neither craving verseXhotlinetocorporate

[Verse]

Yazuko Kazaki had a pretty steep climb to where he was, but he'd gone at it hard, so it went quickly. He started in the pits, where people put him up against dogs. Turns out, even if you're too young to legally own one, you can still choke one out. He graduated to human opponents when his brand of violence gained an audience. Soon he was beating other teenager's heads in for better cash, and then he took work for Yakuza that had always owned his matches. He was reliable enough that when they opened up another dingy gambling joint, they didn't mind passing it to him. Do good work, get good things.

With his twentieth birthday barely behind him, he was now wearing suits and tattoos like the men who used to spit at him when he wrapped his his bitemarks and wondering about rabies. His youth kept the bone tight to his skull, the angled, east asian features that had gotten him trust enough to get into it with the Yakuza to start, still in its prime. There was a darkness in his eyes that was remarkable, even among his murdering, crime-riddles peers.

You had to be something above the rest to make it in Yareli City, affectionately called New City by the people who lived in it. The international port metropolis was overrun with shadowy undercurrents, and the Yakuza was one of the main ships in a fleet of other organizations. Yazuko had been happy to find himself among the people who called the shots. Even if he still had to claw his way to power, and work most nights, and party the others, he saw it as a kind of retirement, from a childhood that had been nothing short of harrowing. It had prepared him well for this. So he had his fun. Hookers and drugs, and all the vices he peddled to others. All in moderation, of course, since he knew the house was set up to win.

But now he was the house.

The small, dirty joint with a couple of tables that he started out with had become a skyscraper of elicit, adult games. The Yen-yen Casino. Their online business was always feeding a steady stream of revenue, locked mostly to IP's in and around Yareli so he could collect if needed. But he loved the physical locales more. The sounds of them. This was where he found his kindred and friends. The lives here belonged to him. Today he was playing with one of his favorites.

Keiko Hall had sold her life to him with her mounting gambling debt. It was enough to warrant a bullet to the head, but sometimes she did well enough to scratch the surface of going free. But she never stopped then. They never did. When they were pretty like her, even in her broken way, the gorillas on retainer to break bones checked with Yazuko first, before they got their pick. There were gorgeous, fresh-faced women who ended up under his thumb this way, earning with their bodies for what their husbands and fathers owed, but Keiko looked a certain way. She didn't know he had her pegged when she walked in to talk about her losses, the first time. She already had a connection to him, through her significant other. But Dakota was another story. They didn't know he knew them both. Owned them both.

Yazu walked toward one of the smaller, closet-like offices where employees got to do some less important administration, if needed, and some of these rooms had even been converted into make-shift breakrooms. Keiko wasn't really the kind he had to take to a good restaurant. She was the kind he could fuck in the ass and have suck his cock clean after. She knew she better be there first. Today was another day that'd be her last time. He promised he'd strike out the rest of her red numbers if she came. Stupid bitch never learned though, but he liked the look in her eyes, that hoped she was done. And then he got to stomp on that so she walked away with a sore cunt, a stomach full of cum, and a heart full of enough doubt that the only way she could alleviated it was by punishing herself more at his tables.

He opened the scuffed up door. He had a black suit on with a sheer shirt, mostly unbottoned under the jacket. The tilted sartorial take was par for the course, and when you're tall with vast shoulders but otherwise lanky, suits always look good. His black hair was tied back, though it was barely long enough. It had always been one of the gravest insults to the people who saw his face as the last image in this life, that it was still beautiful, despite the bad things he did to them. He wondered what looks she'd have in her eyes today. Her boyfriend usually had some broken eager in his.

 

[hotlinetocorporate]

As time went on, it really did seem like they had less and less good days. The two of them had a pretty cute little story, if not a bit unconventional. Keiko and Dakota had gone to the same high school, and they hadn't really been friends or anything like that to start. Dakota was, for lack of a better way to put it, a goddamn nerd. He was from a well-off family, and people pleasing was basically bred into him. The blonde had always been on the smaller side, more reserved and quick to just so whatever was being requested of him for the sake of avoiding conflict. He was a doormat, and the people around him took full advantage. Dakota's dweeb ass was doing half their grade's homework, was always the butt of the joke, got told to do dumb little errands for the other students. The guy really just seemed happy to be included in any kind of interaction or serve any kind of use whatsoever.

Keiko was the exact opposite. For a lack of a better descriptor, she was trashy. Her family was broke as fuck, she got all of her older sister's ratty hand-me-down clothes. She was barely ever even at school to start with, and when she did she did fuck all. Keiko was quick to mouth off, always looked tired and frequently just be floating through her classes stoned off her ass. She hung around other delinquent, the very people that would make sure that Dakota's general kindness would be manipulated by. Eventually, something in her got tired of seeing the same shit every day- So Keiko had asked him out. They dated, and she did what she could to get other people to lay off of him. It worked for the most part. Now there were new teases about Keiko being butch and Dakota needing his girlfriend to bail him out of everything, but it was better than before.

A few years out of high school, Dakota bought a house and asked her to share it with him. She said yes, and they'd moved in together. From an outside perspective, life just kept moving on for the pair. They weren't living large or doing anything impressive, but they seemed to have their shit together. That was bullshit, though.

Keiko was awful with money. She always had been- something about growing up poor just made her feel like cash had to leave her hands as soon as she got it. And since Dakota's day job paid well enough that she didn't really need to work, she just worked part-time and had a lot of spare time. Drawn to places that were full of people that reminded her of those she grew up around, Keiko spent quite a lot of time in the casino. She didn't have a favorite game- she tended to wander, just sort of spending money until her presence was demanded back home or her credit ran out.

And, well. At that point, loans happened. And she had to deal with the loans... Things spiraled, and at this point she was basically using her body to keep paying off her debts so she could keep creating new ones. Keiko hated it, and Dakota really had done nothing to deserve this kind of disloyalty from her. He'd always been nothing but sweet to her, even when they were kids. It made her feel filthy, but... It let her keep being somewhere she felt comfortable, and it kept Dakota from knowing just how fucking bad her issues were.

