My eyes watered, tears stinging the corners. My hands, which had been clutching the sheets, flew up and slapped against his waist in a desperate, panicked attempt to push him away, but he was an immovable wall of muscle, making my resistance pathetically futile.
“You can,” he insisted. “And you will.”
He pulled back just enough to let me draw a frantic, desperate breath through my nose. Then he pushed himself back in, forcing me to accommodate his impossible size, to stretch my jaw and to relax my throat. Out, in, out, in, then all the way down, slowly, until my nose was pressed against his pelvic bone and his entire enormous cock was down my throat.
Oh. My. God.
The taste of him was overwhelming, a musky, masculine flavor that was both intimidating and intoxicating. I was a whirlwind of conflicting sensations. The gag reflex. The lack of air. Thehumiliation. And beneath it all, the strange, dark thrill of being used like this that was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
After holding himself as deep as he could go, he started to move again. He pulled out until just the tip was resting on my lips, then slid back in. All the way. Not hard, not fast, but with a slow, deep, thoroughness that was meant to conquer me. He was slow-fucking my mouth, establishing his dominance, claiming this part of me as surely as he would claim the rest.
I stopped fighting.
I couldn’t win.
My hands fell to his hips, my fingers clenching and unclenching around his bones. I let my body go limp in a surrender that was total and terrifying. He must have felt the shift in me, the change in my resistance because he reached out to stroke my hair, an almost tender gesture that was more shamefully arousing than any rough treatment could have been.
“Good girl,” he crooned. I wish I could have denied to myself the spasm those words elicited from my needy pussy.
He picked up the pace, the rhythm of his thrusts becoming a little faster, a little deeper. His hands held my head in place, his fingers tangling in my hair, controlling my movements and ensuring I took every inch of him. The sounds we were making were obscene, from the wet, rhythmic glide of his cock in my mouth to the soft, desperate whimpers I couldn’t suppress. My jaw ached and my throat was starting to feel a little raw, but the fire between my legs was slowly becoming a raging inferno.
Then he started to fuck my face.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back at an angle that gave him better access. There was nothing slow about it now. His hips pumped, a brutal, relentless rhythm that drove his cock deep into my throat with every thrust. My eyes watered uncontrollably, tears streaming down my face, mixing with the saliva that dribbled from the corners of my mouth.
He was using me.
He was treating me like a toy.
And I was loving every second of it.
My hands were no longer pushing him away. They were gripping his waist, my fingers digging into the hard muscle, holding on for dear life.
“Look at me,” he growled.
I forced my tear-filled eyes to focus on his face. His expression was one of intense concentration, his jaw tight as a muscle feathered in his cheek. His eyes were dark, burning with a possessive fire that made my stomach clench. He was watching me, watching my lips stretch around him, watching the tears stream down my face, and the sight of it was clearly pushing him closer to the edge.
“You look so beautiful like this,” he murmured. “With my cock in yourprettymouth.”
A fresh wave of heat washed over me.
“You’re going to swallow what I give you,malyshka,” he commanded, his thrusts becoming shorter, more erratic. “Every last drop.”
I didn’t have a choice. He drove himself deep into my throat one last time, and then he was coming.
Hot, thick jets of cum flooded my mouth, so much of it that I couldn’t possibly swallow it all. The taste was salty, musky, intimately male, and all Mikhail. I swallowed convulsively, my throat working frantically, but there was too much. It dribbled from the corners of my lips, leaving a hot, sticky trail that ran down my chin, and my face flushed with heat.
He pulled back, but he wasn’t finished. With a rumbling groan, he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and stroked, milking the last of his release from his body. And it wasn’t just a little bit either, but a lot. It was as though he had been pent up, a fact that was made painfully clear as several more spurts of his cum landed on my cheeks, my nose, and my forehead.
“Mikhail.” I blushed and squirmed.
He looked down at me, his chest heaving and dark, possessive satisfaction in his eyes. He looked at my face, at the sticky, glistening mess he had made, and a slow, wicked smile spread across his face.
“My brother might have made you swallow it all,” he murmured, “but sassy girls like you need to be decorated with my pleasure.”
A surge of shameful arousal shot through me.
“At least,” I managed, my throat raw, “he had the decency to aim for my mouth.”
