~ ~ Zachary Coles ~ ~

Life does not require us to be consistent, patient, or loving. It neither asks us to be wise, selfish, or cruel.

Life does, however, require us to live with the consequences of our choices.

But all that being said. If anyone ever asked me for advice for a happy life. It would be simple... Seek out and nurture every hedonistic urge, thought, desire—whatever.

And please don't sit there, sneering from your ivory tower, telling me you didn't have them.

Because that sweetheart, would make you a liar.

We all had them, waiting, hiding, in the furthest, darkest parts of our minds.

It was the very reason places like I'd created existed.

That, and oh, lose the conscience. Never had much use for mine.

I'd heard it said, although never to my face. That they had graced me with the world's blackest soul—or was it a heart?

Was either true? Did I even care?

No.

Because here, in my clubs, I was the bastard who enjoyed making people beg, often with tears streaming down their faces. A dominant, every submissive wished would look his or her way. I was a fucking God here. The one with the keys to the garden of Eden... and sometimes with a sadistic streak a mile wide.

I loved my life. Fucking embraced it and I didn't need any blue pill to keep up with the pace of it.

I denied myself nothing. Why should I?

And being wired the way I was with my sexual orientation. I would preach my love for a man's ass just as vocally as I would for a woman's pussy.

I wasn't shy or discreet. That's just who I was...who I am.

Or it was, and you might wonder why I was telling you all this?  

Or maybe I was out to prove something to myself. Because normally, I loved a man on his knees, begging for my cock up his ass.

Even better, if it was a virgin ass.

Or in this case, today, legs spread, ass up in the air, bent over my desk.

But these past few days, maybe stretching to a week, I'd had a conundrum of thoughts that something's not right? I felt off. Out of sync with myself. And for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why.

So, here I was, all up in someone's shit, literally, and yet I felt, for what's a better word... bored.

Why the fuck was I bored!?

Because it's becoming all the fucking same?

And there goes that nasty little nagging voice that had accompanied the feeling, answering my question.

Shutting my eyes for a second, I opened them and looked down over the creamy flesh that my cock was currently tunnelling in and out of.

My latest personal fuck-toy... Karle.

Karle here, was a twenty-year-old exchange student from Germany and, some might say, that makes me a sick bastard. Maybe? However, he was legal, and that was enough for me.

The murmuring of cries and the slap of my balls against young, firm flesh was usually music to my ears. Their subservience was my crack.

But apparently, tonight, that wasn't the case.

I hadn't even bothered undressing. I'd just tossed off my suit jacket, rolled up my sleeves and loosened my pants enough to get my dick and balls out and fuck him without any prep.

Not that Karle here needed the prep. The budding young masochist would happily tell you that.

Dragging myself back to the moment. I dug my fingers into the younger man's flesh. He jumped, tightening all his muscles around my cock.  Fuck. The tight squeeze of his ass strangling my pulsing cock felt fucking incredible.

And it should be getting me off.

Emphasis on the word: Should.

But it wasn't. Not even close.

Gritting my teeth, I rolled my hips to hit all the right angles inside him.

"Harder, please, Sir, I can take it," Karle said.

Or I thought he said? Difficult to tell with the red ball-gag in his mouth.

But he raised his ass higher, begging me with his sweet tight hole.

Which I happily obliged. Unleashing the kind of ferocity I had never let loose on a woman.

Watching myself fuck him, my mind again wandered off. And only when Karle's body stilled, and stiffened harder than my cock, that I dragged myself back to what was happening.

His ass clamped down on my dick, and his balls tightened. His body jerked. However, the sound of his tortured moans that seeped around the ball-gag along with spit dribbling down his chin didn't sound like relief. They sounded like a cry.

And I knew why.

Because my little fuck-toy here had come without permission.

Fuck this shit.

Pulling my dick out of his ass, I ripped off the shit-stained condom. "Don't fucking move," I threatened, reaching for the strap of the ball-gag and yanked it out his mouth, tossing it aside.

"Sir..." His big eyes were wide and yet incredulous. "I'm so sorry—"

Cutting him off, I snarled. "Shut the fuck up, boy!"

And with my free hand, I yanked open my drawer and searched through the tiny sachets of oils I kept in there... Hmm, Rose.  Not to be taken orally. Perfect.

