Social Media

by JA Huss

  Well, thanks a lot, asshole. I’d like to say that, but I don’t because I’m uneasy with all the anger I’m experiencing right now. He’s affecting me in a very negative way and I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. I cut right through his bullshit and lay it all out there. “Do you want to fuck me?”

  “Would you like me to fuck you?”

  This is going nowhere. I’m getting nowhere. And I can’t take the pressure, so I blurt out, “Yes! Yes, I want you to fuck me.”

  He’s shaking his head before I even finish. “I’m sorry, Grace. I don’t work that way. I mean, yeah, look at you. I’d like to fuck you sideways, upside down, and backwards, and not really in that order because I’m a total ass man. But I don’t date anyone without a NDA.”

  “Ah, there it is! I knew that was true!” I turn around and start walking back to the beach.

  He does not follow and I know this partly because I don’t hear the soft sound of feet on stones behind me. But also because when I get all the way back to the shore he calls out. “Hey, Grace!”

  I stop but don’t turn.

  “Want a trial run? To give you time to make up your mind. See if I’m worth the price of your silence?”

  I stop and throw up my hands but I don’t turn back around. “Are you asking me if I’d like to fuck you tonight without the contract?”

  “That’s what I’m asking.”

  “No strings?”

  “No.” He chuckles behind me as he walks down the path. “There are definitely strings, Grace. And if we go any further, you will verbally agree to them. You’ll give me a lady’s word that you will not talk to the media.”

  Well, he’s got no idea how much the media revolts me, so that’s a deal I can make. I turn and I’m surprised to find him very close. “What am I not talking to them about, if I give a lady’s word to take you up on the free trial?”

  He takes a deep breath like he has to steady himself to answer that question, and then he lets it out and replies, “Submission.”

  “I don’t really know what that means, so you’re gonna have to explain.” My heart is beating so fast at the sudden turn in conversation, I almost want to pass out. I steady myself by leaning against the trunk of a palm tree. “Will you hurt me?”

  “Maybe,” he says softly. “If you like that.”

  “What if I don’t like that?”

  “Then I won’t do it. But how do you know you won’t like it unless you try it?”

  “Was all this small talk just a way to break the ice so you could get me to agree to this?”

  “Yes.”

  No hesitation on his part at all. Just yes. I turn away and my heart pounds inside my chest, enough to make my vision blur, and before I know what’s happening I’m falling to the ground. “Did you drug me?”

  He laughs. “Drug you? How in the world would I have drugged you, Grace? Jesus. A little faith. I’m not a kidnapper, for fuck’s sake. I’m just a kinky bastard who wants to get laid. And I want to do that with you tonight. Stop thinking so hard.” He’s got me by the arm and I realize I didn’t fall. I almost did, but he caught me. “I can make it nice, if that’s what you want.”

  “Just tell me why? Why me?” I force myself to look him in the eyes. “You can have anyone and I’m not the only available woman at this resort. So just tell me what you see when you look at me—and not all that bullshit about eyes and skin and whatever, but what you really see. Do I have the word victim written across my forehead?’

  “Victim? What?”

  “That something that says you can take advantage of me. That says I’m vulnerable and needy and I will agree to this thing you ask for because I’m desperate for someone to love me and the only person who can do that is you. That’s what you want me to believe, right? I’m damaged—”

  His mouth covers mine mid-sentence. A soft kiss, not hard and punishing like I imagined it. His tongue sweeps in and caresses mine and my heart slows. Slows. That erratic thumping a few seconds ago is replaced with calm serenity. With the tender touch of his fingertips as they brush against my cheek.

  “Stop,” he says when he pulls away just enough to allow him to speak words that won’t get lost inside my mouth. “Stop all that talk, right now. I didn’t realize you were so fragile. So… breakable.”

  “So weak, you mean.”

  He reaches down and pinches my ass. Hard. I squeal and try and pull away but his embrace constricts me so we are breast to chest. His hand leaves my ass and cups the back of my neck.

