Kaskade — Angel on My Shoulder (2008)

“Mama gets what mama needs…”

My name is Steven. I’m a 40-year-old male prostitute and humiliation fetish freak. Before we talk about my current state of having tears of sorrow and embarrassment dripping down my face and thick beard caked with hot cum, it’s probably good to start this story in the middle of things, 12 years ago.

“I don’t give a shit about the gender on the door, bitch,” she said. “You’ve taken long enough to ‘compose yourself,’ or whatever chicken shit excuse you gave me at the table. You’re going to get it all, tonight. It’s been six weeks, and you knew this about me when we started. I have needs, Steven. You got what you want, and now I get what I need. Does. This. Make. Sense?”

The forceful grip of a veiny, amber-colored, spray-tanned right hand attached to a 16-inch bicep felt warm, yet threatening against the back of my neck. That hand and arm belonged to Diane, my date, and the woman I had seen for the past month and a half. She had my full face violently and carelessly pushed directly into the cool panels of the glistening, white linoleum tile bathroom wall at Pacha Nightclub in Manhattan’s Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood.

Diane Mack didn’t have dagger-like points on the end of her chrome gold-painted nails like most every other woman in this nightclub. Her nails were square at the tips, but brilliant in how well painted and manicured they were. Thus, the feeling of them digging deep into my right ass cheek wasn’t necessarily unpleasant. Instead, as if on cue, my cock began to stir in my cotton bikini briefs. Instead of pissing my pants in fear, though, something much more pleasurable occurred. I felt a small, dribbling stream of pre-cum leak from the head of my cock down the thick vein beneath it. I sighed a sigh of both arousal and acceptance of my fate.

The time was 1:30 AM. We’d just arrived an hour earlier. Diane, my blonde, bodybuilder girlfriend who looked like she was torn from the pages of Muscle and Fitness in 1989, was tipsy from the half-bottle of Moet she’d consumed at Robert’s Steakhouse at the Penthouse strip club. She was wearing a gold, sleeveless latex miniskirt and black vinyl thigh-high stiletto-heeled boots. Me, I definitely was slightly under-dressed in a white satin dress shirt, black flat-front slacks, and casual black penny loafers. Upon seeing Diane, I was stunned and excited for what was to come. Amazingly, during dinner, she made a joke to the black string-bikini clad Latina waitress with long black hair down to her ass. She said she wanted the porterhouse because it — as she rolled her eyes over to me — “had a nice, meaty bone in the middle.” As I remember there were more cock jokes that followed during dinner, but nothing that felt too out of the ordinary. Little did I know…

Diane Mack was a personal trainer at the Bally’s Gym down the street from the high-rise apartment building I was somehow still living in after being unemployed as a computer programmer for six months. I walked in one day and noticed they were hiring for a new male trainer. At the time, I was a pale, white, bald, 28-year old ex-college swimmer weighing 160 pounds of an athlete just slightly past my physical prime. I did still know my way around the gym, though, and Diane, who was in charge of hiring, always marveled at my form and flexibility. She frequently joined me at Starbucks for our customary “venti black coffee with four sugars, nothing else” before I’d stop in for my workout, and she’d begin her workday.

“Steven! You could probably be great at this job. You’re not ripped, but you do know what you’re doing,” she said. I excitedly replied, “Diane, that’d be amazing. I need this job. As you know, I’ve been laid off for six months, and my savings are really low. I’d work as many hours as you’d need. I learn fast, and if that computer you’re always looking at funny is giving you problems, I could help with that, too.”

She chuckled, then looked at me with a furrowed brow. Then she breathed in a huge breath, one that swelled her taut, and well-muscled 34 B cup breasts against her sports bra. After closing her eyes, seemingly nodding in approval to herself, and turning her lips into a broad grin, she said the words that, in so many ways, changed my life. “You’re hired.”