Tearing open the packet with my teeth, I dribbled it along my cock, then dropped it to the floor and worked my hand it along the length, biting back a hiss when I smoothed it over my piss hole.

From my peripheral vision, I saw Karle lick his lips.

He didn't have a fucking clue.

As it cooled, the sensation quickly changed to burning. I gritted my teeth. Motherfucker.

But it was nothing to how my little sub-boy here would feel any moment now.

Impatience overtook me.

Still bent over my desk, I grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him upright before forcing him to his knees. Not that he put up any resistance. Tightening my grip on his neck, I brought his mouth to my throbbing head and forced my cock down his throat.

All the way down. Tilting his head back, putting a strain on his neck—but fuck it, I wanted to see those pretty brown eyes.

He gagged, making his face redden and eyes widen... most likely because he didn't get the chance to take a full breath. Or it was the taste?

I withheld a groan as heat spread straight to my balls.

His eyes watered. The taste would be anything but nice. But he should be grateful I wasn't fucking his throat with the condom still on...

Did I mention I was a glorious sick bastard?

"That's it, keep sucking, boy."

My hips piston, fucking his face, not caring for his discomfort as he stared up at me with fluttering wet lashes. I slid my hand into his hair for extra leverage and used it, making his sweet throat sputter and choke. And Karle knew better than to pull off my cock.

He was aware of the punishment for coming.

Again, him sucking my dick, staring up at me with watery eyes, should be gratifying.

Emphasis again on the: should.

"Enough!"

I yanked myself free, leaving a string of spit from the corner of his mouth to the end of my cock as Karle chased it, wanting more.

"How did I taste?" Smirking, I slapped my cock against his cheek.

"Err..." he gulped. "Good, Sir." He was lying. I could read it in the drop of his eyes, the flush of his cheeks.

I despised lying and grabbing him by the chin, squeezing tightly, distorting the shape of his mouth, he gasped as I forced him to look at me, barking. "Don't fucking lie to me, boy!"

A flash of fear erupted as he quickly corrected himself. "Bad. Tastes shit. And it burns, Sir."

"Well," I scoffed, releasing his chin. "Be fucking grateful it isn't your own shit you're swallowing!"

Karle's head bobbed a little too quickly, looking like one of those freaky dolls or dogs where the head moves when you flicked it.

"Now. What the fuck do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm sorry for coming, Sir," he lowered his gaze respectfully this time. "I'm sorry for disappointing you. I feel like nothing. Less than nothing. Shit."

It would be cruel to tell him that's precisely what he meant to me.

"Please, Sir," he begged. "What can I do to make it right? To please you?"

Absolutely nothing. We're done here.

I jammed my protesting cock back into my pants and zipped up my fly.

"Get up!"

No sub has lasted longer than two months. Time meant one thing. Attachment. And that was my one golden rule—zero attachments.

But even if I found myself a new sub tomorrow. It would still be the same shit—different day.

"No. No. Please, Sir." he repeated.

I hardened my stare. "Your contract has expired, Karle."

"What!?" He shook his head. "I don't understand, Sir."

"We're done here. Get cleaned up and then get the fuck out," I said, his stunned expression almost making me feel bad.

Almost.

"No, Sir." his voice hitched as he shuffled closer on his knees and flung his arms around my legs and I could feel the heat of his tears through the material.

"Karle!" I barked, scrubbing my hand across my forehead, feeling irritable.

He flinched "But...but...please, Sir..." he stammered, swiping snot away from his nose.

See? This shit happens. They get attached. Emotions get in the way.

"I can do this. I can get this right." —sniffle— "One more chance, Sir. Please. I'm begging you."

Like all submissives. He craved to please me. He would rather me punish him than send him away.

But he didn't make those decisions. I did.

His bottom lip wobbled as his eyes looked at me in despair.

And this was the moment that I knew something was seriously wrong with me.

I gave him the look that demanded immediate compliance, or else. "Fine. Lick up your mess." His cum was dripping from the edge of my desk and onto the floor. "After that, you can dress and wait for me on the Deck."

He swallowed and licked his lips."Thank you, Sir. Thank you."

He shouldn't be thanking me. I'm introducing him to Master Jon. He's looking for a new toy and Karle was everything he looked for in a sub. And who knows, they might be a match made in heaven—or hell.

