Immoral

by Skylar Cross

  The Cage Sessions

  Book 4: Immoral

  By

  Skylar Cross

  Copyright 2014 D2Rev Publishing / Skylar Cross

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  All characters depicted in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Note:

  Chapters 1-7 are in Indecent (The Cage Sessions Book 1)

  Chapters 8-16 are in Depraved (The Cage Sessions Book 2)

  Chapters 17-27 are in Sinful (The Cage Sessions Book 3)

  Chapter 28

  "Oh my God, that was amazing!" I say to Jasmine, my face buried in her chest as she strokes my hair.

  "Almost too good, girl," she says.

  I feel The Beast move.

  Oh God no. I'm sore. Spent. Nearly shitfaced.

  "I gotta get home," I say.

  "You ain't goin' nowhere, girl," says Jasmine as she leaps off the couch.

  I sit up. Still feeling the vodka, even though we must have fucked some of it off.

  "Maybe you're right," I say. "Gotta call my mom, then, and let her know I won't be home."

  "Your mom?" says Jasmine. "What are you, twelve?"

  "I know, I know. I've got some... issues."

  Jasmine goes over to the kitchen counter and makes two more drinks.

  "Where's your bathroom?" I say.

  "Around the corner to the right," she says.

  Jasmine's apartment is spectacular. High ceilings. Funky art. Big long glowing lights that cast a colorful warmness all around. An exotic fish tank.

  The bathroom is bigger than the kitchen. A giant hot tub sits under a high octagonal window. Bright white marble with black streaks all over the sink area.

  Nice.

  I clean myself up a little, then take out my cell phone. I realize I'm standing naked in front of the mirror again.

  Is this how it's going to be with me? Fuck a new person every week, then stand in their bathroom in front of a mirror and call my mom?

  How many people am I going to fuck really? All I wanted was Damien but I'm up to six now. That doubles my all-time score.

  In a week.

  Not sure how I feel about that.

  On one hand, I feel like a slut.

  On the other hand, I feel like an overjoyed human being finally letting loose her sexuality.

  How can something feel so wrong and so right at the same time?

  I look at my phone. Missed call and message from an unknown number. Fine. Whatever. Can't deal with that now. It'll keep. I go to Contacts and hit Mom.

  "Hello," says my mom.

  "Hi mom," I say.

  "You've been drinking."

  How could she tell from 'Hi, mom?'

  "Mom, I'm staying at Iz's tonight," I say.

  There is a long silence on the other end of the line.

  "So I'm just calling to let you know, okay?" I say.

  "Fine," she says, in that I-know-you're-up-to-something-bad tone.

  If only she knew how bad. I'd be disowned. Seriously.

  Jasmine appears in the doorway, leaning on the jamb.

  The Beast dangles. Jasmine gives him a flop. Then squeezes him. He springs to life.

  "Well, fine," says my mom. "I'm glad you're okay."

  "So I'll talk to you later, okay?" I say, hypnotized by the big black swaying cock.

  "Wait! I have something to tell you. They sentenced that guy."

  Jasmine pulls her foreskin back, revealing the full stunning head of The Beast in all its glory. I swear I see the slit open and close a little, like it's saying something to me.

  "Huh?" I say into the phone.

  "That trial," says my mom. "The man who murdered the girl while they were playing sex games. He got life in prison."

  "Uh-huh," I say, floating in my drunken spell.

  I can't help myself. The Beast is like a drug. I fall to my knees and take the enormous tip into my mouth. I give a little suction. Jasmine inhales sharply.

  "I'm so happy," says my mom. "He deserved it."

  I pull off.

  "Well, he did kill a girl," I say. "Murder is murder and should be punished."

  Then I return to sucking.

  I tilt the phone so the top listening part is at my ear and the bottom part is way out in space. Don't want to broadcast my slurps.

  "Yes," says my mother. "But he did it while playing sex games!"

  I feel Jasmine's tip at the back of my throat. I suck hard and pull off. There is a loud popping sound as I do so. Jasmine moans.

