…offer to use your mouth.

“Please Don’t! I-I’ll suck you instead!”

The words come out of your mouth like vomit, unbidden, unwanted, and one way or another, they leave a horrible taste in your mouth. His hands freeze on your jacket button as he looks into your eyes. He narrows his own.

“Why would I want my dick in an ole that got teeth in instead o one that don’t?”

It’s a fair question but one that leaves you speechless. You open your mouth once or twice, trying to find an answer. He looks at it briefly as if assessing its uses.

“Errrr...” is the best you can manage. He flicks the button on your jacket open and flicks the leather aside, baring your breasts to him and the night air. “Please! I don’t want to get pregnant!” When convincing lies don’t come, the truth spills out instead. “An-an-and, so, I’ll scream and kick and scratch and, and...”, don’t say bite, don’t say bite, “if you try it, and I’ll make it good for you otherwise. With m-my mouth I mean.”

You never thought you would have to sell the violation of your own mouth to a ****, but it’s preferable to the alternative. Again, he looks into your eyes, judging and weighing probabilities and possibilities with his slightly drunk mind. The moment stretches on in silence; now isn’t the time for talking; even your mind remains quiet.

“Fine.” He sits up, releasing one of your hands and looking about the street, scanning for something. It’s empty of people. Who on this island would help if it wasn’t? You wonder how you can turn the tables on him with your dagger or, if absolutely necessary, with your teeth. You pull your jacket closed over your exposed skin and start planning, panting your mind clear of fog.

Evidently seeing what he was looking for, he stands up and grabs your arm, quickly dragging you to the front of a half collapsed moonlit building. He throws you onto your knees in front of a series of slanted wooden beams and loose stones, picking up a nearby half brick and weighing it in his hands. Seeing your eyes track the heavy stone, he hefts it, explaining calmly.

“I feel teeth, your ead feels rock.”

He lowers his trousers and sits on the pile of beams supported by rubble, roughly the height of a chair one a few stones settle. You consider running, but you know he would just chase you or draw attention. The rock in his hands will make it very difficult to counter him safely, one solid blow to the head and you don’t want to imagine what he would be doing to you when you wake up, if you wake at all.

Lacking any other option, you shuffle forward slightly on your knees until you are before him. Your eyes are drawn to his manhood and you see that it’s soft. Is it meant to be? He sees this too and grabs it, giving it a quick rub.

“Come on damn it! Bloody booze. Why now?” he mutters to himself. Hope blossoms in your chest. Of course, ****! Both the inspirer and the anathema of mans desirers! Perhaps you can simply go? You wait for a moment, watching the strange motion as he is unable to rise himself. When is it polite to do so? The thought is hysterically absurd, but the point is valid; you don’t want to raise his ire instead. You give it a moment before starting a half shuffle backward. His head snaps up, his voice sharply barking.

“Were you goin whore? You owe me a suckin! Get here an do somthin useful for fucks sake!”

He lifts his member up like a floppy tower and gestures towards it with his head. The hand holding the rock twitches, very noticeably, and with a slight whimper you shuffle back towards him.

Leaning your head down to his exposed lap, you are struck with the smell of sweat and other foulness. You play out your escape in your mind; you spring to your feet and he leaps forward; you spring backwards and try to pull your knife but he has the rock already in hand and follows you; you sneak out the dagger, he sees, rock. You play out multiple scenarios in your mind, but your early tussle with him showed you his strength and speed. With his weapon drawn and yours not, there seems little chance of victory, and little in the way of other options. You gulp.

Wondering how one proceeds in such an endeavour, you gingerly lean towards it with your open mouth, sending a few nervous, hot breaths over it in the process. You look up at him, seeing him relish in your ****. He aims his soft member at your mouth and gestures to it again.

Swallowing a little spit and no small amount of pride, you put the limp genitalia into your mouth, easily resting the small length on your tongue. Everything that the smell promised is delivered tenfold in taste, making you gag slightly at its vileness, watering your eyes like cut onions. He lets out a small sigh and watches your discomfort, both in posture and act, eyeing you as you kneel between his legs, holding his foul member in your mouth. The moment stretches on, long and irredeemable, until his expression drops and his harsh gruff words sound.

“Well?...Get suckin!”

You start to suck on him like a baby sucks a teat, applying pressure on his member and swallowing some of its disgusting taste.

“Ahhh, yeah.” He rests a hand on your head, chuckling. “Never thought I’d have to teach an ‘ore to suck dick.”

You continue to suck for about a minute or two, head locked in position and occasionally swallowing a build up of saliva when it forms. You start to feel a change run through the meat as it begins to swell, pushing up your tongue and further into your mouth. You have to pull back just to keep the bulbous head sitting in the middle, and you continue to suck.

New sounds start to move through the man; sighs and gasps and the occasional deep breath coming from above you. He leans back against the wall behind him and briefly closes his eyes. Is now the time? Your hand reaches down to your right thigh, sliding through the pocket to the metal within.

“Hey!”

Your heart stops and you take a sharp intake of rank crotch born air. Looking up, you find beady eyes full of suspicion, glaring back.

“Put them hands up on my hips.” He pats the top of his leg with his free hand, hefting the other, and you follow his instruction. “An move about a bit dam it!”

