Page 31 of The October Trials

“If you bite, you’ll go back out there with a split lip, and Archon will think you tried to run. Understand?”

I nod. He pulls himself out of me, and tightens the belt chain until my neck stings.

“Use your words. I like them when they’re wrecked.”

“I… I understand.”

“Then be useful, slut.”

And with that, he thrusts forward, filling my mouth once again until I choke. I put my hands on his thighs because I need an anchor and because if I don’t hold something, I’ll float out of myself.

“Fuck. Look at you. Sitting with the others with that little innocent face, and the second I get you alone, you’re choking on my cock like you were made for it.”

He doesn’t let me set a rhythm. He uses the chain to control my head instead. Shallow at first, watching, learning the shape of my mouth, then deeper, fucking in until my eyes water and spit runs hot down my chin.

My jaw starts to ache. My throat burns. I try to close my mouth, just for a second, just to ease the soreness, but the moment I do, Cage’s hand tightens in my hair.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he snarls. “Now.”

I obey immediately, my mouth falling open, and he thrusts in hard, snapping his hips out of control.

“That’s it. Take it,” he grunts. “Good girl, you’re learning to listen.”

A thrill rips through me so sharp I almost moan around him. It horrifies me.

I hate how wet I am. I hate that he probably knows.

He hits the back of my throat, holding, holding, until abstract black flowers burst at the edges of my vision. When he pulls out, I gasp on a rush of air, choking hard enough that spit spills down my chin and connects us in a warm, sloppy mess.

“Christ, you’re dripping.” He thumbs it up, pushing it back past my lips. “Don’t waste it. Not a single fucking drop.”

“Mmmm,” I moan. All my damn inhibitions have gone out the window. I lean into him, chasing his touch, letting him finger fuck my mouth. Then the fingers are gone, and that heavy, pierced length is filling my mouth again.

“This is what you are now.” His hips snap forward. Through gritted teeth, he grunts, “Every time I get you alone, you do what I say and act like my little slut. Do you understand?”

I can’t speak. He’s too far down my throat, too relentless. All I manage is a broken sound that he decides is agreement, and his eyes go dark.

Then he pulls out once again.

I gasp for air, my mouth empty and aching, and before I can process what’s happening, he’s stroking himself, fast and rough, his eyes locked on my face.

“Open,” he commands, and I do.

He comes with a guttural groan, hot ropes of cum painting my face, my cheeks, my lips, my chin. It’s everywhere, warm and thick, and I can taste it on my tongue.

Cage doesn’t give me time to recover. He reaches down, gathering some of the cum from my cheek with his fingers, and pushes it into my mouth.

“Swallow,” he orders.

But he doesn’t stop. He keeps his fingers in my mouth, pushing deeper, pressing down on my tongue, sliding toward the back of my throat. I gag, my hands grabbing his wrist.

“Shh,” he murmurs, his other hand stroking my hair almost gently. “You can take it. You can take anything I give you, right?”

His fingers push deeper, choking me, and I feel tears spill over, my vision blurring. But underneath the panic, underneath the fear, is that same dark thrill.

The knowledge that he could do anything to me in this cramped bathroom and I’d have no choice but to take it.

So that’s what I do.