Just a tongue

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MICHELLE

I didn’t know her name.

I didn’t know who she was, or where I was, or how I got here.

The last thing I remembered was standing in a dark doorway, and now I was on my knees with my face buried in a stranger’s dripping cunt.

A woman.

A woman I had never seen before in my entire life, yet I was servicing her like a cheap, obedient whore.

Her thick, muscular thighs were clamped around my head, her heavy, musky scent flooding my nostrils, and my tongue was moving against her swollen, pulsing clit.

How?

How did I get here?

I tried to scream, to push myself away from the fleshy, raw heat of her crotch.

Nothing came out.

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t beg, couldn’t even ask the simplest, most desperate question.

Why?

Why is this happening to me?

The woman above me let out a low, throaty moan, her hips grinding forward to mash her wet slit against my lips.

"Oh, fuck," she groaned, her fingers twitching wildly on the leopard-print armrests of her cheap throne. "You’ve got a wicked tongue, wifey."

I wanted to bite her.

I wanted to sink my teeth into her soft, vulvar flesh, tear it apart, and run away screaming.

But my tongue kept lapping.

Kept circling.

Kept worshipping.

God, I’m so pathetic.

I was a feminist.

I was a strong, proud woman who believed in female autonomy, in dignity, in the absolute sanctity of my own body.

And now I was a tongue.

Just a wet, mindless, obedient tool stuck between a stranger’s legs.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

If I couldn’t see, maybe I could pretend.

Maddy.

I imagined it was Maddy.

My beautiful, soft wife, with her gentle thighs and the way she gasped when my tongue found that perfect, sensitive spot.

I pictured her face, her sweet smile, and the way she whimpered my name when she came.

It helped.

Just a little.

The guilt still clawed at my chest like a rabid animal, but I pushed my tongue deeper, pretending the salty, raw tang of this stranger’s juices was hers.

I’m so sorry, Maddy.

I’m cheating on you.

Again.

With a woman.

With a complete stranger.

With someone whose name I don’t even know.

But then a small, broken, defeated part of my brain whispered the ugly truth.

You’ve done so much worse.

You moaned Jack's name while he creampied you on a public bench.

You stood by while he treated your sister like a dog.

You let that one whore spit his warm cum onto your face.

You’re a fucking traitor, Michelle.

This?

This is nothing.

I almost laughed.

A bitter, silent, hysterical laugh trapped behind my sealed lips.

A little pussy licking.

Compared to everything else Jack had put me through, this was practically a coffee date.

I opened my eyes, blinking through my messy hair.

I glanced to the side, toward the other throne.

Toward him.

Jack.

He was sitting there like a king on his cheap, ugly golden chair, his legs spread wide.

And between his legs was the other woman.

The black-haired one.

The one with the literal murder in her eyes.

She had his cock in her mouth.

That cock.

That massive, thick, monstrous cock that had ruined my life.

That had broken my marriage, my dignity, my entire sense of self.

She was sucking it.

And from the look on Jack’s face, she was incredibly good at it.

His jaw was clenched.

His knuckles were white against the armrests.

His eyes were glassy and unfocused.

Even from here, I could see how much the black-haired woman hated doing it.

Good, I thought viciously.

Choke on it.

Choke on the massive, pulsing thing that destroyed me.

Suck the very soul right out of him.

But then, a wave of possessive, sick jealousy washed over me.

Why did I care?

Why did it bother me that another woman was sucking my ex-husband’s dick?

I HATE HIM.

I HATE HIS COCK.

"Faster, Michelle!" Jack suddenly roared, his voice tight, strained, and raw with rising lust. "Suck her dry! Don't let up for a single second!"

My tongue obeyed before my brain could even register the command.

Faster.

Circles.

Suck.

Flick.

I hated how good I was at this.

Years with Maddy.

Years of learning every secret, every rhythm, every way to make a woman fall completely apart.

And now I was using all of it.

On a stranger.

For him.

All these years, I thought he hated me for finding my true self as a lesbian.

Now he wanted me to be the best damn lesbian on the planet just to win his sick game.

The woman’s thighs began to tremble against my cheeks.

I could feel it.

The tension.

The build.

The way her whole body was coiling like a tight spring.

She was getting close.

I knew this dance.

I knew these signs.

A few more minutes.

Maybe less.

I could make her cum.

I could make her shatter.

And some sick, twisted, broken part of me felt proud about it.

What is wrong with me?

Why does winning this feel important?

Why do I want to make Jack happy?

NO.

No, I don’t.

I hate him.

I HATE him.

I pressed my face deeper, my nose grinding against her pubic bone, my tongue working her clit in tight, relentless circles.

The woman cried out.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, you little—!”

But then she caught herself.

She let out a shaky, deep breath, regaining control through sheer force of will.

She gripped the gold armrests like a woman holding onto a cliff edge.

She was fighting it.

Whoever cums first... loses.

It was a race.

A disgusting, degrading, perverse race to orgasm.