Three days after I was hired, Diane and I went on a casual sit-down date at Starbucks. Two hours later, we were fucking in my apartment. Sex with Diane was unlike any sex I’d ever had before. She told me she liked things “physical,” and loved to “feel a man get overwhelmed by her orgasm.” That sounded just insane enough for me to want to experience it myself.

Diane was ALWAYS on top. She liked mirrors and loved that I had one directly in front of my king-sized adjustable bed. It hung at the perfect angle where she could ride me reverse cowgirl style. While I got the view of her rippling back muscles and ass so hard you could bounce a roll of quarters off it, Diane would stare deep and long into her own eyes, at her tits, six-pack ab striations and use her large, wide thumb to strum her oversized clit like a bass guitar’s g-string.

She’d also be using her strong vaginal muscles to milk my slender, seven-inch erect cock as she ground long and deep into my crotch. “Pull my hair, bitch,” she’d often raspily whisper, as she dug her hands hard into my calf muscles. The longer it took me to consent, the harder she’d grab, frequently leaving bluish-purple bruises on my legs that my gym shorts were not long enough to hide. Between the motion, my member, and her impeccable physique, she’d cum and let out a massive, guttural growl as she squirted all over an area that extended from my belly button to my lower thigh.

As for me, my cock felt like it was an overheated plug being ripped from the socket when I orgasmed. My eyes and mouth would spring open. One time, as Diane dismounted me, I came all over my stomach. Upon seeing this happening, Diane got a wild look in her eyes. “Ha, slut,” she playfully growled, as if she were some sort of Nordic war goddess. She then, taking note of my stunned face and open mouth, choked me with her left hand, while deftly swiping the ounces of cum off my stomach and with the fingers of her hand aimed as if they were stabbing into my throat, force-fed me my cum.

“Hahahahahaha! You know you love it, bitch!” It tasted like sour milk, salt, and hamburger meat. This moment was the first time I ate my cum. In the four weeks that transpired after that — before being choked in a bathroom in a nightclub — I ate my cum five more times. Each time was while being choked by Diane’s left hand attached to a 16-inch bicep and with her right-hand force-fucking my tonsils. I quickly grew to have a gnawing disgust at the pit of my stomach mixed with deep arousal in the pit of my balls whenever it happened. It was all so depraved. But, I had never had such incredible sex in my life. Giving in to her desires felt so good.

The last time we did, it was two nights before the moment in the bathroom. Diane left only her thumb in my mouth this time and made me suck it for about 30 seconds. “Call me, mama,” she said. I did. She big spoon cradled me as we very peacefully slept. Then, we woke up the next morning as if it never happened, and when I saw her at work, nothing felt different. But it was all different.

While at dinner that night, I noted to Diane that there was a whole strip club in the same building as the steakhouse we were sitting in at the moment. Also, because I was well, still poor, going to both the steakhouse and a nightclub afterward might be too much for my wallet. I believed myself to be a gentleman paying for everything. In my mind, choosing was best. Also, given that we were already clearly talking about my dick and sex with her, a little foreplay would be ideal.

“Arthur works at Pacha! He’s a bartender. My friends and I have like, a thousand-dollar tab whenever he’s there.” Diane. Always with a solution. Arthur was a rather quiet Austrian ex-Olympic powerlifter with a grown out crew cut, soft eyes, eight-pack abs, biceps that always looked two seconds away from bending the sleeves of a dress shirt to his will. His thighs were also ready to Incredible Hulk-shred any pair of jeans or slacks. He was also a similar color of spray-tanned amber as Diane was and managed the Bally’s where we both worked. Arthur and Diane were photographed together for an advertisement for Bally’s nationwide that always got stares when people realized that the people in the poster were actually at the club. The story around the club was that Diane was Arthur’s first hire and that though they seemed like VERY close friends, they’d never dated.

“$1000! Wow. Do you like, give him a hooker or something for that?” I thought it was an entirely fair question. Diane laughed and looked at me dotingly before offering a response with an ominous feeling undertone. “You think Arthur, of all people, needs hookers? Look at him. That man fucks who, what, when, where, and however he wants.”

