Insatiable. Asa Akira

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ . I want my sweetie . . . Clint, tell my sweetie to come get me . . .”

      Her refusal of service was ultimately for the best. Subs are clients for life, if you want them to be. You can’t let them see you in any type of position but strong, or they’ll find someone else to worship. Rox always bounced back up. She never quit for long.

      None of the other girls had been working longer than two years. From what I’ve seen, it’s not a job many can stick to much longer than that. In the beginning, it’s liberating. It’s the boyfriend you always wanted to beat the shit out of, the boss you only thought you could be in your wildest dreams, the carnival in town with the biggest collection of freak shows you never knew existed. A whole new world to explore.

      Clint had picked me up on the street—almost literally—one night when I was walking back home with Eddie, my then-husband, from a concert. I had a moderate-to-medium OxyContin habit around that time, and there came a point at the concert where I just didn’t want to stand anymore. I had convinced Eddie to leave early. Oxy is a versatile little pill, in the sense that depending on how much you take, it can be like five different drugs. You’re in complete control of how high you are. Take a little, and you’re a perfectly functioning human being. No one can tell you’re on anything. Take a lot, and you’re all “I think my eyes are open. Are my eyes open?”

      That night I had only taken a little. When I was on this level of high, it was a common occurrence for me to be walking, talking, excuse myself to go throw up on the side of the street, wipe my mouth off, and then come back to the conversation like nothing had happened.

      “You okay, Peanut?” Eddie yelled from the hot dog stand as I finished barfing on the side of a building. I could never understand how Eddie could eat on Oxy.

      “Yah. One second.” I was spitting out what was left in my mouth when Clint approached me.

      “Excuse me, miss?” Fuck. Tell me I didn’t just puke on this man’s wall. “I’m sorry to bother you; can I ask you a question?”

      “Sure.” Really? Now?

      “Would you be interested in working in the adult entertainment industry?” This guy was bold.

      “Sure. Let me get my husband.”

      Dungeons always smell the same way. A base of rubbing alcohol, with high notes of metal and semen. I’m not the kind of person to walk into a room and claim, “Ooohhh, the energy in here is so weird,” but let me tell you—the energy in a dungeon is fucking weird. It’s almost like the air is a little thicker. Looking back, I can’t believe we followed Clint upstairs, much less agreed to start training the next day. But I had always wanted to work in porn, or a stripclub, or do something in the adult world. Eddie, my friends, everyone around me knew that.

      Day one, I was already in heaven. My first client was a pro baseball player.

      “I want to role-play like we’re on the subway. I’ll like stare and stare at you, and you’re like just totally creeped out by me.”

      My second client gave me an hourlong foot massage. Another guy wanted me to piss on him. Five clients in total booked me that night. I left feeling like I had found my calling.

      I should mention now that I’m not sexually dominant in my personal life. Ironically, none of the girls working at Nutcracker were. Not even Rox. We were all submissive in nature, to one degree or another. At that point in my life, I didn’t recognize myself as submissive or dominant. I just knew I liked to please.

      Eventually, I met Ronnie, who had seen every dominatrix in the city. Every single one. He never saw the same one twice. It was bound to be my time sooner or later. Before I introduced myself, the girls let me in on what he was about.

      Ronnie has a dentist fetish. And elephantiasis on one of his balls. Maybe it’s not fair for me to label it as elephantiasis. But one of his balls is fucking huge.

      Anyway, what Ronnie does is he brings in his own dentist kit to the session. He always books an hour and a half, never more, never less. He will try to persuade you to shoot his mouth up with Novocain, but from what I hear, he’s only succeeded in getting two girls to go through with this.

      When I walked into the medical room, Ronnie had already set himself up in the chair. The rumor is that he bought this chair himself and had donated it to the dungeon. I have yet to meet another client with a fetish involving a dentist chair, so this makes sense.

      Ronnie had a bib around his neck, and his dentist kit was laid out on the counter for me.

      “How are we feeling today, Ronnie?” I started.

      “Hi, Doctor, I feel like there’s a loose tooth. I think I need it looked at.”

      I slowly put on my latex gloves as I listened, even adding the snap at the bottom like I had seen in pornos.

      “Open your mouth wide, say ‘ahhh.’” I dug around his mouth and felt the latex squeak against his teeth. “Which tooth is the one we’re concerned about, Ronnie?”

      “The third molar from the back, on this side.” He motioned his hand up to the left side of his face, the side I was on.

      “I see.” I wiggled the tooth in question. “This doesn’t look good, Ronnie.”

      “Do you think you’ll have to pull it out?” The sudden excitement in his voice was impossible to miss.

      “I’m afraid so, Ronnie.”

      After that, I didn’t know where to go. I mean I wasn’t going to pull this man’s tooth out. So I just repeated “It doesn’t look good” over and over, and kept wiggling.

      I did this for the entire session.

      After he left, I was embarrassed at how my mind had failed me when I tried to think of more dentist things to say. To everyone’s surprise, he came in for me again the next night. He had never booked anyone more than once. I don’t know what I did right. I repeated the same exact session for the second night in a row.

      Around that time, I also met Eli. Eli was a trust fund kid. He technically owned a dance company, but fundamentally, he didn’t work. Almost every night, he would come in and book double, triple, sometimes quadruple sessions, back to back. To be honest, I don’t really even think Eli is a sub. He liked his nipples pinched hard; as far as I knew, that was about the freakiest thing about him, sexually.

      The thing about Eli that made him so special was that he smoked crack.

      Growing up in New York City, I discovered drugs at a young age. I dropped Ecstasy for the first time at thirteen. By fourteen, I had tried every drug there was available to me, except crack and heroin. Acid, mushrooms, pharmaceuticals, angel dust, salvia, coke, speed . . . But Special K was my favorite. My best friend Dee and I would regularly buy a liq each day after school, cook it up at night, and snort the powder in the morning before leaving the house to make the subway ride to school enjoyable. That’s how much I loved it. Somehow I never got physically addicted to anything, and I was fully sober (including alcohol!) by the time I was twenty-two. Starting drugs at such a young age, I think, was a blessing in my case. By the time I was an adult, I was over the whole partying scene, and ready to join reality.

      Crack was something my circle had always looked down upon. We smoked weed every day and did harder drugs on a weekly basis, but crack and heroin were СКАЧАТЬ