Tonight was a night that Keiko was doing her best to act like they were the perfect couple so many people thought that they were. Their anniversary- Dakota hadn't gotten them reservations or anything, but he'd really gone all out to try and celebrate it at home. Keiko had to work earlier in the day, and when she came home the inside of their house had been entirely different than what it looked like when she left. It'd been cleaned spotless, there was the smell of food cooking and the lingering scent of something sweet that'd been prepared beforehand. The lights seemed to be carefully turned on or off to create a certain ambiance, there was quiet music.

He really was too kind to her.

She would find him in the kitchen, dressed a lot nicer than usual. Keiko wasn't sure how he managed to make her feel under-dressed in her own home, but he did. Dakota would send her up to the bedroom to change herself. She probably should have anticipated seeing a new outfit laid out for her- it made her eyes water just a bit, especially catching sight of herself as she was in the mirror. Keiko never 'dressed up.' She always looked just slightly malnourished, pale despite her mixed heritage and her otherwise beautiful eyes ringed with a nearly bruised looking exhaustion. She didn't dress up for work, either- why would she? She was a fucking grocery store cashier.

Stripping out of her work clothes and putting on the dress Dakota had bought for her felt like putting on a costume. Dakota had a good eye for clothing and aesthetics, and his choice for Keiko reflected that. The red tone suited her very well, and the fabric was very well fit to her figure. It reached the floor with a slit that went up to her thigh, a sleeveless and backless top that tied behind her neck. It was more revealing than she would have chosen for herself. Keiko fussed for a little longer with getting the top to sit right over her bust than she would have liked to admit- Fuck, maybe she was butch and all of those kids in high school were right. But once it looked correct, she took a moment to try and clean herself up. Fix her hair a bit, clean up and refresh her worn make-up and add a red lipstick, change out her more punky and alternative accessories for mock-gold jewelry that at least almost fit the dress.

Of course when she got downstairs Dakota would lay all kinds of praise and compliments on her, and it would feel wrong. But she'd accept, thank him, do her best to act sweet. He deserved it from her, it was the least she could do. They sat down to eat, and eventually things felt... Okay.

Well, until Keiko's phone went off. She'd had all kinds of excuses to duck out lately- from work being short staffed to her mother having medical emergencies. The later was great for odd hours. The woman hated Dakota with a passion, so it was a given that he wouldn't accompany her. She excused herself, checked it, and... Sighed.

Of course, when she explained that she had to go, Dakota was all smiles and comfort. He understood- he always understood. The man was an angel that she didn't deserve. And, like she had so many times before, she left. The message on her phone seemed more pressing than usual- if anything, because this sweet treatment from him made her think maybe she could actually set things to zero and just... Stop. Actually stop this time, be the woman that Dakota thought she was.

So, when the door opened, Keiko would be exactly where she had been told to be when she'd told to be there. The woman would be feeling too many things for one emotion to read- common for her. It usually read as a generally overcast expression, and this time was no different- despite that, a mildly delusional part of her was determined to make this the last time. For real. She wanted to immediately ask that this be quick- but she knew that would ensure she'd be here much longer than she hoped.

 

[Verse]

Yazuko knew something was off the moment he opened the door. The scent coming out, the ones not native to the space, were-- better than usual. He liked this girl because she was pretty underneath the layers of self-destruction rampant among his patrons. She reminded him of the potential in similar individuals during the handful of school days he'd enjoyed, selling for the syndicate that eventually decided he should be doing other things with his childhood. Maybe he'd idealized these girls who couldn't afford or didn't believe in looking like their own worth. It was a pretty lilt to a nation-wide problem. He knew who Keiko was the moment he'd been asked about her by the debtors on the floor. And having her suck his cock to lessen her account number beside the minus mark, he'd gotten a looksee into her psyche as well.

But his real source of information was her beloved Dakota. Nothing like someone who idealizes you to get your weaknesses.

That's why he'd called her tonight. The pair was going to celebrate. Dakota had quietly asked to get this night off in particular. Of course. Take it. But something always came up, didn't it? So when Yazu saw her, all dressed up, out of her sweaters and hoodies where she liked to hide her hands, he got a nice look into the evening the couple had planned. He came over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. She'd be uncomfortable in this dress. If he hadn't known her personality already, he would have by her posture.

"So the dyke tried to dress like a girl, today? What are we celebrating? Being cheating trash?" he commented. Insults from above are always worth more. Boyish or not, she couldn't contend with his height. Fighting literal animals had done his bones well. He touched her chin. Keiko was prone to look away from him, especially when he tugged at her femininity complex. It was a travesty she didn't know how lovely she was. He fed off travesties. Somewhere during his interactions with her boyfriend, Yazuko had expressed his disgust when women wore underwear - it had been relevant to Dakota specifically but as it turned out, he'd spread the preference to his girlfriend as well. The owner of the establishment took a few steps back to admire the woman who felt ill at ease at being dolled up.

"Let's see it then. Spin around and smile for me." he said and put his hands in his pockets. It wasn't the first time he'd had someone flaunt their flaws to him, so he could use it against them.

In the unflattering lighting in here, he still looked like all the deadly things in the Yareli night. At least he unbuttoned the suit jacket to let the garment hang around the revealing shirt as he waited. As Keiko knew, the Kazaki demon didn't like to wait long. Someone who gambled away her husband's money and didn't tell him hadn't really built up the capital to delay her payments when they were demanded of her, anyway. He sighed with some lightness in his chest. This night was looking up. "With a girlfriend like you, I guess your man doesn't need enemies, huh?" The deranged friendliness in his smile should be concerning, but it wasn't the first time Keiko had seen it. With all the odds on his side, being outright threatening wasn't necessary. And with Keiko, he only used it when it was fun.

 

[hotlinetocorporate]

The hand on Keiko's shoulder immediately set her on edge- Contact with Yazuko always did. Every time they came face to face, his hand on her would make her feel more on high alert than any proper authority figure had. Teachers, cops, whatever- Keiko didn't get along with them, but they didn't unnerve her the same way this man did. Her nostrils would flare hearing the word 'dyke' thrown at her so casually. It was nothing new- hell, even starting to date Dakota hadn't done anything to help bring that particular practice to an end. He was effeminate enough that it just changed the flavor of the joke. Now the accusation was that they were using each other to combine their respective lesbianism or homosexuality, or that Keiko was only able to stomach being with Dakota because he was girly to start with.

