The Blowjob 9

The plastic dildo stood menacingly erect on the coffee table. He shifted his weight on the couch as he stared across at me. It was hard to tell, from the impassive look on his face, what he was thinking. But I knew what he wanted, expected me to do.

I slowly lowered myself to kneel on the hardwood floor, making sure not to take my eyes away from his. Trying not to think about how completely naked I was, my entire body bare and on display. It didn't make any difference to him, whether I was clothed or not. But he knew that it mattered to me, exposed and vulnerable, hands behind my back and baring everything for him to see. It was hard to say, if I was grateful or not that he hadn't tied them there. Hard to say, if it was more or less humiliating, knowing that he didn't have to.

I kept my hands pinned against the small of my back I shuffled awkwardly forward. Pushing my chest out as far as I could. Caught my breath as the naked flesh pressed into the cold glass table.

The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. He didn't like to be kept waiting.

I leaned forward, bringing my head down towards the waiting dildo. Wrapped my lips around it, taking it in until it filled out my entire mouth. I closed my eyes. Took a breath and tried to relax. Pushed down as far as I could go, wishing more than anything that it was his forcing him way into me instead of this unfeeling plastic.

I did my best. Ignored the pain. Focused on keeping my back arced, and lifting my hips, spreading myself out and feeling the wet desire trickling down my thighs. Taking the dildo into myself time and time again. Doing my best to show him how far I was willing to go for him. Wondering what else I could do to please him, to entertain him, to make him want me even half as much as I wanted him.

How wonderful it would be, to have him inside me. Anywhere inside me, anywhere at all, anywhere he chose. I would welcome him, I would do anything, anything for him...

All he had to do was touch me, and I would melt for him...

I winced as I felt a hand moving through my hair. Held back a whimper as it grabbed tightly onto me, pulling my head up before forcing me back down again. Again and again, forcing me to fuck my own throat on the unyielding dildo.

As best as I could, I tried to smile. Relaxed, and let the plastic continue its invasion of me. There was no question of resisting.

What was it that he got from this? What pleasure did he derive, forcing this inanimate plastic further and further into me? The dildo didn't feel any pleasure. I didn't feel any pleasure. Maybe he enjoyed knowing that I was his, to do whatever he wanted with. That no matter what it was, I would obey without question, that I would do my best to please him.

Maybe he just liked how stupid I looked, coughing and gagging on this piece of plastic, my makeup running as the tears streamed down my face.

The pressure on my head eased as he let go of my hair. I was on my own again, alone with the dildo relentlessly filling my mouth. This wasn't the time to be thinking about these things. Better to focus on my breathing, as I forced myself to continue, to keep the rhythm of my head bobbing up and down, to show him how willing I was, that he didn't need to force me, or ask me, that I would force myself, degrade myself, humiliate myself, anything that he wanted and more, so much more...

Breathe.

Something warm and sticky hit me on the cheek.

The pain returned, as hand grabbed me by my hair and wrenched me upwards. I barely had time to catch my breath before I was pushed down again, onto the cold glass, into the small puddle of him.

He didn't need to say anything.

I ran my tongue along the table, lapping it all up. Lapping him up. Savouring the taste, letting it soothe my burning throat. Grateful for what he had given me.

I didn't know if he was finished. I didn't know if he had something else in mind, or if he was done with me. I didn't even know if he was still in the room, watching me, or if he had left me to wallow in my own shame. It didn't matter.

The taste of him still lingered. The tension drained from my body as I let myself fall forward, resting on the coffee table. The cool glass felt good against the fire inside me. My ragged breathing slowly began returning to normal. I lay there, eyes closed, hands still held behind my back, my spit mixing with his seed, feeling that just for a while, we were together.