Page 8 of Fury

The second day I didn’t even open my mouth.

The third day I ate it, and I got a reward for my good behavior. I got her mouth on me.

“What are you doing—fuck!”

No. Stop. I’m not giving in to you. You are the fucking devil.

But I didn’t want her to stop. I looked forward to her visits. Her voice was slightly deep, and every time she spoke, each word out of her mouth went straight to my dick, making my blood jump in my veins. A turn on and a relief, plain and simple. My flesh began to feel her touch before she even came close. And she came close. I’d eat the bread, and then I’d get her mouth.

I ate the bread the next day and the next.

And the next and the next.

And the next.

All I knew now was the touch of her lips. Their width, their soft thickness, the excruciating pressure they exerted. Her mouth took me all the way in, and I bumped her fucking throat. I wanted as much as I could get. My chained hands tightened into fists as her mouth fucked me, her fingertips digging into my hips, keeping me steady. I had no control over my weakened body any longer. All I knew, all I wanted, was her mouth. I craved that mouth, those sensations only it could give me.

This is what nirvana must feel like. Yeah, this is it.

That bliss was all there was. It was blinding, detonating through me, filling the room.

I barely had the energy to respond to the sliced white bread let alone the peanuts she’d snuck me a couple of times and pushed past my lips and made me chew. But respond I did to that mouth. That mouth owned my body, that tongue offered precious moments of salvation. I was dirty, I smelled foul. But the mouth didn’t care. The mouth provided and gave, gave, gave, and did it so fucking good.

I came, I soared.

Thank you, mouth.

Mouth swallowed my cum, and I was clean. For this one, one moment I was clean, unsoiled, free.

Her hands released me.

No more touch, no more strands of her long hair brushing the skin of my legs, no more hot humid breaths steaming over my skin. Just my naked body, alone, twisting on the damp concrete, chained to the floor, wanting more. So much fucking more.

And only from her.

“Let me...let me...”

She leaned over me. “What? What’d you say?”

“Let me suck on you. Let me touch you, something. Come on. Sit on me, something...”

“No.”

My legs kicked out, searching for her in the dark. “Let me make you come.”

“Why? Why would you want to—”

“I want to. I want to feel you so damn bad. I won’t hurt you. Sit on my hand at least.” No answer. “Hey, are you there?”

“I’m here. How do I know you won’t hurt me?” she asked, that voice was now hushed.

Hurt you? You’re my fucking goddess.

“I’d never hurt you. I want you on me. I want to get you off. I want to taste you. I have to. Fuck my face. Do it.”

They had shot me up with something the first day, a small dose to keep me swiveling. The high was really just a haze of confusion to keep me compliant.

The aftereffects, though, were intense.

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