The Contract Maker

This can be read and enjoyed as a stand-alone story, but deeper character depth and the effects of the plots, rivalries, twists and turns will be found by reading the entire series.

Jiath sprawled on the sofa, his strong dark thighs parted and cock jutting from his lap, ready for action. He gripped the hips just above the garter belt of the 18-year-old Vietnamese, Anh, who was straddling the Sudanese gang leader's lap. The garter belt, plus the accompanying stockings and her slut heels, only accentuated the lack of any other covering on her body.

"Take it slow and enjoy it. I know I will," Jiath said, any concern in his words vanishing as he positioned the thick crown of his cock against her pucker. Anh's eyes widened, conflicted by the size of the invader and her need for what it could provide. The ebony cockhead glistened with her own juice, collected and smeared seconds before when Jiath had rubbed his cock head up and down her wet slit. Her arse hole was liberally coated with cum transferred from his earlier fingering of her slot.

Her sphincter ring clenched and pulsed, fearful, yet throbbing with need for the upcoming first-time taking of her arse. Jiath shifted his hold to her arsecheeks and spread them wide. The blunt head pressed into her star, then slowly overcame any resistance like a snow plough on its first run through soft snow. Inch by inch, the bald Sudanese gang leader fed his cock into her arsehole, relentlessly gaining access.

Anh's fingernails clawed for purchase on the sofa, and her mouth opened in a silent groan, and her hair flailed around her model-quality face. The mirror facing them captured it all: her back arched in preparation and stockinged thighs trembling as Jiath's slab of meat forced her arse wider as it entered. Finally, she vocalised a choked-out guttural moan as the circumcised head popped past her sphincter. Her ring spasmed around the thickest fuck meat she'd ever seen, including the net.

Jiath's hands held her hips, steadying her body, as his cock pressed deeper, searching for her bowels, until, suddenly, her anal chute loosened and accepted another inch inside. He pushed his hips up, and his cock became a black unstoppable battering ram. Anh's body shuddered, but her free hand worked her swollen clit, and she moaned as her arousal increased. She maintained eye contact with the mirror, drinking in the reflection of her petite, trembling body with its arse impaled around Jiath's enormous rod.

Grinding into her, Jiath buried himself deeper, grunting as her muscles squeezed his invading shaft. Anh's arsehole spasmed as it was steadily stretched, conquered, and stuffed with living, throbbing black cock. Sweat dripped onto her stockings and high-end suspenders. They were Huyen's gift from their trip to Singapore and its shops full of genuine European brands not found in Australia. Yes, Huyen, the same, wealthy woman who had accepted her as her daughter, and whom she was going to betray.

As Jiath took her anally, Anh had half her mind on her first anal while the other half replayed last night. She had been lying on her belly, her head between Huyen's legs and her mouth buried in her slit. Her tongue finished another journey along Huyen's slit and lathered her engorged clit. A clit that Anh proudly knew was smaller than hers.

Her hands opened Huyen's cunt wider, and then her tongue traversed the journey again. Huyen's moaning body shivered and tensed a little. "Relax, mother," Anh whispered in loving tones, "Trust me. You know I love making my mother cum." Her tongue glided along Huyen's slit, lapping up her juices, tracing every crevice, making slow, regular circles like a cyclist at a velodrome. Finally, she tongued at Huyen's button of clit flesh. It was engorged and throbbing, ready to be used.

"Relax, mother," Anh whispered again in a soothing voice as her tongue extended and she delivered another long tongue lashing which ended with a prolonged clit lick suck which was followed by a teeth scrape. "Trust me. Let me make my mother cum. You know how much your true daughter adores pleasing you."

That word, mother, as always, worked on Huyen like a magic spell, relaxing her entire body, easing every muscle into surrender. Nothing else affected her in the way that knowing Anh felt that way did. Anh knew this and used that weakness, watching Huyen's legs spread wider, an invitation and trust given only to her.

She devoured Huyen's cunt greedily, tongue working relentlessly, teasing along the slicked rim before swirling and flicking the clit even more strongly. She felt Huyen's body quiver, then heard Huyen gasp before she moaned her innermost feelings. "Anh, you are the only person that I trust."

It was sweet music to Anh's ears as Huyen continued, "Meeting you that day when I beat Vang." Anh took note that she said "Vang", not "mother", despite the fact that Vang was the true mother who had raised her for eighteen years, up until a few months ago. "Beating her with the Contract Maker was sweet, but meeting you, the one who has become my daughter, was more special."

