Asarotica

by Asa Akira

  “You are here to please me. Nothing else. You are a toy and I will treat you as such. Do you understand?”

  An even bigger smile spreads across my face. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I am a vessel.

  A container.

  A hole.

  He grabs me by the hand and my body follows. He leads me through his dwelling. More of a compound than it is a home. I like the coldness. We enter a large room and he points to a bed.

  “Go,” he commands.

  Without the slightest hesitation, I obey and sit on the large, soft bed. His taste in decor is impeccable. Money has shaped him into the perfect man. He stands in front of me and unbuttons his dress shirt. The starch in it is so fresh it almost sounds like crisp construction paper as it’s unbuttoned and dropped to the ground. I reach my hands out to drag down his chest and I notice for the first time my nails are manicured red. He is warm.

  I am not.

  He forcefully grabs my hands, which startles me, but instills no fear.

  “Did I say you could touch me yet?” he says sternly.

  I am overwhelmed with shame. I must please and obey him.

  He disrobes me. My itchy hospital gown feels like razors against my smooth and poreless skin.

  I am finally free.

  He caresses my body. His hands are as soft as silk, yet restrain so much power and destruction in them. He gathers my hair into a makeshift leash and pushes me down to my knees.

  I’m instructed to unzip his pants. I oblige. I can see a large bulge fighting against the fabric of his slacks—it’s obvious which is winning. Delicately, I pull the metal zipper down and am immediately greeted by his large member bursting through the open fly. I am in awe. His cock is perfect in every way. I open my mouth and look up at him and stare at his mouth. I’m awaiting to hear my orders.

  “Be a good girl, and suck,” he authoritatively coos.

  I am a mindless pleasure machine here to service his exquisite dick. I restrain myself from devouring his member like a ravenous animal. I have self-control.

  I nuzzle my face against his throbbing shaft, letting his smooth skin caress my face. Delicately, I take him into my hand, as if it were paper and his cock were a sword. Ever so slightly, I graze my lips against his glistening tip. I apply his precum like lip gloss. I gaze up and stare at his mouth while slowing dragging my tongue across my lips, savoring his sweetness.

  He says nothing, but he smiles. I have pleased my master for the first time.

  Grabbing my hair, he turns me into a steering mechanism. He drags me across the spacious master suite to a chaise. My knees scrape against the cold concrete floor and it excites me. My nipples become sharp points that I worry will cut my master. He leans back onto the chaise, the leather groaning as he settles in. He snaps his fingers and a spark shoots through my naked body. I crawl to his side.

  “Begin,” he commands.

  I open my mouth and slide his even harder cock in. My mouth instantly floods his shaft with hot saliva, bathing his dick in what I understand from his expression is pure ecstasy. Dragging my smooth tongue up and down his never-ending cock, I feel my mouth muscles begin to tire, but I don’t let that stop me. I am a machine. I pull my mouth away from him, long spit strands spread between us like a dew-covered spiderweb. The spit rope breaks and my breasts become striped like a tiger. I apologize for making a mess and soiling his property and request punishment. He cradles my chin with the delicacy of holding a baby chick. A gust of wind hits my face before the pain. His hand slaps me like the smoothest brick. Another spark shoots through my body. I am excited.

  “Thank you, master,” I pant.

  I am a dog in heat. Without warning, he plunges his throbbing cock to the back of my throat. I feel a shock in between my legs that I have never experienced before. I want more. I start sucking with the force of a black hole. He never once breaks the rhythm his sword makes as he slides it down my throat with the precision of an award-winning marksman. My eyes are watering with tears of happiness. Tears of pride in being able to please my owner. Tears of needing war.

  He pulls himself away and I want to sob like a child who dropped her ice cream cone. He walks to the kitchen. I meet him there by slinking on the floor, like a lioness stalking her prey. I sit on my knees at attention, eager for him to speak to me again. He reaches into a small refrigerator and pulls out a bottle. I can’t make out the label, but I would never question my master’s taste. He rummages through a drawer and pulls out a corkscrew. I ask myself why he hasn’t grabbed glasses. He pops the cork, and I don’t flinch. He starts pouring golden liquid down the drain.

