My wildest sex story comes from my college years. I was poor and paying rent in NYC was hard. No parental support, a full course load, and a part-time job left me exhausted and struggling to stay afloat. My dependence on tequila and partying didn’t help matters, but I had to let loose somehow.

My upbringing wasn’t great. So, when I realized I was coming up short on rent, I fell back on a few childhood skills my dad taught me before he left the picture. I stole.

I wasn’t burgling houses or anything. I was just picking pockets here and there, swiping wallets from the big-time money guys who visited the swanky bar where I worked. Stealing from customers was risky, but I was young, desperate, and a bit of an idiot, and for a few months, the plan worked perfectly. I dipped into pockets on my way to and from the restroom and “liberated” wallets from stock market guys once they were ten drinks deep and too blurry-eyed to even realize where they’d left their things. The bar got a few phone calls asking after missing possessions, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to lose their belongings after leaving our bar — you haven’t seen anyone get as wasted as a rich fucker with a black Amex, an inferiority complex, and colleagues to impress.

It was 7pm on a Friday when a cluster of men in suits stepped in. They were laughing and high-fiving, probably celebrating some seven-figure deal. By the end of the night, they would be absolutely hammered, and I really didn’t feel bad about stealing from Wall Street bros.

One of them instantly got my attention. He was in his early thirties, with dark hair and an almost predatory gaze. He took note of every single person in the bar as he entered. If I’d been smarter, I would have immediately decided not to target him.

I was not smarter.

By 10pm, the businessmen were slurring. The dark-haired man was quieter than the rest, but since he’d been keeping pace with his companions as they downed martinis, I figured he was also tanked. My cleavage had attracted the usual obnoxious interest, and I think half the reason they kept ordering drinks was to find a reason for me to bend over in front of them as I placed the glasses on the table.

I was fully intending to to serve them a lesson instead.

The dark-haired man got up to use the restroom as I was delivering a tray of drinks, and I saw my opportunity. I headed back to the bar, “accidentally” knocking into him on the way. I apologized and dipped my hand into his suit jacket pocket as smoothly as any pro, then went on my merry way.

The driver’s license listed his name as Michael and imagine my delight when I discovered a thousand dollars in cash in that wallet. Cards were too risky to use, since surveillance cameras might catch me, so I planned to take the cash and ditch the wallet on a street corner on my way home.

It would have worked perfectly, except when I left the bar at 2am, he was waiting for me.

I didn’t realize the man in the dark suit leaning against the wall was him at first. New York is busy, and there’s always someone around. I hiked my purse over my shoulder and prepared to cross the street towards a subway station. Then a hand clamped around my upper arm.

Being a paranoid person in addition to a thief and a woman alone at night, I immediately tried to punch whoever was accosting me. But he grabbed my other wrist, and when I saw who it was, I froze in horror.

“My little thief,” Michael said in a perfectly sober and deadly cool voice. He didn’t even look perturbed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, trying to play it cool. “Do you need help?”

“I need my wallet back.”

“Oh, did you drop it? I can look — ”

He immediately spun me around and clamped one strong arm around me, holding me still against his chest as he fished through my bag. The wallet was right on top, and when he pulled it out and waved it in front of my face, my life flashed before my eyes.

“That’s yours?” I said weakly. “I found it in the bar… ”

He was still holding me tight against him, and it was all kinds of fucked up, but it was also a little hot. His chest and arms were muscled, and when his breath puffed against my ear, I shivered. “You owe me,” he said.

“Since you have your wallet back, I can’t see how.”

He laughed. It was so sexy. Without consciously meaning to, I shifted my hips, rocking slightly against him.

“I could call the police,” he said. “Or you could pay me back some other way.”

There was no question what he meant, since his boner was making its presence known against my ass. I pulled out of his grip and spun around. He was smirking at me. Jesus, he was so attractive. “I’m not for sale,” I snapped sounding more outraged than I was.

“Think of it as more like an act of penance.” He looked me up and down, lingering on my curves. “Three nights with me and your sentence is served. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

“That’s blackmail.”

He shook his head, expression serious. “No, it’s justice.”

I looked away, biting the inside of my cheek as I considered. This man was attractive and rich, and fucking him meant not losing my job or going to jail. And I hadn’t been laid in ages. Besides, I’d never had much of a moral compass anyway.

“Prove it,” I said. “That I’ll enjoy it. And if I do, that’ll be night one.”

His eyebrows shot up — clearly he hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. Then he grinned and reached for my hand, tugging me towards him. “I’ll call us a cab.”

Thirty minutes later, he led me into a swanky apartment that probably cost more per month than the GDP of a small country. It was thirty floors up and had a gorgeous view of the city, and it was decorated in a minimalist style that looked straight out of a magazine. This motherfucker probably had a housekeeper or servants or something.

