Chapter 17: Ass Feast Hierarchy
The morning arrived not with a gentle dawn but with the crisp, unforgiving light of finality. It was their last day at the villa, a fact that hung in the air like the ghost of a forgotten argument. Ashley woke to the absence of pain; the deep, resonant ache from the night before had faded to a tender, persistent reminder. She was stretched out on her stomach, one arm slung over Carter’s chest. He was already awake, his eyes open, staring at the ceiling’s plasterwork. His hand idly stroked the length of her spine.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice a rough scratch of sleep.
“Morning,” she murmured, turning her head to bury her face against his side. She inhaled his scent—sleep, salt, and him.
His hand stopped at the small of her back, then traced lower, over the curve of her buttock. She tensed instinctively, the memory of violation fresh and electric. He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “Still sore?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” His fingers pressed lightly against her, a clinical assessment. “You wear it well.”
The door to their room was closed, the villa silent. There was no sound from Dominic’s wing. The previous day’s violence on the terrace felt like a fever dream, but the quiet of the house was its proof.
Carter shifted, rolling onto his side to face her. “We haven’t had a proper morning yet. Not since she arrived.” He didn’t need to say Sasha’s name. “Get on top of me.”
Ashley moved, her body obeying before her mind could form a question. She straddled his hips, the sheet falling away. The morning light cut across his torso, highlighting the ridges of his abdomen, the dark trail of hair leading down. He was already half-hard, lying thick against his stomach.
But instead of guiding her head to his cock, he placed his hands on her shoulders and applied firm, downward pressure. “Turn around. Face the other way.”
Understanding washed over her, hot and immediate. She pivoted on his lap, her back to his face, her knees settling on either side of his head. She was now facing his feet, his muscular thighs framing her vision. The position was deeply vulnerable, profoundly intimate. She could feel his breath, warm against her inner thighs.
“Now lean down,” he instructed, his voice calm, instructive. “And put that pretty mouth to work.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. She bent forward, her hands bracing on his shins for balance. His cock lay before her, fully erect now. She could smell him, the musky, clean scent of his skin. But he guided her head not towards his length, but past it, lower, to the firm, rounded curves of his ass.
“Here,” he said, his voice muffled slightly by her body. “This is what I want.”
He shifted beneath her, spreading his legs wider, giving her access. Ashley felt a flutter of unfamiliarity, of taboo. She had done this before, but never like this, never with him directing her from beneath, with his own mouth so close to her most secret place. The power balance was a dizzying, confusing spiral.
Before she could overthink it, she leaned in, pressing her face into the crease of his ass. She kissed the tight, clenching muscle there, then let her tongue flick out, a tentative stroke.
At the same time, she felt his mouth on her. Not on her cunt, but lower, on the very ache he’d inquired about. His tongue, flat and hot, laved a slow, deliberate stripe over her sore, sensitive hole. She gasped into his skin, her body jolting. The dual sensation was overwhelming—the act of serving and being served in the most primal, filthy way.
“Relax,” he commanded, his voice vibrating against her tender flesh. “And learn.”
He began to eat her ass with a focused, brutal precision. His tongue was an instrument of both punishment and pleasure, probing, circling, pushing against the tight, resistant ring of muscle. It was the same violation she’d received, now returned as devotion. The soreness transformed under his ministrations, melting into a shocking, direct line of pleasure that speared up through her core. She moaned, the sound stifled against his body.
“Your turn,” he grunted, pausing for a moment. “Do what I do. Don’t be timid.”
Emboldened, driven by the need to please and the electric feedback from her own body, Ashley opened her mouth wider. She used her tongue to mimic his motions, licking broad, wet stripes over his cleft before focusing on the tight pucker of his asshole. It was salty, musky, profoundly masculine. She pressed the tip of her tongue against it, feeling it yield slightly.
Carter let out a harsh, gratified sigh against her. “Yeah. Like that.”
He redoubled his efforts on her, his tongue pushing harder, fucking into her with shallow, insistent thrusts. Ashley reciprocated, losing herself in the rhythm, in the obscene, reciprocal feast. Her world narrowed to the taste of his skin, the sounds of his enjoyment, the building pressure between her own legs. She was hovering on the edge of an orgasm, her face buried in his ass, when her exploring tongue found a particular spot, a small, rough patch of skin just inside.
Carter’s whole body tensed. A guttural, choked sound escaped him, and his hand shot up from her hip, his arm hooking around her neck in a swift, forceful movement. It wasn’t a chokehold, but a tight, controlling embrace, his bicep hard against her throat, holding her face firmly in place. “Right there,” he growled, his voice strained. “Don’t fucking move. Just lick.”
