You look up at him in sheer defiance. “Give it to me.”
He growls, looking down at you for a long pause, in which you think this isn’t for show, he really is having to control himself. Then he switches grips on the knife and stabs it into the back of the couch and takes your head between his hands.
He doesn’t warn you, he just pulls your mouth onto his c**k, as deep as he pleases. His c**k slides into your throat and down the back of it, and then out again, and he’s f*****g your face, all you can do is open wide. He grunts each time his head hits the back of you and his hips are swaying in time and his balls are slapping against your chin.
It’s awful but it’s also good. Being used, being broken down into pieces that aren’t a person anymore. You can feel your humanity drifting away, along
