Page 54 of Marked By Feral Monsters
If I thought for a moment that Zair—my hired escort who is supposed to take care of me—might take a moment to reassure me, I quickly learn how wrong I am. Instead, he just laughs, adjusts himself on the bed, grips my chin, and works my jaw open with his meaty fingers. The strange shape of his cock: flat at the tip, thick and wide, with a ropey ring around the head, invades my mouth as he pushes in, forcing me to unhinge my jaw. I have an errant thought that I should have practiced with my dildo.
The tip of his cock breaches my open mouth, only an inch or two, my tongue feeling the soft, bumpy texture as it slides past. His brows tense, eyes slit, mouth parting slightly as he sucks in a breath while my tongue explores the texture of him.
Noticing his obvious pleasure makes me want to clamp my teeth down in defiance. His cheeks lift when he sees the fight in my eyes.
"If you bite, I bite back. Remember that." Then he pushes in. I gag, but he works himself out before pushing back in again, more slowly. "That's it, mouse. Let me in. Let me in, and I'll let you live. For now."
In and out he works his cock, only a few inches at a time. My jaw is still tense around him, but each time he thrusts back in, I relax a little more. The more I accept him, the more he encourages me. Praises me.
"Good girl, mouse. Such a good girl." The praise lights me up. His fingers gently caress my throat, stroking in a downward motion, as if to indicate how deep he intends to bury his cock. My jaw gets sore, tears still leaking from my eyes, but as I let him work himself in and out of my mouth, I close my eyes, take a deep breath through my nose and try to remember how I got here.
The loneliness. The name-calling. The constant need for control.
I've felt so alone in all aspects of my life. At work, at home. No social life.
What the office gossip would be if they could see me now.
Zair is here, fucking my throat, and all I can think is,fuck them.
My anger—at myself, at the world—helps me fight through the discomfort. My already aching jaw spreads open wide, and Zair huffs in appreciation. I decide I want to please him, to take advantage and make someone else feel good for once, so, steeling my nerves, I relax my throat and work my tongue against his shaft as he pumps.
It's choking me, like he promised. I have to breathe through my nose. I feel every thick inch of him invade my mouth, my throat, shoving in and out without a care for my comfort. The flat, blunt head hits the back of my throat like a battering ram.
"That's so good. Such a good girl, just like that. Now, open your throat a little more." Without waiting for me to be ready, he pushes in deeper. I gag, but my mouth reflexively tightening around him only makes him grunt and thrust deeper. Faster.
Before I know it, he's fucking me, and I can barely breathe through it. But it leaves little time to overthink, too. My hands come to his thighs, and I hold on for dear life while he fucks me harder. I'm gagging, crying, spit spilling out of my mouth while he grunts and takes me forcefully.
"You're going to swallow my cum, little mouse. I'm going to fill your belly with my seed, and you're going to shut the fuck up and take it," he huffs and pumps faster. I cry and squeeze his legs. I remember absently that I could end all this with a pinch of his thigh.
But I want it too. I can't explain why. My fingers curl around the backs of his tree-trunk thighs, fingertips digging into his flexing ass cheeks. To encourage him, or to hold on for dear life, I don't know.
He grunts, then his thrusts become erratic. Wild. "Oh fuck. Oh, fuck, yes. That's it, little mouse. Take it. Take it!" He comes with a roar. I hear it first, the rumble deep in his chest. That growl shakes my core, shakes the bed and the table. His ass clenches tight in my hands, and then I feel it. His cum spills down my throat, and Zair bellows out. He's so deep I can't even taste it, but I feel the warmth spraying, coating inside me.
With a shudder, his cum slows to a trickle, cock softening only slightly, before he pulls out. I start coughing the moment he releases me, and Zair surprises me by cooing praise, gently stroking my throat. It feels raw and burned, but the praise comforts me. He licks the tears from my cheeks, his long, textured tongue lapping up my pain. The vibrations coming from his chest rattle my heart, calming me into submission.
"That was so good, mouse. You took me so well."
I'm still shaking from the adrenaline, the intensity, the still empty, aching need in my pussy. From the cold, since I'm almost completely naked, and this giant minotaur just broke into my apartment, stripped me naked, then throat-fucked me.
And I want him to lick my tears again, because that may have been the best part of it all.
Zair gets up off the bed, and I lie there, stunned, unsure what to do next, when he returns with a glass of water from the kitchen. Leaning beside me, he strokes the back of his hand over my cheek reverently. The move confuses me.
"Drink, mouse. You deserve it."
I sniffle and try to sit up. He helps me, and I'm glad we're taking a break. Tentatively, I take the water and swallow a hefty gulp. The water burns my bruised throat, and I cough it back up, but try again. Eventually, the cool water soothes, and I finish the glass.
"That was… very good. You aren't what I was expecting," he hums, almost to himself.
I can see Zair better now. My eyes have adapted to the dark room, the light from the streets, the shadows lifting their darkness, offering a better view. He's strange-looking. So monstrous, yet so human. A little of both. His skin beneath the fur appears dark brown, horns a light pewter grey. The gold ring in his nose gleams.
I try to be brave. To power through. But Zair can tell I'm struggling. "You can speak, Calista," he says softly.
My eyes widen in surprise. "Are we... I mean, can we break the scene for a second?"
"Of course. Safe word?"
"Lolipop."