She chewed on her lip, unsure if this is one of the moments where she was supposed to keep quiet or be baited into lashing out at him. Keiko had quite large eyes, and you would think they would be expressive- but instead, they were just glassy and blank as her considerations played out in the back of her mind. "Yeah. I guess so." That really was what she'd been celebrating, huh? Not that she was cognizant of the fact the gangster was aware of the significance of the day for her and Dakota. The words that Yazu used for her were very much true, she was unfaithful. She was a disloyal, cheating, awful woman- she'd been ruminating on that on her own before he'd even demanded her presence here. But at the same time, part of her hoped that the symbolism of it all would mean maybe this time would be different.

This was the anniversary of the day Keiko had first asked Dakota out- maybe it could be the anniversary of her getting her shit together and being the woman he deserved to. But... For real this time. The date made it feel different, but at the same time the woman knew that she was just deluding herself. Yazuko's hand on her chin made her want to find an escape from his gaze more strongly than she had even before. Her body allowed her to breathe once he stepped back from her, but she was in no way relaxed.

Being told to 'spin and smile' earned a glare from her, and her teeth tore a bit of skin from her chewed lips. But she did it. She forced a hollow, sad looking smile onto her face and stepped forward herself to spin in place- she'd done the same thing for Dakota earlier when he first saw her in it. That felt tainted now.

But- the line about how Dakota didn't need enemies with a girlfriend like her, that one stung. The blonde worshiped the very ground the walked on, had called her his hero for years- even if it was just goofy chitchat between the two of them. But, here she was. Keiko pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly before she actually spoke up to answer him. "What did you want from me this time?" Her wording was deliberate. He wasn't doing anything with her, there was no 'together' in any of it. It was transactional, Keiko was providing a service for a payment and even at this point her disdain stood firm and clear regarding the matter.

 

[Verse]

She was a stoic kind,

she thought.

Those were particularly rewarding to play with. She wanted to be made of all kinds of metals, but she couldn't compare to the soldiers from other countries that came here for a new life, only to find their families in his grasp. Those men and women could be cold in the eye of adversity. Torture and threats. They made true attempts at being untouched. But Keiko, who'd earned her emotional callouses in school yards and behind the gym, was a spilling wound of pitter patter, in comparison, even when she meant to cover it up. She should have learned, but if she was capable of that, they'd never be here, and she wouldn't be elbow deep in the blackjack table later, either. His touch drew her taut, his comment on her sexuality made her breathe harder. It was all part of his reward system for himself, when he tormented her with the things she really wanted.

It was his turn to breathe, a slow inhale, but long, when she gave on the matter. Guess so. He loved when they degraded themselves for him. Keiko had her own, bitter flavor about it. She liked to pretend with Dakota, but Yazuko was sure she would only ever be governed by her impulses, when the rest of her was empty. She gave her his money to be held hostage against her. She'd even offered up her love for her boyfriend as leverage, whether she planned to or not. He let her stew in it all. Her silence didn't keep anything from him, and he didn't make a secret out of it either. She was welcome to see the grin that sometimes broke the line of his lips. After all, girls like Keiko were his recreation, but not many of them had a love of their life. That's why he'd plucked Keiko from the middle tier of those who owed him. Those who were too miserable didn't have anything to lose.

He waited for her to consider her options. His mouth shrunk with miniscule, mock sympathy when she showed him an angry face. "Charming", he mouthed, so she would at least know he'd seen it. And that it meant as much as any other time. She was always testing what she could do for herself, to make her feel better about it. He wouldn't let her have any of it, if he could help it. Because he'd never gotten to in school, he was hoping to catch up on all of that bullying now. In bed, when Dakota was exhausted and empty of tears, he'd reminisce, great guilt spilling out of his flat chest. It was adorable how they were caught on either end of the same leash, too eager to be pulled along to see each other.

Even now, Keiko couldn't stand involving Dakota in it. But she did spin and the dress flailed just so. It let him know about her underwear, whether she meant to or not. Her smile was haunting in its deadness. Yazuko had taught her that smile. It lived inside her even when it wasn't on her face. He liked when her body did as it was told. But her pussy was more honest than those artificial bends of her lips. Maybe that's why she hated him so much.

He listened the her derisive question, deflecting her own part in this, as her skirt settled. He wanted to know how she tasted when she was supposed to be making love with her Dakota. What did he want? "I don't know, Keiko, what do you have?" he said and undid the one button keeping his suit jacket together. He shrugged out of it and peeled it off his arms effectively, the roll of his shoulders provocative, like he was going to fight her, but the instant relaxation after was, if not disarming, then at least the punchline of the joke. He hung the outwear on the back of the chair.

"Take it off." he said and nodded at her, so his chin pointed at her dress. He clucked with his tongue and lifted his hand, two fingers waving her in, lewdley. "Give me a show, like the kind you'd give your boyfriend." he said and unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them. He put his hands in his pockets which changed his stance to something less outwardly seeking violence, and rather something that invited it to him, instead. Of course, the physical activity between them wasn't actual fighting. Or maybe it was. The way Yazuko fucked, it was hard to tell. "And if you're not soaked when you're done, I'll let you off easy, yeah?" Dark eyes with a lot of challenge in them, and a lot of doubt she'd prove him wrong.

They never did.

 

[hotlinetocorporate]

What did she have?

Not much, and Yazuko damn well knew that. Keiko didn't have any useful skills, any money to her name, no possessions in her home worth more than a couple hundred dollars. Even her wedding ring was a pathetic little thing that wasn't worth pawning. And even if she did have something to offer other than her body, the fact that the man was already starting the process of ditching clothing told her pretty clearly what it was the fucking bastard was after. Same thing it was every goddamn time. She'd almost rather have been pushed into some kind of slave labor than deal with this shit.