  "What was that?" says my mom.

  "Just me," I say. "I have a... kink... in my throat. Feels a little sore."

  Jasmine puts her hand up to her mouth to stifle a laugh.

  "Oh no," says my mom, "I hope you're not coming down with anything!"

  "Oh," I say, "I think I might definitely be coming down with something."

  Big suck. This cock is truly a work of art. Good job, God, if you're there! You outdid yourself with this one. (See mom, I pray!)

  "Well," says my mom, "I just wanted to tell you that. All these people playing sex games should go to prison. Sex is not a game!"

  My eyes open, The Beast firmly implanted in my mouth.

  A rant comes to me... a good one. All about how people have the right to do whatever they want consensually with another person. Even sex games.

  But I don't.

  I've learned that much. Better to keep my mouth shut. Besides, I have better things to do with my mouth.

  I take my anger out on The Beast, sucking it with full furor. Jasmine sinks her hands into the doorjamb and closes her eyes.

  "Mmm-hmmm," I say.

  "I can hear it in your voice," says my mom. "I think there's definitely something in your throat. You should come home. I'll make you some orange Jell-O with the cream sauce that you like."

  About to get my own cream sauce right now, thanks.

  I pull off. I open my mouth at the end so there's no popping sound this time.

  "Yeah, thanks mom. Love you. But I'll be fine. Iz and I are just going to hang out, watch movies, and go to bed."

  I resume sucking. Jasmine resumes clenching.

  "Well, okay," says my mom. "Call me if you start to feel sick. Have you taken your temperature?"

  I pull off.

  "I do feel a little hot," I say as I look directly into Jasmine's eyes. She slaps her dong all over my face in tiny little bobs. Then I resume sucking.

  "Well, go to bed early," she says, "and don't do anything taxing. Don't eat any rich food."

  Jasmine comes in my mouth. Gobs of ooey gooey cum flow in and around my teeth, my tongue, and my throat. Yet again she's like a raging hot white river.

  "Did you hear me, Annika?" says my mom.

  Shit, I can't quite answer yet.

  Too.

  Much.

  Cum.

  One.

  Sec.

  Please.

  I swallow, but some goes up my windpipe. I cough.

  "Annika, are you all right?!" says my mom.

  I'm in a full-on coughing fit now. Jasmine pulls away from me, laughing hysterically.

  "I'm fine, Mom," I say in a gravelly voice that sounds like it's from the netherworld. I cough again. A gob of white falls out of my mouth onto the floor.

  "You sound awful!" she says. "You need to come home right now!"

  "I'm fine," I say, with another cough. "I'm fine, mo
m. Look, I'll talk to you later, okay?"

  "Well... okay. Call me later."

  "Okay, mom. Bye."

  I click off and cough a few more times.

  "That was epic!" says Jasmine.

  "Yeah, it was pretty cool," I say with a laugh as I look at myself in the mirror. Cum is splattered all over my face.

  But there's still some dripping from Jasmine's dick. I scoot over to get every last tasty drop.

  Waste not, want not.

  Chapter 29

  "So how long has your mom treated you like that?" says Jasmine as she eats a forkful of fried rice.

  "Oh, pretty much since the day I was born," I say.

  We're sitting on high barstools, eating Chinese food from the tall countertop between Jasmine's kitchen and living room. It was delivered somewhere between drinks three and four. Or maybe four and five. Stopped counting a while back. Better that way.

  "You got to move that fine ass of yours out, girl," says Jasmine.

  "Wish I had a dime for every time Iz has said that to me," I say.

  "Iz? Oh, Isabella! I should text her. She needs to get her tasty butt over here to partake in these festivities."

  I get a flash of licking Jasmine's cock as it enters Iz's pussy. I freeze for a second, enjoying the image, then return to eating.

  Jasmine gets her phone and texts furiously.

  We're quite a pair, both of us still naked.

  I've been naked a lot lately, haven't I?

