“Why not?”
“Because I’ll have sent these pictures to everybody in school before he makes it down the hall. He’s busy taking care of your sick mom right now,” he explains, snickering.
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Are you so sure? You really want to test that theory? Because I promise you’ll be disappointed.”
He can’t mean it.
Then again, why can’t he? He’s already proven how completely twisted he is. Crazy, because his dad seems like a normal person. Where did this walking, talking disease come from?
“How can you be this way?” I ask, now shivering in the stall while water runs down my skin and drips onto the tile.
“Don’t waste my time with stupid questions. Come out here and convince me not to show everybody in school what your tits look like. I bet they’d love to see that shaved pussy, too.”
The humiliation will never end, will it? It’s going to go on for as long as the two of us live under the same roof. There’s nothing I can do about it—that’s the worst part, knowing I’m powerless in all of this. I can’t do a thing to help myself.
“I want my towel first.” Am I seriously negotiating with this pervert? It sure seems that way. I don’t know what’s worse: feeling powerless against him or disappointed in myself for making it this easy for him to get what he wants.
He opens the stall door and thrusts the towel my way. I snatch it from his grasp before wrapping it tight around my chest. I wish I wasn’t shaking so hard, but I don’t know what he’s going to do. What am I supposed to expect?
He doesn’t keep me waiting long once I step out to face him. His eyes crawl over me and his nostrils flare before a long, shuddering breath eases its way from between his pursed lips. “If I had my way, this is how you would always be. All that wet hair begging to be wrapped around my fist.”
He has got serious problems. “What am I supposed to do?”
He snorts, then looks down at his crotch before looking back up at me. “I’ll give you three guesses.”
I don’t need three. “And if I say no?” I whisper, shaking no matter how hard I fight against it.
“Then my entire contact list gets a happy little surprise in their messages. It’s up to you, you know.”
I love how he makes it sound like I have a choice. We both know nothing could be further from the truth.
“On your knees,” he growls, sending a foreboding chill racing through me, even as I do as I’m told. I can’t believe this. Is this really happening?
Once my knees touch the cold tile, reality settles over me. Yes, this is happening, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
At least he doesn’t make me open his fly for him. At least he spares me that humiliation. It’s not like I haven’t seen his dick before—not that I wanted to, but at least there are no surprises when it comes to that. I know he’s big, and I know I’m going to have to put him in my mouth somehow.
Unless I want to give everybody at school even more reasons to humiliate me.
“Well?” he mutters once he’s free from his shorts, slowly moving his hand up and down his erect dick. “Get to work.”
I didn’t want to have to admit this, but… “I don’t know what to do.” No way can that come as a surprise.
And it obviously doesn’t. “I’ll show you. Here. Lick it.” He holds the mushroom-shaped tip out to me. “Like a lollipop. Give it a few licks.”
I’m going to die of humiliation as I extend my tongue to take an experimental lick. Salty. It takes everything I have not to wrinkle my nose in disgust before doing it again while he growls softly.
“Now, put your teeth behind your lips—that’s important,” he grunts sharply. “No teeth. Just your lips and your tongue.”
Here goes nothing.Please, don’t let him hurt me. Slowly, I let him into my mouth, past my lips, and right away, I know this isn’t going to work. He’s too big, there’s too much of him. When I touch my hands to his thighs, he only takes me by the back of my head with a firm grip.
“Relax your throat. Don’t be so tense.” Oh, right, easy for him to say. When was the last time someone forced him to suck their dick? Still, it does get a little easier when I follow his advice and relax my mouth and throat. I can take more of him in me, but still only manage to get about two-thirds of the way down to the bottom before gagging.
“That’s it. You’re doing fine. Now suck it.” His fingers press against my scalp, massaging it, sliding through my wet hair. “Up and down. Nice and slow.”
Am I doing it right? God, I could die of humiliation as he groans softly, pressing on the back of my head. If anything, that actually makes it easier, letting him set the pace since I don’t have the first clue. There’s nothing I can do but hold on for dear life, my head bobbing up and down in a slow rhythm. I still can’t help gagging when he hits the back of my throat, but it gets a little easier every time, and soon his groans turn to grunts.Needy grunts. I still don’t have the first clue what I’m doing, but I think I’m doing it right if he’s making those noises.