, casual clothes changes into something fitted and proper; it gives them a completely different image.

Buggy moves forward and reaches for the lapels of Shanks’ cloak, which is what he instinctively does whenever he wants to start a confrontation, but then he’s distracted by how soft the material is between his fingers and starts rubbing it with an inspecting touch.

“Is this velvet?”

“I’m not sure, I just got it from Beck,” says Shanks cluelessly. “I didn’t even have to say anything for him to know what it was for. So, Beck knows you have a luxury kink.”

“Of course your first mate fucking knows. You guys probably swap all the hot gossip on your weekly sleepovers.”

It’s obvious Shanks couldn’t have put on such an intricate outfit by himself, he had to have outside help. The first mate always had a suspicion since the last incident, maybe it won’t be so damning.

Buggy is pulled out of his thoughts when Shanks lifts his hand to slide ringed fingers along Buggy’s jaw.

He sweeps his thumb over Buggy’s painted lips (smear—proof) and pries his mouth open. Pulling down his bottom lip, he runs his thumb over the inside; Buggy tastes the crisp metal of the ring.

Shanks observes him and says, “Promise me you won’t fall for just anyone who puts expensive jewelry on you.”

“Of course I won’t just — wait, are you talking about the time with your first mate? That doesn’t count. He was — I don’t know, it was a different kind of vibe, I can’t explain it…”

Shanks leans in to seal his mouth over Buggy’s, earning an indignant  ‘mmph!’.

He licks into Buggy’s mouth and delves in like he’s going for his tonsils. His hand grazes down Buggy’s throat, the solidity of the rings lighting a fire underneath the skin.

Buggy slides his hands down Shanks’ torso, getting really into the feeling of expensive fabric draped over that hard body. It’s such an unfamiliar feeling, it’s kind of enthralling.

Shanks slides his hand until he’s gripping the back of Buggy’s neck, tight enough that the metal digs into soft flesh and squeezes down on the muscles. It forces an embarrassingly high—pitched whimper out of Buggy.

Shanks pulls back, eyes a little wide, as if he wasn’t expecting Buggy to be so weak for it.

“It’s the velvet, alright? Get that fucking look off your face and get back here.” Buggy pulls Shanks back in.

Their mouths back on each other, Shanks undoes Buggy’s hair to let it fall freely over his back. He runs his fingers down his long strands, caresses down the length of his spine and presses into his lower back.

Buggy reaches out to remove Shanks’ clothes, but Shanks guides his hands away.

“We’ll get to that later. I want you to show me what you like,” Shanks says it so earnestly that Buggy can’t find it in him to refuse.

Shanks shows him the chest of treasures he obtained for the occasion (“Oh, now you’re just showing off.”). He didn’t know what Buggy would like so he brought along a random collection of treasures without much thought in their fashion.

Buggy chooses the pieces he likes. The knowledge of Shanks’ presence in the room is a constant pressure in his mind, and it makes him inept and irritable, he can’t do it like he normally does when he’s alone.

He’s mentally cursing Shanks for sticking his nose into his private business. He decides, then, he’s not going to make this easy for Shanks. He deliberately chooses the most delicate, fragile pieces to dress himself in. If Shanks damages a single piece or bends it even slightly out of place, Buggy is going to use that as an excuse to end their little session right there and then. That way, Shanks won’t be able to touch him too much, and they’ll get through this fast and without fuss.

Buggy ends up stripped of his clothes and sitting on the edge of the bed; he’s put on an intricate diamond and jade choker, a sapphire pendant, a whole bunch of gold armlets and bracelets and anklets, delicate beads and pearls wrapping him wherever he can place them, and a body chain made of crystals that loops multiple times around his torso with another complicated chain that drapes over his hips and thighs.

Shanks takes in his finished appearance and says, “That's it?”

“This is fine,” Buggy grunts. He just wants to get this over with, and spare himself from too much embarrassment. “You better not be careless with any of this. It’s worth a lot, and I don’t like messing it up.”

Shanks’ hand grazes lightly down Buggy’s collarbone and chest. “Don’t mess up the treasures. Got it.”

Shanks takes a moment as if he’s thinking of something, then digs out a red—and—gold leather belt he suggests Buggy should wear. It’s solid, snug, the kind of flashy and stylish piece he’d wear on a regular basis. Buggy allows it because it has a shiny ruby embedded in the buckle.

After he’s done with that last addition, Shanks says, “Okay, lie back down and get comfortable.”

Buggy does it with some grumbling, shuffling back to rest his head on the pillows. In his head, thoughts run through like a stream:  stupid Shanks, whatever, I’ll just jerk off and that’ll be it, then we can go to sleep and tomorrow we’ll never talk about it again.

He’s in the middle of an internal tirade when Shanks wraps his hand around his cock. Buggy’s mind grinds to a screeching halt.

The rings slide against sensitive flesh as Shanks strokes up and down Buggy’s cock.

It’s — different, having it be someone else, having it be  Shanks, who is indulging Buggy’s dirty secret and working to get him off on it.

While his hand keeps up the motions, Shanks leans over Buggy’s body to press his lips to the other decorated parts of him. His neck, his upper arms, his navel. Buggy spreads his legs a little more, getting comfortable, trying to relax his body and enjoy the sensation as if it were his own hand.

