by Anthology
Before I could finish being cheesy, Trixie cut me off by crushing my busted up mouth into her pussy.
Oh, my fucking God.
I don’t know if it was because it was Trixie, or if it was because I’d been teased and tortured and restrained for so long, but I wanted to devour her. Her skin was soft and buttery and tasted like the best sex I’d never had. If I couldn’t get my cock in there, I was going to lick and suck and bite and memorize every square inch of Trixie’s little pink pussy with my mouth instead.
Not being able to use my hands was frustrating as hell for me, but Trixie didn’t seem to mind. With both fists in my hair, she rode my face like a fucking cowgirl. It hurt. Like hell. My split lip, my blue balls, and my cuffed wrists were all screaming in agony, but it was the most delicious pain I’d ever felt. I suddenly understood why the bitch got paid so damn much.
I was hooked.
When I felt her pussy start to clench around my tongue, I wrapped my lips around her clit, sucked on it hard, and moaned like I was coming too. Bitches love that. If you act like you’re getting off just by getting them off, they come like three times harder.
It’s a scientific fact.
Trixie buried her face in the side of the mattress and dug her nails deep into my scalp as she spasmed and screamed and shook around me. Watching the orgasm of a lifetime rip through her tiny body was probably the proudest moment of my fucking life. When Trixie finally jerked her hips away from me I couldn’t hide my shit-eating grin as I let my head fall to the hardwood with a thunk.
I thought I was going to get a fucking medal for the service I’d just performed. Maybe a blowie, at least a thank you, but instead Trixie popped that butt plug out and scrambled away from me as if she’d just discovered a creepy clown between her legs or something. Throwing her Superman Underoos and mesh shirt back on in record time, Trixie grabbed her Chuck Taylors and headed toward the door.
“What the fuck, Trix?” I yelled after her, pulling on my restraints and looking around my swollen, straining dick just to get a glimpse of her. “You can’t just fucking leave me like this!”
As soon as the door slammed shut I shouted Trixie’s name so loud I know her ass heard me in the hallway, then let my head fall backwards against the hardwood floor again in defeat.
I had expected pain. I hadn’t expected death by blue balls. This girl was even more villainous than I thought.
She wasn’t the fucking Joker.
She was Satan herself.
Chapter Three
Trixie
That.
Mother.
Fucker.
I needed to hit something. Or stab something. Or shoot something, with a machine gun, mounted on top of a missile launcher, mounted on top of a tank. It took every ounce of my self-control to leave that room before I did something un-fucking-forgivable.
If I’d stayed even one second longer I might have cut that long-haired, hard-bodied, mindfuck of a John loose. Hell, I was so gone I might have even traded places with him.
But. I. Don’t. Fuck. Johns.
That was my only rule. The only one I’d ever kept, anyway. I’d pretty much do anything else for a buck. Bank robbery. Human kidney theft. Hell, I’d probably consider contract killing if they’d let me use my shoulder-fired bazooka. But rolling over and letting some random asshole poke me in whatever hole he wanted just because he had a fat wallet? Fuck that. Sure, I’d scratch their twisted itches and fulfill their sick, perverted fantasies, but the only fucking they ever got out of me was maybe a dildo in their ass.
Or a cactus.
But the Johns I saw were nothing like him. They were misfits and sickos, all too eager to be degraded and dominated. They’d bend to my will at the snap of my fingers. They’d submit at the first crack of my whip. And honestly, they bored me. Sure, the shit they wanted done to them still surprised me sometimes, but at the end of the day they were all the same—self-loathing pieces of shit.
But that sonofabitch, laying cock-up on my bedroom floor, was anything but boring. He was infuriating. He was fine as hell. He was fun. And he could lick some fucking snatch.
Ugh! Why the hell did he have to be my John? Why couldn’t I just meet him at one of the dive bars where I picked up all the other strange I usually flopped into bed with. Why did he have to have a killer smile, six-pack abs, a talented tongue, and a ten-inch cock?
Fuck!
