Page 37 of Violent Love: Viktor
She whimpered at the sight of it. Her hands cupped the base like a worshipper at a shrine, then her lips met the tip with a needy moan. She licked it everywhere—up the shaft, over the head, under the balls. When she leaned in and dragged her tongue through my pubic hair, I hissed.
My desperate filthy whore.
She mouthed every inch like she was starving, and this was the only meal she’d ever known. Her mouth opened wider, and she took me in—wet, clumsy, desperate.
She gagged almost immediately. Didn’t pull back. She took it again. And again. Until she worked past her reflex. That was when she started fucking herself on my cock. I pressed myself against the door, giving her what she craved.
I could hear the choking, the strained breathing as her throat clenched around me. Her saliva dripping down my balls, soaking me.
Her lips met my balls and she held me there, deep in her neck with her hole pulsing around me. Her throat convulsed. She whimpered through the blockage but kept going. Kept licking my balls while she let herself choke on my cock. Guttural sounds, wet and obscene.
My balls tightened, until my cock throbbed with warning—and then she held me even tighter, like she wanted it. With a grunt, I came down her throat. Hot spurts, thick and brutal. Her hole swallowed every drop of my cum.
She stayed there, face pressed to the hatch, gagging softly, breathing through her nose.
Only when the last drop emptied did she pull back, gasping and panting as she cradled my cock and ran her tongue over it again. She cleaned me like it was sacred.
All that just for a few slices of an apple.
I grinned.
???
I gradually increased her food. It took another three days of watching her carefully through the camera's lens. As soon as she heard my footsteps, she would crawl to the door, snout off and in a begging pose—her hands held up beside her breasts like paws.
She was fully immersed in her role as mysuka.
It was time to start the training upstairs.
Chapter 16
Natalya
The routine returned to normal, and I could breathe again. Day and night rotated around me until I stopped counting the cycle. The sink wasn’t enough for me to bathe, and the bar of soap had practically disintegrated. A sliver remained.
One thing was constant and kept me grounded—the hatch opening and closing. Master never said a word, but I always received his cum before food. As time went on, my food became more decadent.
Roasted meat with thick sauce, always seasoned to perfection. One day, he gave me a dessert—Medovik honey cake—thin layers of sponge, honey, and sour cream with raspberries. I didn’t scoff it down. I savoured it. Licked it, layer by tiny layer.
But when I caught myself wishing he’d drizzled his cum on it, I froze. Crouched over the plastic bowl, staring at the cake on my hands and knees like a beast.
A dog.
My mouth stayed open. My chest hurt. The thought sat in my throat like glass.
My eyes closed. And suddenly, it was all there: the children laughing at my worn, smelly clothes, teachers whispering behind clipboards, and thesotsial’nyye rabotnikicoming. Cold offices, being taken, being dumped, landing in my father’s decrepitapartment, then clawing my way through each miserable year just to survive.
Hungry as a child. And now this.
Still hungry. Still begging. Just different rules.
I wasn’t a pet. I wasn’t hissuka. I was a girl who had nothing left.
I resumed eating.
The salty tears added to the taste of my cake.
???