Shanks’ touch is deft, steady, not too chafing. It’s like he’s been practicing on his own.

Buggy’s body gradually starts to heat up. The jewelry is a cool relief on his skin. At this rate, he’ll have no problem finding a quick release.

Then Shanks pulls his hand away and — something thin and cold is on his dick.

He looks down. A delicate gold chain is wrapped around the base and the tip of his dick, connected by another length of chain.

“What the —“

 Where the hell did he get that?

“This stays on as decoration.” Shanks has on a devious grin. “I’m only going to use this anyway.” His fingers slide down past his balls to circle his hole, a slight caress. He plunges one finger in halfway, right up until the first ring catches on his rim, and it’s enough to make Buggy dig his feet into the mattress.

The shape of the ring bumps up against his walls, and Buggy feels every slide of the cool metal against his heated insides.

Buggy reaches out to grab at Shanks’ shoulders and — fuck, that velvet is really soft to the touch.

Once he has to start really opening Buggy up instead of teasing, Shanks takes the rings off by pulling them off with his mouth.

His fingers slicked up with lube make wet noises as he pumps them in and out of Buggy’s passage. Lube drips out with the continuous motions, and Buggy has to spread his feet further apart to make sure it doesn’t get on his precious treasure. The jewelled accessories are like weighted shackles keeping him immobile, forcing him to use concentrated mental energy to keep them pristine.

Buggy’s effort doesn’t escape Shanks’ notice. Once he gets in three fingers, Shanks is deliberately making it as messy as possible. A small puddle is forming underneath him and Buggy has to lift his ass above the wet sheets so it doesn’t seep to his hip chain. His body trembles from the strain of holding himself up, cock bobbing hard against his abdomen. Shanks has an insufferable, appreciative look on his face.

“Fuck — are you serving soup down there or are you going to get on with it already —“

“I will, but —” Shanks twists his fingers to make Buggy writhe more, “You should see how sensitive you are.”

“I didn’t ask for the shitty commentary —“

In one smooth motion, Shanks’ head dips down and his mouth sinks down on Buggy’s dick, gold chain and all.

Buggy can’t contain a shout, hips flying upwards. Shanks doesn’t stop the movement of his fingers.

The mouth on him is slow and careful, but the fingers moving in him are flying in and out like they’re intent on abusing his pleasure spot. Buggy feels more aware of every piece of accessory on his body right now and it drives him quicker to the height of arousal, the brush of the finer chains and crystals on his torso and hips, his limbs weighed down by bands, and especially the feel of Shanks’ mouth moving up and down his shaft, the chain being squeezed in that tight space and every shift and glide of it rubbing over his cock.

A tongue sweeps over his slit. He can’t hold back any longer. Buggy thrusts into the hollow of Shanks mouth and comes.

Shanks slips his mouth off and swallows the liquid down, a small trail dribbling down his chin. Buggy breathes heavily while Shanks rakes his eyes up and down his flushed body.

“Do you like being wrapped up like this?”

“Ain’t it obvious now?” Buggy grumbles.

Shanks leans over Buggy to kiss him as if he’s trying to ease Buggy’s embarrassment, smoothing out the wrinkles on his face by running his lips over every strained point.

“You look like something to be kept in a safe. I’ll have to take you as my treasure,” Shanks grins into Buggy’s shoulder, “I’d keep you all dressed up in gold and jewels. You’d lie pretty in my bed, and every night I’d have you open yourself up for me.”

“I know —“ Buggy clenches his jaw “— you’re fucking broke.”

Shanks just keeps on going, and he sounds so genuinely enticed, “I’d rip off all the treasures on your body, fuck you bare, and replace them so I can do it all over again.”

“This is starting to sound like  your fantasy kink.”

As Buggy watches Shanks unzip his pants and free his stiff cock, he’s keenly aware of an itch starting beneath his skin.

Buggy’s movements are practiced as he grabs the lube, coats it on his hands, and slicks up Shanks’ length. Shanks jerks into his grip, growing harder in his hands.

At this point, Buggy realizes getting fucked while wearing a bunch of delicate jewels might be a little uncomfortable. He already feels like he’s being caged in by restraints, now he has to keep himself spread open and vulnerable on that thick rod while Shanks takes his pleasure and drives Buggy to the edge again. Forget Shanks being careful, Buggy is going to have to be careful not to lose his mind.

Shanks’ is already urging him onto his hands and knees, and Buggy kind of forgets what he was thinking about.

The press of a blunt tip against his backside still makes him suck in a sharp breath. There’s a slight resistance at first, but Shanks pushes past it, forcing past the first ring of pressure.

Shanks eases himself in. He stops midway to let them both adjust. But Buggy is prepared enough, and he’s no amateur at this, so it doesn’t take much time until he’s completely full and feeling the whole heat of him.

“Buggy,” Shanks sighs, sounding way too sappy about it.

Shanks presses in until their thighs are touching, then starts fucking in and out, his thrusts short and hurried.

Buggy almost forgets about the finery on his body. It’s hard to think about that when you’re trying to arch your back to make sure your insides are hit just right.