  “I said stop.” This time his tone is not soft. “And when I say stop, you obey that fucking command at all times. I don’t use it often, but I refuse to listen to this bullshit spewing out of your mouth. Just because I find you attractive doesn’t mean I want to abuse you or that I see you as weak because I think you might be willing to submit. It does mean I find you irresistible. That I’d like to explore our sexuality together. That I’d like to own your body, even if only for a short period of time.”

  My heart pounds again. Ball in my court, right? What the hell do I say? “I don’t understand what any of that means.”

  “I know,” he says, and then he kisses me gently again to calm me down. “I know. I see that now. So I’ll teach you. If you agree to submit, I will teach you.”

  Chapter Ten - Vaughn

  #OscarWinningPrick

  THIS girl is a mess. A total mess. Oh, everything about her on the outside is the complete deal. She’s just the right height. Not too tall, but tall enough to make holding her next to my six-foot-two frame feel like she belongs to me. Her hair is the most perfect shade of blonde mixed with darker brown strands, and it falls down her back and flutters against her bare shoulders in a way that makes me wonder what it would feel like dragging across my chest as she sits astride me during sex. Her eyes are a pale blue mixed with flecks of green. It’s dark now, so I can’t see them well. But they were the first thing I noticed when she looked at me out on the lazy river today. The sun made them sparkle with mischief and passion.

  But this girl, confronted with my desire to have her, is falling to pieces right before my eyes. Her past is suspicious and parts of it are missing. And her sudden self-loathing and low self-worth is at odds to the woman portrayed in the background check. I know she’s hiding something, but right now she still thinks her secrets are safe. So I’ll play along to get what I want.

  “I asked you a question, Grace. Will you agree to my terms?”

  Her eyes are darting around, looking at anything but me. She begins with a shake of her head, her answer, a no for sure, on the tip of her tongue.

  I stop her before she can start and take my hand to her throat, wrapping it around the smooth skin of her neck in such a way that I can feel her pulse. “Do you like to be choked during sex, Grace?”

  “What?” she gasps.

  “Choked,” I say as I palm her a little more forcefully. She swallows against my hand and I almost come right there. Her fear is a turn-on, I won’t deny it.

  “No,” she says, her words vibrating against my skin. I pull back, but she places her hand on mine and keeps it pressed against her, the throbbing of her heartbeat even more pronounced now. “I don’t want to be choked. But…” She looks up at me and swallows again. My cock grows harder in response as I wait for her words. “But I like the thought of being choked.”

  I relax and let out a sigh. Then a chuckle. “You kinky bitch.” I lean down and kiss her again, my tongue pushing against hers as my hand remains against her windpipe. “I can do that, Grace. I won’t hurt you. You will trust me and always know that I won’t hurt you. But if you like to be scared, I can do that. Is that what you like?”

  “No, not scared. I’m not—”

  Her words stop abruptly because my hand slips between her legs and my fingers pry her underwear away from her pussy and seek out her folds. She is so wet. “That’s my answer right there, baby. I will always be able to tell if you’re enjoying the way I arouse you with my fingers.
You like this, don’t you? You’re dirty, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” she squeaks out as my fingers continue to play with her, rubbing against her opening, then sweeping back to her ass.

  “Would you like my cock in your ass, Grace?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Have you ever had anal sex?’

  “No.”

  Oh, fuck me. “I will be your first then. If you agree.” My finger leaves the hard bud of her ass and sweeps forward to touch her clit. She moans as I palm her whole pussy. “Won’t I, Grace? You will let me fuck you in the ass? Me and no one else?”

  She moans and I pull her hair with my other hand, yanking her neck back so she has to look at me. “Do you like me to pull your hair?”

  “Yes, but not too hard.” She pushes her hips against my thigh, grinding her pussy, looking for release.

  I turn her around and grip her throat again, forcing her body against mine. “Hmmm, I don’t think so, Grace. I get to decide how hard to pull your hair. I get to decide how hard to press against your throat. I get to decide when I take your ass and how. That’s the whole idea of submission. Right now I’m asking you yes or no to these things in general, not how you want them done to you. Do you understand?”

