Rice Queen

if you have issues with under aged sex(I assure you, both these characters are post pubescent, and mainly fictional, some of their traits come from me[obviously] and other random people) don’t read on. Yes, the ‘don’t like don’t read’ rule. As stupid as people tell us it is, it makes sense in a way or two. THIS MAY CONTAIN THINGS SOME PEOPLE WON’T FUCKING LIKE, like pointless sex, lack of plot and a whiney, angsty teenage slut as a main character. So if you don’t like those things, and you’re going to bitch at me for it, why the hell did you read on in the first place? All idiocy will be deleted or mocked. Regardless, onto the story.

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An obnoxiously bouncy pop-rock song flowed through the speakers of my computer as I ‘finished my last bit of homework before I went to sleep’, really what I was doing was hopelessly trying on clothing, pathetically attempting to find a cute skirt that matched the obscurely colored faux corset I wore. For the last few weeks I had flat out refused to leave my room without looking like absolute perfection, for reasons more than simple vanity. Those reasons, or rather that reason stood at about six feet with delicious honey colored skin and deep black eyes. You would swear you were looking into his very soul every time you glanced into them.

His hair looked like silk, so soft and lovely. My hair fell listlessly about my head when it wasn’t at war with my skull, which happened quite often, sadly. This was, of course, a massive exaggeration, and the vast percentage of the time I managed to look absolutely lovely, but having a fucking God living in your house didn’t exactly help with your self image one damn bit.

This God, of course, is the previously mentioned reason for my newfound über-vanity, a boy in his late teens fresh from Hong Kong and free of over-powering, wealthy Mommy and Daddy for the next ten months of his life. At this time I was a short little freshman girl, just beginning her first year of high school who already spent enough of her time obsessing over herself previously and did not need this to punctuate it.

When I parents first told me we would be taking this boy in for the better part of the year I had almost died of pure exhilaration. I had suffered for the longest time of something more commonly known as Yellow Fever, which is, of course, a terribly addictive fetish which usually attached itself to the male of the species where the fetishist has a ridiculous attraction to Asian men or women, preferring them sexually over most of races. This is sometimes seen as racism, but after three years of this I hadn’t bothered to care any longer. I liked men, I loved ALL men, but I simply preferred Asians and this was how it was. Anyway, my second reaction to hearing this news was the loss of my ability to eat anything beyond yogurt, toast or water causing the me lose 30 pounds over a one month period, which in retrospect wasn’t healthy, but certainly wasn’t any worse for me than my previous state had been.

A shrill giggle escaped my throat as I finally found a skirt that matched, a blatantly obvious choice, too. The thing was short and black, made of the softest leather I could possibly afford (which really, wasn’t very soft at all). I smirked at myself, deciding that instead of wearing this I’d have a little fun tonight, nothing bad would happen, I supposed cheerfully. I quietly pulled on a pair of long black stockings and another of red fishnet in make. Mildly drunk on my own excitement I filled in my lips matching red gloss and my eye lashed with some ridiculously thick, black mascara.

I slipped myself out of my room and down the hall into the one where Robert was staying for the next nine months. He glanced up at me from his lap top when I entered, a smirk forming on his lips before he returned to the screen. I threw myself onto the large, squishy sofa thing beside him.

“What are you looking at?” I asked gently, making a pathetic attempt at sounding sultry as I turned my gaze towards the screen where some Korean girl was sucking a pixilated cock. I burst into a fit of giggles. “Oh yeah, cause that’s so hot.”

“What, you could do better?” He challenged, ripping his gaze from the screen, his eyes dancing slightly. “I doubt you came here for a nice chat, especially dressed like that.”

I grinned broadly, staring intently into his eyes as the light danced on them. They were filled with a mixture of expectation and mild paranoia. Tilting my head slightly I slid one my hands down his chest, before coming to a rest on his half-hard cock, gripping it gently through his jeans. “Is that better?” I asked, my voice twice as high as normal.

