Accredited Sadist

"We'll see. It'll keep the librarians busy, cataloguing it all." I knew data science was becoming a big thing, organising the internet, but didn't really understand much beyond that. I was just grateful for the search facilities we had nowadays, not to mention enough online journals that I wasn't spending my life queuing for a photocopier, like in the first few years I'd been a student.

"Yeah. In the meantime, what do you think of that?"

"It fits." I wasn't saying more than I had to. I loved how a plug pushed back against tingling flesh.

"Turn it on, then."

I rolled my eyes at his bossiness, but it was his toy. And his room. I rolled the dial to turn it onto a low setting.

It was subtle. I supposed, lacking a prostate, I didn't really have many nerves to appreciate it. Kinda nice, not worth paying for, I figured.

"Uh-huh. Not unpleasant?"

"No. Fine."

"Cool. So, you were saying about your cell population you'd got to grow... are they..."

I explained. It might be a different environment, not in work's canteen nor in a lab or pub, but we ended up having a remarkably normal work-related conversation. Despite me being naked and scarlet-bottomed, and him with his flies undone, fondling his balls.

"No idea," he replied, regarding a problem I had with a culture. "I'll ask our Ronelle, our culture tech, to get in touch with you. She knows her shit, as she says. Networking." That wry chuckle. "Laura taught me to do networking. Non-slimy schmoozing. Doesn't always work, but the more connections I make or put together, the better chance I've got of a career. Might manage it, if I manage to avoid pissing off anyone too important." He sighed. He really wasn't being self-deprecating for effect.

"I think your work impressed people," I offered. Publishing in Nature Cell Biology as a first author at his age was impressive, whether you understood the topic or not.

"We'll see if that translates into a job... Enough." Richie leaned forward. The control of his anal vibe was within his reach. He turned it up a few notches.

"Oh, man... "The gentle buzzing in my bottom was exquisite. I'd never felt anything of the sort. "God, that's good..."

"Yup, I'm God." He paused. "I swear, the world would be much better if I was. Ah, well. Still feels good when covered? Good to know. Even though I had a clear STD check recently, haven't had a chance to contract anything since. Where's the cable gone? How's that?"

"Ohh..." I gasped, happily. My whole hole hummed and made the beaten surface vibrate. It was great.

I grinned back at Richie. I wasn't going to move, ever.

Equally pleased, he pushed down the elastic and let his cock and balls jump out, free. He stroked his substantial cock up and down. I'd assumed he was already fully hard, but it grew even bigger. Impressive.

I watched him idly move his hand up and down. It was mesmerising.

"D'you want a hand with that?" I asked.

He slowed his stroking, but didn't stop. "Thought you said you were a lesbian?"

I shrugged, as much as you can when lying prone. I was keeping my breasts from rubbing over the bedding. "Mostly. It's usually men's personalities that put me off, not their cocks."

"I'm fucked, then."

I chuckled. "You're not actually an arsehole, I don't think."

"Fuck. I've been doing something wrong. Right, forget any chance of getting a cell media recipe off me." He paused, looked uncomfortable. "That was a joke."

"I guessed."

"Good." He really did look relieved. "Serious, the lab next to mine have done some really cool stuff with the cells they've got to grow, recently. I'll put you in touch with them, too. In the meantime, come do whatever you want with my dick. Within reason! I'm not a masochist."

"No? Just work obsessively hard, most of the time, I heard."

"I enjoy it. Mostly. It's the only thing I'm good at."

I stared at him. Was he really that oblivious? "You know how to give a damn good beating. And the rest. If only most doms had as much clue. Or put the thought and effort in."

He seemed genuinely startled. "Really?"

"Really. The number of guys who say they're looking for someone to submit, or for them to top, but really they just want a bit of dress-up and you to suck their cock..."

"You don't do blow-jobs?"

"Not saying never, but I don't get off from it. Sorry." Close enough.

He gave a small shrug, carried on tugging himself gently. "Not like you owe me anything. That's not the sort of thing a bargain should be about. Not unless you're explicitly trying to get money, anyhow."

"You think about these things, don't you?"

"What things?"

"Ethics? Morals?"

"Well, you've got to, haven't you? Either you listen to people telling you what's right and wrong -- churches, teachers and shit -- or you see what people do do, and then figure out if that's good or bad. Or you try to take some principles and live by them best you can, to convince yourself you're not a cunt even if everyone else thinks you are." His hand stopped moving.

