“Shh, just take it. Naughty ones don’t get a choice.” I feel his bulge inch lower, strangling me with cock. “But you know,” he says mockingly with a soft smack to the side of my cheeks that’s bulging with his length.
“Who had a choice, you.” His voice drops to a growl. “The best I can do is give you the rest of the day.” He pumps harder into my mouth. “Remember that, Porter.”Thrust. “A fucking choice.”
Just as I think I’ll either pass out or throw up, strings of my spit and snot paint my face, his gloved hand cups my chin, and he brings me to meet his stare.
“Your empire was built on pain, on the backs of others. People around you suffer while you roll in money.”
“Let me talk…” I groan out.Asshole.
As if he could understand, he chuckles, slapping the side of my cheek with his dick before slamming it back into the back of my throat, his balls slapping against my chin.
“Every toy.”Thrust. “Every name.”Thrust. “Every face.”
He thrusts harder, holding the back of my head so I can take him deeper, just so he can pump quickly into the back of my throat as streams of saliva move down the length of him and wet the fabric of his pants. “Everything had a fucking price.” He fucks my mouth harder now. “Tell me how much mine cost?”
I try to answer him… the truth. The price of it was my soul.
But he doesn’t give me the chance, and without a warning, he groans, his thick, large cock jolts inside my mouth, and I try to pull away. I wasn’t going to let him fill me with his cum. He pumps one final time before slamming me back down. I’m certain that you could see the bulge of his dick in my throat as the ropes of his sperm fill me. Slithering like snakes down my esophagus , his taste is salty and heady. Neno holds me there until I can’t breathe, until I choke on him, and darkness takes me with it. Inside my head, the bells toll.
DING! DING! DING!
7
Build a toy
“Mr. Porter, I was wondering if I could take off for a day or two this Christmas.” The man played with his fingers, casting glances towards the production lines. I can sense Neno hovering behind me, like he always did after our scandal, afraid to say a word.
I called all the hard shots, while he lived his life hiding behind me. A toy soldier, who does nothing but follow along. I let out a sigh, clasping my hand over the man’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Maybe next year. It’s too late in the season,” I reply as kindly as I can muster, and the production line halts, countless faceless warehouse workers stop. The toys falling from their hands and shattering on impact. The sound of the glass splintering echoes in the warehouse.
The bright fluorescent lights go off one by one….
My pulse quickens as the man drops to his knees, gripping my pants. “Please.”
Disgust is the only thing I feel from the sight, pathetic. There’s no such thing as Christmas magic, it’s working people who make the fucking magic, and with that, I push him off. “You’re fired.”
“Fired?” he echoes, his wrinkled face going slack, and like everyone around me, his face becomes a blur. A number. Already forgotten.
“Devon,” Neno mutters behind me as I walk away.
DING !
DONG!
DING! DONG !
These fucking bells won’t stop ringing. I shake my head trying to stop the noise but it only grows louder. Intensifying as the workers close in, the lights turn off one by one before shutting off entirely. I try to pick up my pace, my legs grow heavy…
“Please, Mr. Porter,” they all chant in unison. “Mr. Porter.”
I pull and pull to no avail before a cold, smooth surface bites into my skin. The fire crackles in the background, and once again, I’m in the cabin. No longer in the warehouse, Neno stood before me, as he pets his long, white Santa beard, shaking the gift of the present.
“Do you know how your workers would test each toy?”
I quirk a brow, shocked when my mouth moves. The muscles around are sore but relaxed.
“No,” I whisper truthfully. He holds his fake Santa gut and‘ho ho hos’in a deep guttural sound. Now aware of my body, which took a minute, I realize I’m no longer tied up. Instead, I’m spread open like a fucking eagle. My wrists and ankles are each bound to a corner of the table. My cock jolts to attention, the traitorous muscle standing at attention. Neno grins menacingly, wetting his lips and inching closer—breathing onto my cock.