  The kitchen is filled with the aroma of sweet, bubbly yeast. He snaps his fingers and points to the bedroom again. I crawl across his freezing floor; every knee-drag is agony and ecstasy that could never exist without the other. He walks slowly behind me as I slowly make the trek across the arctic tundra that is this concrete hallway. I feel his eyes examine me.

  Critique me.

  Covet me.

  He has a plan for my body. I am meat. He instructs me to lie on the bed, legs spread. Grabbing the empty bottle, he puts it to my mouth, and instructs me to suck it. I take the cold glass into the inferno that is my mouth. I suck the vessel with the same passion and bravado as my master’s cock. He pulls it away before placing it in my hand.

  “You know what to do,” he says encouragingly.

  I feel another surge race through my body. He is right, I know what to do. I lift my long legs up with the limberness of a gymnast and spread them wide, like a good girl. I grip the bottle with both hands and slowly slide the neck of the bottle into my sweet slit. The chilled glass extinguishes the fire inside me. A flood of juice surrounds the bottle. My back arches and my toes point. I am in heaven.

  I can see Master standing at the edge of the bed. His mouth has the faintest trace of a smirk. I’m his good girl. As I slide the phallus in and out of myself with the fervor and cadence of a locomotive, I am on the verge of exploding.

  “Stop!” he commands. “You can’t cum yet.”

  He pulls the bottle away from my rigor-stricken hands. He puts the glass neck to his nose and breathes in deeply. He closes his eyes and smiles. Master stands over me, and I have to divide my attention between staring at his mouth and his still rock hard erection. He pushes my closing legs wide open again, kneeling before me at the edge of the bed. I feel the softest sensation in the universe graze my sweet spot. His tongue begins to slowly massage my clit, causing me to grip the sheets as if they were the only thing keeping me from floating away. There are lightning bolts of sweet electricity shooting in between my shaking legs. I focus on his mouth as he makes love to me with his tongue. His hot breath, his cool saliva, his muscular tongue—he is perfect.

  He quickens his tempo and intensity. I feel that sensation of explosion again. My legs tremble, my back arches, my heart races, and I am flooded with intense waves of vibration crashing and rolling up and down my body. I have seen the face of God, and he just ate my pussy. Master brings himself to my face. I can smell my sweet juices on him.

  “Clean me,” he orders.

  I drag my tongue across his lips and around his reddened mouth. I taste like honey.

  He shoves his hand in my mouth as I finish cleaning myself off of his face. He slides his long, slender fingers down my throat. My mouth is overflowing with spit. He pulls out his hand and rubs the waterfall of saliva over his steel cock.

  “On your hands and knees,” he orders.

  I flip over and assume the position with choreographed excellence. My back instinctively arches as I present my round, smooth ass to him. I am in heat. He drags his cool fingertips down the curves of my backside. He spreads the dripping lips between my legs and I am filled with the ultimate sensation of fullness. My tight cunt stretches to accommodate the titanic thickness of his member. I feel as if I’m being impaled by pure happiness. I open my eyes, shocked that such pleasure could actually exist, and am greete
d by the sight of his mouth agape. Even my wise and all-knowing master wasn’t prepared for the joy I am capable of providing him. He slides his cock all the way out of my pulsating fuck-hole. That is all it is. A warm, tight refuge for his saint of a shaft.

  I exist solely to make him come.

  I am nothing but a whore.

  Once he pulls his cock out of me, I see his perfect dick glistening with my juices. I am filled with longing. I don’t want him inside me; I need him inside me. He rubs his engorged tip on my pulsating clit, massaging my most sensitive parts with his. I rock my hips back and forth, trying to entice him into penetrating me once again. Master reaches his arm up towards my neck, constricting my slender neck with intense pressure. The second he applies force, he plunges his prick deep inside me. I am flooded with the most exquisite sensation ever to grace the face of this earth. He keeps his hand firmly fixed around my neck as I writhe in rhythmic cadence with each of his strokes. He releases me from his hand control and I gasp for air as I am overwhelmed with euphoria and what feels like hundreds of mental orgasms.

