Page 3 of Stalking Ginevra

Arousal builds in my core at the thought of controlling his pleasure. I hollow my cheeks, taking him deep into my throat.

Every vein, every contour, every ridge presses against the membranes of my mouth as I swallow him whole. Thanks to Samson and his stupid toys, I’ve lost my gag reflex, and the man I’m pleasuring seems impressed.

My gaze flicks up, eager to meet his eyes, maybe hear a little praise, but all I see is my reflection in his helmet’s visor. The woman staring back at me looks like a flame-haired porn star, with lips stretched around a thick shaft.

I force myself to breathe as he thrusts forward, sliding his entire length down my gullet. His generous girth crushes my windpipe, cutting off my air. Tears well in the corners of my eyes. My lungs burn for oxygen, yet I can’t explain why the thought of choking on him makes my clit throb and my nipples tingle.

The rope splitting open my pussy no longer chafes, becoming slick with my arousal. It’s the first time I’ve reacted this way to my own debasement.

Gulping around his shaft hard enough to make him groan, I pull back and gasp for breath. My eyes water, vision blurring until I blink away the tears. They gather on the rope encasing my head, making the fibers expand.

I barely get the chance to inhale another breath before he snaps his hips, burying himself back down my throat. The unexpected force has me seeing stars, but he doesn’t pause to give me time to adjust.

Groaning, he pounds in and out of my mouth, using me ruthlessly for his pleasure. I roll my hips against the ropes, creating delicious friction.

By now, I can’t stop the tears. They seep through my binding, stream down my cheeks, and drip onto my breasts. I’m moaning through my mouthful, gasping, choking, bucking my hips, trying to match his rhythm.

My pussy throbs in sync with his thrusts. Every time he pushes deep, he ignites a fire in my core that grows hotter. I reach down between my thighs, unable to withstand the urge to touch my clit. My fingers slide along the soaked ropes then brush against my aching center.

Sparks of pleasure jolt through my system at the barest touch. I’ve never felt so excited at being at a man’s mercy. Never felt this level of euphoria.

The stranger quickens his movement, indicating that he’s close. I rub circles over my clit, timing them with his strokes. I want to make him come. I want to swallow his release. I want to please this man because my life depends on his satisfaction.

In this moment, he becomes my world, my entire universe, and I revolve around his axis of pleasure.

His grunts become harsher, filled with lust and anticipation, the sound resonating through my core.

After years of Samson’s abuse, I never thought degradation would get me so aroused, but here I am, allowing a strange man to use my throat as his fleshlight. Maybe it’s because I have a choice, even though it was limited. Maybe it’s because this stranger has proven Samson wrong. I’m not frigid, talentless, or undesirable. If that were true, I’d be dead.

Pressure builds up around my clit, a thrumming sensation close to unbearable. Sharp bursts of ecstasy radiate from my core, lighting up my nerves with every thrust.

A growl rumbles in his chest, and his grip on my hair tightens. This time, my body interprets that pain as pleasure. Shuddering, I increase the suction and quicken my strokes over my clit.

When he growls, something inside me snaps. My body tenses for a heartbeat before releasing a deluge of pleasure, coursing through my system and crashing through every nerve.

I groan around the shaft in my mouth, my pussy spasming and clenching in blissful climax. It’s like diving into the ocean and being tossed around by powerful waves.

His cock throbs before pulsing once, twice, three times down my throat. Warm cum fills my mouth, making my taste buds sing.

Stroking myself through the climax, I ride out the pleasure as the man above me exerts his final thrusts. He’s spurting faster than I can swallow, making cum dribble down my chin and settle on my breasts.

Without a word or a grunt or a pat on the head, he drops the knife, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter. Then he pulls out, tucks himself in, and walks out without a backward glance, leaving me utterly destroyed.

TWO

BENITO

I came here to kill her. Instead, I came down her throat.

Stepping back from the closet door, I stuff my cock back into my pants and turn to face the rest of the room. Everyone is dead, from the red-haired boy with a bullet through his head to the guards lying face-down on the floor.

Ginevra was… I shake my head.

Her death was supposed to end my obsession, but when I saw her displayed so prettily, begging me for her life, it was hard to do anything else but spare it.

After five years apart, I’m still the simp who caters to her every whim. Case in point. I’m now walking around the room, looking for her clothes so she won’t have to leave here naked once she’s cut herself free.

My heart pounds so hard that my fingers tremble as I step over Samson Capello’s carcass to reach a chair draped with her purse, her size seven shoes, and a stack of feminine garments. That was my first blow job, and I’m already yearning for a second.

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