  Feels good.

  Now I know why Iz enjoys it so much.

  I look over at the garden through the picture window. The early evening sun is back. Everything outside is covered with a glistening sheen. Florida T-storms may be violent, but they go away fast leaving a steamy glow behind.

  Jasmine puts her phone down and bites into a boneless sparerib with a frown.

  "Everything okay?" I say.

  "Message from our new IT guy," she says. "One of our accounts was hacked."

  "Shit, that doesn't sound good. What does that mean?"

  "He just said not to upload or download anything for a until he fixes it. About two hours. Good kid, this new guy. Very sharp. Finding a lot of shit the old guy missed. He's also one of Damien's students."

  "Students?" I say as I dip an eggroll in duck sauce with hot mustard and then bite into it.

  "Yes, didn't you know? Damien teaches geeky guys how to pick up women."

  I laugh, then cough again. I sip some drink. Ah, better.

  "Are you serious?" I say. "He does not!"

  "Damien is a man of many talents. He picks and chooses them. It's a hobby. Never charges them. It's his way of assuaging his guilt for having so much pussy, I guess. That's actually how I got to know him so well."

  I know some of that story, but I don't let on.

  Jasmine's phone vibrates. She picks it up and reads a text.

  "Isabella is coming over," she says. "Yay!"

  "I need to apologize to her," I say.

  "Damn straight you do!"

  "The two of you have been talking, haven't you?"

  "Mmm-hmm," she says with a piece of fried shrimp in her mouth, "talking... other things."

  I take a sip of my drink.

  "I have to say," I say, "this is all kind of weird."

  "Weird how?" Jasmine says.

  "I'm not used to all this openness about sex. I have sex with Isabella. Then with you, Tara, Tiffany, and... uh..."

  "Karina."

  "Karina, right! You and Iz have been at it. Now you and me. Now Iz is coming over... and I'm getting horny just thinking about it. This is a new world for me."

  Jasmine smiles at me with her big gorgeous green eyes.

  "It's orgasmatastic, ain't it?" she says. "To be free and to fuck when you want to... who you want to... how you want to."

  She laughs a low hearty laugh.

  "Sure," I say. "I just don't know how long it can last. With all this fucking going on, at some point somebody is going to get jealous and all bent out of shape."

  "Sure," she says. "Guaranteed. Always happens."

  "Oh? That's not what I thought you would say."

  "Nm-mm. We all human, sweetie. We all get possessive. Me too. But you know what? I just let myself get all possessive and jealous, and then I remind myself that life is too short and I'm missing out on a ton of new fun by being all emotional and shit."

  "That's very wise," I say.

  "Not always," she says. "Like right now, I'm a little jealous of the closeness you share with Isabella."

  "Well, can't help that," I say. "We grew up together. She is something, though, huh?"

  "Yes she is," says Jasmine. "She's the most swankalicious mami I've ever seen... well, besides you of course."

  "No need to humor me," I say. "I know it. She's the perfect specimen of human female on earth."

  Jasmine stops chewing her food and glares at me with an evil look.

  "Well, besides you, of course," I say.

  "See?" she says. "No need for jealousy. We're a team. In fact, we should all fuck together. I'm going to make that happen."

  "You, me and, Iz?"

  "You, me, Iz, and Damien."

  "Damien too?" I say, a little excited at the mention of his name.

  "Yes," she says. "Look, honey, something you gots to know about Damien and me. We're sexually free. We fall in love, but we always fuck others. Know that about Damien, that if you get with him he may love you completely but he'll always fuck other girls. The good thing is he'll never deny it and he'll usually invite you to join in."

  "That's weird."

  "Nope. It's just how it is. It's a more honest way of being than lying to someone and saying you're never going to fuck anyone else. That's the most dishonest statement anyone ever came up with."

  "So he's incapable of love?" I say.

  "Girl, are you retarded or something?" she says. "When did I say that? Oh ho, Damien falls in love. And when he does it's with his whole heart and spirit. He falls in like a motherfucker."