The way that Yazuko moved as he removed his suit jacket was a taunt, and it was a taunt that landed. Keiko had always been the confrontational type, and she was quick to pick up on challenging body language. She wanted to meet that- but she wasn't delusional. She was a scrawny woman in a dress, and he was a rather large man who could probably knock out several of her teeth without even putting in full effort.

God she wanted to just fucking strangle him so bad.
Would that free her, or just promise her death?
Keiko was very tempted to find out, but instead she stood in silence and waited for a real answer to her question. She'd always rather disliked when her own inquiries were met with another in return.

While the answer she received was predictable, it didn't mean that she wasn't annoyed by it when the demand actually came through. She sighed quietly to herself- a show? What the fuck was she, a stripper? That kind of sexuality wasn't really her strong suit. Part of the reason the dyke comment always hit her in a particularly soft spot was simply because Keiko naturally lacked a lot of traditionally feminine traits- like being that kind of sexy. Keiko was considering how she would go about doing this if it truly were something she were doing for Dakota, but her thoughts were interrupted and her face overwhelmed with a look of disgust hearing the condition being set for her. Christ, this man always found a way to make everything so much fucking worse. It was exhausting.

Whenever Yazuko's death came, she hoped it'd be slow and painful.

None the less- she had absolutely no chance at escape if she didn't make this shit work. Keiko's debt still sat there until it didn't, and she was finding herself wishing she'd gotten absolutely shit faced on her way here. "I can't say I believe you either way." She said truthfully- if anything, if she wasn't wet by the time this bullshit stopped he'd probably be offended and just be pissed off about it. That seemed more realistic to her.

How would she do this for Dakota? She probably wouldn't. Keiko would probably talk him through taking each piece off, how she wanted each part of her body appreciated as it was exposed. Dakota followed direction better than he sat and soaked up attention- so that directive just... Wasn't something she could follow. Instead she somewhat awkwardly went through the motions of what she thought would be an effective tease. A turn away and a bit of a bend forward, a hand dragged up her thigh to catch the top of the slit in her dress to drag it upwards and confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt there was no panties or anything beneath them- the closest thing were the garter belts that squeezed around her upper thigh and clipped onto the top of the stockings she wore beneath.

Normally there'd be more room for a drawn out tease, but... Really all she was wearing was the dress, jewelry, and stockings. It wasn't as if there was a bra on underneath. So instead, she decided to keep one bit she would've used with Dakota. She reached up and loosened the knot behind her neck that held her top in place. She stepped forward, gesturing for Yazuko to take a hand out of his pocket before leading it to the strip of fabric. Once that knot was loose, the dress itself would be sure to fall entirely. "Pull."

 

[Verse]

There was a fire in her now. He knew how to stoke it. He'd allowed her to keep it, at least until the end of their previous meetings when she laid exhausted, splattered in fluids, and dead eyed. But she liked that exertion. It was good for her dark soul. The way she meant to retaliate when he took his jacket off and rolled his sleeve said a lot. Her eyes were full of anger then, and maybe even ways to dispel it on him. He would make sure to channel that energy into something he liked more.

There was an explosion of thoughts in her eyes. Violence in her, flitting for a moment. He liked to claim that he was the one who taught her that. It looked good on her. She didn't know the hardships to fuel the real deal, the kind of anger that could help you kill your way to the top, but he liked her smaller, innocent version of it. They all had to play to their strengths. And His strengths had always been someone else's weakness. He had clocked all of Keiko's.

She was used to him taking charge. The perimeters were set before, of course, she was his because she owed him, but she always hoped he'd initiate, to spare her some of the guilt. He liked taking what he wanted, but since today was their anniversary, he wanted something special. She was all dressed up. This would be a unique occasion. She wasn't overtly girly in how she carried herself. First time he had her, she'd been made to suck him off with her hoddie still on. She also thought that was her last time.

She didn't believe him. And she thought that was relevant information. She was always wanting to fight back, and she was always outgunned with him. Her dirty little spirit was entertaining, but she didn't have the grit to touch him. His lack of expression should tell her about how much impact her comment made. He bit back on a chuckle when she started. She was obviously tense about the ordeal, but he liked the honesty in her motion. She was just trying to please him. Her beautiful body did good work even when she didn't know how, herself. His eyes followed her hand up the slit. No panties, but garters. How generous. She had only dressed for one purpose, today. He gave the kind of smile that showed he was engaged.

When she fiddled with the strap that kept everything together, his eyebrow even raised. Ingenuity. He took a step to meet her when she moved closer. And he pinched the strap when it was offered to him. He looked into her eyes when she said the word. His other hand came out underneath her face to stroke his knuckle under her chin. Possessive and dismissive. He wanted her to know he absolutely thought he owned her. "Happy anniversary, honey." It could have been a guess. To men like him good information was the difference between life and death. What else would a tomboy dress up for? He just wanted to mock her.

And then he pulled. The construction of the dress was simple. She had shown its secrets when she bent over. It had been relying solely on the knot she'd undone. Yazu even took half a step back to see when the garment flitted off, in whatever fashion she planned. This was meant for Dakota, but Dakota wasn't here. Not yet. Yazu was eager to put eyes on Keiko, exposed, with the cheap jewelry to accent her nudity. Usually she didn't bother with ornaments, and he'd savor getting to have her when she'd done herself up. And he'd fuck her the way her dear Dakota never could.

 

[hotlinetocorporate]

Getting a reaction from somebody while performing something like a strip tease was supposed to be a good thing- a pride point, what you were aiming for. But even the smile that Yazuko gave his as he observed her attempt made her skin crawl and inspired a specific sort of white-hot anger that had developed within her just to be directed at him. While she was protective and at times could be labeled as stoic or aloof, the specific kind of anger the gangster inspired within her was so incredibly overwhelming that it made it impossibly difficult to keep her head on straight.

Keiko liked to think that she had a fairly quick wit- she was good at banter, biting comments, and insults. But the feelings of frustration and irritation she felt when dealing with him often made it difficult to think coherently at all. Thoughts would rush in all at once and crowd her mind, clashing against each other and bouncing around everywhere in a cacophony of bullshit that she couldn't actually make any sense of. It made everything inside her skull entirely too loud, and it rendered her frustratingly ineffective.