  Her body has gone stiff in my embrace and so yes, she does understand. But she’s not happy about what I just said.

  “Grace, I asked you a question. If you’re my submissive you will answer with a yes or no, then add Master at the end of that. Do you understand?”

  Her silence is a battle I have no part of. This is the test. Either she says yes and we move on to more limits, or she says no and I end the night with one of the security agents escorting her back to her bungalow. Is my movie-star status enough to make her go against her instincts? Is she impressed with me? Does she want me? Or just the idea of me? Most women, once they get to know me, very much enjoy the sex but hate the actual man who gives it to them. I expect no different from Grace. Eventually. But it will take her some time to get tired of me, and that’s what I’m counting on. A few erotic hours with this girl doing exactly what I tell her to do is exactly what I need.

  “Yes, Master,” she finally replies.

  I chuckle and don’t even try to hide it. “As if that was ever a question.”

  “It was a question, Asher,” she snarls. “Make no mistake, I hand you control under the assumption that I can revoke it at any time.”

  “Of course,” I reply, leaning into her neck so I can breathe softly into her ear. “Of course,” I whisper. “You are in control of yourself at all times, Grace. But just know… you will never, ever be in control of me.” She swallows against my hand again and my cock grows, pushing against the fabric of my suit pants and right up against the crack of her ass. I want to fuck her in the ass so bad I almost can’t control myself and her thin dress is not enough of a barrier to calm me down. I growl in her ear. “Moving on. Do you like to be gagged, Grace?”

  “Can I turn around and face you? Can I look you in the eye for this conversation? I mean, I’d like to see what’s behind all this, if you don’t mind.”

  “Behind what?” I ask back, a bit annoyed.

  She brings her hand up to her throat and places it over mine, then gently pulls it off her neck so she can turn around. Her face is passive, not angry like I expected. Just calm. “I want to look at you to see if you’re a monster or just a kinky asshole.”

  I laugh again, this time a little heartier, and then I shoot her the smile. My movie-star smile. “What if I’m both?”

  “I’m not going to lie, Asher. I find the submission stuff sexy. I’m not sure I’m a submissive at heart, but I can get on board with some of what you’re looking for. But the minute I feel manipulated, I’m out.”

  “Then you better leave right now, Grace. Because all of this, every bit of it, is manipulation. My goal, as your master, is to push your limits and make you enjoy things you never thought you would. I do that by manipulating you sexually. With teasing, with erotic spankings, with psychological conditioning that will allow you to let go of the monster mentality and accept the fact that, believe it or not, this shit is just fucking fun.”

  She huffs out a laugh and then the smile follows. “Just fucking fun?”

  “Yeah.” I smile back at her. “I mean, look at it rationally. If we weren’t getting off on it, we’d get bored and stop. If it was really hurting us, we’d manifest that in our professional lives. I’ve had a lot of submissives over the years, Grace. None of them ever claimed I’d hurt them mentally or physically. An NDA does not excuse me from being punished for criminal activities. If I rape you, that piece of paper will not prevent you from seeking justice. If I break your arm, that piece of paper will not keep me out of jail. It becomes meaningless if I abuse its power. And besides, I’m not interested in hurting you. I just want to excite you erotically.”

  She’s on board, I know she is. But she’s still struggling to allow herself to say the words.

  “Grace, you’re not a victim if you agree. You’re not a victim if you enjoy my domination. I’m not interested in forcing you to bend to my will. You’ve missed the whole point of submission if that’s what you believe. Everything I do, if you agree to this relationship, is geared towards gaining your trust and allowing me to arouse you sexually in ways that I prefer. That’s it. If I pull your hair, I’m trying to get you off. If I stroke your neck and then palm it with a little bit of pressure, I’m trying to make you come. If I stuff my cock down your throat and force you to salivate and breathe through it, you should let me do that because I like it. And because you like it as well.”

