give_satisfaction | Let The Kinkiness Begin!

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Let The Kinkiness Begin!

And we're off! Don't hold back! It's anonymous so let your freak flag fly! Not confident about your creative skills? Practice here! The fills can be anything you want. Fics, videos, artwork and anything else that strikes your fancy. Prompts do not have to be Bertie and Jeeves only! All of the other characters are fair game (Honoria and Madeline tentacle sex, anybody?). As are characters from other books and stories. This meme might be slow to start, so please spread the word!

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Rules

1. No underage characters

2. No RPF/RPS

3. No bashing other people's kinks.

4. Please use content warnings. Put them at the start of your prompt. I.e. Prompt (Content Warning: Attempted Suicide)
Please warn for:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Major Character Death
Rape/Non-Con
Suicide
Attempted Suicide
Incest

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Running on a hot day would do the trick.

Well... it's.. shockingly hot!

I second that!

OP here and thank you so much! That was just what I needed, you wrote this so fast I was even able to read this before bed, I positively adore you right now <3
This was so very soft and sweet and just AAAAAhh

Writer here, oooh I'm so happy that you liked it!! I hope it brought you comfort, and I hope your day got a little better by the end. *hugs*

Aww! This is so sweet!

dirty talk!

Hm, yes, but why is he running?

‘Nothing quite like sharing a bath, eh Jeeves?’
‘Indeed, sir.’
‘I wish we hadn’t got out so soon.’
‘The water was turning cold, sir.’
‘Yes, perhaps it was. Oh, well. Er – I say, Jeeves… my pyjamas?’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘You usually lay them out on the bed.’
‘I took the liberty of neglecting that particular practice, sir.’
‘Oh.’
‘Pyjamas would only be a hindrance, considering the activities to come.’
‘Oh!’
‘If I might make the suggestion, sir, you might discard your dressing gown and lie down.’
‘Only if you do the same, old thing.’
‘Very good, sir.’
‘Ah, yes, that’s better – hallo! Standing at attention already!’
‘It cannot be helped, sir. The thought of what I am about to do to you…’
‘Tell me, Jeeves. Tell me what you will do to me.’
‘I will bury myself inside you, sir, and pound into you until you forget your own name.’
‘Good lord!’
‘But first, I shall do this…’
‘Mm, yes!’
‘And then – ah. I seem to have misplaced the oil, sir.’
‘Oh, no, actually – er, that would be my fault, Jeeves. You see, I was lonely without you the other day.’
‘Were you, sir?’
‘Dashed lonely. The moment you left, I wished you would return and bugger me in every room.’
‘Mmm…’
‘But you were already gone… so I pleasured myself, imagining it was you, imagining your fingers spreading me wide…’
‘Ooh…’
‘I imagined your throbbing length filling me, your lips on my neck…’
‘Tell me where the oil is, sir, I cannot wait any longer…’
‘Should I? I think I’m rather enjoying this. Maybe I should make you beg?’
‘Sir…’
‘No, not sir. Call me Bertie.’
‘…’
‘Well?’
‘Yes… Bertie.’
‘That’s better. Now beg for it.’
‘Just tell me –’
‘I won’t tell you until you beg.’
‘Please…’
‘Not good enough.’
‘Please let me fuck you...’
‘Oh, Jeeves… but you’re forgetting something.’
‘…’
‘Say it.’
‘Please let me fuck you, Bertie.’
‘Good boy – The oil is in your room.’
‘You – you pleasured yourself in my room, when I was away?’
‘Yes. On your bed, my face pressed into your pillow…’
‘Good heavens, sir… Don’t move. Wait here – yes, like that.’
‘…’
‘I have the oil. Come here.’
‘Oh! Mmm yes Jeeves!’
‘I imagined this moment all day – I could think of nothing else…’
‘Neither… could… I…’
‘Are you ready, sir?’
‘Yes!’
‘Mmm…’
‘Aaaah, yes… yes… faster…’
‘…’
‘Jeeves you’re so – so hard… You’re going to… make me…’
‘Yes!’
‘Aaaah!’
‘Mmmm…’
‘…’
‘…’
‘…Jeeves, you’re a beast.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘By Jove, the neighbours will be complaining.’
‘We can blame it on the newly-wed couple on the second floor, sir.’
‘Excellent idea, Jeeves.’