Her hand fell after the piece of fabric offered to Yazuko was accepted, her eyes meeting his reflexively. The drag of his knuckle along the underside of her chin felt like it left a trailing, burning wound the same way a hot iron would have. The way Keiko's body reacted to the man was very hot and cold- refusing and recoiling from everything about him and his presence, until it didn't.

'Happy anniversary, honey.'

Her pale eyes went wide. This absolute son of a bitch- How? Where was that information publicly available?! Every muscle in her body fucking screamed to raise a hand and slap Yazuko across his pompous face- Or even just skip to using every scrawny but scrappy muscle in her body to try and knock his fucking teeth out. Still, she knew better, and she was forced to instead stand and just let her bones vibrate with fury. He knew- He knew it was her anniversary with Dakota, why she was dressed like this, where she was supposed to be now-

BITCH!

The sensation of fabric sliding against her skin and cool air gracing places it wasn't intended to as Yazuko pulled on the strap and the knot predictably slid loose reeled Keiko back in. Sure, for some women being nude might be empowering. Hell, it was empowering for her when it was her own choice! But in this moment, the dress Dakota had so carefully chosen for her falling away felt like a suit of armor clattering to the ground. Clothing was surprisingly something Keiko paid a lot of mind to. This didn't apply to something as overtly effeminate as the dress she had been wearing tonight, but typically she used it almost exclusively to disguise what she saw as her shortcomings. She dressed bulky, masculine, with an edge. She would let her wavy, frizz-prone hair go loose in an effort to have more of a presence more often than not. But standing here, she was the complete opposite.

Her hair was brushed, smooth, put up in a deceivingly nice style. Rather than the smudged, rushed application of minimal make-up she usually wore her face had been carefully accented and the color she wore on her lips thoughtfully chosen to match the red hues of the blush she'd applied to her cheeks. In her daily 'uniform' she looked like she could take a couple hits, like she could handle confrontation the way a cockroach handles natural disaster- but standing naked before Yazuko, she looked more like she could be broken in half by anybody willing to put forward just the slightest amount of effort.

Keiko's face still managed to retain some softness, but the angles of her neck and collarbones are stark. The woman's bust was certainly present and would likely be fuller if she took better care of herself. Her dark pink nipples were hard in response to the chill. Her slight but chronic malnourishment ensured that her breasts remained a more subtle feature however, sitting on a chest that was underlined by slight hints of the woman's ribs if she was caught in the right light or stretched in the right direction. It wasn't like she had an eating disorder or did this to herself on purpose- But her metabolism was naturally quick, and she spent most of her time either at work, at a slot machine, or hunched over a card table.

The lower half of her body was a little less gaunt. Keiko's hips weren't the widest, but there was still a noticeable slope outwards from her waist out to the apex of their curve. Her ass and her thighs were probably the fleshiest and healthiest parts of her body, evidenced by the way the garter squeezed into the slight bit of fat on her frame. Her legs just looked even more shapely as a result of the straps, stockings, and heels.

"I fucking hate you." She couldn't help but mutter under her breath, blinking back the very threat that her eyes might start watering as she stepped out of the circle the dress had formed, crouching down to pick it up and hang it on the back of a chair. Taking care of it was the smallest bit of respect that she could afford to Dakota.

 

[Verse]

There were a million nodes on her body, like a galaxy he'd mapped long ago. Beautiful tomboy with all the pride of a man, but all the sensitivities of a girl. In having control, he had been afforded to explore her. He'd made her cum mercilessly, and he'd seen when she came off those toxic highs. Nobody fucked her like him. And that's how he'd come to know the truth about her, when it was just her and her body, and the returning mass of her guilt, and the rest of her life. She'd been naked in more ways than one in front of him. That's the thing with money; every cent is a line to a dream. It's freedom and its happiness for your loved ones, sometimes its life itself, in the fucked medical system. So in pursuit of it, people laid themselves bare.

That's how he knew her moods. She was a vat of bubbling anger, this one. He'd felt it in the way her cunt squeezed him, and how her skin heated up. But not being able to do anything about it was new to her. Her debt chained her. Let him study her. Her misery wasn't worse than anyone else, but she wore it so close to the surface that it was more vivid. She wasn't the guttural screams of a man who'd lost his family, or vengeance itself, come for him, gunned down eventually by better his paid men. She was just a girl with sharp edges. A beautiful thing in constant expulsion. A toy to a soul-eater like him.

So when she offered the string, he pulled it. But it was his words that made her unravel. He stood back and looked at it all, her mood all but shaking her, braking her. Ah, she was so alive under his teasing, wasn't she? Didn't matter how he knew, what mattered was that she'd come at all. He looked back with black eyes when she wondered, and had the kind of expression on her face like she might claw his nose off. How dramatic. They both knew she'd allocate that energy to her pussy, rather. Yazuko Kazaki didn't lose to specks like Keiko.

She looked different today. She'd made herself up. He kind of missed her unkempt self - it had been her standing charm. But this wasn't bad. Her makeup was good, but more than that, it showed effort. Compared to the veritable artists of accents and color that flowed through the Yen Yen every day, he could see where her skills lacked. But the point was that she'd tried. Her body was free of augmentation. And her nipples were honest. She reached down for the dress. How proper. It looked like a bow to him.

A simple nudge of his foot would set her out of balance, and have those shapely legs falter in their crouch. Once she sat on the floor, unless she had impossible reflexes to catch herself and get up, he'd kicks her feet apart, stepping in between them. The tip of his shoe would softly kiss her pussy, and he lifted his foot a bit to have the leather toe lick upward in her slit. He really did like her legs in those garters. If she tried to stand now, he'd simply snap his fingers and point right in her face, like she was a dog. He never had to beat her badly, but it was always right there, humming between them like a destiny, tired of being postponed.

