His hand strayed to the buttons of his trousers and her eyes couldn’t help but follow the movement. In the space of a few heartbeats he had freed his erect penis from his clothing. It was as solid and sturdy as the rest of his muscular form, pale, veined and topped by a ruddy helmet that was slick with evidence of his excitement. Saliva filled her mouth at the sight. Her pussy drooled too, hungry to feel that hardness deep in her belly.
He took a step toward her, brushing the smooth cap over her parted lips. “Open your mouth, whore.”
Olivia needed no encouragement. His rampant cock drew her like a magnet draws iron. Leaning forward, a bit ungainly because of her bonds, she opened wide and engulfed him, halfway to the root. His moan sent shudders of delight through her body. She swirled her tongue over the stretched skin of the head then sucked him deeper, wanting to swallow him whole. He tasted of salt and sweat, a masculine flavour that made her more ravenous than ever.
She pulled back slightly, made a tight O of her lips, then bobbed, running her mouth up and down over the taut, silky skin.
“You’re a clever little slut,” Andrew muttered through gritted teeth. “I’ll wager this isn’t your first time eating a man’s prick.” He wound his fingers into her hair and held her head still. “Open!” Jerking his hips, he drove his cock down her throat with bruising force.
The onslaught stole her breath. Before she could adjust, he pulled back then thrust again. She choked as his cock slammed into her palate and would have squirmed away had he had not held her head fast.
As he pistoned in and out of her mouth, he tugged at her chestnut locks, positioning her like some inanimate doll in order to increase his pleasure. The pins loosened and her hair tumbled down her back, tangling in the ropes that secured her arms. A few strands caught in her mouth, where they were soon soaked with saliva and his copious pre-cum.
He continued, relentless, until her lips grew sore and her jaw ached, but she never considered asking him to stop. His thrusts became ragged. Tiny contractions rippled along his cock as he approached his peak. Her own arousal increased in synchrony, though she had no stimulation other than the taste and the smell of him, the slide of his hardness over her tongue.
She knew he was close, yet his final explosion surprised her. He swelled for an instant against her tongue, impossibly hard, and bitter fluid flooded her mouth. She gulped it down, to show him how eager a slut she could be, but he pulled his cock from her lips, spattering her cheeks and tangled hair with fresh dollops of spunk. The bright shame of it brought her still closer to the edge.
He released his grip on her hair. She leaned forward, off-balance, to press her lips against his softening organ. She hoped he could read the reverence in her gesture, that he would see how grateful she was for his use of her, how very glad she was to be herself at last.
Andrew gave a satisfied chuckle. “Well done, Olivia. I believe you have a natural aptitude for this sort of game.” Crouching in front of her, he kissed her bruised lips. He tasted like milk tea and tobacco, simultaneously sweet and harsh. She’d never get enough of his flavour. His tongue wormed its way into her mouth, agile and demanding. Can he taste his own jism? she wondered as she opened herself to his explorations. The filthy notion ramped her excitement higher still.
Down on one knee now, still plundering her mouth, he clutched her to his chest. He fingered the ropes behind her back, the bonds that marked her as his slave. His closeness dizzied her. Could I climax from just his kiss?Back to Books