They are late and in danger of missing the train or ship? Then both would be running. Or maybe Jeeves had to catch an escaped dog?

Great!

Love it!!

Jeeves exercising and Bertie blundering in on him?

Fishing on a very hot day?

For that matter having to wear a full uniform at Totleigh Towers or Brinkley Court during August? Red as a lobster? Bertie wanting to undress him?

they're late and Bertie's ankle hurts so Jeeves has to carry him and run to the train station

Oooh I like the full uniform in August idea! He's red and sweaty and Bertie is just dying to get him out of his clothes!

Guess I have to take matters into my own hands! Alternate ending, starting just after 'I'm not sure I can bear this anymore.' Dub-con warning.

—

I began taking clothes off their hangers and knotting them together, working as silently as possible. I took my time selecting the strongest, most durable items. It pained me to mistreat such fine clothing, but the end result would be well worth it.

Mr. Wooster watched me with trepidation. In response to his unasked question, I whispered, 'Since we are on the fourth floor, we'll need this makeshift rope to serve as a sort of safety device when abseiling out the window, sir.'

'You think of everything, Jeeves.'

'Thank you, sir. If you'll allow me, sir.' I reached around him with the leg of a pair of sturdy trousers, intending to secure it about his waist. He flinched at my hand brushing against his stomach as I did so. I tied the ankles together and pulled tight.

'Hang on,' he gasped as the fabric began to cinch his waist. 'Do we need to do this now? Can't it wait?'

'I'm afraid not, sir, we must test this before we try it out the window.'

'B-but I, I don't think...' He gritted his teeth in an effort to maintain self-control. His foot still bounced compulsively.

I tutted. 'This knot won't hold, sir, this won't do. I'm glad I checked before we attempted it.' I untied it and he let out a small sigh of relief. It didn't last long, though, as I pulled the arms of a jacket around him instead, and pulled it even tighter than before.

He let out a strained grunt. There was a panicked look in his eye. 'Do we have to wait until he's asleep? Can't we just, er, make a run for it?'

'We could, sir, but we would still need to use something in order to safely rappel down the wall,' I explained patiently.

Mr. Wooster had no patience for my patience. 'Okay, fine, fine! Let's do it now, dash it! I can't wait another second!' he panted.

'You'll need to wait just a moment longer, sir, I have to finish this.' I kept fiddling with the knots.

'Oh, Lord...' he moaned, now blatantly pressing his hand between his legs. By instinct, I tried to avert my eyes, but in the cramped space, there was not much in the way of other places for them to go.

I felt embarrassed for him, forced into such an undignified situation. This was a line we had never crossed before. The brief, businesslike nudity involved with bathing and dressing was always handled discreetly as possible out of respect for his modesty. But this was different. We never spoke of such things, out of politeness — we barely even had words to express them, just euphemisms. The fact that he was being forced into such a shameful position right in front of me, nay, right next to me, so close as to be touching... I could hardly account for the powerful erotic reaction it inspired in me. It was a bizarre kind of intimacy, much too intimate for my comfort or his. It deeply disturbed me to think of encroaching on his privacy to this level. It was a taboo perhaps even more ingrained than sexuality, and I already had enough internal struggles with the lines I frequently found myself wanting to cross in that particular realm. I had real sympathy for him, but I had something else, too, a lot of it, and that other something was in control of my actions now.

'Please hurry, Jeeves, I really don't want to...I couldn't face it if...' His desperation was so alluring.

'Perhaps you should just — let go, sir,' I said, even more quietly than we had been speaking so far.

'What?! No, I can't with — with you right here!'

'It's okay, sir.' I slid my hand to his lower abdomen.

'What are you — no, Jeeves!' He tried to wriggle away, but I held fast from behind, keeping one hand clamped against his belly and grabbing his hip with the other. He attempted to stand up from the shelf we had been sitting on, nearly knocking his head against the wardrobe door in the process. I pulled him back and he fell backward awkwardly into my lap.

'Relax, sir.'

'No, don't you understand?' He sounded frantic.

'It's all right, sir.'

'Please, Jeeves, I can't...'

