Daring Emma Knocks Ch 01

My name is Emma Knocks, but you can call me Noxxie.

At least, that's what the sign on my door says. Noxxie is what most of my clients call me. But they're not compelled to. Some of them call me a whore or a slut. Some call me a toilet, a urinal, a trash can or dustbin, a Zender or a Vaginbond. It doesn't matter to me. I'm Noxxie to me, and I'm the wildest of fantasies to them. I don't think anything of it.

I live on planet Navel, the planet deserted for others. I live mostly alone. I have no friends. I just have clients.

Navel is a planet left in the dust, literally. I live on the truck-stop planet of the galaxy. It's a planet that voyagers visit only to refuel and let off some steam through their sweaty cocks or any other part of their slimy bodies. We don't even have that many showers; hot water is expensive, ironically. We have public showers because all our resources are so scarce that we have to share them. I don't mind it, and I know that being one of the only females on the island ensures that the men I shower with don't mind it much either. But the water still isn't hot.

And I don't mind that the water is cold, either; what I do mind is the taste of sweat with the precum I habitually swirl in my mouth. Precum is salty enough; the sweat makes me genuinely feel like a whore, even though I consider myself just a sex worker. Something about the smell turns me on in the crudest and most animalist of ways. But I digress.

All sorts of aliens and humans visit this island. It's barren, and if you're born here, finding a way to leave is almost impossible. Believe me, I've tried, and my current occupation is the best I could come up with. You need to have connections, and a poor girl like me has to deal with a mother who died when I was a child and a father who left me when I was 16. I need to make my own income. Daddy never told me why he left. He said he would come back for me, but he never did and I never believed him either. I've spent a couple of years on my own, so I'm over it, but I still dream to myself that someone will one day whisk me away. Take me to a beach, or a castle, or a pretty island where I can do whatever I want to. Daddy even left with my little brother, so I really have no-one.

I have to find my own way back. I must. And I'm going to detail my journey off this god-forsaken island through (approximately) weekly diary entries. That's the plan, but who knows where my life will take me?

Without further ado, let me start with Diary Entry 1.

October 13, 2017:

I have just one appointment today. It's with someone named Caesar at 3 P.M. That means I was able to have the most amazing sleep in the world last night—a solid 12 hours (my schedule is often packed).

I get the best sleep when I orgasm the previous night. I have a couple of stuffed toys and numerous vibrators, but I started out by pleasuring myself with pillows. It's homey; it makes me feel most in control. Not that I'm hung up on control; pillows torture me just enough for me to have to thrash myself up and down the bed, working up a sweat before I cum all over the sheets. I suppose I could describe the whole process for you. It'll give me something to do until Caesar gets home.

I go to bed naked nowadays, rubbing my skinny legs against the red satin, my hair against the silk, my breasts against a luxurious maroon blanket. I can't help it; it's so hot on this island, and it feels so good to wake up sticky and turned on beyond belief.

There's nothing I can do about it—I cum every night. A bed like mine invites it. It's memory foam, and I think my pelvis always ends up sinking lower than the rest of my body as I lounge, perhaps channeling more blood to my erogenous zones. Before I know it, I'm rolling my fingers around my clitoris, breathing deeply, biting my bottom lip, waiting for my fingers to finally get wet.

Luckily, it doesn't take long. As the night air breezes in through the window, I pull off the blanket and get in a doggy position. I continue rubbing, pretending my pussy is widening and contracting as I push myself back and forth. I keep going, waiting for to get slippery.

I start to moan. I hear myself, audibly, and I become self-aware. I don't care. I feel good, and it's free advertising for my business. I get louder.

I motion, I circular motion, and I finally scream. Should I do it? I blink twice and lick my lips. I gingerly move my right hand lower down my body to find my pussy soaking wet, my juices running down my legs and onto my discarded blanket. I compulsively stick two fingers in my mouth, lubricating them before slowly sliding them into me. I didn't think I'd be penetrating myself the night before a client, but tonight is different.

The moon shines through my window on a young girl with pale skin and a lightly angular jawline, an unsymmetrical smile and sharp features, riding herself on a queen bed the color of roses and blood, moaning conspicuously into the night. I can't contain myself; I'm possessed by a force I can't control, a desire to get nasty, to feel impure, to soak myself in my own fragrance, to be aware of what I am and what I have become, and to cum, to cum, to cum...

I feel my inner hip muscles vibrating madly, but I fight off all my urges. I don't want to cum just yet. I need something more powerful. I want to sleep tight, very tight. I pull out my fingers and cry out loudly, my heartbeat pounding in my legs as I force myself to not orgasm. Pain streaks through my body, and I plop straight down on my breasts as my legs shake uncontrollably for almost a minute, my face biting down on my pillow.

My pillow... I straighten myself and get up into cowgirl position, scrunching up my pillow and squeezing it between my legs. Finally, something to ride. Like a jockey, I grind madly against the harness, my clitoris finally getting some action. No extra lubrication is necessary, and I can see beads of my juices roll down the sides of the pillow. I start to moan again. My left hand begins to stroke my supple skin, my B cup breasts, my hard nipples. I stick the fingers of my right hand in my mouth, not to silence myself but to give me something to suck on to, something acidic and delightful.

I can finally feel sweat roll down my back as I squeeze my left nipple and taste myself, imagining I'm taking two cocks in full swing. I scream, I bite, and I love the pain. Within another few minutes, I'm cumming all over my bedding, throbbing back and forth with my limbs, unable to close my mouth as drops of saliva roll onto my chin from the sides of my open lips.

I crash down to the bed exhausted and take another few minutes to catch my breath. I move my head to the side so that I don't sleep on the wet part of the pillow, but the aroma still turns me on. I think about washing my sheets in the morning, but I know I'd probably be too lazy to. I fall asleep and have some of the bed shut-eye I've ever had. I can only imagine what Caesar is like. Sounds like a king, so he's probably a big guy. If I can handle myself, I can handle him.

Oh, Caesar's here!