The violation she’s been craving.
The other parts of this story can be found here.
I had fractions of a second to entertain the illusion of critical thinking. In my achingly quiet rational brain, I knew I should have been remembering that I was on a job site, that I was a consultant. That I had a client and a project. That I was a professional.
But those thoughts were drowned out by the blinding need to submit to this man in front of me. A man, for all intents and purposes, who had forced me into this position on my knees.
Did I feel forced?
My pussy dripped, and I squirmed. Yes… and no.
I wanted it, I had begged him for it. I needed the force of his hands pushing me to the ground, needed the sting of his palm against my cheek. Needed his cock violating my body.
I could feel my lips swell with abuse and eagerness, and my pupils dilate. Everything came into too-sharp focus, the lines of his dress shirt and the texture of his jeans, his green eyes the color of high summer. It seemed to me that I knelt there, looking up at him and feeling the cascade of desire ooze down my spine.
I opened my mouth.
He slid between my lips, and the stretch against his velvety hardness felt delicious. I moaned, and I heard him swear under his breath. Deeper and deeper into my mouth he pushed, in and out, each stroke claiming a little bit more of my mouth. Each stroke, bit by bit, turning my mouth into a wet hole for his cock.
I needed his cock to violate my body.
He hit the back of my throat and wrapped his fingers through my hair, squeezing until I made needy little noises against him.
Please, I wanted to beg. Please do it.
Every stroke was longer, harder, pushing at my limits, and I could feel little droplets of my saliva dripping down my chin.
I was going to leave a mess on this brand new floor.
I hoped he would punish me for that, too. The thought sent a wave of shivers skittering across my skin.
His palm against my cheek brought me back to the present. It was a light tap, nothing like earlier, and there was a tiny part of me that was almost disappointed in that. I looked up at him. His cock slid in and out my mouth.
“Fuck, good girl,” he said, his voice low and breathy. “I know you want this.”
I bobbed my head, watching the expression of rapture and victory play across his features.
“Ready for more?” he asked, slipping more of my hair between his fingers.
I was so ready. My body ached with my own greed for his debasement.
He gripped my hair, hard enough to hurt, and pushed himself all the way to the back of my mouth. He kept the pressure there, using his fist at the back of my head to force his cock further down my throat.
I tried to relax my muscles. When he slipped past my gag reflex into the soft tightness of my throat, I could feel the tears on my cheeks.
My body reacted before my brain could catch up, as a wave of pleasure trembled over me and I soaked my panties.
He pushed himself deeper against my slutty moans, as I quivered and clenched. “Fuck, kitten. Fuck… fucking slut.” His voice was ragged now. “I’m going to cum down your throat. Straight down your fucking throat.”
I opened my jaw wider and took the last inch of him into my body, the sensation of it so viscerally wrong and at the same time, so undeniably right.
“Fuck, yes, that’s it…”
I loved the feeling of his cock, hard and unforgiving, and his punishing grip, allowing more and more of this lascivious invasion to happen.
Allowing more of my submission.
When there was nothing more to take from my throat, he pulled all the way out again. Strings of slime yawned and broke from my lips, but I kept my mouth in a open, needy o, ready to be used again.
He palmed his cock, rubbing my spit up and down his length and grinning down at me. “You are a little whore, aren’t you?”
I couldn’t take my eyes off of his cock. “Yes, Sir,” I whispered. I needed his cock back in my throat. “Please, please use me. Use my mouth. Use me like the whore I am. Please.”
“Fuck.” The word came from his lips more like a groan, and he gave me what I wanted.
This time he used his hand in my hair to guide himself through long, deep strokes. Each repetition bottomed out all the way down my throat, like he was fucking my cunt.
Throat cunt. The words flashed across my brain, and I squirted again.
In and out, brutal strokes, past my natural barriers. I felt myself gag and my own cum oozed down my thighs. If he noticed that my body struggled to keep up with the face fucking, he ignored it.
I loved that he ignored it.
His motion became more erratic, and I knew he was close.
Use me.
I settled into the blank, staticky mind space of being a hole for his cock and his cum, and I let him use me.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck..!” His grip tightened, and he pushed himself all the way down. I felt his cock pulsate against my bottom lip, and there was a sensation of warm liquid running down straight into my belly.
He pulsed, and he held me still until my lungs burned with lack of oxygen. Again, if he noticed, he didn’t care. My arms started to flail, and he pushed himself deeper, impossibly deep into my throat.
My vision began to blur. I pawed at his thighs.
My pussy clenched as another quake of orgasm rolled over me, and the afternoon’s sunlight faded completely.
Photo by Klara Kulikova on Unsplash