  My fingers play with her clit again as my other hand comes back to rest on her throat, reminding her that the whole purpose of this is pleasure. I want to fuck her right now, but I can’t. Not until we get the ground rules figured out. She’s not signing anything tonight, so this verbal sparring is all we have to set it straight until she’s ready to commit. I take her hand and place it over the hard pulsating bulge in my pants. “You should want to submit to me because it makes me hard. It makes me want to fuck you in every way possible. It makes me addicted to you, Grace. Submitting to my whims so that I am pleased is addictive. I want that more than anything. I want a woman who will give me that when I ask for it.”

  “Then why all the secrecy? Why the NDA? I mean, if you’re so convinced that this is good for me, and you’ve checked me out, then why do you have to gag me with the threat of legal action?”

  “Please, Grace. I’m a Hollywood movie star. My father is a Hollywood legend. My family’s production company has hands in more than two dozen high-profile projects at this very moment. What I like in private is no one’s business but mine.”

  “You’re wrong,” she says, interrupting me. That ticks me off a little, but since she’s not mine yet, I let it pass. “It’s not just your business, it’s my business too. Which means it’s unfair that I can’t articulate my experiences with a confidante just because your career might be impacted. You seem to think that there’s only one person in this contract, and that’s you. And honestly, that’s a big red flag for me. Because if my feelings and experiences are that inconsequential to you that the contract is written to exploit me and favor you, then you are preying on me. Pure and simple.”

  “So leave,” I say impulsively. “Leave. And forget everything I said to you tonight. Just move on with your life and I’ll move on with mine.”

  She swallows under my palm again and it takes all my self-control not to flip her over and fuck her blind. Her hand comes up to her neck once again, and once again she pries my fingers from her throat. And then she smiles a big fake smile and tips her head up. “It was great to spend time with you, Mr. Asher. Perhaps we’ll meet again some other day.”

  And then she picks up her shoes, discarded when, I have no idea, and walks back down the pea gravel path to the beach.

  “You’ll get lost,” I call out to her. “If you take the beach. You’ll get lost
because you won’t know which path to take back to the bungalows.”

  She turns around, walking backwards as she speaks. “I’m a big girl, Vaughn. A grown woman, in fact. I think I’ll manage.” And then she turns her back and skips down the few concrete stairs that stop at the sand.

  “What will it take then?” I call again. “Grace! What will it take?”

  She stops and turns. “Why? Why do you give a shit about me? Just stop and leave me alone. I’m not interested in feeding some sick pathology—”

  “I’m not sick. It’s not sick to have a full, enriching sexual fantasy. I—”

  “See,” she says cutting me off. “You’re so fucking self-absorbed, you assume I’m talking about you. But I’m not, OK? Did it ever occur to you that I have my own reasons for saying no? Reasons that have nothing to do with you.”

  What?

  “And you’re so fucking clueless. Trust? You’re telling me to trust you when you’ve never earned it. Why the fuck should I trust you? Who the hell are you? I mean, yeah, I admit I’ve stalked you relentlessly online. I’ve tweeted shit about you that would make porn stars blush. And it would be very easy to just let you fuck me sideways, as you put it, and then walk away with the movie-star feather in my cap. But Jesus Christ, Asher. You’re an Oscar-winning prick.”

  I laugh. I can’t help it.

  “I’m glad you think that’s funny.” And then she turns and starts her trek down the beach, muttering out, “Asshole.”

  I run to catch up to her and then I grab her arm. She pulls away, dropping her shoes and lifting her hands up in some kind of fake karate stance. “Don’t,” she orders. “Back off. I’m a certified Tae Bo specialist at the Women’s Health Spa in LoDo. And I’m warning you, I will not be held responsible—”

  “Tae Bo? What the fuck—”

  “Yah!” She smacks me in the neck with the side of her hand and I grasp my throat, gasping for air. “Tae Bo!” she screams as I fall to my knees and choke. “Oh, shit, Asher! I’m sorry! I’ve never done that to a real person before! Are you OK?”