"You fucking hate me, but you keep coming back." he said and nodded down to his crotch. She'd know that he wanted her to take it out. "You risked a lot coming here. Make it worth it." he said and tilted his head to encourage her, but in the way a bear encourages the revenge of an angry fawn. When she took it out, the familiar, ugly, but hulking cock of her personal demon would spring, bowing. Even in that state she'd know it to be fatter and longer than Dakota's. Yazu knew, too. It had sickly veins littering it, and the head peeking out was an off, pale purple. His sack was darker skin than the rest of him. "But you and me go back some time too." he reminded her. "Why don't you tell it happy anniversary too?" He liked the image of her whispering it into his dick while she got it fully erect. If she looked up at him, his nonchalant but dangerous eyes would say 'what choice do you have?'.

 

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Keiko probably should have expected some kind of dumb, childish bullshit like pushing her back onto her ass while she was trying to pick up her dress. Just that motion itself was embarrassing and annoying enough. The woman was far from balanced on heels, and her squatted position meant that her stance was just off-center enough that the man's slight effort was enough to knock her down. She would try to catch herself, but her palm would simply hit the floor hard in a way that sent a jolt of pain from her wrist up to her shoulder.

Despite her disdain, her pussy would be slick and leave evidence of such on Yazuko's shoe as it probed at her. 'Fucking gross.' She thought to herself as the man's goddamn shoe touched her most sensitive parts. The lack of sanitary concern was definitely not the biggest issue she was facing in the moment, but that didn't mean that Keiko would entirely forget it- It's not like the gangster would pay her fucking medical bills if she got some kind of infection from his careless behavior- ugh.

'You fucking hate me, but you keep coming back.'

Ugh, like she had a choice? Yazuko said that like this was some kind of regular booty call or something. It might've been for him, but she sure as hell wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the matter of settling her debt- again- and starting a normal fucking life like a normal fucking person. Away from the casino, away from back rooms where she had to bite her tongue to keep herself from getting beaten down as a result of her attitude. She had no idea how she was going to 'make it worth it.'

There was no 'making it worth it' for Keiko at all- not through the acts she was about to perform, anyway. She could do awful right now and she'd still be holding up her end. Keiko shifted to properly kneel rather than resume in the position she'd fallen into. The woman didn't necessarily have to give him the enthusiasm that he wanted, but she did acknowledge that she had to do what this dirtbag told her to in this moment. She would reach forward with hands shaking with anger as she would properly unfasten his pants, hooking her fingers onto the fabric to pull it down enough to reveal the man's cock.

Keiko had never been much of a size queen, and that had very much worked out in Dakota's favor. The man was kind, sweet, and a very attentive lover- but none of that would change the fact that the guy's cock was simply below average. She was still more than content with her sex life, it wasn't like he ever intentionally would leave her wanting. However, on a base animalistic level she could feel her physical excitement grow in response to being eye level with Yazu's rather sizeable cock.

Ugh, why was he talking more?

Keiko did her best just to ignore him, a hand reaching out to wrap around the base of the man's cock and stroke over it a couple times. Her expression had stabilized and she was once again resting in a state of indifference, looking more like she was reading a boring news article than being coerced into sexual acts as she paused her hand down at the base of his cock to lean forward and somewhat teasingly let the head of his cock rub against her outstretched and flattened tongue. If she rushed too much, he'd probably just bitch...

 

[Verse]

She fell well, in that it was a perfect failure. He saw her jerk of discomfort at catching herself. So tough but she couldn't even use the shoes she was wearing. It was easy and enjoyable, messing with the tomboy. She had such disdain, but also such-- adoration for him. It showed in the glistening coat on the toe of his shoe when he touched her there. She couldn't even close her legs about it, it was the truth, plain and simple. She wanted this to go the whole way. Yazuko made a point out of looking at the revealing slick on his shoe as she settled in her sitting position. From here, her garters looked even better.

She had so much venom running through her, but she still got up on her knees. When she did, and he hadn't moved his foot yet, a few telling strands of moisture stretched and then broke between her cunt and the leather. He smiled to himself as it happened and let her get on her knees. Just this position, which was common for men who lived Yazu's life, was rather mouthwatering, especially when there was so much anger charged up in Keiko's bones. She fought so hard against her own femininity, but her anger was decidedly that. Sure, she could be scrappy, but in her heart, she wasn't formidable like a man. Yazu operated and was successful on prejudice. People didn't really show their finer, individual sides with a gun to their head.

He smiled when her claw-like hands forced themselves to free him. She focused on his cock, like she had thoughts about it, but eventually that emotion slipped away from Keiko's expression. She was hiding. Her silence was loud and that's how he heard her. People who chose to be quiet are still plenty clear with what they want to say. Her lover didn't really know how to fuck hard. And sometimes pent up people like Keiko needed to be told what to do, and just be wrecked. That's why she came back. Self loathing but also the unbridled satisfaction of being fucked like she was nothing but an animal.

He tilted his head as she stroked him, and breathed deeper, slower. He enjoyed her handiwork, because there was a trembling hatred in her palms and fingers. He shifted to welcome her, looking down at the woman who'd come in here in a dress to be pretty for the one she loved. She was protecting a relationship that had already been altered. He grunted when the put her tongue up under his cock, and let the heavy limb rest against the palled. He swallowed when she started petting the string that bridged the underside of the shaft to the head.

"Suck that cock, whore." he said, wanting more of the show. She looked good servicing him, so shortly after his arrival in this simple room. There was excitement in giving your cock to someone who hates you. He combed his fingers through her hair and then pushed her head back mockingly, palm to her forehead. It slid her tongue back and off him. He fully expected her to return, since he hadn't pushed her off far enough that her hand let go of him. If anything, she might have to tighten the grip to stay where she was on her knees. "You're going to want it soaked." She probably knew what that meant. Her tits and neglected body were nice and all, but he hadn't just had her take off her dress for the show of it. He wanted access. "Go ahead. You owe a lot. I'm doing you a favor here." He didn't mind striking big debts off her because she always came back with more. She paid plenty with her body, anyway. "And you can be honest here. No one's going to see you. Might as well show how you feel about a proper cock and a good fucking." She'd have to be honest later anyway, when he was inside her. "And use your tits." She didn't really have the breast for a proper titty fuck, and that'd be the fun of it.