Unsure how to proceed, you swing your hips from side to side and shuffle about a bit on your knees.

“Gods! You are one dumb fuckin bitch I’ll tell ya that!”

You stop your movements but continue to suck, giving him a glare of your own. It’s not like you’ve done this before! What more can he want from you?!

“Jus keep lookin at me with them big eyes you got.”

You look up into his mutton chopped face, split by the twin bars of thick black hair that run down his jaw. It’s the same colour as hairs that reach up to your mouth, though less tangled. His eyes are slightly green, half closed with drunk pleasure.

“Knew you was an ‘ore the moment I seen ya. Out ear or up there, I knew you was fated for my dick.”

You can feel the hate fill your eyes as you look up at him. The fact that you are currently sucking on his dick like a whore makes it hard to counter, and an even more bitter truth to swallow. He drinks the expression on your face up like so much more strong and heady ****, adding fuel to the fires of lust within him. A moment more of silent sucking later, he raises and eyebrow as a spasm of disgust shivers across your face.

“Wonderin what that taste is? Tonight, I had some other ‘ores puss, an a dip in er shitter an all. Makes sense to end with a mouth.”

The smells in your nose and taste in your mouth remain a mixture of sweat and salt. While he is probably lying, you cannot stop fresh protests spasming from your delicate stomach, forcing you to swallow several times just to keep it down.

“Cleanup whore, ‘s what you are. You sure you don’t want a babe? Bet you’d enjoy it.”

You can see that he is trying to get some kind of a reaction from you, making you angry for some reason.

With your hands on his hips and his dick in your mouth there is little you can do. His fingers tap on the rock in his hand and you continue to suck him up with your mouth, glares still linked over his barrel chest, his of mirth and yours of hate, green eyes meeting grey.

“Mmmm, you even know how to use that mouth? The way you offered, I figure you did it every day, but you can’t even suck good.” His tone suddenly shifts. “Ahhhhh, fuck, yeah look at me bitch! Don’t you dare stop suckin!”

You begin to get light headed with all the pressure you have built up on his dick; through your lips and tongue, you can feel the beating of his heart course through his member, increasing in tempo with each second. You’ve been sucking for what feels like ages now. His sweating and panting indicate that you are close to the end of this long sudo ****, but it’s going to be hard to look at your reflection when this is all over. You remind yourself how this could have gone; better to find it difficult to match your own gaze than have that gaze drawn down to full belly.

A change suddenly runs through him, and he speaks, his voice shaky.

“Am gonna cum! Look, Look me in the eye!”

You continue to stare into his piggy eyes, green as rancid swamp water, and wish **** upon him.

“Ya g-gon swallow! Ahhh! Swallow it all an not stop till I tell ya!”

A squirt of something foul hits the back of your mouth, followed by another and another. Each makes you flinch. The substance slides down and rests on your tongue, introducing itself as a vile, slimy, salty mixture; something you have never tasted before, but somehow know will take a long time to forget.

Following his instructions, you keep on sucking, even as each fresh jet comes out his bell shaped tip. You see the look of ecstasy on his face as he moans his approval. See the pleasure in his eyes as he soils your mouth with his juices. Each spray adds to the last, and when it finally stops, you have a pool in your mouth that swamps your teeth and tongue. He pants like he’s run a great distance before lightly slapping the side of your still sucking face,

“Come on. Whores swallow, so drink it down.”

You had hoped that he wasn’t serious about that particular indignity; that you could somehow covertly spit him into the dirt where he belongs. Another playful slap hits your cheek and you come the closest yet to just biting down, regardless of the consequences. Disgust wrinkles the sides of your eyes as you gather his essence into the back of your mouth and, with great difficulty and great ****, swallow the phlegmy mixture down.

You almost **** on it, your body trying to fight the decision you made, with you silently agreeing with it. Your stomach is in anarchy, desperately wanting to expel the poison.

“Hah Ha! Knew it!” he exclaims breathlessly, “Can’t get enough.”

With your hand on his lap, you could grab the rock, slow it down as you bite… But the damage has been done; why bother. Perhaps sensing your thoughts, he grabs the side of your head, lightly gripping your skull under your tightly pulled hair, and pushes you off his member. It slowly slides out of your mouth, white strands reaching from your lips to its head like a sodden spider web. He holds your head in his hands.

“Did ya enjoy that?”

Before you can answer he manually nods your head up and down, bouncing the white lines like sea ropes holding a bobbing boat to dock. Your hands slide off his lap unnoticed, and he continues his mock conversation,

“Oh? Is it cuz your an ‘ore?” He nods your head again as your hand slides down to your thigh.

“Then say it.”

Your eyes widen, he can’t be serious! You’ve had a long time to calm down; time for your fear to turn to rage; time for you to learn his expressions and tell mocking from instruction. This is the latter.

Your hand is on your thigh, knuckles white around the hilt of your stiletto. This man make you do...that, and now he wants a… a show!? He smiles as he sees the barely concealed rage and revulsion in your eyes, and you try to calm down, to play this smart, to take a moment; what are some words compared to what you have just done? You should say it.

His awful grin raises his chops, wicked, victorious. His hands still grip your head and his eyes look into your own, not your thigh. The rock sits next to him, outside of his grip.

“Say. It.”