"Everyone thinks you're a cunt? Laura doesn't. I don't think I do, either; not that I really know you."

He did yet another resigned shrug. "Scientists are mostly OK with me, except the total arseholes. Work hard, debate the science, get a bit of respect for that; it's all fine. If only the rest of the world was the same! Who fucking invented small talk, anyway? They say it's what we do instead picking fleas off each other. Here's an idea: how about just not picking off fucking fleas and actually discussing something, with some actual evidence in the debate?"

"Not just willy-waving of opinions? Sounds like an improvement over certain symposiums I've been to. Come on, stop being a scientist for one bloody minute! D'you want me to sit on your cock?"

"Are you offering?"

"Yes." My pussy ached for more substantial penetration.

"Huh." He resumed his stroking. "I'm pretty sure my rule of 'never turn down a fuck' still stands. It's not like I get that many offers."

"That's your motto, is it? I thought guys usually had caveats, like 'don't stick your dick in the crazy'?"

He shrugged. "It would be a tad hypocritical. What's the female version? Don't... Don't sit on the crazy cock?"

"Don't get impaled by the crazy guy?"

"Mm. Probably sensible."

"Nah. You're not crazy. Not in a bad way. Trust me, I've met enough of the blokes it's best to avoid. Weird isn't bad."

"If you say so."

"I do. Now, if you want it, cover up that great big cock of yours and I'll scrape myself over to you."

His gaze was still mostly on me as he got ready. "Come on. No! Leave that in!"

I calculated whether he was serious and if it might be feasible not to lose the buzzing toy inside me. "Still the bossy one? I'll try, but no guarantees."

This might be the biggest cock I'd ever had. Pretty sure it was the largest live one. You're getting an idea of my kinks, now, right? I'm very fond of sex toys. It was a shame I hadn't gone into a better-earning career...

I tried to relax my backside as I settled my pussy lips over the tip of this formidable penis. The buzz was too much. I feared it would slip out.

"You'd best turn that thing down, if you don't want me to lose it."

He nodded, still seeming remarkably unaffected by the sensations on his cock. Maybe condoms inhibited him a lot.

I breathed in relief as the vibrations in my sore bottom eased, not quite to nothing. It made it much easier to rub his cock where I needed it, slowly getting myself in a perfect position over his first inch as I held onto his upper arms, and then settling myself down onto his mighty shaft.

He let me do it. Didn't move at all. Even, given we were now face to face, me impaled on his lap, no attempt from him to kiss me.

"You don't kiss your random pick-ups?" I asked.

He seemed puzzled by the question. "No. Should I?" He closed his eyes, as if in thought. "Oh. No. I don't kiss anyone. Mouths are all wet. Icky."

He shuddered. His thick cock twisting inside me felt fabulous.

I held it together for a moment, before having to rest my head on his shoulder. His skin was warm, and smelled of sweat. Male in a good way.

His voice betrayed he wasn't totally unaffected by his cock being inside me: "You can kiss anywhere else. Or lick, or bite. If you want."

I bent and bit his shoulder, digging my fingernails in round his back.

Finally, that constant self-control was slipping away from him. Good. I tightened my cunt around him as much as I could. Then raised myself on my knees.

Straddling him as I was, I didn't have much leeway. But sometimes you only need a crucial inch of movement. By gripping his upper arms, I could slide myself up and down.

Hard work. It felt great.

Richie exhaled hard and fast, just above my head. He got me round the waist, gripping tight. I wasn't sure if he was trying to stop me moving or not. I kept going, as most likely to break his veneer of control.

It only took a minute before he let out a long gasp and that stiff rod inside me softened. His grasp didn't ease at all.

"Oh, that was good," he stated. He spoke softly, as if he'd been affected by the experience. "Thanks."

Given how much energy I'd used up, I let him continue holding me, me leaning on his chest, sitting astride his lap. It was nice. Friendly, not sexy. In some ways, the whole evening had been that. In between it being hot as hell.

We sat, silent, again, for a few minutes.

Until he reached out to pull the vibrator cable towards him, and ramped the control upwards.

The gentle murmur inside my arse became an angry devouring roar.

I groaned, tried to push the fucking thing out. Richie held me to his chest, firm, with one arm. His other hand held the thing in place.

"Fuck..."

"Yeah." He'd got hard again, from my reaction.

Sometimes, all you can do is ride the sensations. I couldn't move, cunt impaled, my clit rubbing against his crotch. I'd slumped, my face buried in his chest. He held me snugly. Possibly too snugly, but I'd have been gasping for air anyway.