Diane wasn’t lying about Arthur. Even before the drinks started flowing, we were seated in a booth, by ourselves, on the VIP level once level up from the dancefloor and directly across from the DJ booth. Eric Prydz’s “Call On Me” was playing as on the wall to the right of us, a floor show not unlike something we could’ve seen at the strip club where we ate dinner was occurring.

There was what appeared to be a short-ish, 200-pound, 40-plus-year-old bald black woman wearing a baggy, black leather jacket. Her pendulous, seeming 40 D breasts hung as if being restrained for dear life by her coat. She was also wearing leather chaps, black panties, and four-inch stiletto sandals. She was grinding against a very thin, pale, and teenage white girl wearing an aqua, spandex bodysuit top, high waisted stone-washed black jean shorts, and low-top Vans sneakers without socks. Her face was pressed to the side against the carpeted walls, her eyes were closed, and her mouth was open. She looked like she was a mix of high, aroused, drunk, and asleep. Upon closer review, the black woman’s thumb was squarely inside of the young girl’s asshole, and she had four fingers grabbing deep into her pussy. With every throbbing synth of “Call On Me,” the woman’s hands expanded and contracted deeper inside of the young girl.

“Mama likes an ass, Steven,” Diane whispered to me, then licking my right earlobe and down the side of my neck. “Mama wants your ass tonight. Just like that. Do you like that?” She grabbed at my cock, squeezing it firmly. “You don’t?” I was stunned. Stunned flaccid, even. “Di…Di…Diane, I don’t…,” I stammered. “Oh, that’s okay, baby. Mama has surprises, though, and you had what I need…” “Ummmm…uhhhh…I gotta hit the head Diane…this is a lot. Be back in a second. I’m going to compose myself, act like that didn’t just happen.”

“Ok stud,” I barely heard Diane say as I sped past the finger-fucking duo, and yes, the long bar where Arthur — wearing yet another long-sleeved dress short failing to hold back his biceps and blue jeans barely restraining his sinewy flesh beneath — looked stunned at the scenario that was transpiring.

Diane let go of her tight grip of my neck. The lights in the men’s bathroom in VIP at Pacha were harsh and white. I’d never really seen Diane so distinctly before. Her hair was blonde, sharply cut, and hairsprayed bone straight. Her bangs were asymmetrical, and swooped down over the left side of her face, hooding her left eye. Those eyes. Those steely blue eyes. They were unblinking and cutting into me at the moment, as I had no idea what was to happen next. Gosh. Even her face was intense. Her sharp, severe jaw was unclenching, and as her very bleached white teeth appeared, smiling, it was the muscles on her neck softening as the muscles in her biceps rippled and her grip now on each side of my arms strengthening that kept me stunned. She picked me up, swung me around 180 degrees to my right, and I hit the wall behind me back of my head first, small of my back second, and ass, third. Though I was now very dazed and confused, Diane still had my attention.

“It didn’t have to be like this. Mama needs what mama needs, you know. Mama needs you right now, Steven.” She kissed me in a way that I didn’t want at that moment. Her energy felt entirely controlling, and I was so afraid in response. My neck began to recoil, but she pressed her body against mine. The heat from her latex-encased body was undeniable, her strength rising against mine. She grabbed my arms with a firmer grip, and as she began to kiss me harder, she used her tongue, too. I was already dizzy, but the sudden tongue kiss caused unexpected feelings of arousal to cloud my mind. I didn’t know what to do. I responded with slow, giant tears, and a long, passionate kiss. What felt at first like my mouth was being raped had melted away. Diane removed her grip from my arms and embraced me. We hugged each other. It was soft and seemingly kind and understanding. I closed my eyes. I felt like I was falling in love.

I heard what sounded like a bolt lock on the bathroom door catching.

“Deee-ahn. Deee-ahn. Is…is he…ready?”

We stopped mid-kiss and embrace. We looked to the left, and there was Arthur, peeling his jeans over his bulging, ultra-tanned thighs, while his shirt was completely undone. His electric blue jack-strap underwear looked like they had entrapped a coiled cobra snake. His arousal was profound, and also, grotesque in its restraint.