Normally, I wouldn't give a shit either way.  But I must be going soft in my old-age, although some would say thirty-six isn't old. But Christ, did I feel every one of those years tonight. And suddenly I just felt exhausted. I wanted a shower, a drink and then to fall into my bed—alone.

And pray to the un-holy when I woke up tomorrow, I'd be back to my normal.

An hour later, I'd spoken with Master Jon, thankfully avoiding Karle and now, shutting the door on my apartment behind me, I leaned against it.

The quiet was weirdly soothing tonight. Pushing off the door, I shrugged off my suit jacket and tossed it onto a passing chair; before flipping the buttons on my shirt as I made my way into the bathroom. Stripping off, my dick was still rigid, refusing to give up hope of getting off.

But fuck it. I honestly couldn't be arsed. Standing in front of the mirror, I scrubbed my hand across my five-o'clock shadow, moving my head slowly left to right.

Everything looked the same.

Perhaps a vacation?

I could see if Max or Ryan had some time free? I'd not seen them for months, not with getting London and France up and running.

Turning away from my reflection, I flipped on the shower with the idea sprouting legs. Yeah, Italy or maybe Dubai?

After showering, I felt somewhat more relaxed. I grabbed my phone to see a message waiting from Max. He wanted me to call him.

That had to be a sigh, right? And if Max was on-board, then Ryan wouldn't say no.

I would call them first thing and, about to toss my phone on the sofa, it rang.

Shit. It was Lucinda. I wasn't in the mood to deal with problems. I hired people for that. "Yeah?" My tone was hardly friendly.

"Sorry to disturb you, Zack. I know you told the desk you were turning in, but you have a visitor calling."

Who the fuck? "Name?"

"A young lady. She says her name is Sasha Darling."

Sasha.

Fuck.

I scrubbed my hand down my face.

This couldn't be good.

"Do you want me to get rid of her?"

Sighing out a groan. "No. Send her up." Tossing my phone aside, raking my hands through my hair, I dropped them to rest on my hips. I drew in one breath, two.

Sasha was Ryan's daughter. His only daughter. The apple of his eye. And yeah, in his eyes, she could do no wrong.

There have always been temptations to shield from me. So many fluttering eyelashes, begging eyes, calling out to the filth in me.

Yet never, in all my years, had there been a temptation so potent as sweet little Sasha Darling.

My stomach lurched at the thought, even as my dick got excited.

Fucking hell.

For almost two full years, I'd been keeping my distance from visiting Ryan at home.

Even before Sasha's twentieth birthday, I knew something had changed. Her hungry eyes would always watch me. The awe in her stare. The way she was so eager for so much more, even with her lame-ass boyfriend in tow.

And if she wasn't Ryan's daughter, I'd have happily given her so fucking much. More than she believed she'd be able to take from me.

I'd make her take it like a good little slut. And who knows, I might have even kept her for a while.

And then on her birthday, the little dark-haired siren cornered me in her daddy's office and offered me a gift.

Her submission.

And I wanted it even before she told me in great detail how she thought of nothing else but my cock buried in her tight little cunt sucking the cum right out of me.

I'd given myself a moment to indulge. Such a bad girl, who was clearly in need of discipline.

But I kept a good job on handling my baser instincts and with a straight face I had forced a laugh.

I would admit it actually hurt to see the look on her face as I laughed, pushing her away. It was a foreign feeling, but I put it down to her being almost like family to me.

And that was another thing. Ryan. Fuck. He would literally cut off my balls with a blunt penknife and feed them to his two Dobermans. And if I got to keep my cock, then I doubt it would work afterward—at least not for a while.

And trust me, I valued my cock and balls.

No matter how tempting Sasha Darling was.

My dick twitched again. Fucking idiot. I should have emptied my balls.

As I rolled my neck, a crick cracked in my ears. Fuck. Lets's get this over with.

I made my way toward the door. Opening it wide, I propped myself up against the frame, arms crossed.

Game-face on.

The elevator door chimed, and the door parted, and a head of dark hair followed.

Holy-every-fucking-thing.

That red dress she had on was the icing on the fucking temptation cake.

It took every ounce of control to keep my stare on hers and not stoop lower. It was the swell of those ripe tits under that low cut dress. The promise of pretty pink nipples begging my teeth to make them hurt.

Fuck, how I'd make them hurt.

Fuck, how I make her beg me to.

Fuck. I was so fucked.