He clawed his nails into my back, and drew them upwards. Harsh, controlling lines.

A bit too deep to be simply pleasurable, yet not unpleasant. Probably white now, turning red later. I grunted in relief when he lifted his hand, purred as the warm tingle reached all along the scratches, moaned when he started again.

Which was when I noticed his cock twitch. The guy really did get off on women's reactions.

Three lines of scratches up my back, and he stopped. I bet they'd glow rosy pink by morning. I must remember to wear my dressing gown when going to the bathroom at night, for the next couple days. My housemates Ellie and Liz worried about me, and my late nights I didn't give them details of, enough as it was.

It was a long time since I'd essentially cuddled a guy, my cheek on his shoulder, feeling his sheen of sweat on my skin. And being honest, this was probably the best one. Aside from teenage boys, whom I'd given up on as soon as I'd bought a good vibrator, most men I'd got naked with had turned out to be dickheads.

Richie wasn't promising anything he wouldn't deliver. It was nice. I relaxed.

He clawed both hands into my tender arse. Ten fingernails, all like red-hot pokers.

"Fuck!" I screamed. "Ah, stop, safeword, fuck, aagh!"

He replaced his arms round me in the tight hug. His chest vibrated oddly. I realised Richie was laughing.

"You fucking bastard."

"I did tell you! I don't know why people don't believe me."

"Oh, I believe you all right." I tapped his arm to make it drop, and rolled to sit back next to him. "Total motherfucking bastard." My body did a shaky, resigned, laugh. "In a great way."

He looked both surprised and pleased. "You're fun. Like I said, a much better evening than I'd expected. How do you feel, now?"

I realised I hadn't properly answered. "Perfect. I'll just lie here for the rest of my life." I propped my head on my forearms, to comfortably do just that.

Richie shifted to sit himself up against the headboard, propped up on pillows, his legs reaching down near my hips. "Feel free, for the next couple hours. Then I'm kicking you out. Got to make a good impression on some guys tomorrow."

"Hm? Who?"

"I'd really like to work in Dan Beddington's new lab. He's setting up a group at the LMB, south of Cambridge. But to be honest, anyone in your Structural Biology department would do."

"Sue Jenkins? Martin Vassall?"

"Martin, maybe. I met Sue today. Said she thought I'd be 'happier at the LMB', which is a clear rejection, innit?"

"Could just be a statement of fact? Pure science, not like most of us lot who do lots of applied. You'd fit in well there."

"True. Just I didn't really want to move back to Cambridge. Been there, done that."

"They don't call the LMB 'the Nobel Prize factory' for nothing, remember." I figured that might perk him up. "I reckon any of those three would set you up well. Anyone from the institute, really, if you're not too fussed on which proteins you play with. Except Mike Reed, maybe."

"No? Is he an arse?"

"More of a pompous git. He'd tut at you. He thinks people should wear shirt and tie, outside doing bench work, for example. Takes old-fashioned manners very seriously."

"Ah. Strike him off the list, then."

I looked at him, curiously. "Are you saying you can't act polite even if you tried? Like, can't rather than won't? I mean, buying a suit would be easy enough. There's M&S down the road."

He shuddered. "I've not worn a tie since I left school. I'm not starting again now. I'll do my best, but Reed sounds like the kind of guy who naturally hates me. There's always some. Least in science, they're mostly outnumbered by good geezers."

"Dan's a good bloke. Do you know him?"

"Yeah. I worked in the lab next to his when I was a student. Undergrad, I mean. Tried to hang on his every word, without looking too much of a lovesick puppy. Stayed over at his, a few times."

"Did you fuck him?" The blunt, harsh, question sprang from my mouth without my thinking.

Luckily, Richie was unfazed. "No! I fawned on him in a purely scientific sense, thank you! Why? Should I? Would that have helped?"

"No, pure curiosity! People say he's a good bloke, just grumpy. You'd probably get on well."

"You mean I'm grumpy? Ah, I've been called worse. I thought Dan had a girlfriend, anyway? But that would have been, ooh, eight, nine years ago now. Until this trip, I hadn't messaged him in a couple years; I'm not sure if he remembers that young ginger scrote."

"He's got a wife, now. I was just joking about him taking you home to shag." It hadn't been funny. "Sorry, didn't mean to imply you were gay or anything."

"Like that would be an insult? No, I'm mostly pretty much straight, I've decided. I mean, I'd let anyone suck me off, if they're sober enough I'm not worried about bites in my foreskin. Just, it's rude, isn't it, if you're not going to reciprocate? I reckon."

