Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“What a fucking natural slut.” The man jams his shoe on my jeans, over my hardening cock, and I grunt against his dick. “Too much of a slut, it seems.”
“Fuck you,” I mumble, but it ends on a groan as he slides his shoe up and down, the friction drawing tingles down my spine.
“You got hard by being used. What a little masochist. Want a hand with that? It looks painful.”
I’d rather he shoot me.
But I do something better.
As he toys with my cock, I do that swallowing thing with my throat on his crown. The one that made him grunt earlier.
And his movements stop.
He grabs my head with both hands, the gun resting against the back of my neck as he thrusts into my mouth a few more times, his rough grunts filling the space.
There’s no other word for it. He uses me.
The wet sound of his cock mixing with my saliva and his precum is deafening. And I hate it, or I really hope I do, because my cock has grown into a full erection now.
By being face-fucked.
Am I turned on?
No way in fuck. I don’t get turned on due to someone else’s actions.
This better be a nightmare.
“You’re such a natural at taking cock, little monster.” His groan vibrates through me and settles in my balls. “This hot, warm mouth is dying to be filled with my cum.”
I want to shake my head, but I can’t, and I’m painfully hard now.
Like it’s not even a joke. For the first time in my life, my erection hurts.
“I’m coming down this goddamn throat and stuffing you full of my cum.” He jerks a few times and a salty taste explodes at the back of my throat and a sticky liquid escapes on either side of my chin.
As he pulls out and tucks himself in, I turn to the side to spit, but he grips my chin, touching me, again. “Swallow every last drop. Waste any and I’ll move to your other hole.”
I glare at him and a smirk pulls on the corner of his lips beneath the mask. “But then again, you might like that, too, considering how you’re so goddamn hard beneath my shoe.”
I swallow as he pushes his shoe further and I’m leaking precum. A grunt echoes in the air and I realize it’s come from me.
Fuck. Have I ever been this hard before?
If he rubs a bit more, I might come in my pants.
What the fuck?
I should think his shoe is dirty, not want him to move it up and down.
He gathers the cum on my chin and presses his index and middle fingers on my lips. “Open.”
When I do, he shoves them inside, curling them against my tongue, pushing all the way to the back of my throat. All the while applying incremental pressure to my cock.
My balls are so heavy, they’ll burst, and I’m still leaking in my fucking boxers. My spine jerks as I rock back and forth on my knees.
“What a little freak. You’re close just due to pain?” He pulls his fingers from my mouth at the same time as his shoe is gone.
And so is the pressure.
All that remains is damn fucking frustration and the infamous blue ball situation I’ve never experienced before.
He leans down and squeezes my cheeks between his tall, lean fingers. My lips part of their own accord and he spits right between them.
He spits in my mouth.
“Little monsters like you don’t deserve to come.” He pats my cheek twice. “Useful hole, though.”
And then he shoves me aside as if I’m a sack of potatoes, opens the door, and leaves.
3
GARETH
The urge to see blood spill before my eyes has been constant and unshakable since I left the Serpents’ mansion.
It’s been throbbing beneath the wound in my hand, the ache in my jaw, and the disgusting taste I still can’t purge no matter how many times I brush my teeth and gargle and even swallow mouthwash.
It’s trapped between my skin and that urge for pain.
The demons in the void have been pulsing, fucking palpitating for something.
Pain, yes, but that doesn’t seem to be enough no matter how many times I jam my knife into my hand wound, twisting and twirling the blade until my blood forms a pool at the shower drain.
I stare as the bright red spreads, its intensity faltering, slowly diluting to a murky, sickly hue before it’s washed away by the water. It swirls around like it’s trying to cling to something, but it’s powerless, fading, draining into nothingness.
The constrictive feeling perching on my chest doesn’t, though. Turn into nothingness, I mean. It’s like a heavy burning ball sitting on my chest, a constant fucking weight I can barely breathe through.
It’s spreading, the burn, to the back of my throat, my hair, my abdomen, my cheeks.
Everywhere he fucking touched me.