 

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Keiko would probably be nauseated if she knew exactly how Yazuko was interpreting her actions, or if she could hear the narrative that the man built behind them. Things she wasn't even actively considering were basically being spun against her and twisted into signs of enthusiasm. Keiko hadn't closed her legs simply because it wouldn't change anything- and she was fucking tired. She wanted to fight, had fight in her-

But why fucking bother?

It was, as much as she hated to consider it, a bit of a privilege to be here. Even if it was fucking gross. Even if it was fucking degrading. It wasn't like it was easy to wipe away the kind of debt she carried, and there were others with even larger debts than hers who would never get a chance to start again at zero. Much less multiple chances- hell, a lot of them would be killed simply because they couldn't make a payment on their debt one time too many. Keiko went back and forth in her own internal monologue regarding whether she was blessed to have multiple chances or if she was in some kind of cursed loop, but it didn't matter. She was where she was regardless of how she viewed the circumstances that brought her here.

'Suck that cock, whore.'

She probably should have figured that Yazuko would bitch at her either way. Whatever, it didn't matter. It wasn't like Keiko wanted to drag it out or get all sentimental about this, she just wanted to get to the point that he ran out of demands for the night and let her leave.

The dark-haired woman could feel herself tense the moment the man's hand pulled her head back, her eyes looking up at him in mild annoyance. At the same time, Keiko still kept her tongue hanging forward out of her mouth as her head was forced back. This was getting to the point that it felt comical- this couldn't really be what her life had amounted to, could it? She knew she wouldn't be much of anything to brag about, but she thought she would become a better woman than this. Her eyes likely looked just a bit more distant, though for her that didn't say much.

She had nothing to say, so she said nothing. Instead Keiko just pushed herself forward once again so that she could take the head of Yazuko's cock into her mouth, her hand still wrapped around it at the base as her lips started dropping downwards. It always felt like she was over-extending the muscles in her jaw when this happened. The gangster kept talking, and she just had to do her best to act on auto-pilot. It was either try to ignore him, or stop to tell him to fuck off and get yelled at or worse. That didn't mean she could just turn off her ears in complete disassociation, though.

'Might as well show how you feel about a proper cock and a good fucking.'

What the fuck ever- Yazuko could go get hit by a fucking car. Yeah, Dakota's dick was fucking small. Who CARED? She didn't! FUCK! Keiko's irritation rose slightly, but she did her best to push her lips as far down his cock as she could manage without too much strain to herself. Due to the warning, she didn't bother to expend any energy being 'neat' about it. The directive to use her tits was pretty much a fucking joke. A joke she was the butt of, and she damn well knew that. There was absolutely nothing that she could do about it, saying no wasn't an option here. Just as despite all of her bitching, she couldn't deny the building feeling of heat in her abdomen.

Her body was such a traitor.

So after simply working his cock with her mouth for a short period of time, Keiko was shifting once again. She had to take her mouth off of him, which was perfectly fine, and move so that her chest was more closely aligned with his cock. She looked at spit-soaked body part with disdain, leaning forward and genuinely trying to at least somewhat be able to stroke his cock with what soft flesh did manage to rise off her chest. Her hands had to fill the gap, both holding her tits in place and interlacing her fingers over his cock so that he couldn't slip away from her.

It was clumsy and awkward, but it was... Functional. Once she had a handle on what she was doing she took the head of his cock back into her mouth, allowing herself to pretty much openly drool over his cock as she worked him.

 

[Verse]

She had pretty eyes, even when they tried to reject him, though with declining fervor. It was difficult for her to maintain any kind of moral high ground, when he was looking down at her face in that flattering angle, with her mouth swollen around his cock. She knew to keep her tongue down and out of the way, not thickening it in the back to push him out. Better than most, actually. Keiko didn't have as much tension in her as her expression would suggest. Slick and warm. It always felt better to fuck a mouth that had propensity to talk back. That had been his experience. They could talk all the shit they wanted, but if they ended up sucking him off, then who really ever won?

She was being good, too, engaging in her debasement, and giving him good friction. But his words got to her. The uncaring, flighty girl who only came in here to do her time had some coals in her eyes when she looked up. Irritation or real anger? Or something more-- dear? It felt good to have her invested in him while she blew him. His eyebrows raise to challenge her, but if she had that option, he wouldn't be so familiar with her body, and her moans. She was bustling with some emotion, too. She could never stay detached. He'd played with hundreds of girls like her, but her pride tasted just a bit different when it gave.

She was offended by his next order. Maybe because she knew she didn't have the rack for it. But that was the fun of having a big cock, something she begrudged him as he continued sucking for a moment. Yazu watched the usual tomboy in her new feminine guise interact with his overporportioned limb. She never knew how fluently she took care of it, resting her hand, using her tongue, that she physically couldn't with Dakota. His cock got a taste of the chill in the air when she slipped off, now that it was spit-coated, when she unlatched her mouth from it to service him in the new way he ordered her. It had brought a new tinge of anger on her face.

A small chuckle accompanied her when she got her chest ready. And his mirthful doubt was proven correct when her lovely but insufficiently sized tits could not swallow him up between them. The hand cover was innovative. He found that girls were inventive when they had to be. He groaned with approval at the tight hug between the mounds, and he stroked her head with some satisfaction when she involved her mouth. That was his favorite part of her. She liked to push back, but in the end she did more than he'd told her, because in her guts she wanted this.

"You ever done this for him?" he asked when she started getting lost into it. This was proof she and Dakota was a perfect match, if either of them had just stuck to it, or maybe they reconciled over their love for big cock, too, because Keiko would have been plenty endowed for the little prick Dakota was packing. "Nobody asked you to use your mouth." But he was sure she wouldn't stop now, either. He let her please him for quite some time, allowing her to go to whichever place in her mind she needed to endure this, or enjoy it. Every now and then pointing out 'how small they are' or 'it's like fucking someone over the spine'. Whatever abuse she needed that she didn't get at home, he was sure to feed her when they met up.