His brain is turning into mush, just remembering how he’s being fucked while glammed up in fine metals and crystals. He wonders how it looks to Shanks.

All he knows are the sounds of Shanks’ ragged breaths, and the occasional murmur of some sweet nonsense.

It’s hard to hold his position when his hands and knees keep sliding up the sheets. And Shanks can’t get a good grip on his hips in fear of accidentally snapping the crystal chain with his eager strength.

Buggy keeps adjusting the position of his arms and legs, trying to push back, put more force behind each thrust.

Next thing he knows, Shanks pulls him up by the belt around his hips, lifting his ass up with it as he drives into him with less restraint.

Buggy feels himself burn with half—embarrassment and half—arousal. Which just means he can’t help but tighten around Shanks’ plundering cock. The squelch of his asshole reaches his ears, the increased tension in his body adding to the sloppy sounds, and the friction is intense to the point that it makes Shanks groan. Shanks lifts Buggy’s hips up by the belt, higher and higher, until Buggy’s knees are actually lifted slightly off of the bed.

The angle touches on new spots — and Buggy can’t even rock back to chase that pleasure. All he can do is jolt his whole body whenever Shanks sporadically brushes against a certain spot. Then all his impatience runs up to his mouth, “Shanks, let me —“

Shanks rolls his hips while tugging the belt back; he presses as deep as he can go and stills, his length throbbing right against his prostate. It’s enough to make Buggy’s tongue fumble in his own mouth.

“You’re clenching around me so hard,” Shanks’ voice strains above him, “I could probably come just from staying like this.”

“That’s because you’re —“

“Is it the belt?”

Just a single leather belt couldn’t do this to him. It’s the single-minded way Shanks is focused on using this pressure point of Buggy’s to maximize his pleasure. It’s not the kind of care and attention he’s used to.

“Aren’t you going to finish already?” Buggy grunts out, because in any situation he will find a way to complain.

Shanks lowers Buggy to the bed again and skims his hand down his decorated body, lightly enough he doesn’t disturb the arrangements.

“I can’t wreck the outside, so I’m gonna wreck your insides. You feel it? I’m hitting in deep, touching every part of you.”

He realizes Shanks is really intent on making this good for him. It gives him some kind of awful chest pain he doesn’t want to look into.

Shanks gets a tight hold on the belt. He swivels his hips, rocking back and forth like he’s trying to punch into the deepest part of him, stirring up his insides. Shanks’ breath picks up quickly.

Buggy alternates between being utterly vocal and having the air knocked out of his lungs like he’s been doused in seawater; it’s like he’s burning from the inside. Buggy can feel the velvet of Shanks’ clothed thighs rubbing up against his behind repeatedly and it only serves to rattle his mind even more.

When Shanks finally spills inside, he lets out a shaky groan.

Meanwhile Buggy’s dick is now back to hardness. But he’s spent enough that he’s willing to ignore it in favor of catching his breath.

Shanks gives him a few moments before he gets them going again. “I was thinking —“ Shanks pulls out to sit himself back against the backboard, pulling Buggy onto his lap — “this way, you can feel me against you.”

With how Shanks looks like he’s having fun, you’d think he was the one getting his kinks fulfilled while Buggy was being the reluctant but indulgent one.

Buggy tries to position his body over his lap, but then he becomes aware of Shanks’ release dripping out of him.

Shanks gently covers Buggy’s used hole with his fingers. “Don’t wanna stain these nice clothes. Hold it in.”

The cheeky smile on Shanks’ face is annoying. But Buggy is also winded up enough from all the stimulation that his mind tips over to resignation and he keeps his body still and poised, hovering just over his lap.

In this position, Buggy has the chance to allow his eyes to rove over the suit on Shanks’ body. He gives into the urge to run his hands down the smooth material, breathing heavily. “Never in my life have I seen you dressed up like this. How is it? You don’t feel the way I feel about it?”

Shanks shrugs half-heartedly. “I don’t mind it, but it’s all for you anyways. It doesn’t really do much for me.”

He knows Shanks can’t stay comfortable in stuffy clothes, especially ones that are snug around his chest and neck area. Turtlenecks? Ties and scarves? He can’t wear them.

Buggy can’t help but be bugged when he’s the only one being all vulnerable with his kinks exposed — the neurotic, control freak that he is. So he decides to level the playing field a little.

“Unlike you, I’m not an  animal,” Buggy says, “I’m not going to ruin this, I know how to take my time.”

Buggy loosens a few of the top buttons, then sucks a few marks onto Shanks’ neck and collarbone where he knows he’s aching to feel air.

Shanks’ breathing picks up. Buggy spends a few more minutes teasing him, fondling him through the fabric, biting at what little exposed skin there is.

After he’s had enough of a taste, Buggy leans back while getting absorbed in feeling up the delicate lining of the suit. “Damn, this feels good. Do you think I could wear it and fuck you sometime?”

“If — you want.” Shanks’ voice clicks a little. “But, well —“

Shanks’ voice trails off as Buggy bites and tongues at his neck muscles. Sliding a hand underneath the collar of Shanks’ white button-up, feeling around his chest in sensual motions.

“You should be the one lying all prettied up,” says Buggy, “I should keep you as one of my treasures.”

