I breathed in, just like he taught me. He always did the lighter for me; I could never get it to work right. I breathed in the smoke until he thought it was enough. I always liked that he made that decision for me.
My mind became fuzzy; I became conscious of every blood vessel in my body. I looked up at him, as all the thoughts in my head quieted. It was beautiful, intoxicating – the quietness.
“On your knees.” His voice permeated my awareness. It wasn’t a demand – though he was demanding – it was more of an acquiescence to my need to be filled with something. He created that vacancy in my head, and he was going to fill it.
I sank to my knees in front of him.
His cock filled my vision, and I impaled my lips with it. I took him deeper and deeper until he breached my throat and my face was flush against his torso. As I sucked him with those deep, long strokes I knew he liked, it wasn’t so much an invasion as much as a welcome return of what belonged in my mouth.
“Fuck, you’re such a good little cocksucker.”
I pulled off of him.
“You taught me this way, you made me your perfect little cocksucker. You know that, right?” I swallowed him again, pausing when he was as deep as he could go, and working my throat to massage the head.
He wrapped his fingers through my hair and held me still, before using his grip to masturbate himself with my mouth. His strokes were long and sure, allowing me to luxuriate in the feeling of all that hardness sliding over my tongue. I felt my eyes roll back in my head at the simple pleasure of it, the simple pleasure of letting him use my mouth like a cunt.
A thought popped into my mind, ephemeral and thready. They were always like that, as the drugs dilated time in long streams around me. A complete half-thought, that felt like the rapture of hours, within seconds.
Your pleasure center is in your throat.
As each stroke teased what used to be my gag reflex, I let that thought settle into the crevices of my empty mind. It felt good there, felt right. The shape of the words burned their truth into me, so that the thoughtform became solid and almost touchable.
Every stroke brought increasing pleasure, as if he were rubbing things lower on my body. Each stroke cemented that one thought.
Your pleasure center is in your throat. Your pleasure center is in your throat.
It was a good thought, repeating choicelessly through the bare hollows of my brain.
“Mmm, you’ve gotten so good at this,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he pushed himself all the way down again.
I felt my body spasm as utter contentment washed over me, as he touched that place that was the center of my joy.
My cunt clenched and dripped, as I felt my eyes begin to water. I knew, without knowing how I knew, that my cunt would never allow me to feel this much pleasure.
Only having his cock sliding into my throat, would allow me the opportunity to feel this kind of bliss.
I began to struggle as the air staled in my lungs. I looked up at him through watery eyes, as he held my head still. My chest burned, and even that felt too good to stop. I felt my throat convulse around him, and he rewarded me with a deep growl before pulling himself out of me and allowing me to breathe once again.
“Please, do that again,” I begged, in between gulps of air.
He nodded, smiling that mesmerizing smile that still made me weak. It was a smile that promised dark things, monstrous things.
I shivered.
He picked up his jeans where they had been discarded on the floor and slid his belt from the loops. The snick-snick-snick echoed between my ears and left my heart racing. I stared at the floor, unwilling to meet his eyes, though I wasn’t sure if this was out of deference or simply fear that my need would be plastered across my face.
Even as my mind attempted to parse my reasoning, the thoughts themselves evaporated like aging mist.
He wound the belt around my neck, fastening it into a crude leash, pulling it tight. He lifted it so that I was forced to look up at him, unable to take a breath. “I know what you need,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
Your pleasure center is in your throat.
I needed his cock in my throat. I needed it like I had never needed anything before.
Nodding, because I didn’t trust my ability to form words, I leaned forward to put him back in my mouth.
Except… I couldn’t get him all the way down. I needed him to be all the way down. A tiny whine escaped my lips, as I bounced on the short strokes the belt afforded me.
He pulled tighter, so that I could only feel the head slide over my swollen, pulsing lips.
My eyes fluttered, but whether from lack of air, lack of blood flow, or sheer need, I wasn’t sure. I needed him in my throat. That was the only way I was going to feel that delirious spiraling pleasure again.
I knew that. Knew it, like the ache of truth in my bones.
I leaned forward and pulled the belt tighter against my neck, and I was rewarded with the seductive fullness of his cock in my mouth again. I moaned because I couldn’t help it. He was so close to where I needed him to be. I pulled tighter.
“That’s it. Show me how deep you need it, bitch.”
He held my leash back, so that I was forced to throw my entire body weight forward to try to swallow his cock. Even as I tried, I couldn’t get him as deep as I needed. I tried again, frustrated, as I crushed my own windpipe. I could feel my lips and tongue swell, as my mind became even fuzzier, like gray static.
“Desperate slut,” he hissed. “I don’t even need to choke you, do I? You’ll choke yourself for my pleasure, won’t you?”
His pleasure.
The letters of that phrase melted into the staticky blankness, like evanescent waves. I pushed again, and this time, the thickness of him breached my throat and sent skittering particles of satisfaction over my skin.
His pleasure was my pleasure.
My body repeated the movement mindlessly, wrenching the delicate influx of blood and oxygen to a beautiful nothingness. The only thing that mattered was his pleasure, and the pleasure I, in turn, received from providing it. The gray static became more – and somehow, less – oppressive. Single-minded desire overcame my weakened thoughts.
Suck. Choke.
Deeper. Deeper and deeper, a wet and willing hole. The only gratification it would know, is to be used. Senseless and empty, he decides when I breathe. I always liked that he made that decision for me.
My muscles could no longer hold me; I shook and grasped onto nothing in the air in front of me. I had the vague sensation of falling, and the grain of the wooden floorboards feeling oddly cavernous as they met my cheek. I gasped as his belt loosened, and my fingers tingled.
Each breath he allowed me felt stretched and swollen across the seconds. My lungs still ached when I felt him pull the belt taut again, and dragged me back to my knees.
“Again?” he asked, as he drew my face up so I could look at him.
There was only one thing I could say. “Again, please, again.”
His lips quirked into that bewitching grin, and a shiver rolled down my spine.
He pulled the belt back, so his cock was just out of reach. “Do it then. Choke yourself out for me.”
I managed to smile up at him, before throwing myself against the unrelenting force around my throat.
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