The pressure on her neck, the dominance of the grip, sent a fresh, desperate thrill through her. She obeyed, focusing her tongue on that one spot, swirling, pressing, licking with dedicated fervor. Above her, she could feel the muscles of his stomach and thighs clenching, could hear his breathing grow ragged.
“Fuck, Ash… right there… just like that…”
His tongue on her became more frantic, less controlled. He was chasing his own climax through her body, using her mouth as his trigger. She was gasping for air around his grip, her own pleasure coiling impossibly tight, a spring about to snap.
The door to the bedroom burst open.
“Hey, have you seen the—” Dominic’s voice cut off.
Ashley froze, but Carter’s arm tightened around her neck. “Don’t stop,” he ordered, his voice thick with impending release. He didn’t even acknowledge the interruption.
Through the forest of Carter’s legs, Ashley could see Dominic and Sasha standing frozen in the doorway. Sasha’s storm-grey eyes were wide, her face unreadable. Dominic’s expression shifted from surprise to a dark, appreciative grin.
“Well, look at that,” Dominic breathed, taking a step into the room. Sasha followed, her steps hesitant, her gaze locked on the tangled, reciprocal scene before her.
“I’m close,” Carter managed to grunt, his hips beginning to lift off the bed, pushing his ass harder against Ashley’s mouth. “Make me come.”
The audience, the crude instruction, the relentless stimulation of her own body—it pushed Ashley over the edge. A silent, convulsive orgasm ripped through her, her muscles clamping down on nothing, her body shaking as she continued to service him. Her climax seemed to trigger his. With a raw, shredded shout, Carter came, his whole body arching violently. He crushed her to him, his arm a vice around her neck, his ass pushing hard against her face as he pulsed against her tongue.
The room was silent except for their ragged breathing. Carter’s arm slowly loosened, falling away to the bed. Ashley collapsed forward, her cheek resting against his thigh, spent and trembling.
Dominic let out a low whistle. “Last day and you’re starting it with a bang. Or a lick, rather.”
Carter, breathing heavily, ignored him. He gently pushed Ashley off to the side, then sat up. He looked at Dominic, then at Sasha, who stood by the door like a shadow. “What do you want?”
“We’re out of coffee,” Dominic said, shrugging, though his eyes were bright with amusement. “And we’re bored. It’s the last day. We should do something.”
“Do what?” Carter asked, swinging his legs off the bed. He stood, naked and utterly unselfconscious, and walked to the ensuite.
“I don’t know. Something memorable,” Dominic called after him. He looked down at Ashley, who was pulling the sheet over herself. “You alive down there?”
Ashley nodded, unable to speak. Her mouth still tasted of him.
Sasha finally moved. She walked to the foot of the bed, her eyes on the rumpled sheets, the evidence of what they’d just done. She looked at Ashley, and for a fleeting second, Ashley saw it—not jealousy, but a strange, weary recognition. They were both here, in this room, pieces on the same board.
Carter returned from the bathroom, a towel slung around his hips. He looked at the three of them: Ashley on the bed, Dominic leaning against the doorframe, Sasha standing like a sentinel.
“Get dressed,” he said, his voice devoid of all the heat from minutes before. It was cool, final. “We’re going into town. One last performance.”
He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. The last day demanded a finale. And as Ashley met Sasha’s gaze across the room, she knew, with a sinking certainty, that they would both be part of it, whatever it was. The vacation was ending, but the game, it seemed, was reaching its peak.
The car into town was a pressure cooker of silence. Dominic drove the convertible, the wind doing nothing to cool the thick air. Carter sat shotgun, staring ahead at the winding coastal road. Ashley sat behind him, her skin still humming from the morning. Sasha was a small, dark shape beside her, radiating a tense energy that felt like a live wire. The village appeared as a spill of white cubes and terracotta roofs against the hillside, postcard-perfect and utterly incongruous to their mood.
Carter directed Dominic to park in a dusty square shaded by gnarled olive trees. The place was alive with a mid-morning market, stalls overflowing with vibrant fabrics, pottery, and produce. Locals and a smattering of tourists moved through the narrow lanes. “Out,” Carter said, opening his door without looking back.
They moved as a fractured unit. Ashley followed Carter’s broad back, her sandals scraping on the ancient cobblestones. Dominic fell into step beside Sasha, his hand finding the small of her back. She stiffened but didn’t pull away. It was a possessive, casual touch that spoke of the previous day’s resolution.