The press of the velvet suit against his front has him delirious and hard, but he focuses on taking it piece by piece.

First, Buggy unfastens the cloak, and drops it off the side of the bed. He undoes the jacket, unbuttons the shirt underneath, peeling them both off and leaving Shanks’ torso finally free from the weight of the clothes. Next, Buggy slides his hands over Shanks’ thighs, squeezing his inner thighs and making him squirm for a while, then he shimmies Shanks’ pants off of him, along with his underwear, and discards it with the rest before sitting back down on top of him.

When Shanks starts reaching for him, Buggy smacks his hand away.

Buggy looks down at him like he’s reminding him who’s in control. “Don’t want you to mess it up when I’m looking expensive.”

Shanks swallows, adam’s apple bobbing. “I’ll be careful.”

Buggy has a moment to feel smug.

He enjoys the way Shanks’ pupils are blown, expression needy and entirely focused on Buggy sinking down onto his cock. Buggy eases himself down so as not to rattle the jewelry too much.

Shanks’ fingertips trace down exposed skin, around the pearls, the gleaming crystals, the sapphires and rubies. They graze over the planes of his abs, an idle but reverent touch.

Buggy’s muscles have been straining for a while now. The delicate pieces on his body have got him tense and careful about how he holds himself so they don’t snap or get bent.

But fuck, it’s exactly what he needed. Shanks is aware of this. He knows Buggy is relishing in the tingling sensation and the cool slide of metal on his heated skin. He did all this just to see Buggy in this humiliating state. Buggy ignores the fact that Shanks’ gaze is adoring, and he treats Buggy like he’s a precious jewel himself — which coils something tight inside him.

Faint drops of sweat are visible on Shanks’ skin, his hair sticking back to his scalp. Although it seems he’s straining on the edge, apparently the pace isn’t enough to get Shanks to release again yet. Shanks can be really fucking obstinate when he wants to be.

So Buggy tries to tease him by getting right into his face, brushing their open mouths together and making noises to get under his skin. Shanks just remains settled, accepting whatever kisses Buggy deigns to give him.

It’s Buggy who ends up squirming and losing his patience first. He knows he’s going to get tired before Shanks does. So he switches tactics.

Buggy tries to go at it harder and intensify things, but Shanks keeps slowing him down with a hand on his hips. “Don’t want to ruin your pretty look in all these trinkets,” he says with a languid smile.

Sometimes Buggy hates how his past words and actions come back to bite him.

“What do you suggest then?”

Shanks pulls Buggy’s hips down snug against his. He leans into Buggy’s ear and says, “I’m gonna sit inside you, and you’re gonna milk my cock like this, with just your walls clenching on me.”

Buggy curses. But his body and horny-addled mind is feeling very obliging at the moment.

Buggy wraps his arms around Shanks’ shoulders, rocking forwards slightly, his dick rutting against Shanks’ stomach.

He focuses on tightening and relaxing rhythmically. It’s frustrating and makes him even more pent—up. The situation and the slowed down pace makes him hyper—aware of the expensive treasures all over his overstimulated body, the sensations from every place they touch his skin dialed up to ten. He wants to rub them into his flesh until they fall apart, feeling the sudden urge to tear at them — but he can’t.

Instead, Buggy gropes at every part of Shanks’ body he can reach. He runs his hands down Shanks’ back and fondles what he can reach of his backside, rubbing down the middle crevice like he’s trying to spread his cheeks apart.

Shanks is only going to let him come in the slowest, most torturable ways, all because of these damn treasures.

Like this, it would take too long for Buggy to come.

“It’s sweet seeing you work so hard for me,” says Shanks, nuzzling his face into Buggy’s hair. “It makes me happy.”

Buggy’s entire face contorts like it does when Shanks says something that cuts straight to the heart, having to fight the swell of sentimentality infecting him. It sticks to his ribs like tar and Buggy has a severe allergy.

He keeps clenching down like he’s aiming towards the goal of orgasm, making it feel as good as possible for both of them. The way his walls try to mold around the cock sends tingles of pleasure all the way up to his pleasure spot.

Shanks rubs his jaw against Buggy’s neck, fingers brushing along his spine, murmuring, “You’re so hot and tight around me.”

Buggy just lets out a long, drawn-out moan, too agitated to do anything else.

Everything feels too sensitive, the precious metals and gems igniting his skin and edging him but  not being enough  is driving him nuts; he can't stand it anymore.

Shanks’ hand reaches between them to rub the gold chain into Buggy’s heated dick, making tiny swirls with his thumb and forefinger.

Buggy realizes, horribly, the treasure isn’t enough for him anymore.

He finally has the sense to push himself off Shanks with a slick sound. This pace is going to drive him crazy. He needs to get this expensive stuff off of him  now.

He crawls off of Shanks’ lap, and he’s turned around on his hands and knees when Shanks places one hand on his hip to stay him, keeping him from getting further.

Buggy, albeit confused and a little disgruntled, lets Shanks run a gentle palm over his sweaty body, because the desires in his brain is stronger than anything else right now. He’s expecting Shanks to just get in him and get his release already.

Then he feels Shanks’ mouth press into his ass. He lets out a surprised curse just as he feels the broad flat of a tongue probing at his entrance.