Totally aroused, Huyen ran her hand through Anh's silky hair, guiding her and urging her to push her tongue deeper. Anh flashed a hidden grin, mouth slick and chin shining with Huyen's juices. She lifted her head and said, "Watching you destroy my mother with the Contract Maker made me cum, mother. Seeing you standing over her, victorious, made me understand what a real woman is."

Her words buzzed against Huyen's clit and through to her heart. Her body became a trembling, moaning altar devoted to receiving the worship of her chosen daughter's tongue. Anh licked her slowly and then frenziedly, intent on wringing every shudder of arousal from the woman who'd shown her how to flaunt wealth, and how to screw the weak, and whom she would overthrow.

As Huyen came, she wailed, "My beautiful daughter. You are simply stunning, Anh. So much beauty, sophistication and elegance. And so clever. Look how you have learnt the business. You'll take over my empire, one day, my precious daughter."

Anh looked up and put on her worshipful face. "Thank you, mother. Thank you for teaching me, for showing me the way." The words were just words. Her mind, even as she sucked Huyen's clit, drifted to her own image and new body. She could already feel the huge 36DD watermelons she would have bolted on to her slim frame, looking almost comical perched above her 21-inch waist and narrow hips. It was exactly what she wanted and would have.

She imagined herself at nightclubs or business meetings: her oversized, for her frame, tits straining any designer nightclub or executive wear, as balanced on her long legs, she strode before staring men and jealous, desperate bitches. Sophisticated, maybe. But she'd always be a slut. It was just that she would be the best, richest, most known slut in Melbourne, seeking the limelight in tit showing tops, tiny skirts and slut heels. It would all be hers when she forcibly replaced Huyen.

The bitch should've given her more sooner. Wealth, power, control, it all should've been hers by now, not just a promise or a learning curve. Still, Anh bit back her impatience and licked harder, swirling around Huyen's clit, sucking it audibly as Huyen moaned, body arching, legs spread open in total receptance to her ambitious, ungrateful protégé.

Anh's fingers slid into Huyen's glistening cunt as her tongue played lazy circles around her clit. Her hand pried open the wet lips for easy access. "Let me make you cum, mother," she crooned in a voice as sweet as honied tea, "I just need to make you cum so hard, so often. Let me show you how much I love you, mother."

Huyen was aroused and trusting under Anh's worship. She offered her body, presenting her sex cavern. It was all too easy for Anh, practised now in the ways of arousing Huyen's body, to hook her fingers upward and find the swollen patch of spongy flesh. Her fingers went to work, using different patterns and pressure on her G-spot, and it soon responded.

Her fingering was continuous. Two fingers plunged, curled, overloading Huyen's G-spot again and again, working it with practiced flicks until Huyen's body was out of control, bucking and shuddering in response to Anh's touch. Anh watched her mentor's sophistication peel away, replaced by raw animal need. She thumbed Huyen's clit, teasing it with wet circles as her fingers kept pleasuring her G-spot.

When Huyen's cries became a constant wail, Anh slipped her fingers, slick with juices from her own clit, as she had been fingering herself, and moved them to circle Huyen's tight, twitching star. She worked a fingertip inside while her other hand still ravaged her G-spot.

The effect was electric. Huyen's whole body shivered, and her spine arched, face screwing up in ecstasy as Anh alternated her assault while her mouth sucked a fat nipple. Huyen gasped and bucked as Anh worked her magic down below. Her thumb pressed, tongue flicked, fingers alternating in cunt and arse, to drain every drop of control from Huyen's body. Anh didn't stop to comfort. She just kept up her merciless rhythm, experimenting and intent on breaking Huyen.

After an hour, Huyen was no longer a human. She was reduced to a starving animal receiving scraps to survive. Her legs twitched, thighs quivered, and her hoarse voice cracked into a ragged wail as the never-ending orgasms surged through her. Anh was tireless, unrelenting, taking pride in stringing out the older woman's pleasure and turning her into a sex zombie. With each fresh gush from Huyen's cunt, Anh's smile grew. She knew she was the one, the apprentice devouring the teacher, the daughter outdoing the mother.

Finally, Huyen, drained and half-delirious, begged in a shattered voice. "Anh, face sit me. Let me taste you. I need to eat you, daughter." The desperate, pleading request almost made Anh cum. She climbed to straddle Huyen's shaking face and spread her own glistening lips and lowered her quim onto Huyen's lips, moaning as she felt the extended tongue reach her clit.