“A-a little.” He lied as I felt his hard-on growing against my hand. “Actually…much better.” He shoved the computer from his lap and onto the nearby nightstand. “I knew you didn’t exactly come in here for tea and crumpets.”

\"\'Course not.” I muttered, straddling his hips and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. Gently I bit down on one of his earlobes, rubbing my crotch gently against his erection as it swelled against his pants. I whimpered loudly, pressing my mouth to his and sliding one of my hands into my panties, rubbing my clit gently.

I felt his long fingers wrap around my wrist and pull it away. “Little slut…just can’t wait, can you?” He hissed bitterly in my ear, grinding his cock against me. “Get up.” He ordered brutally.

I obeyed him silently, jumping out of his lap and standing before him silently. “Take off those gaudy tights, both pairs. Now.” Once more I obeyed, pulling the itchy things from my long-ish legs, revealing my pale, warm flesh to him. “Good girl.” He whispered, standing and sliding his hands up under my shirt, pinching my nipples gently before he pulled it off over my head. He inclined his head slightly, chewing gently on one of my hardened nipples as he pinched its twin roughly with his hand.

Robert pulled away; smiling with delight as he pulled my skirt and panties a few inched from my body and forced them down slightly, letting gravity do the rest. The clothes fell to the floor, lying uselessly around my tiny feet in a puddle. “Sweet…” He whispered softly, sliding his warm, soft hand over my perfectly hairless pussy. A soft moan escaped my throat and he snapped his hand away. “Now, thee will be none of that, you little slut, don’t you dare make a noise.” I nodded sharply and watched as he pulled his hoodie off over his head. “On your knees.” I fell to the floor quickly and reached forward, unbuttoning his pants with delighted ease and letting his jeans fall to the floor.

His cock stood fully erect, staring my right in the face, perfectly level with my supple lips. I felt myself growing wet as I imaged every inch of that filling me and dived forward, wrapping my mouth tightly around the head, tormenting it with my small tongue and moaning softly, sending gentle, teasing vibrations though it. “Ahh…” He whispered from above me, tangling his fingers gently into my hair.

With ease I slid more of it into my small, abused mouth, tormenting the underbelly of his shaft with my tongue and moaning even louder and I began to frantically rub my clit. Suddenly Robert jerked my hair back, pulling me away from his cock. “That will be it for the time being. I don’t want to cum just yet, slut.”

Violently he grabbed me by my shoulders and shoved me back onto the bed, spreading my legs wide. Mild terror filled my heart and doubled my excitement, tripling the already wonderful feeling that was filling my body. I cried out loudly as he thrust into me, filling me with every inch of his cock, just as I had wished he would minutes ago. He pressed his slight weight into me, pushing my small body roughly into the mattress as he gnawed roughly on my ear lobe. “Yes…you like it, don’t you?” He asked, his voice filled with a delightfully hateful tone. “You like it when I do this too, don’t you?” Robert questioned brutally as he sharply ran his fingernails down my side, cutting into my soft flesh and drawing blood.

I bucked my hips against him in response and a smirk filled his face. “Thought you would, because you’re a filthy skank, right? You LIKE it when I hurt you, you like it because it’s what you deserve, and you know it, don’t you?”

“Oh God, yes!” I cried out rather loudly in response.

“Good girl.” He suddenly stopped thrusting into me and crawling away from me on the narrow bed, laying still on his back, his cock tall and proud. “Ride it, cowgirl.” He said, mockingly, reminding me of the truly god-awful boots I had been wearing the day we met.

I crawled over and straddled his hips again, lowering myself onto his cock. I gasped out with pleasure and slowly began moving my hips in a quick, exhilarating motion as his hands tightly gripped my ass. Two of his fingers found their way inside of me, thrusting as deeply as I could possible imagine and my body burst into orgasm. I weakly fell on top of him, still moving my hips gently until his cum filled me.

He grinned up at me. “Thanks for the welcoming gift.

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Couldn’t explain it if I tried. It turned out to play up on the uber-masochist desires way more than I thought it would. Oh fucking well. Review.