by Nikki Ash
I open the drawer of my nightstand and grab the two pictures that are tucked away under my boxers. The first is of my older sister and me. It was taken the same day Colette went missing, a few days before she died. Running my fingers over her smiling face, I remember how happy she was that day. It was my twelfth birthday and our parents took us skiing. Colette loved to ski and she was damn good. She would drag me up and down those slopes for hours.
I choke up remembering how amazing the day was until we got home. Colette was four years older than me. The entire ride home she was texting with someone. I saw her smiling and asked if it was a guy. She lied to me. When we got home she asked to go to her friend’s house. She lied to our parents. Three days later she was found in the woods with no clothes on, bruises covering her body. The autopsy said she was raped and then strangled to death. After investigating, the police said she was chatting with an older guy in an online chat room. She met up with him when she said she was going with her friends. The cops were able to locate him. He was tried for her murder and found guilty, sentenced to life in prison. But that doesn’t change the fact that she lied, and because of her lies, she’s dead.
The day my parents found out Colette died I lost a piece of them as well. They began arguing all the time blaming each other. Nothing tears a family apart quicker than the death of a child. My mom cried for months after, saying a parent should never have to bury her own child. My dad turned to work. He went from working the standard forty hours a week to barely ever coming home. Instead of being on my best behavior, I lashed out, getting into fights, skipping school, and causing trouble. That was until I found out about the next lie. This one told by my mother.
I bring the second picture to the front. It’s of my mom and me a few weeks before she died from cancer. We are both smiling, but my smile isn’t real. I was thirteen at the time—almost a year after Colette died, and we knew my mom only had a short time left. I was homeschooled those last couple months so I could spend my days with her. As much as she tried to keep me away, not wanting me to see her body quickly deteriorating, I refused to stay away. I didn’t want to miss a moment with my mom, with the little time she had left. She knew she was sick for a long time but didn’t tell me. Another lie… More lies.
Pointing fingers at my sister and mom won’t change anything, but it still hurts knowing they both lied to me. I trusted them completely and yet they didn’t trust me with the truth.
I try hard not to let those be the last memories I have of them. I try to remember the good times. The times my sister would let me tag along to the local ice cream shop or hang out with her and her friends at the mall or the movies. I try to remember all the times my mom would take me to breakfast, just the two of us, or when she and I would play cards until late at night talking about nothing, yet it felt like everything. My mom and my sister were good people, they were my entire world, and I get they aren’t anything like my stepmom, but a lie is a lie, right? Lies destroy and hurt people, and I’m so sick of all the damn lies.
The pictures used to be on top of my nightstand for me to see, to try to remember all the good times over the bad, but Gloria made me put them away. I guess she didn’t want to see my mom and sister’s smiling faces while she was forcing herself on me.
I shove the pictures into my bag and finish packing some clothes, money I have stashed away, my toothbrush, deodorant, and an extra pair of shoes. I take one last look at my bedroom and head out knowing I’ll never be back.
I throw my bag into the backseat of my car and head to Cooper’s Fight Club. It’s a UFC training facility I work out at as much as I can. I came across the place a few years ago while walking home from school. In exchange for cleaning the gym a few nights a week after it closes, the gym owner, Marc Cooper, agreed to let me workout here for free. I hear he’s an asshole, but luckily he lives in Las Vegas and runs the gym there. The gym manager here, Diego, is really cool and lets me train after hours.
While my dream is to be a UFC fighter one day, I’m also going to college full-time. After I graduated from high school last year, I agreed to go to college because my mom left me a college fund when she passed away. She wanted to make sure no matter what happened I would have the money to go. I don’t want to let her down so I’m majoring in business and finance. My dad is an investment banker so it made him happy to see me major in something similar. While I can’t see myself ever using my degree to do anything like what he does, I’m determined to finish it.
I’m pounding away on the bag for God knows how long when Diego walks over to me.
“What’s going on, kid? It looks like you’re trying to kill the bag. You know it’s an inanimate object, right?”
I can’t help but laugh. He’s such a smartass.
“Just a bad day. I’m apparently homeless as of a couple hours ago.”
I’m not sure why I let that slip out. I usually keep to myself. Nobody knows the shit I’ve endured the last few years and it needs to stay that way, especially if I want to make sure my dad stays out of prison.
My phone vibrates, letting me know I have a text, so I check it quickly.
Nasty Bitch: You have an appointment at 8 p.m. Don’t be late.
She can’t be fucking serious right now. Does she really think I’m still going to be her fuck boy? Diego goes to say something and I put up one finger, signaling for him to give me a minute, and text her back.
Me: I’m done.
Her response is almost immediate.
Nasty Bitch: What are you going to do for money? Did you forget our deal?
Me: I would rather live on the streets broke. I’m done.
I’m hoping she won’t turn my dad in if I walk away quietly. I’m not her only source of income, and if she turns him in, she’ll lose her main source of income as well. She might be a poor excuse for a human, but she isn’t stupid.
Nasty Bitch: You need to go to your appointment tonight. You know who it’s with. I will let her know it’s the last time.