I tried to run. Arthur moved quickly to his left and had his arms up and hands out as if he was preparing to wrestle a grizzly bear. It was Diane whose embrace, yet again, became an ensnaring grasp.

“Slow down, Steven,” she carefully said, with a sensual lilt to her voice. “You…you CAN’T go anywhere. The door is locked. Also, there are bouncers outside the door. They’ll either kick your ass, throw you back in here, or both.” My body slumped. I locked eyes with Diane again. “What? How? Why?” That’s all I could say.

Diane placed her gold-tipped right index finger against my lips. With a little force, she slowly inserted it into my mouth. “Mama needs what mama needs,” she said. “Now, suck my thumb.” Upon replacing her index finger in my now suppliant mouth with her thumb, I did as I was asked.

“Steven, I hired you at the gym because I saw the desperation in your eyes. Desperation turns me on. ALSO, it turns on Arthur, my friend over here. Steven, we’ve seen you in the gym. Stretching, working, trying so hard. You always looked like you were hiding something, some kind of depression. Then I learned about your job. Then, when you told me you were broke, I knew I had to have you. AND I knew you needed me. All of me. In so many ways.” Her thumb slid out of my mouth. I closed my eyes, bowed my head, and I felt sad tears welling.”

Then, Diane slapped me. Hard. The base of her hand hit jarringly hard against my jawline, and the top of her middle finger slammed against my temple. I felt the heat of her palm against my cheek, and then the tell-tale flushing of immediate swelling and blood. As I crumpled to the cold, black and white speckled, linoleum floor, I began to cry in earnest. I felt Diane’s eyes staring down on me as she began to speak, and I was clutching at her right ankle.

“Steven, you please me so. You. Please. Me. So. Much. Don’t be surprised by this man. I like many pleasurable things, Steven. Mama loves all pleasure, in all ways. And just like you love to suck my thumb, Steven, I think you’ll like learning how to love to suck Arthur’s dick over here.”

I stared up at Arthur. He looked positively jolly. He was smiling with understanding, bright eyes at me. His jeans were around his ankles, and not entirely on the floor as they were held up by the fact that they were cuffed on top of his tall, shiny, and black leather Doc Martens boots. He was also now holding his supple, vintage, and worn black leather belt in his left hand, and revealing his thick, purple, heavily-veined, and muscular-looking nine-inch penis in his right hand. As I stared even closer at it, his balls looked massive, ringed by a black rubber cock ring.

I’d never sucked anything more than Diane’s thumb before. Now, here I was, in a nightclub bathroom. I was physically defeated and mentally confused, stranded between my muscle-bound dominant girlfriend and our equally muscle-bound and dominant boss. My girlfriend had grabbed my boss’ belt, and in one quick looping motion, turned it into a choke-collar around my neck. It was tight, and the intense feeling of suddenly losing my breath jarred me back to greater consciousness. Diane spoke again.

“Mama and daddy want Steven to get daddy off. Can Steven do that?” “I…I…dododon’t know…,” I replied. I felt the gritty sole of Diane’s tall, black vinyl stiletto boots against my left cheek, as the cold floor pressed into my swollen and bloody right cheek. “Steven, I SAID, ‘can Steven get daddy off?’ There’s only ONE answer.” “Yetthhhh Mahmuhhh,” I said as I was rudely yanked both up to my knees and awkwardly into having my face cradling a spot between Arthur’s right thigh and his massive balls.

I had relented, and nothing has been the same since.