  I breathe in large gulps of air. He truly is my master.

  “Good girl,” he commends.

  He has to fight my grip to pull out of me. When he succeeds, I’ve never felt such abandonment and disappointment. His cock completes me. It is my purpose. My prime directive.

  Master grabs me by my hair, and I instinctively arch my back to the point I feel my spine snap in half like a twig. I feel a hot, fiery sensation engulf my arched ass, as if I’ve been branded like prized cattle. His hand has marked me as his property. My badge of honor. Something wet drips down my sacred area.

  “Are you ready to be a good girl?” he asks, knowing the answer full well.

  I spread my ass.

  Finally, he enters my other fuck-hole. My asshole is his now. I’m astonished he can even fit his gargantuan sword inside this sacred and holy ground. I moan and groan as he slowly eases himself into my virgin ass. He romances my asshole with the precision of a professional ballroom dancer. My cunt overflows with sweet syrup. I am engulfed in the rapture of pure delight and immense pride with every stroke that he rewards me with, and I am amazed that I am able to accommodate him in such a small, tight space.

  This is what I am designed for.

  He picks up the pace of ramming my virgin bottom, each stroke fulfilling my destiny of being the perfect fuck doll. He deprives me of his cock once again, but quickly returns it by tossing me onto my back, which is relieved to have a break from arching so intensely. He shoves his member into my pouting mouth. My taste buds are engulfed with the flavors of my most intimate crevices. My delectable asshole juice mixed with my intoxicatingly sweet vagina nectar, all topped off with the exquisite delight of the precum dribbling from his pulsating rod. After I sufficiently savor every drop of the sweetest dessert ever concocted, he surprises my senses by entering my jealous cunt. He cuts off my air supply once more as he fills my love cavity with every inch of his meat. His cock impales me, like Vlad during wartime in the 15th century. I can’t hold back my climax any longer. Master has been bringing me to the edge of pleasure for forty-five minutes. He grinds his hips into me with every powerful stroke.

  It’s as if he, too, is a steam-powered machine designed for fucking.

  Master finishes me off with a flurry of strokes that are a blur, like a racecar in its final lap. I scream as small explosions of pleasure detonate between my legs and resonate throughout my entire body. He lets out a moan like a lion roaring on the African plain. The rush of his hot cum inside me fills me like a cup of hot tea. It spills out of my still-contracting slit; I am overflowing with his reward. He orders me to clean up the mess for which I am responsible. I reach my trembling hand down between my legs and am greeted by a waterfall of jizz. It sticks to my hand as I bring it to my mouth. The flavor is indescribable. This is what heaven tastes like. I am enthralled and enveloped in a warm feeling of pride and satisfaction of knowing I did my job.

  Like a good girl.

  He collapses next to me, chest heaving as if he just ran a marathon. “You are a good girl,” he coos as if he just won a battle. “Best investment I have ever made.”

  He takes me by the hand and guides me to his bathroom. We both enter his slate stone shower. The glass fogs as he washes my body with lavender-scented soap. I am glowing with pride for completing such an honorable task. This is his way of rewarding me. He towels me off with a fabric. Maybe angora. I feel born again. He dresses me in my robe; I am repackaged. He walks me back over to the metal stretcher.

  He kisses my forehead, “Thank you, good girl.”

  I memorize all the lines of his mouth. I love him. I feel his warm hand on the back of my neck.

  Click, click of the buttons as he presses them.

  Then, blackness.

  NIGHT MOVES

  BY RACHAEL MADORI

  “Evening, Miss Audrey.”

  The doorman had the door held open for me before I even put my car in park. I texted Michael on my way over to make sure she wasn’t home. I hadn’t seen him in almost a week, which wasn’t normal. He never questioned it, though—he was only there when I came for my dose of him.

  Tonight was different.

  When I got to his door I knocked loudly. He came to the door with his same sense of calmness.

  “Good.” He smiled. “I’ve been a little”—he scanned my body—“frustrated tonight.” He waved for me to enter.