I stomped down the hall—trying to put some distance between me and the cunnilingus cowboy chained to my bed—heading straight for the back door that led out to the patio. I had a whole little arsenal that I kept stashed in a waterproof foot locker out in the woods—throwing knives, grenades, a couple of tomahawks, a semi-automatic rifle. It was where I went when I was bored or needed to keep from murdering someone. Like right then.
I shoved my socked feet back into my shoes and walked outside, slamming the door shut behind me. I didn’t bother to lock it. Marcus was always getting on my case for leaving it open, which only made me want to do it more.
As I made my way across the patio and past the pool, I spotted Calico splayed out on one of the lounge chairs by the shallow end. She was getting her toes sucked by some computer geek wearing a short-sleeved button-up shirt and a pair of khakis. Cali was butt-ass naked, but you could hardly tell due to the amount of ink that chick was sporting. I have my fair share of tattoos, but Calico was a human canvas. If she ever decided to stop being a whore she could get a gig in a carnival freak show easy. Or be a tattoo model. Or both.
Cali fucks for money, I thought. Maybe she can give me a pep talk about what to do with this John.
Calico took one look at me as I headed toward her and said, “Oh shit, Trix. Do we need to go inside? You've got that look on your face like you're gonna go do some target practice."
Cali pulled her foot out of the dork’s mouth and asked him to give us a minute. He stood but didn’t leave quick enough for me, so I pushed his scrawny ass into the pool.
I started to tell Cali about my dilemma when Nerd Ferguson came up for air and started yelling about his phone getting wet. Evidently, it was in his pocket. I guess he shouldn’t have left his pocket protector at home. Pussy.
I picked up the potted fern that was perched on a pedestal next to Cali’s lounge chair and chunked it at Ned Flanders’s head, not even bothering to watch long enough to see if it actually hit him before turning back around and continuing my story.
“So I’ve got this fucker tied up in my room with his cock out—”
“Trix,” Calico interrupted, completely unconcerned about her John, who may or may not have been bleeding out at the bottom of the pool due to a fern-induced head injury. “Do I need to have M call the paramedic?”
“Only if his erection lasts more than four hours,” I snorted.
“So what’s the problem?” Calico’s dark eyes flicked to something behind me just as I heard the sound of sloshing coming from the pool.
I grabbed a cushion off the lounge chair next to her and spun around, tossing it at the dipshit on the ladder like a Chinese throwing star. He let go of the ladder to catch it and the momentum knocked his ass right back into the water.
“No! It’s worse!” I said, facing my friend again. “He’s not even a masochist! What am I supposed to do with that, Cali?! He doesn’t have any kinks, he doesn’t fucking listen, and…”
Ugh! I couldn’t even say it. It was too embarrassing.
“Just say it, Trix. You’re really freaking me out.”
Throwing my hands up in the air I screamed, “I sat on his stupid fucking face! Okay?! And now I want to go sit on his big fat schlong, too! There! Are you happy now?!”
Cali furrowed her perfect eyebrows as if she were really considering my predicament. Her dark hair spilled over the back of her lounge chair and her tattoos gleamed under a layer of mid-summer sweat. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to protect myself from both her judgment and the Mississippi sun. If I didn’t end this conversation soon
I was gonna be sporting a nasty fishnet-patterned sunburn.
Calico finally pointed at me with two fingers and said, “You fucking like this guy.”
“Shut up,” I snapped.
Cali rolled her eyes and said, “If you like him, go fuck him and take his money. Hell, go fuck him and take his money even if you don’t like him. That’s what we do here, honey,” Calico gestured toward the pool.
I turned around and saw that her John was standing in the middle of the pool, wet clothes clinging to his bony body, holding his iPhone up to the sun as if that was actually going to dry it out. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t an IT guy after all.
I threw my head back and groaned in frustration. “But that’s not what I do. I’m supposed to hurt him, not fuck him!”
Calico smirked. “Well, I think a four-hour erection is a pretty good start.”
