The Zooeeper

Capitolo 7

No Rest for the Wicked

Anticipated by a final series of rapid, frantic thrusts, Azuki's last stroke buried deep in Brittany's womb, erupting inside her with an impressive amount of cum, delivered in powerful spasms that shot thick, hot ropes of cum into her.

Azuki tilted her head back, exhaling a satisfied sigh as she surrendered to the liberating cumshot. To satisfy her desire to fuck her concubine as deeply as possible, she had hoisted the blonde's ankles onto her shoulders and pinned her down beneath her, squatting on her toes instead of her knees, using the strength of her legs to pound into her in the most humiliating way possible.

Seeking out every last drop of perverse pleasure left in that scandalous night, her toned hips wriggled restlessly, stirring inside her victim's pussy, savoring the penetration from every angle.

Even though Brittany had been pushed beyond the threshold of consciousness by the merciless fucking her guest had so relentlessly bestowed upon her, her pussy still obeyed the majestic sexual power of her invader, throbbing and squeezing rhythmically around Azuki's cock as she exploded in a ruinous orgasm, sucking it greedily as if the torrential flood of cum pouring into her wasn't already more than enough.

Completely submissive, the blonde's pussy squirted a couple of times in total surrender, adding more splashes to the many that already decorated the white sheets of the massive designer bed in the penthouse.

Finally satisfied, Azuki collapsed onto Brittany's sweaty body, at last freeing her limber legs, which slowly slid down to her sides, exhausted.

Her beautiful face nestled into the other's golden hair, seeking the comfort of its scent, which she found--sweet, yet mingled with the odor of her body, drenched after their coupling.

Even in this ruined state, Brittany didn't have the perverse musk that Azuki adored so much: it was an acrid scent, but with undertones of caramel. But that was fine too; it suited her polished personality. Besides, that indecent fragrance wasn't lacking in the room, as Ulrika, Cassandra, and Azuki herself had generously spread it more and more as the fucking grew in intensity and passion.

As she moved a strand of hair from her face, she turned to her right, where she was met with the sight of her previous conquest.

Next to her and the blonde, Ulrika lay on her back, utterly exhausted and unconscious, with Cassie asleep on top of her.

It had happened after one of the most recent times she'd made the tanned little slut howl in pleasure. While waiting for the orgasmic spasms shaking her concubine to subside, she'd glanced over at them and seen her girlfriend making out with the brunette as she fucked her missionary-style, with thrusts so slow, deep, and sweet they looked like a honeymoon couple. She couldn't resist the temptation and had positioned herself behind Cassandra, slamming her entire cock into her ass in one thrust, the penetration slick with Brittany's pussy juice still clinging to her.

Too focused on her slave, Cassie had been caught completely off guard, and the sudden assfucking had literally knocked the breath out of her, making her cum instantly inside the little brunette who'd been trying for half an hour, with no success, to make her Mistress climax--much to Ulrika's humiliation. The poor girl was forced to learn the difference between the severe, solemn orgasms with which her cold Mistress usually filled her at the end of a fuck, delivered in long, majestic spurts with barely a smirk of satisfaction on her haughty face, as if she were granting a gentle favor--and the real, ruinous, degrading ones she had when she was fucked in the ass. Orgasms that made her explode inside like a fire hose, with an endless stream of rapid little squirts like a submissive bitch, while also pulling away from her slave's mouth to let out a degrading whimper of masochistic pleasure, her tongue hanging out contentedly, eyes crossed like a retarded slut.

Unfortunately for her, Ulrika shared more than just a passion for goth fashion and creatures of the night with the half-French woman; she also had an irresistible attraction to submission and humiliation. So, instead of getting angry, or even crying and protesting against the brutal invasion of their coupling and their relationship, when Azuki slammed into her Mistress's ass, instantly reducing her to a docile, drooling slut, all she could do was cling to Cassandra's lithe body like an octopus and cum howling at the top of her lungs, squirting the very soul out of her pussy in an orgasm she would remember for the rest of her life.

The "double humiliation" of seeing her Mistress completely subdued by a filthy assfuck and the opportunity to share those sordid, degrading desires so intimately was perfectly satisfying for her.

