"I'm going to go a little deeper now," he warns, his voice a rough growl. "I want to feel the back of your throat. I want to feel you swallow around me. It's only going to block your airway a little, so breathe slowly and calmly through your nose."
He pushes in, again with shallow thrusts, working his way deeper.
I feel a surge of panic as the head of his cock brushes against the back of my throat. My gag reflex flares, a violent, uncontrollable spasm, and my eyes water.
I squeeze his hand tight, and he stops, giving me a moment to adjust. He holds my hand tight as well, giving me an anchor in a storm.
"Relax," he soothes.
He waits, patient, predatory, until my body relaxes again, welcomes the intruder. Then he pushes in a little more. I fightthe urge to gag, to pull away, and instead, I swallow, a slow, deliberate motion that I hope will please him.
He groans, a deep, guttural sound that sends a thrill of triumph through me. "That's it," he praises, his voice a low, appreciative murmur. "Such a good girl. Such a perfect, tight throat for me to use."
The words, so crude, so possessive, are the most beautiful I've ever heard.
My hips arch off the bed, a desperate, needy movement.
I'm so close to the edge again. So close to coming just from the feel of him in my mouth, from the sound of his voice, from the sheer, overwhelming power of his presence.
"Can you take a little more?" he asks. "Just a tiny bit? Just right here at the top of your throat. Squeeze my hand once for green, nice and firm."
I squeeze his hand.
Once.
Hard.
Eager.
That's all the encouragement he needs.
He pushes in a little more, and I feel him slide into the top of my throat. He holds it there for a second, a still, heavy presence, before pulling back slightly to let me breathe.
It's not long enough to actually affect me, but the feeling of having my oxygen cut off, helpless to his will, his pleasure, is heady.
A wave of heat washes over me, so intense it feels like I'm burning from the inside out. My entire body tenses, ready to snap.
A thrill, dark and delicious, runs through me.
He does it again, a little deeper this time, holding it for a second longer.
My body is a live wire, every nerve ending humming with a desperate, frantic energy.
I'm lost in a haze of pleasure and submission, a willing victim to the dark, decadent desires he's awoken in me.
He pulls back enough that I'm in no danger of choking, but he doesn't pull out all the way.
He fucks my mouth with shallow thrusts, using me for his pleasure, and I revel in it.
I revel in the feeling of being used, of being owned.
Of being his.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice rough and demanding.
I force my eyes open, my vision blurred with tears, and look up at him.
"I'm going to come in your mouth." A fact, not a question. "You're going to swallow every last drop. Do you understand?"