“What’s the performance?” Dominic asked, catching up to Carter.
Carter stopped at a stall selling linens. He ran his fingers over a rough-woven tablecloth, his expression inscrutable. “She hasn’t earned her keep,” he said, his voice low enough that only their group could hear. He didn’t specify which ‘she.’ He didn’t need to. His eyes slid to Sasha, then away. “Today, she earns it. In public.”
Sasha’s breath hitched. Ashley felt a jolt of something cold, a fear that wasn’t for herself. Carter moved on, leading them deeper into the maze of streets, away from the main market thoroughfare. The crowds thinned. The sounds became more intimate: a shutter closing, a cat’s yowl, their own echoing footsteps.
He stopped before a small, non-descript boutique. The window display was a jumble of leather goods and brightly coloured tourist kitsch. A bell tinkled when he pushed the door open. The interior was dim, smelling of dust and incense. An elderly man with a kind, wrinkled face looked up from behind a counter.
Carter didn’t browse. He went straight to a rack at the back, pulling out two items. He tossed one to Ashley. It was a dress, if it could be called that. A scrap of emerald green silk, barely more than a handkerchief with thin straps. The other, a similar thing in blood red, he handed to Sasha.
“Put these on,” he said. “Over what you’re wearing. Now.”
There was no changing room. The shopkeeper’s eyes widened, but a look from Carter—a calm, immovable force—made the old man quickly look down at his ledger. Dominic leaned against the doorframe, blocking it, a smirk playing on his lips.
Ashley’s hands trembled as she pulled the green silk over her head. It was shockingly short, the hem brushing the very top of her thighs. The neckline plunged, leaving her breasts barely contained. She felt utterly exposed, the fine linen of her actual dress underneath doing nothing to mitigate the sensation. Sasha moved like an automaton, sliding the red silk over her black tank top and shorts. It fit her petite frame like a sin, the colour a violent slash against her pale skin and dark hair.
“Good,” Carter said, his gaze a clinical appraisal. He threw some euros on the counter and gestured toward the door. “Let’s go.”
They emerged back into the sun-drenched alley. The cheap silk felt abrasive against Ashley’s skin. Every passerby now felt like a searchlight. A pair of older women carrying net bags of fish glanced at them, muttered to each other in rapid Greek, and hurried on. The humiliation was a hot, crawling thing.
Carter led them to a small, deserted plaza, a forgotten corner where the buildings leaned close together. A dry fountain stood in the center, littered with cigarette butts. “Here,” he said.
He turned to Sasha. “The dress is your tip. You’re going to earn it. On your knees.”
Sasha stared at him, her storm-grey eyes blazing with a final, futile defiance. “No.”
“Yes.” Carter’s voice held no room for negotiation. He nodded to Dominic.
In one smooth motion, Dominic stepped behind Sasha, wrapped an arm around her waist, and forced her down. Her knees hit the dusty cobbles with a painful crack. She cried out, more in shock than pain. Dominic held her there, his hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back to look up at Carter.
Carter unzipped his trousers. He wasn’t fully hard, but the sight of her on her knees, struggling in Dominic’s grip, began to change that. He took his cock in hand, giving it a few slow, lazy strokes. The sun glinted off the moisture already beading at the tip.
“Open up, sweetheart,” Dominic crooned in her ear, his voice sickly sweet. “Earn your pretty red dress.”
Sasha squeezed her eyes shut. A tear traced a clean line through the dust on her cheek. Then, with a shuddering breath, she opened her mouth. Carter stepped forward and pushed the thick head of his cock past her lips.
He didn’t start gently. He fucked her mouth with immediate, shallow thrusts, using her face. Her gag reflex triggered instantly, a wet, choking sound that echoed off the close walls. Dominic held her head steady, forcing her to take it. “That’s it,” Dominic murmured, watching with rapt attention. “Take it all. Such a good little cunt for taking cock.”
Ashley stood frozen a few feet away, a spectator again. The green silk felt like a costume in a degrading play. She watched Carter’s face, a mask of concentrated pleasure, his eyes half-lidded as he used Sasha’s throat. She watched Sasha’s throat work, saw the tears streaming freely now, mixing with spit that slicked her chin and dampened the red silk at her chest.
“You can do better than that,” Carter grunted, his hips picking up speed. He was fully hard now, pounding deeper. “I felt that clever tongue yesterday. Use it.”