I do know who it’s with and it’s a woman I don’t want to piss off. She has the power to fuck my life up. The first time I met her at the hotel I didn’t know who she was. How would I? I was a seventeen-year-old senior in high school. After I started college I learned she’s the dean of admissions. When I barely made it through high school and needed to get into college I was shocked to learn I actually got in. Little did I know she pulled strings and got me accepted. As much as I would like to blow her world apart by outing her ass for fucking a teenager, it would also fuck up mine for a few reasons. One, it would out my stepmom and ultimately fuck up my dad’s life. And two, it would destroy the last two years I’ve spent in a college I don’t belong in. I only have two more to go to graduate, so I can honor my mom.
Me: Fine. Last time, though.
Nasty Bitch: That’s what I thought, and remember you say a word to anybody about our arrangement I will destroy you and your father. You’ll be visiting him in prison.
While I don’t give a shit about her threats to me, I’ll never say a word to anybody. I wouldn’t do that to my dad. He’s lost enough. His one mistake shouldn’t cost him everything.
Putting my phone back in my pocket, I look up and see Diego still staring at me. I completely forgot he was there.
“Homeless?”
“Yeah, I had to move out of my dad’s place.”
He thinks for a minute. “Look, I got an available room at my place…”
Before he can continue I cut him off.
“How much is the rent? I have some money, but I need to find a job. My school is paid for, but I don’t have a steady income anymore.”
While I despise Gloria for what she’s put me through the last four years, she did pay me. I think she justified her sick actions by paying me for my services. Like if I’m receiving money, it isn’t statutory rape and blackmail. If I’m accepting money from her, I must be willing, right? Fucking wrong!
“Like I was saying, I have an extra room at my place a
nd it’s empty. It is actually an old mother-in-law suite. It’s separate from my house, back behind the pool. I’ll start paying you to clean the gym instead of you doing it for free, and that way you can afford food, and still keep training and go to school.”
I would be a fool to say no to his offer. I definitely don’t have a better one, and if I want to keep training and graduate in two years, getting a full-time minimum wage job is only going to get in the way.
“All right, I’m going to take you up on your offer. Thanks, man.”
“No problem. Come by later and I’ll get you settled in. It’s completely furnished so you don’t need anything.”
I shake his hand. “I appreciate it.”
I glance at the clock and see it’s almost seven. I’ve got to shower and get ready for my last appointment. Suddenly it feels like I can breathe again. Knowing I’ll never have to unwillingly fuck another woman makes me feel like a hundred pounds has been lifted off my chest.
I head to the locker room to change and run into Bentley and Cooper. I met them here at the gym. It’s actually Cooper’s dad who owns the gym, but I guess they don’t really get along too well. Bentley and Cooper are both cool, though. They’re both fighters and are training to be in the UFC like I am. They’ve invited me to chill several times but with everything I have going on, I’ve found it best to keep people at arm’s length. They’re always going out, chasing females, and the truth is, I want nothing to do with women. Over the last few years I have been forced to fuck every kind of woman, but a few things are always the same. They’re users and cheaters, and they can’t be trusted. They want a man for his money and cock. I can’t even tell you how many married women I have fucked. And do they care that they’ve been fucking a teenager? Fuck no, they don’t. I hate the female population and I’m definitely not interested in chasing one.
One day I’ll be in the UFC. I’ll be a fighter like I’ve dreamed of, and with my business and finance degree I’ll be able to manage my own money. There is no way I am busting my ass to have some untrustworthy, cheating woman use me for my money and then fuck me over. Fuck that shit.
Now all I need to do is get through tonight and shit will be looking up from here on out. I say what’s up to the guys, shower, and get dressed. Maybe after tonight I’ll actually be able to chill with them.
Norma Silverstein, the dean of admissions, is of course a married woman. She is married to a professor at the business college so we meet at a local hotel for our appointments since her home is off limits. When I pull up, I send her a text to let her know I’m here. She texts back the room number and I head up.
I knock and she lets me in. She’s dressed in nothing but the hotel robe and her hair is up in some messy bun shit women always wear. She smiles at me and holds the door open while I walk through to the main room to wait for her demands. I hear the door close behind me and then feel her hands come around me moving straight to my dick. What I want to do is take her hand and shove it away from me, tell her to never fucking touch me again, but I can’t. So instead I stand there and let the woman put her hands on my body.
“You aren’t hard.” I can’t see her since she’s standing behind me, but I can hear the pout in her voice.
Of course I’m not hard. Do women seriously think guys walk around hard twenty-four seven? Do they think paying someone for their services is going to make that person instantly attracted to them? Well, I can tell you from experience, it doesn’t. What’s worse is these women know what kind of service my stepmom provides. They know she pimps out her barely old enough teenage stepson to service them at their demand, but do they care? No, they don’t. They care about one thing, themselves. My job is to do as these women say. It doesn’t matter if I don’t want to or if I’m not in the mood. My job is to fake it.