Above them, however, Azuki had a completely different opinion. That little show, which had been so all-consuming for them, was nothing more than an appetizer to her, just enough to further tease her sadistic streak.

She had slowly pulled her cock out of Cassandra's ass, leaving just the tip inside, to savor the rhythmic contractions of her slave's little hole, which unknowingly suckled on it with every pulse. Then she had waited for Cassie's overwhelming orgasm to begin subsiding enough for her to meet her pupil's gaze--embarrassed and fully aware of the slutty display she had just put on--and then, just as the two were starting to share the post-orgasm glow with languid, forgiving looks, Azuki slammed her cock back into Cassandra's ass, fucking her with brute force once again.

However, wanting to make it absolutely clear who was in charge, this time Azuki didn't settle for another instant climax. Instead, she kicked things into high gear, giving her dear little Frenchie a first-class anal pounding, brutally fucking her ass with immense satisfaction and no mercy whatsoever.

Cassandra, for her part, had tried to beg Azuki not to subject her to such a humiliating treatment in front of her young protégé, but, unable to stop herself from cumming disastrously every ten strokes, there wasn't much she could do to get the message across... Not that it would've made any difference.

Beneath her, Ulrika had endured with equal parts joy and desperation the mirrored fucking that Azuki's relentless ass-pounding had forced upon Cassandra. Voluptuously buried in the girl's dripping wet hole, the half-Frenchwoman's cock thrashed wildly inside her, jerking with each eruption and pounding her in perfect sync with every thrust Azuki landed in her ass.

Ignoring the whining and screams that the two kept letting out nonstop, Azuki went at them even harder, fully enjoying herself and, of course, ruining the two poor girls.

When Cassandra felt the final orgasm coming--the one that would drain every last drop of cum into Ulrika's now well-used pussy--she, in her romantic way, wanted to keep her affectionate promise. She dove onto her young lover's mouth, invading it with her tongue and the scream that announced her anal climax. At the same time, she overcame the resistance of her partner's cervix, spilling her final load directly into Ulrika's young lovesick womb, while the last two orifices guarding it lovingly cuddled her glans.

A demanding but not needlessly cruel mistress, Azuki decided to honor that tender moment with the highest of her honors. Plunging her cock deep into her girlfriend's ass, she rewarded her by cumming as well, releasing a series of hot, thick spurts, so plentiful they turned Cassandra's intestines into a boiling swamp.

In a chain reaction, the moment Cassandra felt her Mistress taking her pleasure from her ass, the tired dribbles her cock had been leaking into Ulrika's pussy turned into wild jets, which in turn triggered a fierce squirting from the brunette, completely soaking the sheets.

Unaccustomed to such intense pleasure, Ulrika passed out at the peak of her orgasm, while Cassie remained slumped over her, the lingering stimulation to her intimate parts slowly lulling her into the dream dreamworld.

Seeing Cassandra so exhausted, Azuki decided to give her girlfriend her favorite bedtime comfort. She lay down on top of her back, still keeping her cock firmly planted inside, and then relaxed her pelvic muscles, letting go of a liberating stream of piss directly into Cassandra's ass.

Half-asleep, Cassandra felt the tender sensation of the warm liquid gradually filling her belly, and that filthy gesture of affection warmed her entirely, giving her the reassurance that she had been used completely. With that warmth spreading through her, she closed her eyes with a blissful smile on her face, satisfied that she had fulfilled her role perfectly.

After finishing mixing her cocktail in Cassandra's ass--dark beer, whiskey, tequila, champagne, and cum--Azuki finally pulled her cock from the warm orifice. She began to stroke it slowly, not satisfied but rather even more aroused by the sheer vulgarity of how she had treated her lover.

And just as her cock hardened again, and the urge for another tight hole to fill surged within her, she turned to the other side of the bed. There, she found Brittany curled up, slowly fingering herself, almost timidly, after witnessing the entire scene.

Neither of them said a word. The blonde simply stopped her hand and spread her legs, her eyes filled with a mixture of awe and total surrender, fully aware that she was next in line, the next sacrificial victim to that diabolical goddess of pleasure that was Azuki. She knew that soon she would meet the same fate as the other two--and she was perfectly happy with that.