I pressed a little harder.

He whimpered and I heard another sound, quiet but unmistakable, lasting only a few seconds.

'Good Lord, Jeeves, I-I'm so sorry!' He had stopped himself as soon as he could regain control. He tried to stand again but was too tall for the wardrobe. Desperate to get off me, he settled for ducking his head and hovering over me instead.

The seat of his trousers was right in front of my face but I couldn't see them properly in the shadows. Before I could think, I reached out and felt for the small wet spot on them. I groped a little further and felt his body against my hand.

He finally stopped thrashing and went still as he felt me make gentle contact with a very personal area. I pulled him back down onto my lap again and wrapped my arms around him. His back pressed against my chest, his arse against my hardness.

'Keep going, sir.'

With a moan of surrender, he did.

After a few more seconds, I felt the wetness start seeping through my own trousers. It spread across my lap and down my thighs.

My master's weight in my lap, his waist encircled by my arms, felt surreal enough on their own. Add in the warmth streaming onto my groin and trickling down the inside of my leg and it was simply incomprehensible. Shock, disgust, and most of all, illicit thrill overtook me. I felt like every boundary had been thrown out the window at once.

When it was over, Mr. Wooster was shaking. I knew his heart must be pounding as hard as mine. At just that moment, the light went out in the room beyond us. Through the crack in the door, we could see that Lord Tinklewee had finally finished reading and turned off the lamp.

I became acutely aware of the feeling of the soaked fabric clinging to my skin. There was a silence. I cleared my throat to break it. 'Feeling better, sir?'

I could hear the turmoil in his voice as he answered, 'Well, yes, Jeeves. I...I am. Much better.'

'I am gratified to hear it, sir.'

'Dreadfully sorry about...you know.'

'Not at all, sir.'

In short time, we emerged from the wardrobe and escaped out the window as planned (in the excitement of the evening's events, I had made a mistake — we were actually on the first floor, not the fourth, meaning I needn't have worried about the safety measures that started this whole thing at all. How foolish of me). Back on solid ground in the gardens, we made eye contact for the first time. There was a good deal of blushing on his part and I did my best to remain stoic. Both of our gazes resolutely refrained from straying downward.

'Well then, er, sorry, old thing. And sorry to keep saying sorry. And...'

'It is a matter of little import, sir,' I lied.

'Is that right?' he said skeptically, clearly still humiliated.

'Absolutely, sir. In fact...' I reached for my trousers and watched his wide eyes get wider. My fingers fumbled on the fastenings, which were still quite slippery. As my master looked on, I turned away a tiny bit, though not much, and with a sigh, experienced my own relief as I released the tension that I had been more successful in holding.

I knew that image of me would remain with him late at night, in the privacy of his rooms.

That afternoon, my brow was furrowed in confusion. It was bad. But it was good. It's bad and good simultaneously? It's half-bad, half-good? It's bad but I like it? What exactly is going on here?

I took another deep inhale to be sure. As the cab rumbled along the London streets, the usual city scents wafted about the air. But one stood out, and not solely because its source was most proximate. It was unmistakably body odor, and in my experience, that alone is enough to disqualify a smell from being pleasant. But if I was being honest with myself, I just couldn't get enough of it. How was that possible?

I chalked it down to the latest of the infinite ways that my man is unlike any other man I've ever known.

The man in question cleared his throat gently. I had the suddenly guilty sense that my sniffing hadn't gone unobserved. "Sir, I must apologize for my sudoric state. Although the weather is exceedingly calescent, I thought it worthwhile to exert the utmost effort in my endeavor..."

I held up a hand. "Not a word of it, Jeeves! Without you zipping off like a speeding bullet chasing after a smaller, fluffier speeding bullet, MacIntosh would be a furry face on a milk carton and Aunt Agatha would do a lot worse to us both than make us a tad sweaty. It was a dashed impressive display and I must thank you again."

Jeeves inclined his head. "You're very kind, sir." The cab pulled up to the homestead and we disembarked, Jeeves carrying the wriggling pooch under his arm. I lingered half a step behind as we entered the residence, hoping to discreetly catch another whiff. As I did so, I noticed that the glossy hairs at the back of his head were flat to the glistening, flushed skin of his neck and behind his ears. The effect, seen on plenty of men but never before on my man, was oddly fascinating. His hat and his jacket looked impeccable as always, so this small window between brim and collar was the only indication that any exertion had taken place. As I looked, a bead wandered down the side of his neck and I found myself imagining the salty taste.