The woman with her wet clit against my teeth tilted her head back and barked to her side.

“Chloe!” she snapped, her voice strained and panting. “Use your throat! Take him deeper!”

"Swallow him to the root, like you did with our whole hometown!"

The black-haired woman—Chloe—pulled back for a second, gasping for air.

For a moment she just kneeled there, still, giving the British woman a murderous glare.

“Piss… off,” she finally let out, her voice surprisingly weak and uncertain.

The dominant British woman’s eyes changed.

There was a mad, wild gleam in them.

“Oh yeah? How about I piss down your throat?" she snarled. “I wanted to spare my dear old sis from that, but if she keeps being difficult…”

She almost lost her concentration right then, because I suddenly pushed my tongue deep inside her wet, warm hole.

The flame in Chloe’s eyes died in mere moments.

She looked defeated.

Then she dove back down.

I watched, transfixed, as she slowly swallowed Jack’s entire length.

Her nose pressed against his stomach.

Her throat bulging with the thickness of him.

Jack’s whole body jerked.

“Fuck!” he hissed, his hips bucking up off the seat.

Yes.

Yes, get him.

Make him lose.

I didn’t even know why I cared who won.

I just knew I wanted Jack to be the one who broke.

I wanted to see his arrogant face crumble.

I wanted him to be the loser for once.

The woman above me must have sensed Jack’s struggle, because she pressed her advantage immediately.

“That’s it, sister,” she growled down at Chloe. “Hum on it. Vibrate your throat around him.”

"Make him feel it in his bones."

I still couldn’t believe that they were sisters.

How could somebody do something like this with their own sibling?

I mean, me and Janice are norm—

No.

I better not finish that thought.

Jack’s voice cut through the room, low, dangerous, and cracking with desperation.

“Michelle.”

I froze, my tongue hovering inside the wet slit.

“Pick up the pace,” he commanded. “Finish the job. RIGHT NOW.”

My body responded instantly, helplessly, completely.

I attacked her pussy with everything I had.

My tongue became a frenzy.

I sucked her clit between my lips, flicking it rapidly, then plunged my tongue inside her, fucking her with it, then back to her clit.

The woman screamed.

“OH! Oh, you fucking cunt!”

Her thighs slammed shut around my head, trapping me, suffocating me in her wet, suffocating heat.

She was right there.

Right on the edge of a massive climax.

I could taste it.

I could feel her pulsing against my tongue.

One more push.

One more flick.

“NO!” she snarled, ripping herself back from the precipice through sheer, brutal willpower. “Not yet. Not fucking yet.”

She panted heavily above me, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat.

Then she retaliated.

“Chloe!” she barked, her voice shaking. “His balls! Lick his balls!”

"Use your chin, rub his shaft with your chin! And lick!"

"Tease that sensitive spot underneath the head!"

I felt the woman’s juices drip down my chin, hot and thick.

Remember.

It’s Maddy.

It’s just Maddy.

I kept pretending, kept lapping, but the fantasy was impossible to keep up anymore.

This wasn’t Maddy.

Maddy was soft.

Maddy was love.

Maddy was home.

This was war.

I was a soldier in a war I never enlisted for, fighting for a general I despised.

In the throne next to us, Chloe was following her sister’s instructions to the letter.

Her tongue dragged along the underside of Jack’s cock, then swirled around the swollen head, then dipped lower to bathe his heavy balls.

Jack made a strangled, pathetic sound.

His thighs were shaking now.

Actually shaking.

He was losing.

He’s losing!

A surge of vicious, triumphant glee shot through me.

But of course he held on, like the stubborn devil he was.

He gritted his teeth, took a sharp, ragged breath, and fired back.

“Michelle,” he growled, his voice breaking. “Your tongue... curl it... find that spot. The rough patch inside. You know exactly where it is."

"Hit it. Over and over. And... and... Shit! I don’t know fuck all about pussylicking! THIS SHOULD BE YOUR EXPERTISE, GET IT DONE YOU LESBIAN CUNT!!”

He really didn’t know anything about it.

It felt like a lifetime ago, but he had once had his tongue inside me.

And he had absolutely no clue what he was doing.

I could always tell he hated doing it, too.

Which, admittedly, had given me a sick pleasure back then, forcing him to do it.

I plunged my tongue deep inside the woman and curled it upward, searching, and found the swollen, spongy ridge of her G-spot.

There.

This is where I would launch my final assault.

I battered it.

I assaulted her internally, relentlessly, while my upper lip ground against her clit.

Every inch of my mouth was weaponized to make this woman explode.

The woman’s composure completely shattered.

“FUCK! Fuck, fuck, fuck—!” she babbled, her hips bucking wildly, riding my face like a wild animal.

She was so close.

But so was Jack.

It was a stalemate of pure, desperate, sexual torture.

Two dominant monsters, sitting on their thrones, white-knuckling their own orgasms while using their slaves as weapons against each other.

I was nothing but ammunition.

A tongue.

A tool.

A thing.

