Time to suck some real cock

The rhythmic smack of Lily's palm landing on John's bare ass filled the cluttered bedroom. He was bent over the unmade bed, the cheap lace of the panties Lily had **** him into digging into his hips, the stale scent of dried urine and sweat clinging to his skin like a shroud. The pink, slightly frayed wig she’d shoved onto his head hours earlier had slipped forward, tickling his forehead. Each spank echoed, a sharp punctuation to his ragged breathing.

"Higher," Lily commanded, her voice sharp and utterly without empathy. She wore thigh-high patent leather boots over fishnets, a tight black vinyl corset that pushed her breasts up, and held a coiled black leather flogger she hadn’t used yet. He flinched, arching his back, presenting his ass more fully. Smack! "That’s better. Keep it up, bitch. Chris’s running late, and I need to work off some frustration."

Her palm cracked down again, harder, lighting a fresh fire across his already stinging flesh. The humiliation was a physical weight, pressing him into the mattress. He’d begged, just an hour ago, **** as the reality of Chris’s impending arrival sank in.

"Lily, please," he’d gasped, eyes wide with panic, gesturing at his soiled lingerie, his unwashed body. "A shower. Just one. Chris… he’ll smell me. Please."

She’d laughed, a short, cruel bark, while adjusting the cheap synthetic wig on his head, tugging it hard to secure it. "Smell you?" She’d sneered. "Chris lost his sense of smell in a stupid chemistry lab accident freshman year, you pathetic worm. He blew up a beaker and fried his olfactory nerves. He can’t smell anything. Sunshine, roses, your disgusting filth… it’s all just fucking air to him. Now shut up and keep the wig straight. I need it to feel right." The revelation had been another gut-punch, stripping away his last, flimsy shield. His degradation was purely for Lily’s satisfaction and his own agonizing, unwelcome arousal.

Now, bent over, his reddened ass stinging, he felt the traitorous heat coiling low in his belly again, mingling with the pain and shame. Each spank sent a jolt through him, the plug inside him shifting, pressing against that newly discovered, terrible spot. He bit his lip, trying to stifle a moan that wasn’t entirely born of pain.

A sudden, heavy knock on the apartment door shattered the rhythm. Lily froze, her hand hovering mid-air.

"Shit," she muttered, her stern expression snapping into a sultry pout. "Early. Or late. Whatever. Get down." She grabbed John roughly by the arm and shoved him hard. He stumbled, crashing to his knees behind the bed, wedged into the narrow space between the mattress and the wall, hidden from the door. Dust bunnies tickled his bare knees. "Not a sound," she hissed, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Not one fucking whimper, or I swear to god, John, your life is over." She smoothed her corset, fluffed her own dark hair, and sauntered out of the bedroom, closing the door most of the way.

John heard the apartment door open. "Babe!" Chris's voice, warm, slightly breathless. "Traffic was a shitshow."

"Tell me about it," Lily purred, her voice transformed, honey-sweet with a playful lilt. "I was starting to think you stood me up." The sound of a kiss, wet and lingering. "Mmm, like the outfit?"

"Hell yes," Chris breathed. "You look fucking incredible. Like a sexy, scary librarian."

Lily’s laugh tinkled. "Flatterer. Come on, I’ve got a surprise all set up." Their footsteps approached the bedroom. John pressed himself flatter against the wall, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He could smell Lily’s cloying perfume as she passed the door, followed by Chris’s familiar scent of cheap cologne and laundry detergent. They entered the room. John saw their legs move past the gap under the bed.

"Blindfold?" Chris asked, his tone eager, trusting.

"Of course," Lily replied, the playful lilt still there, layered over steel. "Part of the surprise. Lie back on the bed. Head on the pillow."

The bedsprings creaked as Chris settled onto the mattress, directly above where John was hidden. John heard the rustle of fabric, the soft click of a buckle. "Okay," Chris sighed. "Dark as fuck. What now, Mistress Lily?" He sounded amused, aroused, completely unsuspecting.

"Now," Lily said, her voice dropping lower, rougher, "you relax and enjoy." Her boots clicked on the floorboards as she moved around the bed. John saw her feet stop near the headboard. He held his breath. A hand gripped his arm – not gently – and hauled him up from his hiding place. His knees protested. Lily shoved him forward, positioning him between Chris’s spread legs. Chris’s jeans were already unzipped, his cock, thick and already half-hard, straining against his black boxer briefs. The scent of clean cotton and Chris’s skin hit John’s nostrils, cutting through his own stale stink. Lily’s hand, cold from the vinyl of her corset, pressed firmly on the back of John’s wig-covered head.

"You know what to do, slut," she breathed directly into John’s ear, her voice a serpent’s whisper. "Make it good. Or else."

John stared at the bulge in Chris’s underwear, his vision blurring with panic. The wig’s synthetic strands brushed his neck. He thought of Lily’s video, the dildo, the hours of humiliating practice. The plug shifted inside him as he trembled. He felt Lily’s nails dig into his scalp, a silent, painful command. Do it.