  Instantly high at his insinuation, I snapped myself out of it to stay focused. I gripped my choker and walked in. “I actually need to tell you something.” I looked up at him. Every motion I made, every look he gave me, I filed away in my memory, aware that this was quite possibly the last time I’d be near him again.

  “Oh?” He closed the door behind me. “What’s that?”

  “I did it.” I was nervous. “I got what I needed. I can leave.”

  He wasn’t expecting that news. I saw a shift in his eyes, but it dissipated quickly. What was that?

  “Well, look at you.” He walked closer to me and twirled a lock of my hair in his fingers. “I almost forgot we even had a deal.” He smirked and looked at me a way I hadn’t seen before I tried to shake it off discreetly. “I think it’s best you leave the city immediately.”

  His words stung, but he was right. No doubt I had made enemies, and I didn’t have that plan for nothing. “I was thinking the same thing …” I trailed off, unaware of where this conversation would bring us. I was trying to buy more time near him before I had to kick my habit.

  “However.” He dropped the lock of hair that was between his fingers and stared me fiercely in the eyes. “I would hate if you drove all the way here for nothing.” He was playing our conversation cool but I couldn’t help notice a difference in his demeanor. I stared back at him with unsure eyes and then he walked away, disappearing down the hall for a minute.

  I waited for an order.

  The streetlights looked like fractals through heavy tears welling up in my eyes. That didn’t help my driving. I sped down a lonely highway, running from a situation I had put myself in again. All the windows were down. My dark hair whirled around and stung my face. There was something about the wind blowing violently through my car that made it feel like I could be swept away into the sky, never to be seen again.

  I liked that.

  The road was slick from a heavy shower earlier that night, and my headlights illuminated the path. Every bright green exit sign beckoned me, but nothing would stop me from getting what I wanted.

  Fuck! I pounded the steering wheel with the palm of my hand. What a fucking mess. I caught a mouthful of my hair as I shouted, only the wind hearing my complaints. The night hadn’t panned out the way it was supposed to. I was supposed to find my way out, but I saw my golden ticket slip away as quickly as it had come. I was angry. And there was only one place I went when I was angry.

  The thing about my life is that it had always been out of control. And somet
imes, a girl needs control. That’s what led me to be speeding over the bridge to that side of town. My day-to-day was utter chaos. There was only one constant; this one thing made living a little more bearable, as fucked up as we both were. Butterflies fluttered in my gut with every mile inched closer.

  I pulled up in front of the apartment building I knew all too well—one of those floor-to-ceiling window high-rises. Unlike my personal hole in the wall back over the bridge, it towered over my small frame. I threw my car in park and leaned back for a second to take a deep breath. Toying with the black choker fastened tightly around my neck, I stared up at the skyscrapers, now realizing the sun was beginning to creep through the night. I had lost track of time. I hopped out and headed towards the door, not even bothering to wipe my tears or save face when I stormed past the doorman.

  “Evening, Miss Audrey.” He nodded like he always did while holding the door open for me.

  All I could think about was what awaited me. Whatever it was. Whatever tonight had in store, as long as I got to feel my anger dissipate by drinking the tonic that was his presence, didn’t matter. It wasn’t my nature to make a single thing, a single person, such an integral part of my life, but he was different.

  With most of the people I dealt with, it was drugs, adrenaline, or money.

  Well, this was my fix.

  Everyone has a fix, whether they admit it or not. No one wants to confront the one thing that proves we are all, in fact, weak. I came to terms with it years ago when this all started. I learned from a young age that everyone has a dirty little secret. I learned we all roll around in the dirt with it until we’re good and damn well ready to give it up.

  I was not ready yet.

  The butterflies in my stomach had now turned into bats, and my heart raced as the elevator climbed up. Seventeen … Eighteen … Nineteen … Top floor.

  I was already at his door before the elevator closed shut and began its descent back downstairs. What’s going to happen when it’s time to end this? Have you fallen too deep into the rabbit hole? Every time I found myself here, I had the same thoughts—and this time was no different. It didn’t matter, though; the thoughts never deterred me. It wasn’t like I wanted to be anywhere else in the world than standing right here with my knuckle against his door.