"Uh-huh." That sounded remarkably like he'd let guys at him. I decided I'd best not pry. I really should have asked earlier: "Do you have a wife, or anyone?"

"God, no!" He grinned. "Can you imagine? I don't do relationships. Nah. I manage to make friends, and get to fuck some of them. Or just find a one-night stand. Used to do that, if I had nowhere to stay. It was why I ended up on Dan's sofa, actually; I didn't have anywhere to live for my internship. When the weather was too bad for roughing it in the woods, and colleagues didn't offer, I'd go to a nightclub, find some girls, and ask if they could provide me with somewhere to sleep for the night. I was pleasantly surprised, how often it ended up with sex on offer!"

"Never occurred to you they'd take it as a chat-up line?"

"Why would lying... Oh, never mind! You? Is a jealous partner about to beat the door down? How worried should I be?" He leaned forward to remove his sweaty shirt, unperturbed.

"I've been single for a couple months, now. My last girlfriend was paranoid I really wanted a man." We both grimaced at the irony, there.

"Any contenders on the horizon?" I was glad he didn't bat an eyelid at my ex being female. Though of course, he was Laura's sort-of partner, or had been when they'd been in the same country, when she'd also had her girlfriend. When Ali had ditched Laura for a new girl, Laura had first sought distraction in Richie, then enjoyed rebound sex when she'd met me a week after, all alone in a gay bar. "Hm? Some cute lasses from that women's fetish group? SM Dykes? Come on, woman, fuel my fantasies for the rest of my night!"

I shrugged. "Had a few flings with some girls from SM Dykes. Didn't really go anywhere." Kinks in common didn't make up for people being boring. Or just plain thick.

"Had? No talent left?"

"Oh, there's one girl, she's come a couple times recently. She's way out of my league, though." An amazing tall fair woman, who'd missed her calling as a supermodel.

"Bollocks. Like any woman could be out of your league!"

Given the guy's lack of lying skills, I took this as a genuine compliment. Not that it made me any braver. "She is, though! She's like over six foot, this stunning blonde -- think of any fantasy female Swede -- and muscled, and everything!"

"Yeah, but talk to her anyway. You're at a play event -- that's right, yeah? What's she into?"

"I... I don't know. She's just watched... I kind of said hi and had a drink near her..." I'd tried to smile back when she'd given me an evil grin, but had just ended up gibbering in a puddle of lust and saying nothing.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Woman up! You're tough as hell, you're gorgeous, you know she's kinky and queer: you goes up to her, you ask to buy her a drink, and you ask what sort of stuff she likes doing! And if you can't take it from there, then there's no hope for you!"

"Suppose..." It might all be true, but it didn't mean I liked hearing it.

"When's the next meet? Are they monthly?"

"Next Tuesday."

"Good. Let's hope she's there. Tell me how it goes."

"Vicarious pleasure? That's how you get your jollies, is it?" It sounded nastier than I'd intended.

"Huh? That's not what I meant! Oh, obviously I'd love to hear all about women getting dirty, but I had assumed you wouldn't be telling all and sundry." I felt slightly told off. "Just if you get anywhere. Good luck."

"Good luck for you, too. Finding a job, I mean!"

"Not a shag? I doubt any of those contenders will try it on with me! I mean, if that's what it took to get a good senior postdoc post, I would, but let's face it, the guys who do have a casting couch generally only want young women, and don't have careers that would make it worth it!"

"You might be right. I've never had anything too dodgy, thanks to being warned who to avoid. Like the infamous Roger Penworthy, always looking for a new cute redhead. Or Brian Jones... Ugh! Just a fair few 'shall we take this collaboration back to my room?' offers. I generally tell them about my jealous karate-expert boyfriend. Don't worry -- he's fictional!"

"I don't blame you. And people say I'm a cunt."

"You were calling yourself a bastard, earlier."

"Yeah, but I try to only be a bastard when someone's signed up for that. How do you feel now? Not too light-headed? Able to walk?"

"Fantastic. I swear I'm going to feel this for a week."

"Good. Let me know when you want walking home. Don't worry, I'm not wanting to come in. Give us a few minutes, first, though, yeah?" His faint American intonation, which I'd noticed during his lecture, had totally worn off. He must be from somewhere vaguely Northern.

We spent the next hour chatting about our experiences getting our research published, various new kits on the market, all that work-related stuff.