Anh leant forward for two reasons. The first was to find Huyen's G-spot again, while the second was to replace her cunt covering Huyen's lips with her arse. She found Huyen's still throbbing G-spot and continued her work. As Huyen rimmed, then tongue fucked the arse forced onto her face, Anh accepted her reward, her chosen right. The legendary Huyen was now lapping her arse like a future slave already in training but not knowing it.

Back in the Sudanese cafe, Anh never looked away from the mirror, watching as her arse was spread and conquered by Jiath's mountainous black meat. She felt more alive than ever. Why was she going to destroy Huyen, who had given her everything? Because gratitude faded the second it failed to serve her ambition. Huyen had tutored her in money, sex, the power to own women and break them. But Huyen gave too slowly, never enough; always the teacher, never handing over the crown.

Anh spat on loyalty, on patience, on anything but her own pleasure and greed. Her credo now was to crush anyone, take everything, and anything else was weakness. The plan she had presented to Jiath was proof. After she had drained Huyen sexually, a call for a pizza delivery would give access to several of Jiath's Sudanese big-cocked gang members. They would take over from Anh in a prolonged gang bang. Next morning, a drained, broken Huyen would be defeated before the home sewers by her mother Vang, who had already had two close defeats using the Contract Maker. Then she would team up with Jiath to make money, before breaking her mother, Vang and dumping her.

Anh saw it clearly. After the takeover of Huyen's empire, it would all be Anh's. The home sewing front, expanded to double-dip as both legal sewing and illegal home-based prostitution operations, backed by Jiath's muscle and guided by her golden business sense. Money would flood in, and she would have Jiath's cock, her mother and Huyen as her sex-slaves, and herself, the best Asian slut in Melbourne. Everything neat, final, lucrative. She writhed and came as she felt Jiath unload in her arse. He was another one to be used to make her plan work.

A fresh email blinked on her phone. She read it and gained as much pleasure as Jiath had given her. Melbourne's best plastic surgeon had said he had sourced the newest, best implants available, and she would be the first in Australia to have them. These would not be 1400cc, already big for her frame, but 1600cc monster implants, cartoon bimbo, grotesque and glorious, changing her from 32A to 36E.

After unloading in Anh's arse, the 35-year-old Sudanese, Melbourne Western suburbs gang leader reminisced. A month earlier, his harem of thirty Asian women, each skilled in their own way, was stable. He had Vietnamese MILFs, fuckable Filipina nurses and cleaners, a jaded Singaporean exec, Thai massage parlour rejects and more. He'd had his cock down the throat, cunt and arse all of them, rating them as he used them.

It was routine, impersonal, often pleasurable, but never urgent. It was a continuation of his love of sex with Asian women that had started with three months of nightly sex with a female Japanese W.H.O. doctor in an African refugee camp. But after Anh and her mother had initiated a Sudanese BBC gangbang, three had joined his stable who had made the rest look like plain rice beside caviar (see Chp. 4). They were Anh's mother, Vang, the Ethiopian Mizan, and Anh herself.

Apart from their fucking, which was far superior to his 30 staples, they would give him street cred among the African gangs. At their week-long celebration of Africa Day with its amnesty against violence, the gang's women competed sexually, as it was still too incendiary to allow the males from different gangs to compete in any competitive activity.

He was more than sure that Anh, with her slut exhibitionism, perfect face and body, which would be upgraded with her new extreme bolt-ons, would easily take best body. Her mother, Vang, would be unbeatable in the sexfight competition and would take out the doubles with either Anh or Mizan. Mizan would be the solo gangbang competitor, and all three would be their orgy contestants, taking on other gangs' males and females. The other gangs would win nothing, and his reputation would soar.

Jiath always prepared well before any job his gang did, and helping Anh in her plan to replace Huyen in charge of the Vietnamese home sewers and start the lucrative home brothel set up was no different. He had finally managed to get an appointment with Huyen in her role as Mayor of Brimbank, so he would get an idea of the person he was going to help sexually break and turn from lesbian to cock slut, preferably his.

As well as this, he had his own private agenda. Manipulating his top 3 Asian women against each other so each would do anything to be his Number 1. The Sudanese Mizan was easy. As the only non-Vietnamese, she hated them, and the feeling was mutual. He was bringing her up to speed by having her sexfight his other 30 Asian women 5 hours a day, and she was improving rapidly, though he still favoured Vang to defeat her.