What? I mean, what?

The chien was set down on the floor of the apartment and promptly zoomed off to wreak further havoc, at least in a contained area this time. Jeeves removed his hat and I could see that the front of his hair, too, always neat and sleek, was extra slicked down in that curiously captivating way. His cheeks were also colored in an objectively fetching manner. "I should like to bathe posthaste, sir," he said, "but first, can I get you anything?"

"No no, make yourself comfortable, old thing!" I insisted, although I felt a pang of disappointment that this shiny, aromatic marvel would go back to being a matte, hygienic marvel all too soon. He shimmered off.

My eyes alighted upon his recently doffed bowler hanging on the hat rack. I threw a furtive glance toward the doorway of his lair into which he had just disappeared, and coudn't seem to stop myself from gravitating to the rack. I breathed in the air inside the chapeau for just a moment.

Then I continued to do so for a few more moments.

Then I got a grip on myself and walked away, shaking my head in confusion.

Time to return to reality. How long had this whole adventure taken, anyway? A glance at my bare wrist reminded me that my watch had stopped earlier. I had given it to Jeeves, who had put it in his jacket pocket for safekeeping until he could bring it to be fixed.

His jacket.

I tiptoed into his room. I could hear soft bath sounds from behind the closed door of the salle de bain. I spied his jacket in the hamper and gingerly removed it. It was more damp than I expected; the man really knew how to sweat when he put his mind to it. I retrieved the watch from the pocket, realizing much too late that it would of course be no help in telling me the time. My gaze then fell to the semi-translucent chemise at the top of the hamper. My eyes flicked to the bathroom door, then to the shirt, then the door again. After a while of this game of pupil ping pong, I decided I was safe to act. I picked up the item and examined it. I turned it a few times until I found the spot on the inside where sleeve met shirt.

Join me again some time later, when I opened my eyes, which had slid shut in bliss, and saw Jeeves, but less literally, I saw myself as he must see me: his employer, uninvited, unexpected, plunged snout-deep into the pungent armpit of his soiled, discarded shirt. My heart did an impression of my watch when it had abruptly stopped. I thought about giving a guilty start, but I was too startled to do it.

Jeeves looked clean once more. He wore a towel around his waist and a neutral expression on his face. He looked like he was watching a humdrum thing being as unremarkable as usual. He strode over to me and tugged something else out of the hamper. He handed it to me without a word, only a small, feudal incline of the head, and disappeared back into the bathroom.

This story ends with the young master feeling just as confused as he felt when it started, but now with a pair of underpants clutched in his lucky hands, palms sweaty for reasons that have nothing to do with exercise or weather conditions. So, if nothing else, he now has something specific and tangible upon which to blame his confusion, and that, at least, is some small improvement.

Oh my.... well-written and VERY HOT!

I wrote the original fill and I am SO glad that you took matters into your own hands and gave us this sexy alternate ending! Poor Bertie, but then again, he got that titillating image of Jeeves at the end, so I think it was worth the "accident" ;)

Jeeves/Bertie, coming untouched

Ahhh thank you! For that comment and for the amazing original fill. I read yours so many times to try and match the tone, and I think all those re-reads gave me a whole new level of appreciation for how effortlessly you pulled off something that's actually quite difficult.
And don't feel too bad for Bertie, the truth is, he actually liked the whole thing a lot more than it might seem from the outside.

Prompter here. I LOVE it! A lot! Extremely well written! Funny and hot and everything! Thank you so much! *hugs*

OMG, this is the best! It catches the allure of body smell perfectly! HOT!

I like the original and the alternate ending. May I perhaps request another alternate ending? One where the "accident" happens as real accident? Maybe while climbing down? Extra points if the writer can throw in some emotional hurt/comfort.

Oooh ~ I'm flattered! Thank you very much, my friend!
Mmm, I had a feeling he enjoyed it, the kinky bastard hehehehe

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Let The Kinkiness Begin!

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