And the worst part?

My own pussy was dripping.

Soaking.

Aching.

Throbbing with a desperate, heavy heat.

Of course it was.

Of course my traitorous, broken body was getting off on this.

On the degradation.

On the dominance.

On being used.

I didn’t used to be like this.

But these last few weeks have completely shattered me.

I’m so wet I could scream.

But… I knew it was a heat that only Jack’s cock could extinguish.

And I hated, hated, HATED him for that.

No, I hated myself.

I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself.

“Deeper, Chloe!” the woman shrieked, abandoning all pretense of composure. “Gag on it!”

"Let him feel your throat constrict! Tears in your eyes, I want you to choke and sputter out his babies!"

Chloe slammed her face down on Jack’s cock.

I heard the wet, choking gag.

I saw the tears of pain and humiliation streaming down her cheeks.

And Jack’s face.

Oh, his face.

His arrogant, smug mask was finally cracking wide open.

His mouth fell open.

His eyes rolled back.

His hands gripped the armrests so hard I thought the cheap wood might actually splinter.

“Don’t—” he choked out. “Don’t you dare—”

He was talking to himself.

He was begging his own body not to betray him.

YES, I screamed internally.

YES!

CUM!

CUM, YOU BASTARD!

BLOW YOUR LOAD AND LOSE!

The woman above me sensed it too.

“He’s close!” she cackled triumphantly, even as her own body trembled on the very brink of explosion. “FINISH HIM!”

Chloe obeyed the command.

She hollowed her cheeks and sucked with everything she had left.

Her head bobbed furiously.

Jack threw his head back.

His whole body went rigid.

And I watched.

I watched the exact moment he lost.

“FUCK!” he roared.

His hips snapped upward, driving his cock deep into Chloe’s throat.

He came.

I could see it.

The way his abdomen clenched.

The way Chloe’s throat worked, swallowing convulsively, gulping down everything he pumped into her.

She gagged, her face turning red.

A thick trickle of white semen escaped the corner of her stretched lips.

But she swallowed.

She swallowed all of it.

…I don’t think anybody had ordered her to do that.

Jack came down her throat, his body shuddering through wave after wave of release.

He lost.

HE LOST!

I felt a wild, hysterical joy explode in my chest.

He broke first.

The mighty Jack Dingle, undone by a blowjob.

By his own monstrous, greedy cock.

Serves you right.

Serves you fucking right, you—

Wait, why was I so happy about watching him blowing a load inside another woman’s mouth?

THIS WAS INSANE!!!

The woman above me let out a sound I will never forget.

A scream of pure, unhinged, triumphant ecstasy.

“YESSS!” she howled. “I WON! I FUCKING WON! ONE POINT FOR DAPHNE, BABY!"

And then her hands shot down.

She grabbed two fistfuls of my hair.

She yanked my face up, then slammed it back down, grinding my entire face against her dripping cunt.

“Now my turn, you beautiful little dyke!” she snarled.

She didn’t have to hold back anymore.

The contest was over.

She had won.

And now her body was free to detonate.

She crushed my face into her pussy, my nose mashed against her clit, my mouth sealed over her hole.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t move.

I was drowning.

“OH GOD! OH FUCK! HERE IT COMES!” she screamed.

Her thighs locked like an iron vise around my skull.

Her entire body convulsed.

And then she squirted.

She came so violently that a hot, thick torrent of fluid gushed against my face.

It soaked me.

It flooded my mouth.

It dripped down my chin and neck.

It was everywhere.

In my eyes.

Up my nose.

Streaming down my cheeks.

She held me there, grinding her clit against my face, riding out her orgasm, drenching me in wave after wave of her release.

I gagged.

I sputtered.

I tried to pull back, but her grip on my hair was iron.

“Drink it!” she howled. “Drink every fucking drop, you beautiful little cuntlicker! You’ve earned it!”

I had no choice.

I swallowed what I could.

The rest poured down my face like a baptism in absolute shame.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her orgasm subsided.

Her grip on my hair loosened.

She shoved my face away, and I collapsed backward onto the step of her throne.

I was gasping, my face dripping, my chest heaving.

I wiped at my eyes with the back of my sticky hand, trying to clear my vision.

My whole face was coated.

Slick and wet and reeking of a stranger’s intense pleasure.

I looked up.

The woman was lounging back in her throne, a satisfied, vicious grin on her face, her chest still rising and falling.

“That,” she panted, “was bloody magnificent.”

Jack sat slumped in his throne.

His softening cock was still hanging out, glistening with Chloe’s saliva and the remnants of his own cum.

Chloe knelt before him, wiping her mouth, looking oddly…. Proud?

And Jack... Jack looked devastated.

His face was pale.

His jaw was tight.

He was staring at the floor, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

He lost.

I should have felt triumphant.

But I didn’t.

He lost, and somehow, that meant something terrible.

I didn’t fully understand the rules of this nightmare, but I knew, deep in my gut, that Jack losing was very, very bad for me.

---

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