“Do you do this often?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I settled in on a buttery-soft leather couch. “Blackmail young women into sex?”

He shucked off his coat and settled in next to me. “Only when they rob me.” And then he leaned in and kissed me with zero hesitation. He was good at it, and when he tugged me into his lap so that I was straddling him, I realized this man really was going to deliver on his promise. He was confident and unapologetically carnal, and the erection pressing against me was seriously impressive.

I was wearing my work skirt still, and the fabric rode up as he gripped my ass and rocked me against him. My panties were already wet, and I moaned as his cock slid against my clitoris. Desperate for more of this stranger, I tore at the buttons of his shirt. In return, he ripped my shirt off over my head, then launched my bra across the room like a guided missile.

Soon we were both naked and grinding against each other like our lives depended on it. My pussy was soaking wet, and I got that liquid all over him as I slid over his cock.

I had expected him to head straight into sex once we were naked, but to my surprise, he removed me from his lap and took up a kneeling position in front of the couch. Then he ducked down between my legs and put his mouth on my cunt.

Michael the mysterious businessman and occasional vigilante was a fucking god of cunnilingus. He ate pussy like it was his mission, licking all over my sensitive folds before zeroing in on my clit. He pushed two fingers inside me and worked them in time with his tongue. Soon I was quivering, my thighs shaking with an imminent orgasm.

He pulled back and grinned at my outraged protest. “You can come once I’m in you,” he said. My heart was pounding.

He retrieved a condom from his wallet and slid it on, then pulled me down onto the floor. He arranged me on my knees facing away from him with my torso supported by the couch, then knelt between my legs.

His dick was thick and long, and as he pushed into me, I moaned and gripped the couch cushions. I was going to leave nail marks on the leather, but I didn’t care, because he was thrusting deep inside me, and it was heaven. He took me hard but not too fast, and soon I was moaning and bucking back against him, desperate to come.

Finally, he took mercy on me and slid a hand between my legs to fondle my clit. His thrusts grew harder and sharper, and that extra pressure was exactly what I needed. I orgasmed with a gasp, and he followed shortly afterward, grunting as he came.

“Well?” he demanded after we’d both caught our breath. “Did you enjoy it?”

And this was probably the wrong response for all kinds of reasons, but I was officially in love with this rich prick’s huge dick. “Yeah,” I said. “Night one it is.”

Night two was at his place again. Michael met me at the door with a glass of champagne, but I hardly had time to take a sip of it before he was tugging my dress off over my head. He got me naked in record time, then picked me up and carried me into his bedroom.

He tossed me onto the bed, and I realized with a mix of delight and trepidation that his mattress was fitted with padded cuffs. “Getting kinky?” I asked, trying to sound casual as he fixed the cuffs around my wrists and ankles.

“It’s to prepare you for night three,” he said, and what the fuck was that supposed to mean? But he refused to answer my questions, and then he tied a blindfold around my head, and I lost all interest in hypotheticals. With my vision gone, my other senses grew more acute. I heard the rustle of clothing being removed, and then the bed dipped as he got on it.

A warm hand covered my ankle, making me twitch. He slid that hand up my calf to my inner thigh, but he stopped just short of my pussy. With my legs spread and restrained, I was entirely exposed to him, and excitement washed over me as I felt the hot puff of his breath against my pussy lips. But he didn’t lick me, either. He just sat there, tracing little circles on my inner thigh and breathing on me in a weird and completely arousing way.

Then he drew back, and I moaned in distress. He started again on my other leg, again teasing me with subtle strokes of his fingers an inch south of where I wanted them. He raked his nails down my inner thigh, and I shivered.

The next time he touched me, he pinched my nipples. It sent a sharp, lightning-like sensation from my breasts down to my cunt, and I gasped and arched my back.

“You look delicious like this,” he said, massaging my breasts. “All spread open for me, just waiting for me to fuck you.”

“Are you going to fuck me now?” I asked hopefully.

“I’m not done playing yet.”

And oh, he played. He squeezed my breasts and sucked my nipple into his mouth, then trailed his way down my body to kiss my lower belly. His hand worked up my thigh, and finally he touched me, sliding those clever fingers over my clit. His mouth dropped to join his hand, and he gave me a few minutes of staggering pleasure before pulling back.

His hand came down on my inner thigh with a sharp crack, startling a squeak out of me. He rubbed the stinging skin, then spanked again. They weren’t hard hits, but the sensitive location made the pain more intense. When he started alternating slaps with strokes over my clitoris and deep plunges of his fingers, I almost lost my mind.

“Please fuck me,” I begged, straining against the restraints.