Arthur wasted absolutely no time whatsoever in pleasuring his very erect cock with my now-submitting mouth. I felt Diane behind me setting me upright, then unbuckling my pants and pulling down my black cotton briefs. Instinctively, I reached out with my hands to steady myself, and they landed on Arthur’s massive thighs. The chill of my fingertips on his hulking quadriceps aroused the still largely silent Austrian. “Ugh AHHH! Oh, he likes it, Mama! He likes it!” “Daddy, Mama always knows,” Diane said knowingly, as she roughly squeezed my exposed ass. She then passed Arthur the end of his belt that was serving as the lead for the impromptu choke collar around my neck. I felt him flex, yank, and pull it hard, but close to my neck. It felt clamped on now, the buckle digging into my Adam’s apple. His cock began to clank against the back of my throat, gagging me into a spitting and sputtering mess. I was drooling at this point. Long, clear stains were now on my white dress shirt covered in dirt streaks from my time spent under Diane’s boot.

Behind me, all I felt was a sudden jerk of my right ass cheek. This was followed by a cool gush of air against the now open crack of my ass. While being choked to the point of coughing and drooling on Arthur’s now very warm cock, I heard what sounded…no definitely felt like massive globs of spit in my anal cavity. Then, I felt Diane’s thumb roughly rubbing into the wetness, and then, inside of me. I gasped, and arched my back in initial pain, followed by a wave of unexpected pleasure. “In doing so, Arthur’s cock now reddish-purple cock was staring me eye-to-eyes.

“Suck Daddy’s balls, Steven,” Diane said, almost lovingly. “Take off his cock ring and suck Daddy’s big, smooth balls.” Staring with an overwhelmed expression at Arthur’s massive, ringed balls, I definitely didn’t remove my hands from his thighs and remove the cock ring as I was told. “Suck. Daddy’s Balls. Steven.” Diane was more intent in her command a third time. I didn’t move. I was transfixed by his balls. At that moment they looked like golf-ball-sized Christmas ornaments, and I couldn’t imagine swallowing them.

Angry, Diane swiftly removed her thumb from my ass. I let out a pained grimace, and as Diane stood, she removed the belt from around my neck. Ass up, I slumped, face down, cooled and regaining some of my wits against the linoleum.

“Ohhhhhhh!” I exclaimed as the first sting of the belt hit my ass. I felt Arthur’s Doc Martens boots stepping down on each of my hands before I could move them to soothe my ass or get out of the way.

“You!” “Will!” “Obey!” “Mama!” Steven!” Diane had already whipped me five times. “Every time I hit you, I want you to count. “Yes Mama,” I said now almost instinctively as I was trying to protect myself from this power queen punishing me. “Good.”

What felt like an hour passed, as Diane ultimately whipped me in three sets of five times. I was a whimpering, blubbering mess. Steven had released my hands, and I was holding them together in order to get the feeling back in my fingertips. The cold tile floor was soothing my ass, but then Diane put the belt back around my neck. I wasn’t finished getting Daddy off, yet.

As I hungrily lapped and sucked at each of Arthur’s now freed testicles, I could hear Arthur and Diane quietly kissing each other. This was my girlfriend, making out with my boss, while she had me collared and calling her “Mama.” I was bloodied, bruised, sodomized and whipped, now on my knees and sucking Arthur’s balls. My greatest fear was wondering what was to become of me if he didn’t cum. Dutifully, I began to massage his firm, well-toned ass, too. Mama and Daddy had needs, and I was there to help.

I was in a trance-like state listening to Swedish House Mafia when I felt the belt around my neck jerk back, and as I opened my eyes, I saw the flash of cum exploding from Arthur’s cock. My mouth, already open, began to fill with his semen. I initially gargled, then Diane shoved me by the back of my head into Arthur’s spurting dick. My mouth already open, closed around his rod. Soon, unable to swallow his entire load, it began to froth forth from the corners of my mouth, onto my shirt, the floor, and his Doc Martens, below.

“Oh Steven, look at Daddy. Daddy’s so proud of you.” Diane held the belt tight, pulled my head back, and my lips slid from his now shrinking cock. There was Arthur, again, smiling kindly. As I looked on, Diane and Arthur began to passionately make out yet again. Exhausted and spent, I slumped to the ground, my cum soaked lips resting on the toe of his cum-stained boots.

Mama gets what mama needs.