The first time I had sex with Norma I was almost eighteen. I was about to graduate high school and my stepmom said if I had sex with Norma she could ensure I would be accepted to the University. Not that I had a damn choice anyway. I had already been having sex with other women for a little over a year. At least having sex with Norma would mean I would get into college. Unfortunately once wasn’t enough and every time we’re done she reminds me she’s the only reason I’m in college. I would say I should have just gone to a local state college but would it have mattered? I still would be forced to sleep with Norma. Gloria gets what she wants or my dad will end up in prison. I don’t want to see my father in prison… even if he technically deserves it.
Norma stays standing behind me and rubs my cock, hoping it will magically get hard. I close my eyes and will my dick to do something. I’m not sure if I should will it to get hard to get this shit over with or will it to stay soft so I won’t have to fuck this cheating whore at all. Of course my dick has a mind of its own and after a few minutes of her rubbing on it, it gets hard. It’s science, really… it doesn’t matter how much I beg it to stay soft, it always ends up getting hard. It’s as if it’s been trained to get hard against its will, and I guess in a way it has been, by Gloria. Turning around, I decide to get this shit over with.
“What would you like tonight?” I robotically ask, because that’s my job—to ask what they want and then give it to them. They all want pretty much the same thing—to get off. They want orgasms that are almost impossible to give and receive. They think because they have read some porn shit in a romance book that means it’s really that easy.
“I want it rough tonight,” she shyly responds. If I didn’t know better I would think she’s some sweet, innocent woman, but I do know better and she’s neither of those. I don’t know why she insists on acting shy every time she makes her demands. You’re paying for sex while cheating on your husband. Do you really need to act shy? But because I don’t need to piss this woman off, I go along with it.
I take her by her hand and bring her to the room, straight to the bed. I push her onto the mattress roughly and begin removing my clothes. She gets excited and strips herself of her robe. Stroking my cock to keep it hard, I climb on onto the bed and flip her over onto her stomach, pulling her ass up in the air.
“Spank me!” she screeches, so I do. Kneeling behind her, I smack her ass several times with one hand while I find her pussy through her opened thighs with my other. I push two fingers straight into her cunt and begin pumping them in and out of her, getting her wet. I add a third finger and attempt to find her G-spot. The sooner I give her what her husband apparently can’t, the sooner I can get the fuck out of here.
I know I’ve found the spot that will make her go off when her thighs begin to close shut. I give her ass another hard smack just like she likes.
“Keep your fucking legs open.” Within a few seconds of my fingers hitting the spot, she’s coming. One down.
“Ohhh… that feels so good. I want you to fuck me in the ass now,” Norma moans, coming down from her orgasm.
I grab a condom from the nightstand she left there for tonight and roll it onto my dick. I stroke it a few more times to make sure it’s hard again. Then I drag her to the edge of the bed so she’s leaning over the edge with her ass in the air.
Taking the wetness from my fingers, I stick them into her ass getting it ready for my cock. While I would love to go in dry and tear her shit up and really show her what rough is, I don’t want to piss her off. I’m so close to being done. I just need to finish this and I’ll be able to walk away finally free.
Once I know she’s ready, I guide my cock to her ass and push in slowly.
“Oh my God!” she yells. “Pull my hair!”
And so I do. I grab ahold of her hair and fist it around my hand while pushing my dick all the way in.
“Hard! I want it hard!” She wiggles her ass, wanting more, and once again I give her exactly what she wants.
With her mane wrapped around my fist, I pull her head back to the point that it’s got to be painful and begin fucking her ass with abandon. Harder and harder I pound into her. Does it feel good? I would be lying if
I said it doesn’t. I am a man after all, fucking a woman in the ass. Of course it feels good. The problem is every time I come it’s tainted knowing this isn’t my choice. I have never had sex by choice. Thinking about Gloria taking my virginity at fifteen years old pisses me off. I keep pounding this bitch, remembering my stepmom threatening me, telling me if I didn’t fuck her she would destroy my dad, and then spending the next several years dreading every time my dad went away knowing she would be showing up to my room.
Once I turned sixteen, she began forcing me to fuck other women. I thought maybe she would stop wanting me, but she didn’t. She had no problem continuing to make me fuck her even though she knew all the women she was pimping me out to. The memories become too much and I try to shake the thoughts from my head. If I think too much my dick will go soft.
“Caleb, make me come.” Norma’s words bring me back to the now remembering this shit is about her. It’s always about the woman. They don’t care if I get off. They’re using me. That’s what women do. They use.
I bring the hand that isn’t grabbing her hair down to her clit and begin rubbing it in circles while I continue to fuck her ass. I can feel my body trying to release, but I focus on something else to stop myself from coming. I can’t come before her. I need to end this shit on a good note. Thankfully her second orgasm hits and she’s coming once again, allowing me to come as well. I release into the condom and slow my thrusts to a standstill. I untangle my fingers from her hair and slowly pull my dick out of her ass.
She turns around and smiles. “Thank you. That was so good.”
I nod and head to the bathroom to get cleaned up, grabbing my clothes from the floor so I don’t have to walk out naked.
My phone goes off in my pocket and I check it.
Diego: Great opportunity for you has come up. Call me when you get this.
I flush the condom, get dressed, and say goodbye to Norma for the last time. She, of course reminds me she’ll check on my grades and make sure everything is going okay—her way of reminding me she’s in control. Once I’m in the lobby, I dial Diego.