And so, as she let go of the last memories of how she had ended up tangled in Brittany's hair, catching her breath once again, Azuki realized that, as always, she was the only one not utterly exhausted by the orgy.

With her breathing steady again and her mind gradually clearing, Azuki waited for her cock to dribble the final drops of cum from her urethra into Brittany's pussy. Then, with a laborious calm, she lifted herself off her lover's body, sliding out of her at the same time.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, as the ecstasy of lust faded into a distant, satisfied echo, the tips of her toes just grazing the carpet, the first thing that reached her awareness was the stillness that actually painted the night.

Now that she had come down from it, their orgasmic roars and the sounds of their bodies slamming against each other took on a whole new relevance compared to the vastness of the night that ruled beyond the noisy glow of their room.

Los Angeles, especially seen from the height of their penthouse, slept in a suffocating quiet. The lights of the skyline tried to offer her some comfort, but all they did was highlight how small their bright dot was in contrast to the blackness of the starry sky.

Azuki didn't have any analog clocks in that apartment, but the steady breathing of her concubines served the same unnerving role. Cadenced and regular, barely noticeable yet so strong in the absence of any other noise, it spread throughout the room and echoed in her mind, reverberating with a disarming loneliness.

It sounded like the muffled beat of a heart, beating alone beyond the twilight. In a more prosaic metaphor, her mind offered the observation that the solitary rhythm resembled the intro of Say It Right by

Nelly Furtado

, which immediately began playing in her head, adding an echo to that loud silence.

Just like the melody in the song, her breath swelled deep--but not peaceful--and exhaled in a long, almost pained sigh. Right behind it, the chaotic thoughts that always crowded at the edge of her reason came flooding back.

Now that her lust was sated, the hammering, repetitive need to fuck and possess every alluring woman who crossed her path was quieted. But in the silence left behind by that satisfaction, all that remained was the coldness of those insecurities that haunted her every day.

Like the waters of a lake rushing to fill a crater left by an explosion, a thousand questions and thoughts surged to flood her mind.

What was she doing? What price was she making these girls pay just to clear the filth from her own mind? What had she dragged them into? And for what? Now she was right back where she started, asking herself what kind of piece of shit she must be to have pulled them into this spiral of depravity. Why couldn't she manage to get one thing right in her life? Why did she have to console herself for such failure by grinding girls--whose only crime was being beautiful--under a vice of degeneration? There was nothing natural or deserved about the attraction they felt for her. It was all a lie. A beautiful lie that left them satisfied but a lie nonetheless... Like a fairy tale. Like a book. Like a movie. Like a comic, she was the artist of it.

With her art, she transformed reality--or her perception of it--into a wonderful experience entirely fabricated by her imagination; her readers drank from that beautiful lie to escape their own dark shadows that chased them during their waking hours. They paid her for the chance to lose themselves in her lies. Maybe not with money, which she had no need for, but they paid her all the same--with their bodies and their desecration.

But... seen in that light, maybe it wasn't so terrible.

She loved movies. She adored comics. They had always made her feel good, cradled by their stories. She had found so many things within them that revealed deep truths about her, even though they were disguised in improbable fantasies.

Damn. She was a lost cause. Two minutes without her cock buried in a warm hole, and look where her mind had gone.

Sighing deeply once more, Azuki reached for her vaporizer on the nightstand, flicked it on, and brought it to her lips, determined to distract her attention with that ritual gesture, meant to focus her mind on the scent of lavender it was loaded with and the extravagant violet color of the smoke she exhaled with each puff.

Blowing the first cloud upward, she immediately felt her nerves calm, as the narcissistic satisfaction of her seductive reflection in the mirrored wall across the room washed over her.

What a slut she was.

And how safe she felt wrapped in that sluttiness of hers.

Soothed at least a little by that dose of vanity, Azuki turned her still-pensive gaze toward the others, lingering on the blissful look on Ulrika's face, even as she lay buried beneath Cassandra--or perhaps because she was.

That girl had a crush on her girlfriend. In fact, she may actually be in love with her.

Perhaps it was time to let Cassie give her the Embrace so she could keep her a little closer.