“I can't figure him out, Cali, and it's making me crazy.” I smashed the butt of my hand into my temple a few times for emphasis.
“I hate to break it to you, Trix, but you were already crazy.”
“Duh,” I said, rolling my eyes. “But I think my John is fucking crazy too. At first I thought he just had daddy issues, but now I think he has a problem with authority in general.”
“Sounds like somebody else I know,” Calico said, giving me a look that made me feel like a fucking idiot. That was it!
“Holy shit, Cali! You’re right! He's just like me!”
Calico pursed her lips and lifted an eyebrow at me in an expression that said, Congratulations, dumbass, then beckoned for her John to come back with one finger. I heard sloshing coming from behind me, and within seconds Dorkus Maximus resumed his spot next to her ink-covered feet. Cali shoved her big toe back in his mouth, and he accepted it with a hungry moan.
Oh barf.
“I'm going back in,” I said, wrinkling my nose at the spectacle before me.
Calico smiled at me like the Cheshire Cat and said, “If you’re not up to the job, I’ll be more than happy to take him off your hands.”
I turned around and walked back toward the house, flipping her off over my shoulder.
It was too easy. All I had to do to complete John’s session was think like myself. What would my ultimate sexual fantasy involve?
When I entered the code on the keypad to my room and opened the door I expected to find John on the floor right where I left him—possibly with his ass up in the air trying to give himself head out of desperation. But instead that motherfucker was kicked back on my bed, drinking another one of my beers, pointing the remote control at my TV, wearing nothing but a pair of blue and white-striped boxer shorts.
His shackles lay on the floor as if he’d never even been restrained, along with the rest of his clothes.
Had it been any other John, M would have needed to call in way more than just the paramedic when I got done with him. I would have done shit to him that would make the dark ages look like fucking Disney World. I would have cut pieces off of him that would never grow back. But seeing that John—in all his tan, unruly, muscular glory—lying there, defying me, daring me to punish him again, even with his split lip and black eye, that shit made me horny as hell.
John smiled at me and tipped his beer toward the small flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. “This is some sick shit, Trix. I think I just watched an actual snuff film. What the fuck is wrong with you?” His perfect grin only widened, causing the cut on his lip to fill with fresh blood. The sight made my nipples harden and pull against the tape holding them down.
“I'll tell you what the fuck is wrong with me,” I said, walking over to his side of the bed. I snatched the beer out of his hand and downed it in one swallow. Dropping it into the birdbath I smiled as the sound of glass shattering made him flinch. “The same thing that's wrong with you. Let's go.”
“Where are we going?” he asked as I marched away from him, sounding genuinely surprised.
I turned around in the open doorway and stared him down. “To satisfy your kink, John. That’s what you’re paying me for, and I intend to deliver. Now, are you coming or not?”
John stood up and faced me, his erection pinned down only by the waistband of his boxers. “Oh, I better fucking come,” he said with a wink.
“Jesus, John,” I winced. “You didn’t want to rub that thing out while I was gone?”
“Oh I did,” he said with a smug little smile, “but the second you and those little Xs walked through the door it popped right back up. What can I say? I have a thing for mean little girls with green-hair.”
I rolled my eyes and held the door open for him to pass through. “Lucky me.”
Chapter four
Carter
Breaking out of Trixie’s bondage cuffs hadn’t been hard. Once I stopped just yanking on them and screaming for her to come back, I was able to unbuckle one of them pretty easily with just my toes. Once I was free I thought about going home—for about one and a half seconds before I remembered that Marcus would be handing me a bill for ten large if I did.
Besides, I was having way too much fun pissing that green-haired little girl off.
When Trixie came back in, so much blood rushed into my dick at once I thought my head was going to cave in. Seeing that curvy little body and that beautiful face, scowling at me from under a flop of green hair, had my cock forgetting all about the punishment I’d just put it through. Trixie’s porn collection—which I’d discovered on her DVR while she was gone—was the stuff nightmares were made of, but I jerked off to it anyway.
