Jan. Week 3: Tuesday--Leah insists on swallowing...(Luck: -10)

Leah tried to hide her shiver of disgust as she stared at the wall behind Officer Roberts’ head. His cocky, predatory eyes watched her every move, shark-like and unblinking. She **** a flat, businesslike tone into her voice, as if she were negotiating a contract dispute, not giving up another sliver of her dignity.

“I don’t have time for a full--production. Why don’t I just swallow?” Leah asked, her lips curling in a half-sneer, half-supplication. The idea of ending the ordeal quickly, discreetly, with as little evidence as possible, gave her a whisper of control. She could feel the bile rising in her throat at the thought, but she preferred that to giving him the satisfaction of using her like a cum rag. Officer Roberts grinned, making a show of considering it.

“Swallow, huh? That’s a good offer. Saves me some clean up too, I suppose. Or maybe you just prefer the taste? Didn’t swallow enough of Mr. Howard’s cum this week?”

“Can we just do this?” Leah rolled her eyes.

“Just make it worth it.” he sneered.

Leah’s mind splintered into two parallel tracks: one, outwardly calm, moving through the steps of compliance; the other, a screaming internal monologue bristling with rage and humiliation. She couldn’t let the first voice crack. “Fine. Whatever gets this over with,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed just above his shoulder.

“Look at you. Always volunteering. They should put your face on a recruitment poster,” quipped Roberts splaying his legs wide in invitation. “Come here and put that mouth to work.”

She moved in front of him. She knelt, feeling the cold, institutional tile bite into her knees. He watched her struggle, savoring her discomfort.

Leah yanked his zipper down and freed his cock, trying to pretend it was just another unpleasant chore, like scrubbing vomit out of carpet after a pep rally. She spat lightly on her hand and wrapped it around his shaft, refusing to look at his face as she worked the head with the practiced, dispassionate movements of a woman who just wanted to finish and move on.

Roberts groaned in approval as he threaded his fingers through her hair, forcing her mouth lower.

“That’s it, princess. Gag on it like you mean it.”

She had learned early in life that men like him didn’t want tears or pleas; they wanted performance. Leah relaxed her jaw, opened wide, and took him deep, letting him guide the pace. He was thick and tasted of sweat and salt, the tang of unwashed flesh and evil intentions. She tried not to think about where he’d been, who else’s secrets he’d devoured before hers.

For a moment, she retreated into her mind, into a quiet zone where she was untouchable, just a bystander watching her own degradation play out on CCTV. She focused on the sounds in the room—the hum of the fluorescent lights, the wet slurp of her own lips, the barely-stifled grunts as Roberts **** her head down, over and over. Time dilated, each second a bead of sweat crawling down the back of her neck.

“Let’s see some enthusiasm,” he taunted, thrusting obscenely as his cock battered the back of her throat. “You can do better than that. Where’s that teacher’s pet spirit?”

When she felt him swell and twitch, Leah braced herself for the inevitable. Roberts yanked her hair, pulling her off just enough to sneer.

“You want it? Beg for it.” He stood up, domineeringly over her.