Or maybe she should just mind her own damn business and let Ulrika finish her studies and write the next Trainspotting, with herself as the protagonist and wild orgiastic sex in place of heroin overdoses.

Maybe somebody could still live a normal life if she stopped fucking with it.

Seeing how her cigarette drags were becoming less and less effective on those intrusive thoughts, she decided it was time to step away before she gave in to the temptation of burying her nose in one of those beautiful, sweaty armpits to rekindle her desire and start the whole thing all over again.

Responding to her silent wish, the Cosmic Shadow that surrounded her shifted, forming into a black lace lingerie set--skimpy and wicked--complete with thigh-high stockings and a matching semi-transparent robe. Before she even touched the floor, her feet were wrapped in high-heeled pumps, created from the same psychoreactive material as her clothing. The instinctive shape she'd given that material made her pause for a moment to reflect on just how much she needed to feel perfect to avoid collapsing under the weight of her own insecurities.

Even without anyone around her, Azuki had to know she was attractive, desirable. Even if there was no one to seduce, no one to excite. Even though, with the look she'd given herself, she could seduce and excite anyone, even while naked.

But in that terrible silence, the sound of her heels clicking against the black marble floor of the penthouse was a welcome one. As her legs carried her tiredly toward the kitchen, the ticking of her shoes brought to her mind the image of a perfect woman, someone desired--so beautiful that anything could be forgiven her...

...and she felt she had so much to be forgiven for.

The motion sensor saw her enter the room and immediately turned on the lights--dimly, knowing it was nighttime. Even so, Azuki's eyes were drawn to the polished reflections of the glossy tiles adorning the walls. Black and white, small, 10x5 cm: they looked like they belonged in a nondescript diner kitchen along any highway, but they were so polished they appeared to be made of moonstone, framing the most refined decor money could buy, with kitchen equipment worthy of a three-star restaurant.

The meticulously curated contrast never failed to fill her with a calming sense of order and perfection. It was an emotion capable of sedating the permanent restlessness that invaded her on these post-orgasmic nights.

That's why Cassandra had decorated it this way.

That's why she had come here right away.

For that reason... and because she was feeling boiling hot and thirsty as fuck. Of course, it was all pretty normal after the marathon she'd just run, but she was also sure that quenching that intense thirst, satisfying such a basic need, would give her a brief reprieve from all the bullshit crowding the threshold of her conscious mind.

She should have gotten plastered stupid. She should have continued her sacred mission by downing the whole bottle of champagne, then moving on to hammering down some Long Islands spiked with strawberry or raspberry syrup to make that alcoholic concoction go down as easily as possible, masked by its sugary taste. By now, she'd be passed out on one of the many soft and expensive surfaces in the apartment, blissfully unconscious and unable to beat herself up like she was doing now.

But no. She was a damn slut, and so she'd cleaned up her blood. That's right: she could do that too. She'd altered her kidneys to become a damn industrial purifier, flushing all that sacred alcoholic nectar out of her system just in time to move on to her favorite drug--completely sober and able to fully appreciate every nuance of the filthy orgy her girlfriend had so lovingly arranged for her.

But now she was fucking sober. And she was a goddamn Post-Orgasmic Hyperactive Slut, which meant that screwing three girls in a row hadn't drained her with fatigue--it had flooded her system with so much adrenaline that it sent her brain into overdrive.

The problem was, there was nothing left to fuck. And when her brain wasn't busy figuring out who she could fuck, all it did was feed her sharp insights about how hard she worked every second of her life to convince others that she wasn't some disgusting parody of a person, some revolting maggot trying desperately to disguise itself as a human being.

Well done, Azuki. You're really killing it. You just walked out of a room where you left a cokehead, who cucked one of the wealthiest heirs in the state for you, unconscious, a girl traumatized by bullying whose fragility you exploited to make her pathologically dependent on you, and let's not forget, another girl who swore eternal love to you, and you returned the favor by frying her brain so she could never disobey you. And not twenty steps later, here you are, standing in front of the fridge wondering if you should down another beer, like grinding their souls down with your dick meant absolutely nothing to you. A round of applause!

Even the fridge, though, had been chosen by Cassandra, and it was covered with such a polished surface that you could see your reflection.