Gag training

You finish your pancakes, trying to look at the bright side of things. At least they left your poor asshole alone! Since your eighteenth birthday it seems like you can hardly be around anyone with a cock without them violently trying to shove it up your ass. Especially your brother.

As you chew your last bite, you attempt to reform your destroyed ponytail, finding in it a missed bit of Pete's misfired medicine. You lick it up joylessly as you begin walking upstairs towards your father's office. Maybe Dad thought of something fun that doesn't involve stretching out your holes!

You stop in the hallway in front of his office and try to compose yourself before knocking. You sigh, rubbing at the semen stains on your jacket. Everything these days has to do with stretching out your holes. Let's get this over with.

"Come in, sweetie!" You father shouts happily from inside the office as soon as your knuckles hit the door. You slowly enter to see him standing in front of his chair, stiff cock in hand, patting the empty desk in front of him excitedly. "I have plenty of work to do from home today, so I figure we'll work on your gag reflex while I do! Lay down here."

So he just wants to do his job with his cock buried in your throat? You wonder if that's even any different than if you had just gone to work with him anyway. Sounds great. You roll your eyes.

"Aw, come on, dad. It's not that bad! You're just too rough sometimes and too..... big." You retort, feeling awkward about talking about his penis so directly.

"All the more reason it should be me to practice on! Think about how much easier it'll be to take the smaller... uh... donation tools once you're used to me!" He says, slapping his big cock against the desk threateningly. "Have you ever seen your mother gag?"

You reluctantly begin laying on the desk, on your stomach, and open your mouth for him. There's only one way this conversation ever goes, and you need the medicine. It's this or a coma, and the numbers are still dropping every day. Maybe he can teach you not to gag?

Maybe you are turning into an idiot.

"No, no. On your back, pumpkin!" Your father says, still using the opportunity to slip himself into your open mouth anyway. You spit him out to flip on your back. He looks sad, as though he expected you to do a twist without taking him out. You lay your head over the edge, knowing what he plans to do, and he'd just drag you there anyway, probably by the hair.

His cock head slides between your upside down lips, shockingly not driving straight down throat as you figured would happen. You lap at it appreciatively with your tongue, swirling around wildly, hoping to keep it happy enough to not do so in the future.

Your father groans appreciatively, taking a moment to enjoy your enthusiastic mouth work before revealing the reason for his hesitation by beginning to tie your left arm to the handle of a drawer on the desk with a USB cable. You grunt an objection around his dick but make no effort to stop him.

"Awwbb... comb ahm dab... don tie ma ub" [Come on dad, don't tie me up] You attempt to complain without spitting him out, but no longer giving the tongue job.

"I can't get any work done if you're gonna push at me all day," You father says, as though its obvious he would prioritize his job over your safety. He begins tying your other arm to a handle on the other side with another cable. "It's all part of the training! There!"

"Ow ca I ged yo ta stap?" [How can I get you to stop?]

Finished with your restraints, your excited father ignores your question and seems to cease regarding you as human. He uncovers your chest from the loose jacket and paws shamelessly at your moderate sized tits while beginning to finally slide his cock deeper into your throat.

You struggle slightly as pushes farther in, only able to kick your legs and open the desk drawers a bit to protest your father's cruel treatment. He finally stops after popping through the entrance of your throat, causing you to gag for the first time.

He begins using short thrusts at the tightest point to elicit practically one continuous retch, attempting massage it from the inside until you're used to the motion. After what feels like an eternity of useless flailing, you finally calm yourself enough to hold back the gag. Satisfied, he pushes deeper and repeats the micro thrusting every time you start to gag again. Each bout of this treatment pulls more and more of your well churned spit from deep in your throat to cascade further down your upturned face.

Before long he finally comes to a rest at the hilt, his balls laying over your eyes and leaving only a small pocket for you to draw breath under the nose. You blow the saliva clear as well as you can and try to focus on breathing while ignoring the cock stretching out your throat and the pungent smell of his musky testicles, millimeters away.

Your flailing finally begins to stop as you enter a zen like state of pretending to be elsewhere. If he sees you not gagging, he's more likely to think your "training" is complete. Your meditation is only interrupted by your father tweaking your exposed nipples a bit too hard, making you squeak and jump.

Satisfied that you are just calm and not ****, he throbs happily in your throat while massaging the sizable lump on the outside gently with his hand for a few seconds. Finally comfortable, he pulls out his work laptop and opens it on your taunt stomach.

You're unable to really tell what's going on above you, except your father doesn't seem to be paying attention to you any more, and something on your belly is rapidly heating up. He gropes your chest absentmindedly while it boots up, still throbbing himself purposefully rather than thrusting. Is he trying to stretch you out like this, or just having fun?

Either way, it doesn't seem like he's trying to get off any time soon, so you attempt a small complaint and struggle, nearly knocking his laptop off your stomach. He rewards you for this by slamming his pelvis into your face repeatedly, cutting off your breathing and brutalizing you until you calm down.

You blow your nose clean and try to reenter your zen state as your breathing returns and your father starts pulsing again. He begins typing with one hand and groping a tit with the other. Does he plan to do this all day?