He shifted on the bed, climbing over me, and I knew what he was up to even before something nudged my lips. I opened my mouth and lifted my head to suck his cock greedily. I was starving for him, and the little noises he made as I swirled my tongue over him were gratifying. It was hard to get him as deep as I wanted at this angle, but I sucked his cock with gusto until he pulled away.

The crinkle of a condom wrapper announced that all my dreams were coming true. He knelt between my thighs, gripped my ass to get leverage, and thrust into me. I was dripping wet for him, and I grew wetter as he started fucking me hard and deep. I came quickly, but he just kept going, his thrusts almost out of control. My breasts bounced, and the restraints were the only things keeping me from sliding up the sheets. He came with a shout, and I shivered, utterly wrecked from pleasure and sore between my thighs.

That was night two.

On night three, Michael asked me to meet him at a mysterious address in Brooklyn. I’d worked the day shift, so I had time to put on a little black dress and get dolled up before hopping on the subway. I had no idea what the night would entail, but I was game to find out.

He was standing on the sidewalk in the middle of an unremarkable city block, wearing his usual slacks and button-up. He kissed me when I arrived, then shocked me by reached between my legs and rubbing my pussy. “Brace yourself,” he said, then knocked on an unmarked metal door.

After showing ID and getting his name checked against some kind of list, Michael led me into a cavernous, simply-lit space. The vibe was industrial-meets-Victorian, with velvet couches interspersed between concrete pillars. The place was packed, and Nine Inch Nails blared over the speakers. I thought it was a dance club at first, but then I saw a pair of exposed breasts, followed by the sight of a half-naked man fucking into a woman from behind. It was a sex club.

I was so freaking excited. “Is this for real?” I asked, looking around at the various displays of carnal excess.

“It is,” he confirmed. “Highly exclusive and guaranteed secret.”

“And you want to… ”

“Fuck you in front of all these people,” he said. “Yes.”

Holy shit. My jaw dropped, and I stared at the nearest couple, wondering if I had the gumption to get naked in public. “Why?”

“Because you stole from me,” he said, and fuck, somehow I’d forgotten that was how this carnal encounter had begun. “And now it’s time for you to finish paying for your crimes.”

The words should not have been sexy, but they were. And then he was slipping one strap of my dress over my shoulder and kissing up my neck, and I realized that I absolutely, totally had the gumption to get naked in public.

He led me to a weird, double-sided bench covered in black leather. No one was sitting on it, and I quickly realized why when he had me straddle the middle section with my knees resting on the two “seats.” This was some kind of kinky sex furniture.

He stripped off my dress and groaned at the realization that I hadn’t worn any underwear. So sue me — it had seemed superfluous at that point. Being exposed in front of so many people was thrilling and alarming at the same time. Already, people were drawing closer, their greedy gazes running over my skin.

Michael put a hand between my shoulder blades and pushed me forward so I was lying on the bench. In this position, with the middle part of the bench forcing my legs apart, I was thoroughly exposed to everyone watching. I blushed and squirmed, hating and loving the sensation at the same time.

Michael trailed his hands over me, then spanked me. I jolted at the sting, and a fresh rush of moisture spilled between my legs. He kept spanking, alternating between one cheek and the other, and soon I was writhing under the blows. It hurt, but the heat that spread out from his palms was amazing, and the total domination was making me wet.

“What did you do to deserve this?” he demanded, fisting a hand in my hair to jerk my head up.

I moaned, craving even more debasement. “I stole from you,” I confessed.

“You did. And your punishment is going to be taking my cock in front of everyone.”

I’d never known mortification could feel so sexy, but it did. My pussy clenched. I wanted him to fuck me in front of this crowd of strangers. To punish me for stealing.

He kept spanking me until my ass was hot and I was nearly sobbing into the leather bench. My cunt was soaking wet, and I desperately needed to come. When I tried to slip a hand between my legs, he removed it and then smacked me harder.

“How are you going to take it?” he asked, and I heard the metallic clinking of his belt buckle being removed.

There was only one acceptable answer. “However you want to give it to me, sir.”

He pulled me off the spanking bench and had me stand braced against it. I bent over, offering him my pussy, and he slid on a condom and lined up behind me. Dozens of strangers were watching, and some of them were masturbating.

When Michael plunged into me, it felt better than anything I’d ever experienced. His grip on my hips was bruising, and I had to stand on my tiptoes to get him in at the right angle, but none of that mattered. I only wanted this punishing possession. When he finally let me come, I screamed for the entire club to hear.

He pulled out and turned me around before shoving me to my knees. Then he ripped the condom off, pumped his cock a few times, and came all over my tits. I fingered myself while he did it and came again with his hot semen coating me.

And then night three was over, and I felt a sharp sense of loss. The most intense sexual experience of my life was done.

So when he dropped me off, telling me he hoped I had learned my lesson, I did something very, very bad.

I stole his wallet again.