A thumb comes up to rub at the spot just above his balls while Shanks licks into him. Shanks is still careful not to disturb the placement of the accessories. He ignores all the jewels and finery and focuses on sticking his tongue into Buggy’s most intimate place. It’s filthy and revealing and it gets him off like he never could have imagined when he was alone.

Without even thinking about it, Buggy rocks back onto Shanks’ face. His insides lighting up like the entire place is a pleasure center. Shanks’ tongue swirls around the wetness of his hole, suctioning at his soft flesh open mouthed, uninhibited in the way he greedily and messily presses in. It’s like Shanks is so fucking single-minded on giving Buggy pleasure only through that place while avoiding everything else, it makes Buggy want to crawl out of his skin.

A fist wraps around Buggy’s dick and pumps it - still wrapped in a delicate gold chain - slicking it up from top to bottom, rubbing the chain against his shaft as Shanks’ tongue keeps fucking in and out of him.

He decides he’s had enough.

“Oh, god — fuck. Take it off already.”

Shanks pulls off to ask, “You sure?”

Buggy is just so fed up. “I don’t care about the treasure anymore, goddammit — you’re the one who drives me crazy. Fuck, no one else does it for me.”

Buggy finds himself quickly pulled up into a hard and solid embrace, before falling onto his back.

Shanks grins lasciviously at him from above. “I did that for you?”

Buggy wants to roll his eyes whenever Shanks gets overly gleeful like this. “You better tear this stuff off me before I do it myself.”

Shanks is looking pleased and way too accomplished with himself. The bastard was waiting for this moment. It’s almost annoying enough to make Buggy take back his words out of spite. Almost, but not quite.

Shanks enters him again, thrusting in hard enough to make Buggy bounce along the rucked—up sheets.

They pull off the bracelets and armlets first, Buggy helping to slide them off in a hurried manner, practically tossing them off the bed, not even caring about the state of them while he forgets he could probably detach his body parts and let them fall off of him.

Shanks’ fingers rake down his sides, and Buggy feels the beads and finer pieces fly off from their delicate strings being snapped. Chains and strings break and scatter all over the bed. So all he can feel is Shanks’ sweaty skin on top of his.

Shanks takes off the belt off with a snap so it probably tears. It’s rough and clumsy, and Buggy lets out a whine in his throat, arching his back at its removal. He doesn’t even bother to be careful with the necklace or the choker. Shanks leans down to attack Buggy’s neck with his mouth and actually snaps the necklace off with his teeth. With every piece of jewelry gone, he replaces the loss of cool metal with his own heated touches and kisses.

Buggy doesn’t know how it’s possible, but getting treasure ripped off of him feels even better than keeping it on.

His pale body is covered in marks and red blotches from the rough handling and Shanks littering love bites all over his chest and shoulders, leaving trails of saliva.

Shanks’ teeth latch onto the thick meat of Buggy’s neck, sucking marks that sting slightly, all the while he thrusts into him at a rapid pace. Buggy lifts his hips to help Shanks in deeper, fucking himself back on his cock, rocketing up and down like the brakes have been cut loose.

The sensations against his prostate shoot straight to his cock. It’s like a direct line to making his dick feel like it’ll explode with nerves.

Shanks takes notice of how loose and wanton Buggy’s expression becomes, gasping and whining at a higher pitch, deriving more and more pleasure each time he’s pounded into.

“Buggy — your ass feels good, doesn’t it?”

He doesn’t know what Shanks did to him, but Buggy is hyper aware of every slide against his inner walls. Every stroke feels like a hot brand or an electric jolt down his spine.

He’s oversensitive from all the previous activity. He somehow suspects Shanks did it on purpose knowing what it would do to Buggy.

“I can’t believe you did this to me,” Buggy forces out through a groan.

“Did what?” Shanks looks at him openly.

Now Shanks is playing dumb. Buggy will never forgive him for this.

“It’s all your fault.”

“Hm?”

“You made me like this. Fuck — I’m turning all depraved because of you.”

“It’s your body getting used to me,” Shanks’ tone is deeply gratified. “Feel how it massages me just right, so good for me...” He punctuates his words with another thrust.

Buggy refuses to believe his body is somehow getting trained to accommodate Shanks’ desires.

But he can’t deny the fact he’s rocking his hips back into Shanks’, clamping down like he’s trying to pull him in every time he pulls out. His pride hates to admit it, but the reverse is just as true, Shanks knows how to please him to drive him to madness.

It’s not like there’s anyone but Shanks to hear.

“Fuck yes, if that’s what you want. I’ll do it just the way you like it,  ah —“

Shanks pulls Buggy half onto his thighs, watching his cock plunge in and out. Buggy bends so his knee is pulled up to his chest, taking it with gusto, his rim stretched out. Shanks is full on leering while he pants hard, eyes half—lidded like he’s witnessing a feast for the eyes.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Shanks says, but the words get drowned out to Buggy’s ears.

Buggy gives him a good visual, red cock bobbing in the air, spreading his legs to show off his ass being plowed, how he’s shamelessly enjoying it. When Buggy climaxes, Shanks holds him down and fucks him through it, unable to hold back a pleasured groan when Buggy clenches around him so hard it punches a breathless groan out of him.

