she catches you off guard. for the first half a minute, what’s going on barely even registers in your poor little brain. you watch yourself get shoved into her mattress, and your face gets grabbed by the cheeks and faced upwards. she takes your arms one at a time and ties them on her bed frame; you remain staring up as the ceiling shifts in your eyes, letting your arms be shoved around as she desires. she tilts your face up to meet her gaze, your focus finally shifting back towards her to catch a faint smile clearly hiding some other kind of ecstasy she feels. she opens your mouth gently; maybe some force would’ve made you jolt up and resist, but her gentle hand guides your mouth through the motions of eating another edible in a way that you can barely think to fight back against. she props herself up above your head as her cock drifts towards right in front of her mouth.
she lets it hang there, gradually getting harder, rubbing on your lips. a little precum drips onto them. your lips part slightly — the instant they do, she notices and takes advantage of this, shoving her cock deep inside, resting on the back of your tongue. suddenly, your previously-distanced vision collapses through layers until it is returned to your skull. it barely catches stray glimpses of her bedroom’s soft purple LED light illuminating her bush, whose thin strands of hair scratch at your upper lip.
you gag hard, almost retching, in a motion that takes far longer than it should. she says something, the meaning of which gets lost as each word leaves your mind before the next one arrives, except for two: “behave” and “mine”. she clutches your forehead and shoves it down into the pillow. the motion makes you dizzy, and your body goes limp until you shove your way back into yourself again. you manage to come up with the first complete thought you’ve had in however long it’s been: you need to get her off of you. but after several attempts, thinking-moving as a single action is a skill you seem to have lost. you try to force the thought into your splayed out legs and bound arms, but any motion that happens as a result you can’t feel and she doesn’t respond to.
whatever little writhing you accomplished only succeeds at making her giggle contentedly. just a sliver of her face is visible between her crotch and your hair, and she apparently delights at your helpless struggle that only reveals to her just how fucked you are. you try this repeatedly, and after some time, you notice that she needs to take a second to reposition to keep your legs down. for a moment, the thought appears that she might punish you for being difficult, but it just as quickly disappears as your instinct to protect yourself takes over again and starts chipping at the delirium.
but just as soon as it starts to relent, she thrusts her cock hard into you, and the blow fucks with your head again — maybe the second edible hitting, you think, as you look up at her face, which soon becomes the exclusive object of your focus as everything else grows disorienting. she coos, softly, before muttering to herself, “are you really going to break after just a minute?” “break…?”, you think, until it remains gently in your mind as an afterimage. she continues sliding in and out from between your lips, but you don’t notice. your mind lingers instead on her face and being broken, on your captor’s face and being broken, on your friend’s face and being broken, again and again, until there’s nothing left to tell you what’s she’s doing, how long it’s been, and when it’ll stop. time gives you the certainty that it will eventually; you’re just adrift somewhere on that path. you recede in your own mind, the afterimage staying locked at the front of your mind, letting it, letting her, take you.
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kaledo-art
romaincrisis
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