Page 33 of Whispers of Obsession

I’m a vessel for his pleasure. Literally, a hole for him to use and fuck, and that thought makes my thighs slick.

There’s something wrong with me.

I’m expecting him to pull out at any second. I’m waiting for him to come, but he doesn’t. He keeps pushing forward, holding my head in place as he plows into my mouth. Two more thrusts and he’s there, at the back of my throat. His hands are shaking as he pushes forward, groaning as my nose makes contact with his abdomen.

His cock swells, and then with a violent jerk of his hips he’s coming, emptying what seems to be a never ending river of cum down my throat. I swallow as best I can, but I choke and cough, panic rising once more. He groans and holds me tighter, still pumping his essence down my throat, seeming to get off more on me choking.

My vision starts to fade, there’s a buzzing in my ears, and my limbs are turning to jelly. Just when I think I’m going to pass out, he pulls free, slaps my cheek hard and forces me to take a deep shuddering breath.

“Fuck, Cora. That was so good,” he coos while I cry at his feet and attempt to drag enough air into my lungs to stave off death.

I really thought his cock was going to kill me.

“You know,” he says, cocking his head to one side as I stare up at him. The blankness of the mask is disconcerting and makes me shiver. I almost feel like seeing his face would make this easier to take, to handle. The mask scares me more than the things he makes me do. “I came here tonight to take something from you. But you gave so willingly, surrendered so freely, and let me fuck that throat so beautifully, I really feel like I should return the favor now.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I frantically shake my head. I don’t need or want anything from him.

He crouches down and fists my hair, yanking me to my feet and making me cry out in pain.

“That wasn’t very nice, Cora. I offered you a gift, and you threw it back in my face.”

He shakes his fist – the one holding my hair – and I rattle like a rag doll.

He’s angry. I’ve made him mad. How do I get out of this?

“S-sorry!” I cry as even more tears stream down my face. My scalp feels like it’s on fire, but he doesn’t let me go. “Th-thank y-you for the o-offer, but?—”

“But nothing. If I want to give you something, I damn well will, and you’ll thank me for it.”

“Yes! Yes! Please! I’m sorry!”

He drops me to the floor so suddenly that my legs don’t have time to catch me, and my knees slam painfully into the floor.

“Lean against the side of the bath,” he orders. Despite the cool mechanical tone from the mask, I can see in the rapid rise and fall of his chest that he’s still mad.

I crawl over to the edge of the tub and try not to cower when he steps toward me.

“Up on your knees. Lean over the side.”

I’m too terrified of the repercussions to disobey him.

“Spread your legs… Wide… Wider!” I whimper when he shouts so loud that I hear his words beneath the mask and not just from the voice changer. My brain is too frazzled with fear though to work out if I recognized it. “Spread your motherfucking legs now, Cora, or I’ll do it for you, and you won’t like it.”

I cry as I comply.

“Good girl.”

His praise after his threats of violence make it even worse, and the tears flow even faster as a sob wracks my entire body.

Then his fingers are between my legs, probing, and I’m clenching in a bid to keep him out.

He chuckles.

“Fighting me is pointless, Cora. This can feel good, or you can fight me, but…I guess I don’t have to tell you…”

“I won’t like it,” I reply flatly, trying to force my body to relax. It’s hard though, it goes against my fear and that fight or flight instinct. Right now, neither of those are an option, which leaves me with freeze or fawn. And by fawn, I mean give in.

I pull a fortifying breath into my lungs and grip the edge of the bath to give me strength, before forcing my body to relax - if such a thing is even possible.

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