"That's a good girl." he said with the kind of finality that let her stop. Of course, if she'd seen herself for what she was, or even felt it, he'd allow her to stay lost in worshipping him for another few moment before knocking on her head. "You either get me off on your knees, or I can give you your anniversary present." which meant his cock lodged into any of her other orifices. It was, as always, a dirty trick. He knew her body was set for a grudge fuck, but if she foolishly thought she'd be a saint about it, and try to suck and titty fuck him to completion, he'd just practice self control until even the practical solution for her would be to get fucked. Historically, Keiko always proved to be a filthy hypocrite, and her body even more so.

He'd love to have her on the table, choking her as he destroyed her pussy. She just had to pick how long she wanted to pretend she didn't.

 

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Keiko wished that her one and only reaction to the groan that left Yazuko was absolute, irrefutable disgust. She truly did. She wanted the vocalization of his sexual pleasure to cause nothing but revolt in her. Despite that, the woman had always been a fan of seeing what kind of vocalizations could be pulled out of a man. It was one of the perks of being with somebody like Dakota- the more effeminate man was incredibly vocal in sexual situations. There was absolutely no doubt when Dakota was into something, and a part of her that still craved approval from literally anybody who would offer it absolutely adored the immediate praise.

Unfortunately, that meant that she also reacted here. When she was in a situation that she wanted no part of, working the cock of somebody she fucking hated. It gave her a slight thrill that she desperately tried to force back down, simultaneously encouraging herself to focus on her anger and discomfort in this situation. Physically, all she needed to keep track of was continuing to slide his length between her tits and what she could do with her mouth while in this situation.

She didn't bother to answer Yazuko's question about whether or not she had done this for Dakota before. Of course she fucking hadn't. Keiko's tits were just absolutely not meant for being fucked, even if there wasn't as much girth of cock for them to cover when it came to Dakota. It wasn't like she wouldn't have tried it for him- but the blonde had never asked, and Keiko had never felt compelled to offer herself up to try.

Her light eyes rolled at the mention that Yazu had allegedly never told her to use her mouth. He'd told her that she would want to keep his cock as wet as possible, hadn't he? He had absolutely 'asked' her to use her mouth. But Yazuko was correct that she wasn't going to stop- no, stopping meant this hell would just end up lasting longer. That meant that any cutting responses or defenses that leapt to mind as Yazuko felt the need to just continue to mock her while her mouth was too full of his cock to voice any opinion. They're too small, it was too bony- Well if he didn't like it why the actual fuck was he even making her do this? Absolute bullshit.

While Yazuko sure seemed to think that simply using the 'good girl' line was enough to give her the signal that she could stop this ridiculous activity, it didn't quite read for her. Keiko just took it as more mocking praise, and continued on until she felt the 'knock' to get her attention. She bristled anew hearing the words 'anniversary present'- Christ, she wished she wouldn't likely end up shot if she just bit down. But she stopped, pulling her lips off of him and pulling her hands down as she sat back on her heels. Her chest was coated with her own spit, and she wasn't a fan of the sensation.

Keiko shifted her legs underneath herself so that she could stand up, stumbling just slightly due to the heeled shoes she still wore- fucking death traps. She cleared her throat, raising a hand to wipe her mouth with her forearm- why not, her make-up was already fucked and most of her lipstick lost on the skin of Yazuko's cock.

"Whatever gets me out of here faster." She wanted to go the hell home.

 

[Verse]

She shifted pleasantly when he gave off his noises. He knew what his deep tone could do to women, often without being engaged in any sexual situation at all. So he knew to look for it. He understood what was going on inside her. His cock throbbed under the not-perfect circumstances she created with her hands, breasts, and mouth. Just the novelty of all that activity to pull off a good enough titjob was stimulating. He liked watching her struggle with it, and when she wouldn't even detract her mouth when he pointed out she could, the imagery of it all was worth so much more. He watched her for a while, going at it. And then he had to rap his knuckles curiously on her skull to stop. Hah. She had been too deeply submerged in her caretaking of his cock to hear him. How much more proof did she need that she was a slut? For him.

She was quite the lovely picture, down there, with her chest glistening and red marks on her breasts from where her hands had to squeezed them together. It was as though she'd oiled herself up or something, with how much spit she could produce. Of course, maybe the flow of saliva imitated the juices between her legs. She was as averse to his mention of her celebration as before, but at least it made her want to get to the next step of this. And he wanted that too. Only he wasn't in a rush. In this house, people got to live out their proclivities. He was a purveyor of sins. It was only fair he should get to feed his, of corruption, too, right? She'd gotten to lose all that money, and now he'd make her pay for it. He still argued that she was addicted to this part, rather.

She was trying to be practical again. "Oh yeah?" he asked and then nodded for the table. It was sturdy, which was why he'd chosen this room. No use for flimsy furniture in this line of business. She could pose herself however she wanted, but he would make sure she made good on her debt by obeying. Whichever way she decided he'd get her, he would know where her heart was. He had been balls deep in her plenty of times, but usually he was the one to slam her onto any surface to get her ready for him. Today she'd get to chose. Whether she recognized that or not was up to her supposedly smart mind. She could bend over the table or sit on it, or be inventive. He was sure he could interpret whatever she gave him into something else. Though her melting gash wasn't exactly a Freudian mystery anymore. Her darling Dakota would never have seen such sheen, Yazu was sure.

Whatever she did, he would follow, and find himself by the table to offer up the cock that was now plenty slathered in her saliva, smelling strongly of her. She could wear any face that she wanted to protect her fragile little heart, but she was about to enjoy another man inside her, and he was going to make sure she enjoyed it a lot. Her hypocrisy was delicious, and he'd have plenty of it tonight. Something changed with Keiko every time he impaled her. She didn't like to talk about it, or think about it, but he knew exactly how to fuck her, because he'd done it enough times that he knew her angles, even if she wouldn't admit it. He knew how to make her climax.

And it sure as fuck wasn't by making her dinner and dressing up nice. "Let's go you fucking dyke. Maybe you'll admit you like cock after all." a soft clap on her face to provoke her. Her cunt hugged him better when she was pissed-off, but sooner or later, they all became mewling, moaning messes on his cock. It was just more fun doing it to someone as grumpy as Keiko.