Page 60 of Filthy Mouth
“Open.”
I obeyed instantly.
“That’s it. Good girl,” he growled, sliding over my tongue inch by inch.“Empires would kill for this mouth, Princess. But all it does now is worship me. Gag. Choke. Swallow. That’s your legacy.”
He gripped my hair, holding me still as he pressed deeper, my throat spasming around the invading length. Saliva spilled down my chin, dripping to the floor, slick and obscene.
“Perfect,” he groaned.“Daddy’s throne. Daddy’s perfect whore. You’re going to wear my cock in your throat until your eyes stream and your tits are wet with spit.”
My throat ached each time Daddy battered me with his cock. He stretched my throat and neck before vanishing again, only to drive back harder, making lewd sounds as I struggled with his pace.
“That’s it, choke on Daddy’s cock. My little cock sucking whore.”
My vision blurred as tears spilled over, my throat convulsing around him every time he forced himself deep. Drool poured down my chin, strings of spit clinging to my breasts as he set a savage rhythm, using my mouth like it was nothing more than his personal hole.
“Yeah, choke, Princess,” he snarled, tugging my hair so I had no choice but to look up at him through watery lashes.“Look at you—red-eyed, dripping, gagging on Daddy’s cock. The filthiest little slut in London.”
He thrust harder, balls slapping my chin, spit and precum splattering my chest. My lungs screamed for air, but my cunt throbbed, greedy and wet between my thighs, trapped and helpless in the stocks.
“Fucking heaven,” he groaned.“My cock buried in your throat, your spit running down my balls. You were made for this, Princess.”
He rubbed the soaked head across my cheeks, over my nose, across my lips, painting me in spit and salt.“Look at you. A dripping mess, and you love it, don’t you?” he rasped, dragging his cock down to my chin and back up to smear it over my eyelids.
I moaned, tongue stretching out, desperate to catch whatever he fed me.
“That’s it, Princess. Lick it up. Lap at Daddy’s cock like the little cock slut you are,” he growled, grinding the tip against my tongue until it dripped into my mouth.
His grip on my hair tightened, holding me exactly where he wanted me, his cock tapping against my swollen lips.“Fuck, I could ruin this pretty face all night.”
He rubbed his hand all over my filthy, wet face.
“God, I love it when you're a mess, Princess.”
I heard him unlatch the stocks, and he helped me to my feet.
“Go bend over the sofa. I can't ignore your other holes, can I?”
When I reached the crimson couch, I lay over it, gripping the lower section but leaving my ass high and exposed. I heard him remove his clothes.
Belt buckle, shoes and sounds of rumpled clothing.
The leather was cool against my flushed skin, my chest pressed into the curve of the sofa as I lifted my arse higher for him. My thighs trembled, but it wasn’t nerves—it was anticipation.
“Look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with approval as he prowled closer.“Back arched, arse in the air, dripping and ready for me.”
I clenched the edge of the sofa, biting my lip when his hand came down hard on my cheek, the sharp crack making me jolt.
“Piss whore, Daddy’s slut,” he drawled, tracing the words I’d scrawled on myself.“You branded yourself for me, Princess. You think I can ignore that?”
“No, Daddy,” I whispered into the leather.
He was about to give me what I craved.
Chapter 23
Benedict
Each time I thought I had Poppy pegged, she did something wild. I knew that breaking our new fuck room in would be an unforgettable night. Those playful, degrading words on her body drove me feral. My little piss Princess knew precisely how to wind me up. I reached for the lube she’d left at the foot of the couch.