He pulled almost all the way out, glistening and wet. “Lick it. Clean it.”
Sobbing, Sasha extended her tongue, running it along the length of his shaft, lapping at the pre-come and her own spit. The subservience of the act, the raw degradation, seemed to shatter something final in her. Her body went limp in Dominic’s hold, accepting.
“Now suck my balls,” Carter commanded. “Get them wet.”
She did, lowering her head further, taking his heavy sac into her mouth, slurping obscenely. The sounds were filthy, explicit, and utterly captivating.
“Fuck, that’s good,” Carter hissed, his hand tangling in her hair alongside Dominic’s. He guided her mouth back to his cock. “Now make me come. Swallow every drop.”
He resumed fucking her face in earnest, his thighs slapping against her chin, his groans growing louder, less controlled. Ashley found her own hand creeping between her legs, over the silk, a reflexive response to the raw spectacle. She was painfully wet, aroused by the display of absolute control, by Sasha’s broken compliance.
Carter’s release was abrupt. With a final, deep grind of his hips, he shoved himself down her throat and held, his body rigid. A low, sustained groan tore from him. Sasha’s eyes bulged, but she didn’t pull away. Her throat convulsed as she swallowed.
When he pulled out, she slumped forward, coughing, strings of saliva and come connecting her lips to his softening cock. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, leaving a shiny streak.
Carter tucked himself away, zipped up. He looked down at her, his breathing settling. He then looked at Ashley, his gaze noting her trembling hand still pressed against herself. A slow, knowing smile touched his lips.
“Your turn,” he said to Dominic, nodding at the crumpled form of Sasha. “She’s warmed up for you. Fuck her properly. Right here.”
Dominic didn’t need telling twice. He yanked Sasha up by her arm, spun her around, and bent her over the rough edge of the dry fountain’s basin. He yanked the flimsy red silk and her shorts down to her knees in one brutal tug. She offered no resistance, her forehead pressed against the warm stone.
Dominic freed himself, spat into his hand, and without ceremony, drove his cock into her from behind. She was dry, and she gasped at the intrusion, her fingers scrabbling against the stone. He didn’t care. He set a ruthless, pounding rhythm, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.
“Tighter than yesterday, Carter,” he grunted, his eyes rolling back slightly. “Fuck, she’s clenching like a vise.”
Ashley watched, mesmerized and horrified. Carter came to stand beside her. He didn’t touch her. He just watched, his arm brushing hers. “This is the price,” he said softly, for her ears only. “The price for her fire, for her words. This is the exchange. Remember it.”
Dominic was swearing steadily, a filthy, gratified litany. “Take this cock, you brat. Take it deep. You wanted discipline? Here it is. Pounding your fucking brains out.” He slapped her ass, the sharp crack echoing. The red welt bloomed against her white skin.
Sasha’s cries had changed. They were no longer sobs of protest, but raw, guttural sounds of a body being pushed beyond its limits. Yet, her hips began to push back minutely against his thrusts, a betrayal as profound as any word. Her body was accepting, even craving, the brutal punishment.
“She’s gonna come,” Dominic panted, his rhythm faltering. “I can feel her. The little slut’s gonna come on my cock while I wreck her in a public square.”
And she did. A broken, shuddering wail was torn from her as her body convulsed, clenching around him. Her orgasm triggered his. With a final, brutal plunge, Dominic came inside her, his own shout joining hers in the quiet plaza.
Silence descended, heavy and complete. Dominic pulled out, turned away, fixing his clothes. Sasha stayed bent over the fountain, the red silk tangled at her knees, her shoulders shaking with silent, exhausted tears.
Carter finally moved. He walked over to her, pulled the silk dress back up over her shoulders, his movements almost gentle. Then he leaned close, his mouth near her ear. His words were too soft for Ashley to hear.
But she saw Sasha’s reaction. A full-body flinch, then a slow, numb nod. Whatever he said, it was the final instruction, the closing clause of their contract. Sasha straightened up, her face utterly blank, a beautiful doll with dead, grey eyes.
“Let’s go,” Carter announced, as if concluding a business meeting. “We’ll miss our flight.”
They walked back through the alley, past the market, toward the car. No one looked at them now, or if they did, they quickly glanced away. The group carried a new, impermeable aura of violation. Ashley walked, the green silk clinging to her damp skin, feeling the ghosts of the plaza pressing in around her. The game had reached its peak, and the descent felt like falling into a cold, silent sea. Sasha walked beside Dominic, her hand limply in his, her price finally paid in full.