With a whimper he couldn’t suppress, John leaned forward. His hands, clumsy with terror, fumbled at the waistband of Chris’s briefs. He pulled them down just enough, freeing Chris’s cock. It sprang out, fully erect now, thick and heavy, the head slick with pre-cum. It looked terrifyingly real, intimidatingly large compared to the silicone he was used to. Lily’s fingers twisted in the wig, mimicking a grip on her own hair, and pushed.

The hot, blunt head bumped against John’s lips. He tasted salt and skin. He hesitated, his throat locking. Lily shoved harder, brutally. John gasped, his mouth opening involuntarily, and the head slid in. Chris groaned above him, a deep, satisfied rumble. "Fuck, babe… that’s it…"

The sound, directed at him, sent a fresh wave of nauseating shame through John. Lily’s grip tightened, grinding the wig cap against his scalp. She **** his head down, impaling him deeper. The thick shaft stretched his lips, filled his mouth, bumped the back of his throat. He gagged, eyes watering. "Swallow it, bitch," Lily hissed. "Take it all."

John fought the reflex, breathing harshly through his nose, tears streaming down his cheeks as Lily relentlessly pushed, forcing Chris’s cock deeper down his throat. His jaw ached instantly. He could feel every vein, the pulsing heat. Chris moaned again, his hips lifting slightly off the bed, pushing further into the wet heat. "Shit… shit, Lily… so deep…"

John choked, saliva flooding his mouth, dripping down Chris’s shaft onto his balls. He tried to remember the technique – the tongue swirl, the suction. He managed a weak flick against the underside, heard Chris’s sharp intake of breath. Encouraged by the sound, Lily pressed down harder. "Suck it," she ordered. "Like you mean it. Like you’re fucking starved for it."

John hollowed his cheeks, trying to suck, bobbing his head slightly under Lily’s iron control. The friction, the heat, the sheer violation of it was overwhelming, yet his own cock, confined in the soaked lace panties, throbbed insanely. The plug inside him felt huge, insistent. Chris’s groans grew louder, more urgent. "Yeah… fuck, babe… just like that… use that filthy mouth… gonna cum…"

Panic surged through John. He didn’t want Chris’s cum. He tried to pull back, but Lily held him fast, grinding his face into Chris’s groin. "Swallow it, cocksucker," she snarled. "Every fucking drop."

Chris’s body tensed. A guttural groan tore from his throat. Hot, salty spurts hit the back of John’s throat. He gagged violently, trying to pull away, but Lily held him mercilessly in place as Chris pumped his release deep down John’s throat. It was thick, bitter. John choked, tears streaming as he was **** to swallow convulsively, the warm fluid coating his tongue, his throat, the taste of Chris’s climax mixing with his own silent sobs.

Chris went limp, breathing heavily. "Jesus, Lily…" he panted, still blindfolded. "That was… you’ve been practicing."

Lily finally released John’s head, letting him pull back, gasping and coughing, strings of saliva and cum connecting his lips to Chris’s softening cock. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trembling violently. Lily patted his wig roughly. "Good girl," she murmured, her voice dripping with false sweetness audible only to John. Then, louder, for Chris: "Oh, I’m just getting started with you, big boy. You took that honey pack I left out for you, right?"

Chris’s breath, still ragged from his orgasm, rasped in the small room. "Yeah," he managed, a lazy grin spreading under the blindfold. "The honey pack? Chugged it right before I walked in. Tasted weirdly sweet, kinda herbal." He stretched, muscles taut beneath his t-shirt, completely unaware of John trembling on his knees beside the bed, cum and spit slick on his chin, the cheap pink wig askew. "Why? That part of the kink?"

Lily’s smile was a predator’s show of teeth, invisible to Chris, starkly visible to John. "Oh, absolutely, baby," she purred, her voice thick with dark promise. She sidled closer to the bed, her vinyl corset creaking faintly. Her fingers, sharp with nails like talons, traced the fading bite marks on John’s shoulder from her earlier 'training', making him flinch. "That little booster’s gonna make this next part so much better. For you." Her eyes locked onto John’s terrified ones. "For me too, in a way."

She leaned over Chris, deliberately pressing her large ass against John’s face as she did so, grinding the synthetic wig fibers into his skin. "I want you inside me again, Chris," she breathed, her voice dropping to a husky whisper laden with false desire. "But first… I need your cock back in my mouth. I need you to use it."

Chris groaned, his semi-soft cock twitching back to life against his thigh. "Fuck, Lily. You’re insatiable tonight."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, shifting her weight, forcing John’s nose deeper into the cleft of her vinyl-clad ass. The smell of leather and her sweat filled his nostrils, mingling nauseatingly with his own stench. "But this time," she continued, her tone turning commanding, "I want you to take control. Hard." She grasped Chris’s wrists, pulling his hands up.

