Page 30 of The Toy Collector

If I say no, I walk out of here with nothing. If I say yes… before I can finish that thought, I drop to my knees, and tilt my head up, blindfold still in place.

A hand grabs my braid, firm and controlling. “Open for me, Toy. I want to hear what obedience sounds like when you moan around me.”

The tip of his cock brushes against my lips, its warmth and weight tantalizingly present, an unmistakable promise lingering in the air. His scent wraps around me—clean skin, raw male, and something darker that threatens to ruin me.

“Make me proud. Show me how good you are with that perfect mouth,” he growls, flexing his hips.

The stretch elicits an involuntary gasp from deep within my throat, yet his firm grip in my hair intensifies, anchoring me steadfastly in place. The blindfold heightens every sensation—the taste is more vivid, the texture more pronounced.

A low hum of approval follows, tension spiking as I remember we’re not alone. I can’t tell if the others are watching my face, enjoying the scene unfolding before them. But there’s one thing I’m certain of—my own enjoyment.

In a perversely thrilling way, I’m reveling in the experience. A moan escapes my lips as I swirl my tongue around the sensitive crown.

“Fuck!” He lets out a guttural groan, one of those coming from deep within the chest.

Feeling the power of being the reason for his deep, throaty groans, and noticing how his length swells even more in response, fuels my desire. It’s intoxicating, igniting a wanton need within me, making me crave this moment with every fiber of my being.

I’m pretty sure every hookup I’ve had in the past was done wrong because it’s never felt like this. And I know it’s not just because I’ve gone several months without sex. No, it’s all this man. He’s making me crave this, making me crave the feeling of him taking control, and letting myself be consumed by the raw, primal energy between us. Even blindfolded, even stripped bare, I feel… safe. Treasured, not used.

These thoughts swirl in my mind, and I scarcely recognize the person I’ve turned into as I’m on my knees in front of three strangers. But… fuck, I love it.

I wrap one hand around the base—hot and thick. While my hand strokes him in a steady rhythm, my lips and tongue worship the head, tasting the salty essence of him.

My free hand slips between my thighs, circling my clit with practiced hunger, sending pleasure sparking through me.

Before I know what’s happening, the guy tightens his hold on my hair. “Your pleasure belongs to me, Toy. You won’t get to come unless I allow it,” he growls, authority vibrating from him. “Put your hands behind your back. Now.”

Albeit reluctantly, I obey. The second my hands fold behind my back, he thrusts harder—brutal, relentless. I don’t get time to breathe, let alone adjust, before he’s buried deep down my throat.

“W-w…” The word is nothing but a garbled mess.

“I’m going to come in your mouth and all the way down your throat,” he groans. “If you spill as much as one drop, you won’t like the consequences.”

I whimper around him, but don’t do anything else. The truth is, that I’ve never been this turned on in my life. My entire body feels alive, and I feel… powerful. It might not make sense, but it’s how I feel. Like I’m strong enough not only to allow him to use me, but to love it.

Courtesy of the massive length in my mouth, I can’t speak. But I want to tell him to do his worst, to use me as he wants. Instead of speaking the words, I try to convey them through my actions.

He picks up speed, shoving his dick down my throat, making me moan around him. Drool escapes past my lips, messy and hot, no matter how hard I try to hold it all in.

I brace myself as his movements grow more erratic, the tension coiling tighter with each thrust. His groans fill the room, raw and unrestrained, a crescendo that mirrors the intensity building within me. My senses are overwhelmed, teetering on the edge of something vast and consuming.

Suddenly, he pulls away, the absence leaving my mouth empty and needy. My gasp for air is desperate, a sharp intake that barely registers before he’s back again, pushing into my mouth with an urgency that sends a thrill through my entire body.

“I’m close,” he warns, voice strained and breathless. “I want to see your throat work for it. You’ll take every drop like a good toy who knows she was made for this.”

The words spur me on, determination flaring hot and fierce inside me. I hollow my cheeks, suck hard enough to pull a broken curse from his lips.

Each stroke is precise and relentless, an unspoken promise that I intend to keep. I can feel him losing control, the swell of his hardness a prelude to what I’ve been waiting for.

His release is sudden and explosive, filling my mouth with warmth and saltiness. I swallow greedily, savoring the taste of him, eager to prove my worth. A detached part of me notes how different it feels from anything I’ve ever experienced—like victory.

A sense of triumph courses through me as I swallow every last drop just like he commanded.

“Fuck,” he groans again, softer this time, spent but still potent in its effect on me.

One hand slides from my hair to the curve of my jaw, his thumb swiping the edge of my lips. It should be a gesture of dominance, a final brand. But it doesn’t feel punishing—it feels… reverent.

There’s the barest tremor in his touch, like he’s barely holding himself together. The possessiveness in that simple graze brands me in the way it seeps beneath my skin until I can feel it in the very marrow of my being.

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