Buggy gets to draw out his orgasm with Shanks still inside him, chest heaving as he lets him watch how he comes down from the aftershocks. Then he grabs onto Shanks and pulls him down. “C’mon, Shanks,” he rasps, “decorate me in your come instead.”

Shanks pulls out — and with a few rough strokes, he’s coming all over Buggy’s front. His pale skin shiny from being slick with sweat and fluid.

In a complete turnover, he’s gone from being covered in gold and diamonds to being a disgusting receptacle.

Shanks grins down at the sight of Buggy in his own mess, in part admiration and part fondness.

“I like this look on you.”

“You would, you tasteless idiot.”

The idiot in question is too busy rubbing his scratchy face against the side of his leg and grinning shamelessly like he’s got everything he wanted.

“Thanks for lending me the suit, Beck.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Oh,  that  famous suit that was for…y’know.” Howling Gab mimes at Buggy in what he thinks is a discrete gesture.

“Did you fucking tell everyone?!” Buggy cries out.

Shanks scratches the back of his neck. “I only meant to ask for advice on the clothes, and then word got around…”

“I had plans to trade this suit,” says Beckman, “but Shanks wanted to use it before that, and well, I just told him to send it to the laundry before returning it.”

“That’s really going to increase the value,” says Howling Gab. “Red—Hair Shanks fucked in this suit. We could get a lot for it.”

His forehead vein twitching, Buggy turns a glare onto Shanks. “This doesn’t bother you?”

“Whatever works, I guess?”

Shanks seems to have already put it out of mind, leaning back in his chair as he has a drink with his crew — who he apparently can’t keep anything from. Literally, they’re slapping him on the back, telling him what a considerate partner he is for indulging a guy like Buggy in his bedroom kinks. Buggy wants to strangle all of them.

“Hey, boss, fair’s play. Since you did all this for Buggy, he should do something you like.”

“Yeah, we can always get the men together again to brainstorm ideas for you. Think of things we know you’ll be into.” The Red—Hair Pirate flashes him a thumbs—up.

“What would I do without you guys?” says Shanks, laughing warmly.

“I hate this fucking  crew!” Buggy screams and stomps off, tearing his hair out with his hands.


Sabine had just finished her second year of college and was off for the summer. Because her parents did not have a lot of money she had to find a job, which she did, at a local office.

After she had been there a couple of weeks she heard some of the other women talking about the boss. It seems that he had been offering some of the women $500 to undress in front of him. But he had not offered this to Sabine.

At first she was glad. She did not want to have to say no to him, but wasn't sure that she would be able to say yes, even that she wanted to say yes. Sabine was not innocent, she had had several boy friends and knew what men wanted, even had let some of them do some things. She wasn't a virgin, but had only had sex twice.

But, after another couple of weeks, while the thought of him asking her for that had gotten rather exciting to her, she came up with a plan.

There were times where some of the women had to work late and she volunteered for one of those nights. She had checked out an area away from the office and had brought some clothes that she had prepared at home.

She walked into the bosses office and closed the door.

"Mr. Adams, I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Why, when you asked some of the girls here to undress for money, you didn't ask me?"

Her boss was somewhat shocked by her forwardness.

"Uh, because you are rather young for me."

"Don't you think that I would have wanted the $500?"

"Well, I suppose you would have but I still wouldn't have asked you because of your age, Sabine."

"Well, I have thought about this Mr. Adams. I would like to make you an offer, but we need to go somewhere else."

Adams, a mid forties man was even more surprised but also now interested.

"Let me change clothes and we can go for a short drive."

Sabine left him sitting there and went to ladies room and changed into her prepared clothes, a t-shirt with the neck and hem cut through, a bra with the clasp ready to pull off and no straps, a pair of shorts with the button really loose and ready to pull off and panties with the waistband and leg holes cut almost all the way through. She held a long coat over her arm and went and got Adams.

"This won't take long Mr. Adams and I think that you will like it."

She led him to his car and directed him to a church near a city park. A large park with softball fields on one side, camping far into the park and some walkways on the other side from the softball fields.

It was almost dusk, but still light enough for him to see. They parked, got out of the car and Sabine led him into the park, along the furthest walkway. They walked a good way into the park, still light enough and Sabine stopped him, led him somewhat off the walkway and hung her long coat over a tree limb. Then she led him away from her coat. She stopped and turned to him.

"You may not have noticed, but my clothes have been slightly adjusted, Mr. Adams. If you would just grab the neckline of my shirt and pull, you'll see what I mean."

Adams looked at Sabine, not really getting it.

Sabine stepped up to him, took his hands, placed them on the neckline of her shirt...

"Pull."

He did finally and her shirt tore down the front and then he smiled.

"Push it off me."

He did and it slid down Sabine's arms and fell on the ground behind her. She shivered. Her coat was 75 feet away from her and she knew what she was going to allow him to do to her.

"Just get a good grip and pull, Mr. Adams."

He smirked at her, grabbed the front of her bra and yanked. The clasp let loose, pulling the hooks out and her boobs bounced out into the open, nipples hard. Adams tossed the bra away and gazed at her bare boobs.

"You don't have to pay me the $500. Go ahead."

