“What are you doing?” I demanded.
He just gave me that same cruel smile. “Open your mouth.”
“What?”
“I said open your mouth.” He grabbed my hair, angling my head back, and when my lips parted, he thrust the toy into my mouth. “Suck on it like a good little slut and maybe I’ll go easy on you.”
He forced it so far down my throat I had to work to suppress my gag reflex. He held it there with one hand. The subtle click of the plastic cap echoed in my ears, and then cold, viscous liquid being poured at the base of my spine dripped down my crack.
He took the dildo out of my mouth, the taste of silicone thick on my tongue.
“Tell me what you like to do with this fake cock.”
I clamped my lips shut.
His hand moved to my abused ass cheek and squeezed, sending a wave of fiery pain down my spine. I didn’t know if that was supposed to be the punishment or a warning.
“I asked you a question,maya soloveyka.”
He had told me that name meant little nightingale, and even like this, I loved hearing him call me that...or maybe it was especially like this.
“Tell me,” he demanded. “Why do you have this fake cock next to your bed?”
“I use it,” I answered, when his fingers pressed into a particularly sore spot.
“How?”
My cheeks burned as hot as my ass. But I responded. My dignity had already been stripped away. What else did I have to lose? “Late at night when I am feeling lonely, I pretend I have a lover and I slide it inside of me.”
“You fuck your tight little pussy with this fake cock, imagining your pretend boyfriend? Why not get a real one?”
I scoffed.
“Answer me.”
“Because the only men who are interested in me don’t want me, they want to know what I can do for them,” I answered.
He hummed a low noise in the back of his throat. “I think I understand.”
The judgment I was expecting was absent from his voice. There was no pity, no retribution, nothing. His fingers spread the lubricant around my asshole. “Tell me what you do with it.”
“What do you mean, what do I do with it?”
“I know you fuck it, I know you use it to get yourself off, but how? Do you deep throat it?”
I shook my head, my cheeks burning.
Darius disappeared for a moment, then returned with the throw pillows in his hands. He arranged them on the headboard and under my chest, creating a seam just in front of my face. Then he stuck the dildo in that seam. “Let me see what those pretty lips can do.”
“I do—" I started, but he smacked my ass just hard enough to make me jump. This time I wrapped my lips around it willingly and sucked.
“Pretend it’s my cock and do a good job. I might reward you.”
I pushed myself a little deeper on the fake cock, taking more down my throat while Darius drizzled more of the lubricant down my crack and then used his fingers to spread it around. The cool, viscous liquid was soothing on my battered and soon-to-be-bruised skin.
I wondered if it had something to do with the silicone or aloe. I had no idea. But I lost myself in the rhythm of my lips on the fake cock, forgetting my pain, my tongue working it like it was Darius, while his hands petted and prodded my skin. Then he slipped his middle finger into my pleated hole.
“Focus,” he scolded, just before I felt his lips kiss my ass cheek and his hands spread me apart.