It was Vang and her daughter who were more interesting. He had taken on board Vang's warning about her daughter Anh's lack of loyalty and her total self-interest, but the exhibitionist 18-year-old was a sex addict who was improving rapidly. Not only that, but she also had a mindset the same as his: do anything, legal or illegal, to gain wealth and power, as evidenced with her plan for using the Vietnamese home sewers as prostitutes with the John driven to their house by his men. With no central brothel there was nothing for the authorities to close down, or more probably take a percentage from, or rival gangs to target.

But her mother was still the better sexfighter and fuck and was even morphing into attempting to dress even more sexily than her daughter and was still a better fuck. As he waited for his appointment with her, he wondered if Huyen, whose looks from the photos Anh had shown him, turned him on, could be a fourth to fight for Number 1 after he broke her. He was ushered in to see the Mayor and Christ, the photos had not done her justice. She was even better in person.

He walked out five minutes later, seething. She had treated him like a piece of shit, too low to even bother with. He had offered her the support of the Sudanese in her next election, and she had sneered, replying she had her Vietnamese voter base, which was more than enough. Turning to her computer screen, she had dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

He was going to enjoy breaking the bitch and wanted it done properly. He set his men to scour the municipality for gossip or dirt on her. There were a lot of rumours, but no hard stuff. He sifted through it all and, after following some hearsay, tracked down the political party hack who had made the selection of Huyen to be Mayor. This man had claimed he could not divulge such information, but the sight of Jiath's machete made him change his mind. Jiath learnt there was another Vietnamese woman, whom she had defeated in the final mayoral choice, who may dislike her intensely.

He had a Sudanese doctor give him a referral to see the person in question, Tu Lan, Melbourne's leading Vietnamese plastic surgeon. She was in her late thirties, had parents who had become rich after arriving in Australia as boat people. Encouraged, some would say even forced, by her parents, she had devoted herself to study, and her wealth came from Vietnamese women's need for cosmetic surgery. But more so from the fact that her procedures were not itemised as cosmetic surgery, which had no Government refund, but were listed as other operating procedures that allowed her clients to claim back up to 90% of the cost. For other rich Melbournians seeking body or facial improvement, she charged the earth, though she was famous for her charity work on burn victims or cojoined twins.

At the private boutique hospital that she owned and operated from, the 5ft 6 surgeon, dressed in her operating scrubs, read the doctor's referral. Jiath studied her, though it was limited due to the green coveralls she wore. She had a pretty pixie face surrounded by short, feathered hair and a larger body than most Vietnamese, with a figure of 34B 26 33.

"Mr Daw, take off your shirt so I can examine the knife scar, please," she said professionally. He did so, and the examination took 30 seconds before she pulled away. "You are wasting my time. That small scar needs nothing done. Leave, as I have proper patients to see to."

"I know," Jiath said, "But I needed to see you to talk in person about a person you know, Huyen, the Contract Maker. I have a plan to take her down" He heard a hiss of indrawn breath and the command, "Wait here,' then the door shut, and he was alone.

Five minutes later, Tu Lan reappeared. She was no longer dressed in her surgical scrubs but a tight, cream, mid-thigh, leg-hugging skirt with a side split that showed as much of her long legs as any of Anh's micro minis. An open blazer showed her unbraed tits through a thin, two sizes too small, cream camisole.

As she picked up the phone, she said to Jiath, You can get dressed. We are going out to eat and talk." Getting through to reception, she spoke as she watched Jiath dress, her eyes taking in and lingering on the bulge in his Bonds, even though he was not hard. "Cancel all my appointments and surgery for today. Yes, I said all."

Sitting in Tu Lan's red Lamborghini, they drove to the other side of town: the East rich establishment side where Jiath knew he was both not wanted and did not fit in. Having been told by Tu Lan that they would talk fully at lunch, he spent the time looking at her out of the corner of his eyes as she drove.

With each change of the manual gears, her skirt twisted, and soon Jiath could see she either had nothing or only a tiny thong covering her mound. It was pointless looking elsewhere as the 38-year-old surgeon's dark, thick nipples were hard and already clearly visible through the thin light-coloured camisole. Tu Lan's Lamborghini powered through the CBD on its way to the restaurant. She fished her phone from the centre console and handed it to Jiath with a sharp glance. "You say you're taking Huyen down. Then maybe you should see what she really is first," she said.