Adams grabbed the waistband of her shorts and pulled hard. The button popped off and the zipper peeled open. The shorts were very loose and slithered down Sabine's legs to her ankles. She shivered again, in just her panties, and stepped out of the shorts. Adams didn't wait for an go ahead, he just grasped her panties and yanked. The waistband snapped, then both leg openings, leaving him with destroyed panties in one hand and Sabine bare ass naked.

Adams tossed the panties behind Sabine and gazed at her naked body. Now that everything had happened that she had planned, Sabine was having some second thoughts. She looked at him and noticed that he was smirking and she had to force herself not to cover up, to just stand there completely exposed.

"This could have been done at the office, at work, Sabine. Why did you want to come here?"

"Ah, the thought of you doing what you did, in the open, it, ah, made me feel, ah, excited."

His smirk, smile, got even wider.

"Slip your shoes off and come here, Sabine."

She shivered, looked down at the ground and toed off her shoes.

"Not too sure that you should have done this?"

"Ah, no, not right now."

"Come here."

Sabine walked up to Adams, only looking up at him when she had reached him. He still had a large smirk on his face. His left hand reached out and touched her shoulder and then slowly moved down, eventually closing over her right boob. Sabine gasped. Adams squeezed it, rubbing her nipple while his right hand slid across Sabine's left boob, down her belly and eased into her pubic hair. She began to breathe faster and her legs involuntarily moved apart.

Adams chuckled and slid his hand between her legs, cupping her pussy and then slipping his middle finger right up inside her pussy.

"I don't want..."

"Right now I don't care what you want, Sabine, and you certainly are right about being excited. You are dripping wet. You're not a virgin, are you?"

"Ah, no, no I am not..."

"Good, very good."

By now it was getting dark, just the lights of security lights along the walkway letting the two of them see anything.

"Now, I want to test how excited and obedient you can be, Sabine."

All the while moving his finger inside her.

"See that light pole down there?"

Sabine looked where Adams had indicated.

"Yessss."

"Walk down there and touch the pole, then walk back to me."

"I can't..."

"Yes you can, and I think you want to, Sabine. Go ahead and do it."

The light pole had to be at least 150 feet away. Sabine wanted to do it and didn't want to do it. Adams pulled his finger out of her, cupped both her boobs and squeezed them, rubbing his thumbs over her erect nipples, making her gasp again.

"Go on, Sabine, you know that you want to."

Sabine hesitantly turned towards the light pole, completely naked, outside, with her boss and began to walk. Adams chuckled. He watched his bare ass naked employee walk down the path, her ass moving, the ass crack clearly visible. He thought to himself, "I can't believe that she is actually doing this".

Then he gathered up the torn scraps of her clothes and her shoes and tossed them all into a large patch of brush slightly off the walkway. Then he faced Sabine and watched her walking, nude, a long way away from him. Adams did not really believe that Sabine would have done what she did, what she is now doing. It was a complete and total surprise to him, but one that he was really enjoying.

Adams watched Sabine walk up to the light pole, in a pool of light, and touch the pole, then turn and begin walking back to him. He still was chuckling as he observed the nude woman, seeing her boobs jiggle and bounce as she walked along. She finally arrived, shivering, slightly red-faced. Adams laughed.

"Come on."

He walked towards the exit and before that Sabine's coat. Sabine walked with him, naked, his right hand cupping and feeling her bare ass. She didn't tell him to stop.

When they arrived where she had hung her coat on a branch of a tree, Adams looked at her and smirked.

"Wait here."

Then he took her coat and walked off towards his car. Sabine stood there, surprised, shivering, nude. Would he come back for her? She didn't know for sure, was scared that he wouldn't and somewhat excited by what she was doing.

It seemed like it was forever, but Adams finally came back, without her coat.

"Let's go to the car, Sabine."

As Sabine walked alongside Adams, he casually reached down and over, cupping her bare ass and feeling it, from time to time running his fingers through her ass crack. The first time he did that she jumped and he chuckled. But she clenched her teeth and let him do what he wanted. It was arousing her.

They got to his Town Car and got into it. Adams turned on the car and then the interior lights.

"Show me your pussy."

Sabine felt her face heating, she knew that she was blushing, but there was something she wanted to tell him, needed to tell him. So...

"Ah, I want to ask you for something Mr. Adams. First of all, you don't have to give me anything for doing this. In a way, for me, it's better if I don't get any money or anything. And what I want you to to do is not refer to my parts like most people do. Call them tits. Call it my ass."

She swallowed. She looked down.

"Call it my, uh, cunt."

Adams burst out laughing. When he had calmed down, he reached over, pushed her face up so she had to look at him, and smirked.

"All right, Sabine, show me your cunt. Lean back against the door, put your feet up on the seat and let your knees fall apart. Let's see that cunt of yours."

Sabine moaned softly, closing her eyes and did as she was told. After she did it, she slowly lifted her ass off the seat and then opened her eyes, looking at Adams as he stared at her. She shuddered as she watched him extend his arm and thrust a finger up inside her. She gasped, but said nothing, just let him do it.

"Damn, girl, you are wet as hell!"