Lily guided Chris’s hands upward until his fingers tangled roughly in the synthetic pink strands covering John’s skull. "Listen close, baby," she commanded, her voice a low purr vibrating against John’s temple as she pressed his face harder into her ass. "I want you to fuck my mouth. Hard. Rougher than last time. Grab my hair like you own it." She emphasized the last words by grinding her vinyl-clad ass against John’s nose, making him gag on the scent of leather and her sweat. "Ram that cock down my throat until I ****. Until I pass out from how hard you’re using me. Can you do that for me?"

Chris’s **** laugh was guttural, eager. "Fuck yeah, I can. Always wanted to wreck that pretty mouth." His fingers tightened violently in the wig, yanking John’s head back so sharply that vertebrae cracked. John cried out, the sound muffled against Lily’s curves. "Ready to be my fuck-toy, Lily?" Chris growled, completely oblivious.

Before John could brace himself, Lily shoved him forward with brutal ****. His knees scraped across the floorboards as he lurched into Chris’s lap. Chris’s free hand clamped onto the back of the wig like a vise. "Open wide, slut," he snarled, his voice thick with the honey pack’s influence. The thick, flared head of Chris’s cock slammed against John’s lips, smearing pre-cum. John instinctively clenched his jaw.

Lily’s heel dug into the base of John’s spine. "Suck it or I’ll break your fucking teeth," she hissed. John whimpered, parting his lips. Chris didn’t wait. He shoved his cock inside, the blunt head stretching John’s mouth wide, scraping teeth. He didn’t stop. He pushed deeper, the thick shaft forcing its way down John’s throat without preamble. John’s eyes bulged. Air vanished.

Chris started fucking. Hard, piston-like thrusts that hammered the back of John’s throat. "**** on it!" Chris roared, his hips pistoning. "****, you filthy whore!" John gagged violently, thick ropes of spit and bile splattering Chris’s thighs. Tears flooded his vision. Each brutal thrust crushed his windpipe, his throat muscles spasming wildly around the invading flesh. He couldn’t breathe. Black spots danced behind his eyelids.

Lily crouched beside them, watching John’s face turn purple, his body convulsing as he felt cartilage strain. His lungs burned, screaming for oxygen that wouldn’t come. Chris’s balls slapped wetly against John’s chin. "That’s it, bitch!" Chris grunted, sweat dripping from his chin onto John’s forehead. "Take it! Swallow my fucking dick!"

The relentless pounding vibrated through John’s skull. He felt the cockhead battering his esophagus, each thrust a hammer blow. His vision tunneled. The plug inside him shifted sharply with his convulsions, rubbing against that raw, sensitized spot. A traitorous jolt of electric pleasure shot through his groin, merging with the agony of suffocation. His cock strained against the soaked lace, leaking. The humiliation, the pain, the terrifying lack of air, and the sickening friction of the plug collided.

"Gonna cum down this throat!" Chris bellowed, his thrusts becoming erratic, brutal. His grip on the wig tightened, knuckles white. John’s body went limp, consciousness flickering. Just before the darkness swallowed him completely, he felt the hot, pulsing throb deep in his throat.

The thick, bitter flood hit the back of John’s throat just as the edges of his vision dissolved into static. Consciousness slipped, pulled under by suffocation and the overwhelming violation. A stinging crack exploded across his cheekbone, snapping his head sideways. Stars burst behind his eyelids. Lily’s handprint burned.

"Swallow it, you useless cumslut!" Lily snarled, her voice a vicious whisper inches from his ear. She grabbed his jaw, her nails digging into his skin, forcing his mouth back onto Chris’s still-pulsing cock. "Every fucking drop! Don’t you dare waste it!"

John choked, gagging on the viscous fluid coating his tongue, the metallic tang mixed with salt and the sourness of his own bile. He swallowed convulsively, the hot seed burning a path down his raw throat as Lily’s grip held him mercilessly in place. Tears streamed freely, mixing with spit and cum smeared across his chin and the pink wig askew on his head. Chris groaned above him, a deep, satisfied rumble, his hips giving a final shallow thrust.

Lily yanked John’s head back, the sudden absence of Chris’s cock leaving John gasping, shuddering, his throat searing. She leaned over him towards the bed, her own breathing deliberately loud and ragged, a performance just for Chris. "Fuck, baby," she gasped, her voice thick with feigned exhaustion. "You wrecked me. Couldn’t… couldn’t breathe. So fucking deep." Her hand brushed Chris’s thigh.

Chris chuckled under his blindfold, his **** voice thick and sluggish. "Told you I’d fuck that throat properly." He shifted, his semi-hard cock, impossibly, already beginning to swell again against John’s cheek. "That honey pack shit you gave me… feels like fucking rocket fuel. Usually tapped out after one. Now? Feels like I can go for hours. Never lost my hard-on that fast before either. What was in that?"

Lily’s smile was pure venom as she met John’s terrified, tear-filled eyes. She ran her fingers possessively down Chris’s chest. "Just a little… herbal blend, sugar. Something to boost your stamina. Keep you hard as titanium. Lets you cum like a fucking racehorse, one after another." She trailed a sharp nail down Chris’s stomach towards his cock. "And I want all that stamina right now. I need it in my ass."