  Damien Cage in love. Really? Could he?

  "He doesn't seem the type," I say.

  "You want proof?" says Jasmine. "Tattered Angel. Words and music by D. Cage."

  "I just assumed he made those words up, not having someone real in mind."

  "Oh, honey, she was real. She was something else."

  "Did I screw things up with Damien?"

  "No," says Jasmine. "Damien wasn't serious about all that get out of my house shit. He can just be a real prick sometimes. Just rewrite that first chapter. Do it up right. He'll be fine, I promise. I know Damien. He and I have had more rows than The Jeffersons."

  "Jeffersons?" I say.

  "You know, George and Weezy? Weezy! Weezy! Oh, never mind."

  Note to self: Look up The Jeffersons.

  "You sure?" I say. "He was pretty pissed."

  "That's only 'cuz he got all emotional. Can't handle emotions since Marcellina."

  "Marcellina? So that was her name, huh?"

  Jasmine puts her hand up to her mouth.

  "Oops," she says, slapping her own wrist. "Bad Jasmine!"

  I finish my drink.

  "Another?" she says.

  "Oh, why the fuck not?" I say.

  As she pours, my cell phone vibrates. I pick it up and look at the number. Unknown. Just like earlier.

  I usually never pick up unknown numbers, but something tells me this time I should.

  "Hello?" I say.

  "Hello, is this Annika Spenser from MiamiImproper.com?" says a male voice.

  Shit, who the fuck is this? Should I say yes? No, I never say yes.

  "Who's calling?" I say.

  "A friend."

  Not good. Going to fake him out.

  "I'm sorry," I say, "I don't know who Annika whoever is."

  "Yes you do," says the voice. "But you got your article all wrong. Your buddy Damien Cage doesn't want to save the world. He's covering his tracks. He killed a man in cold blood."


  I get up off my barstool and move across the living room, away from Jasmine. The room sways a little.

  "Covering his tracks?" I say, the journalist in me drunk but fully activated. "Covering what tracks? Who is this?"

  "Look, don't trust me. Find it yourself. It'll get you hired at the Miami Herald, maybe even TMZ. Do you have a pen?"

  I fumble in my hipster satchel, pulling out a pen and pad.

  "Go ahead," I say.

  "Google this," he says. "Arely Gutierrez-Machado. Brimford, Massachusetts. Got it?"

  "Yes, I got it, but–"

  The line is dead. He hung up.

  "What was that?" says Jasmine.

  "Oh, nothing," I lie. "Stupidness leftover from my job that's no longer there. Info I'll just forward to Steve, my old boss."

  Not sure if Jasmine buys that, but she continues eating. I sounded convincing, thanks to the Grey Goose.

  I sit back down, a little confused. I sip more of my drink, which helps me push it aside for now.

  A doorbell rings.

  Jasmine looks up from her food and screeches.

  "That's our girl!" she says.

  She runs out and down the stairs.

  I consider taking out my Mac laptop to look up that name, but now is not the time. Probably some troll pulling a prank anyway.

  Jasmine rushes in through the door, very dramatic. The Beast flops left then right.

  "May I present... the fair Isabella," she says.

  In walks Isabella, who looks right at me.

  "Annika!" she says, surprised. "Annika naked. Jasmine naked. Oh, I get it."

  She moves to leave, but Jasmine grabs her, pulls her into the room, and slams the door shut.

  Isabella wears denim shorts with silver stars woven in, white sandals, and a white print T-shirt with multi-colored images that looks like it's been torn apart then stitched back together again. Artfully, of course. Her toenails are white with little newsprint headlines.

  I'm guessing she paid $200 for the shirt at an Ocean Drive boutique.

  Isabella avoids eye contact with me. Jasmine shuts the door.

  "Sit," she says to Isabella as she points to the stool next to mine.

  "No," says Isabella. "I can see what you two have been up to. And I'm not going to–"

  "Sit!" says Jasmine in her man voice.