Adams worked his finger in and out of Sabine and to her horror, she felt her ass moving, pumping towards his knuckles. Adams laughed as she did this, watching her. After a few minutes of this, Adams removed his finger and turned off the interior lights. Then he drove off, back towards the office. But he couldn't resist a few words...

"Do you like being bare ass naked, Sabine?"

No answer came.

"Do you like it when I feel your tits?"

No answer.

"Do you like it when I feel your bare ass?"

No answer.

"Do you like it when I finger fuck your slut cunt, Sabine?"

Sabine whimpered, then...

"Yes, I do Mr. Adams."

At the underground parking garage, Adams parked and got out, motioning Sabine to get out of the car also. Adams stared at her, grinning.

"I like you naked Sabine. Get up on the trunk and show me your cunt again."

Sabine backed up to the trunk, used her arms to hoist her ass up on it and slowly spread her legs again.

"Christ you are wet! Pull your ass cheeks apart so I can see your asshole Sabine."

She did it, whimpering softly, but aroused by how nasty she was being, just because he wanted her do things.

"Your asshole is wet too Sabine. You must be leaking out of your cunt."

Sabine closed her eyes, not wanting to see him staring at her most intimate parts.

Finally Adams had her get off the car and had her walk up the three flights of stairs to the office floor. She was still naked, not knowing if the cleaners were in the building, not knowing if she was going to be caught bare ass. She was scared but aroused when she thought of being caught. Naked for Adams was one thing but having the cleaners see her, that was something altogether else for her.

As Sabine and Adams entered the office Sabine thought that she heard a vacuum cleaner running, but she wasn't sure. It made her stomach clench. Adams, instead of leading her to his office as she thought he would, led her to the conference room.

"Get up on the table, ass at the edge, feet up on it and beside your ass."

Nervously Sabine did as she was told.

"Close your eyes."

She did and heard the sound of a zipper. Then she felt something between her pussy lips, rubbing up and down them, initially somewhat soft but then getting firmer, harder. She moaned. As it rubbed downward it seemed to linger at her opening, teasing into it slightly, then back out. She thought that she knew what it was, Adams penis, but wasn't sure.

That went on for some time, then she heard the door to the conference room open, a gasp, and she looked to see a cleaning woman standing in the doorway with a shocked look on her face. Sabine gasped...

"Oh my God..."

And then Sabine felt the thing at her pussy reach her opening and forcefully slid up inside her, then jerked several times inside her.

"Oh no, God no, I am not on birth control!"

The door closed. Adams was grasping her hips and she knew for certain that his penis was deep inside her and that he had just cum inside her.

"Why did you do that?"

"I don't cum on women, I cum inside them."

"I am not on birth control. I could get pregnant."

"So?"

Sabine moaned and she felt him pull out of her, then a wetness trickle down between her ass cheeks.

"I told you that I didn't want sex, didn't I?"

"I don't think so, and it wasn't sex, I just put it in you. If I came it was involuntarily. Besides, you don't really think that I could watch you prance around in front of me naked without thinking that I could fuck you, did you?"

"Let me up."

Adams put himself away and stepped back.

"I need to go, I need to go now."

Sabine slid off the table and felt more of him slipping out and oozing down the inside of her thighs.

Adams smirked at her and let her go off, down the three flights of stairs to her car, following her, chuckling. She was still nude. She was not happy.

They reached his car.

"I need my coat."

Adams opened the trunk and got it for her, Sabine put it on and left for her car, sniffling, wondering if she was going to end up pregnant. Adams was completely pleased with himself.

Sabine drove home and played the entire evening over in her mind, calling herself stupid in her mind. She still felt more of him oozing out of her all the way home. Most of the night was spent awake, bemoaning how dumb she had been.

The next morning she debated going to work, but finally decided to go, dressed, make up on, nice clothes. She got to the office and worked hoping that the entire thing would be forgotten, but knew that it wouldn't.

Around 10AM, when most of the staff took their morning break, she was called and Adams asked her to come to his office. She didn't want to go, but she did. She was nervous and upset. But when she walked into his office, she was becoming somewhat excited once more.

"Close the door."

She did that and came to the front of his desk, sitting down in a chair. Adams looked at her, smirking again.

"Stand up."

Sabine did so.

"Take off your clothes."

Sabine swallowed nervously.

"I don't..."

"I don't really care what you don't Sabine. I've seen it all, I've been up that tight little cunt of yours and I want you to strip, right here, right now. I want you bare ass naked again and I want you to spread your legs so I can see that tight cunt and asshole of yours again. And if you don't, I've told Amy and Mary about last night and everything that happened and they would be completely happy to come in here and take your clothes off for you. I don't think that you want that to happen, do you?"

"NO!"

"Then strip. Everything off, even your shoes. I want you bare ass naked again, Sabine. And I am not going to pay you anything for it, no money, no extra days off, no perks of the job, just you getting naked for me, whenever I want, wherever I want. Because I want it and I think that you get off on it, don't you? Sabine, you are going to be my little naked employee for as long as you work here. And you are going to get off on it. I saw that in your eyes last night, that it turned you on, that you liked it. How wet that cunt of yours got without me even touching you showed that to me. Now strip, everything off, right now.

Sabine moaned softly, and her hands went to the top button on blouse, undoing it...