When she didn’t kick my ass for breaking out of her restraints, I knew I had a chance. But when she held my hand as she led me through the travertine maze of hallways and up the marble stairs, I knew I was gonna be balls deep in her in a matter of minutes.
When we got to the main entryway, my girl M was standing at her podium going over the master schedule. She had on a red vinyl mini-dress, black thigh-high boots, and a black eye mask with pointy little cat ears on top.
Cat Woman, I thought. Right on.
M glanced up, then did a double take at the sight of me in nothing but my skivvies with my ten-inch trouser snake poking out the top.
I winked at her.
“M, I need a favor,” Trixie said, looking around to make sure no one was listening.
“Hmm. What kind of favor?” M asked, cocking her head to one side as she shamelessly eyed my knob.
Trixie looked from M to me and back again. “Not that kind, goddamnit. I need…access. You know I can’t end a session until my clients are satisfied, and John here has a pretty specific kink.”
“I do?” I asked.
M spread her arms open wide and said in a velvety tone, “Well then, come here and tell your Madame all about it.”
Trixie dropped my hand and stepped into M’s embrace, then whispered something in her ear. A small smile spread across M’s expertly painted lips, and she nodded her head twice.
Looking over at me, M extended her hand and said, “I deal in fantasies, Mr. Langford, and thanks to my soft spot for your friend here, I’m going to help fulfill yours. Come now.”
Trixie stepped away from Cat Woman and giggled when she saw the look on my face. I didn’t know what the fuck my fantasy was, but I couldn’t wait to find out.
M linked arms with us and led us to a closed door at the far end of the large entryway. The same one that piece of shit Marcus had come out of the last time I’d been there. Glancing behind her to make sure the coast was clear, M quickly tapped out an obscenely long code on the keypad, unlocking the room.
“You have one hour,” she said to Trixie with an air kiss, then shoved us in and shut the door.
The room was clearly that self-important prick’s office. It was all mahogany furniture and leather seating and oil paintings and I kind of wanted to burn it all to the ground.
“Why are we in here?” I asked, as Trixie strutted over to the massive wooden desk in the middle of the room.
Turning to face me, she l
eaned against the desk and said, “Because I finally figured you out, John.” She crossed her arms under her tits, pushing them up a little bit. “You have a problem with authority.” The look on her face was both wicked and willing.
“My name is Carter,” I said, taking a step toward her, “and so what?”
“So,” she said, giving me a shitload of attitude, “it just so happens that I have the same problem.”
I took another step closer. “So we don’t like being told what to do, what does that have to do with Marcus?”
Trixie dropped her arms and grasped the edge of the desk as I approached. “You and I have the same boss,” she said in a husky tone.
Holy shit. I knew where she was going, and I fucking loved it.
“And this,” I said, taking another step toward her and twirling my finger in the air, “is his office.”
Playful mischief flared in Trixie’s eyes as I closed the distance between us. Grabbing her ass with both hands I lifted her perfect little body onto the desk and growled into her ear, “And this is his motherfucking desk.”
Trixie nodded as I lavished her neck with my tongue, hopefully reminding her of my many talents. She threaded her fingers into my hair and rasped, “You know what I’ve always wanted to do on my boss’s desk?”
“The same thing I’ve always wanted to do,” I said as I slipped her mesh shirt off over her head and pressed my cock against her cotton-covered cunt.
Trixie’s head fell to the side as I licked along her collarbone and kneaded her tits with my big, rough hands. When my thumbs rubbed over the electrical tape I knew that shit had to go. Sucking Trixie’s bottom lip into my mouth, I dug my fingertips under the edge of the tape and peeled the black Xs off. Slowly. I thought about ripping them off fast, but I wanted to make her squirm. She deserved a little punishment of her own.
Trixie thrust out her titties and sucked in a breath as the last black strip came off with a snap. As soon as those tight pink nipples were bared to me I leaned over and pulled one into my mouth. I heard Trixie whisper, “Fuck,” just as my teeth grazed the tip.
