Tell me, sir, why did I look into that jerk job once more?

He said that he was looking for an ass job. My ass would be shaved. He is very nice and smooth.

I gave it one last swipe, and then let the water run down my back. The shower cream washed away between my cheeks.

I got out of my shower and wrapped a towel around my hair. I ran my hand over the foggy mirror to clear it. I viewed my face through my hand. My normal fair skin was now red.

That was how I stood. Then I watched myself. I was not what you would consider conventionally beautiful. My forehead was a little too long.

My eyes were beautiful, and I had a small circle of brown near the pupil.

Slowly, the red was fading. I wondered if he had seen my face change this way. He had then slapped it.

Did he see the red fade away? Did he see his marks disappear, as if they never existed?

I smiled at myself as I held my hand up to my cheek. It was a good feeling. It was a pleasant feeling to feel the palm of his hands touch my face. He could do whatever he wanted with his face.

He owned my face and my ass. He owned me.

I wore the lingerie that he recommended. It was a pink, lacy set. Although pink wasn't my favourite colour, it made me happy to wear it for him.

I dried my long, dark hair. It was straight and fell to the chest. It was long liked by him. He had lots of hair to pull and grab.

Job search

I had never offered an ass job to anyone before. When he asked me for one, I had to look it up in the Urban Dictionary.

It was, from what I understood it, a hand-job, but with my cheeks.

I practised my suction cup dildo. When I thought back to how I looked with the suction cup dildo attached to a chair and my stiff hips trying somehow to twerk over it, I cringed.

I wore a casual black dress with my lingerie, and I sent him a message to let me know that I was available.

His reply was simple: "GDW-3865"

An Uber licence plate number. He insisted that he send me an Uber.

I got into the car and drove through Brooklyn. The Manhattan skyline was visible. The skyscrapers lit up like diamonds in the sky.

We crossed Brooklyn Bridge, and then we went into Lower Manhattan and the Financial District.

He lived in a 5-bedroom, 19 th-floor apartment near Battery Park. He would sometimes fuck me in front of his window overlooking Hudson.

Outside his building, the Uber driver pulled up. Nigel, the doorman, smiled at me and opened the door for me. Who said you couldn't buy smiles. I thought about it.

I took the elevator to his level and knocked at his door. My heart beat fast. I was not sure who he would be today.

He was going to be the gentle, loving Dom? He was destined to be the tough, stern Dom.

The sadist would like to play

I knew as soon as the door opened that he was there. I could see the look in his eyes.

It was a rough dome. The sadist wanted to play.

Just by looking at his beautiful face, I felt a rush of joy. Both excited and scared, I was equally happy. He shut the door behind him and took my bag.

It was warm and sunny, so I didn't have to wear a coat. He grabbed my hair and said, "Oh, I am in the mood to hurt you tonight." You will regret coming here."

Fear swept through my body. Fear, the good kind. Although I knew I was safe, I was still afraid. It was the fear that made me wet my pants.

He led me into his living area and I sat down on the large, grey couch.

His pants were taken off, and his cock was already hard. It was so tempting to touch it, but I knew better than not to.

"Take off your gown. Tonight, we'll skip the ass job. I feel like using your mouth instead."

His voice was dark.

I was puzzled as to why I spent so much time researching and practising for jobs. I just said, "Yes, Sir."

I sat down on the ground in front of him. His cock, which measured 8 inches in length, was large and thick. It was in my hand, so I spit on the thing. I then lowered my head over it.

It was just how I knew he liked it that I took it down into my throat. He groaned. "Good girl."

When I heard those words, my body felt tingly.

Wooden spoon

He was fed up and got up and stood next to me.

He sat down on the couch with one foot and began to fuck my throat. He gripped my head tightly with my hair, and thrust his hips into mine.

My face was swollen with tears. I tried to remember to breathe and to not die. I gagged and my saliva ran down my throat onto my chest.

He pulled me from the ground and stopped. He took me by the hair, and dragged me into the kitchen.

He leaned me against his kitchen counter.

He went to find a large wooden knife. He pulled my head backwards and grabbed my hair.

He growled at me, "This might sting some," he said.

He drove the spoon in my stomach. I gasped. My face was filled with more tears. When he said that he wanted me to be hurt tonight, he wasn't kidding.

My ass collided with the spoon again and again. Each hit was harder. Each hit pushed my body into the kitchen counter.

I imagined the bruises that I would have gotten. I laughed to myself.

The next hit arrived, and I screamed yet again. He stopped abruptly and turned me around. His cock was still rock-hard. He pushed me to the ground and sat down on my knees.

He again shoved his cock down into my throat. He moved in and out of my throat a few times before coming down deep with his jerky movements.

He took his cock and pulled it out of his pocket.

He pissed on my face, mixing my saliva and tears with his urine. He piqued on me to prove that he was my owner. His territory.

He lifted me up from the floor and took me to the bathroom when he was done. He got me into the shower and turned on the water. I was still crying.

The water washed away my urine, tears, and saliva. He climbed in beside me and held onto me. You did a great job tonight. You are so proud of me. You are my hero.