Content Warning: A power play reversal. A shift in the dynamics that still remains abusive, emotionally and sexually.
Trigger Warning: Verbal and Emotional Abuse. Sexual Abuse. BDSM, Gore, fellatio.
***
This was a test.
A gamble.
All the other risks he took did not give him any reward. Instead, they all blew up violently in his face.
Yet right now, with the beast locked inside, pacing back and forth in its cage, she looked so lost.
So small.
Like a child.
“I’ll prove it to you.”
“I’m a big ole masochistic pervert now just like you wanted.” He leaned back on his heels, his eyes glaring at her from under long, clumped lashes, “Yet I don’t want you to hurt me, and after all you have done, I don’t think it’s fair to be left alone.” Cold drops of sweat trickled down the side of his face. His lips were arid and his tongue ran over them, trying to bring some much needed moisture. “What can you do for me? Other than torture me again?”
He should be impressed with himself. He was staring at the most terrifying person he ever met. Fighting against his useless survival instinct, he spread his knees further. One hand gripping the shaggy rug tightly between his fingers while the other wrapped around the base of his brazen length. Even though it was weeks since the serum perverted his body. The pain and fear made his thick glans pulse with need, the head pink, almost red in defiant desperation. He swallowed his disgust, letting it seep with the acid in his stomach as he smirked.
Where did this suicidal bravery come from?
Was it because of how she looked at him. At her desire to prove that she wasn’t just a monster?
Ira looked down at his length, her eyes, underlined with heavy circles closing for a moment before opening, “I won’t torture you. I keep-” She hesitated, biting her bottom lip before determination crossed her eyes, “I keep my promises.” A heat rose in her cheeks and her chest, “Do…do you want me?”
He flinched seeing that hope in her eyes before he scoffed, seeking to snuff it out.
“Your mouth. I want your mouth mouth that has snarled at me, shouted at me, screamed at me-”
Smiled at me…
“Bit me, tore my skin and slurped at my blood, to suck me off.” His hand ran over his shaft, and it throbbed. “I bet you can’t do it without biting it off, huh?”
Her shadow loomed over him, then lowered until his eyes met her ruby gaze. He bit his bottom lip, feeling the temperature in the room increase, the humidity making his hair curl against his bruised and bitten shoulder. He sucked in a breath and looked upwards, towards the ceiling, and away from her.
Once again, his stomach clenched tight.
However, it didn’t clench from a harsh hook to the kidney. It clenched from the wet, scalding tongue, lapping at the very tip.
Holy shit.
She was actually on her knees, her head lowered over his lap. Those thick coils cascading over his thighs. His left eye twitched slightly before he gasped, releasing his length so his fingers dug into his palm. Her tongue traveled down, a slick trail of searing saliva quickly cooling on his rigid shaft.
As if she was measuring him with her tongue, she lifted her head, slowly giving a long lick back to the tip. She pulled back, and he had enough courage to look down at her. Her bottom lip quivered slightly, and he could see her thick eyebrows furrow tightly towards the bridge of her nose.
He shivered watching her expression; despite those two lascivious licks, she was tepid, hesitating. Her eyes shifted downward for a moment before she took a deep breath. Her eyes closed, and her voluptuous lips parted.
He couldn’t help but flinch at seeing her teeth, a heavy stone of fear hitting his gut. As soon as those lips, the same lips he had focused on for so long, touched the head of his length. The fear melted, and he moaned. When she engulfed the first few inches, he grunted, his cock pulsing as thick drops of pre-cum landed on her tongue. He clenched his teeth, feeling her tongue press up against the sensitive flesh, lapping up that viscous fluid.
Already she was affecting him so much. It was both humiliating…and exhilarating.
“I can’t believe it…” He murmured, one hand opening to stroke and then grip her thick locks, blood from the open wound on his palm darkening the burnt amber curls, “Wrath is sucking my cock.” He leaned his head back, a low groan escaping his lips as she lowered her head further, his length jumping up slightly, aching to reach further. “You’re not biting yet.” He chuckled between huffing pants, tugging her hair. “How many inches will that take?”
Ira grunted, a vibrating tremble against his shaft as shame colored her cheeks a deep rouge hue. She knew that. She knew he expected her to lose control. Both could feel rage and hell fuming within the furnace that was in her mind.
Yet she wanted to prove him wrong.
She needed to prove him wrong.
Her nostrils flared, and she pulled back slightly, her mouth pressing down slightly against his glans. The spongy flesh of her lips protected the throbbing member from her teeth as she hesitated, before pushing her head further. Tristan tugged at her curls tightly as she took his length further than before, groaning, feeling the twitching head touch the edge of her throat.
A thrill shot through his spine as she tried to take more of him, only to gag, her eyes rolling up and her cheeks puffing out. She had reached the limit she could take before she had to pull back and cough around his member. Tristan couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his throat. His hand releasing her thick, coiling locks to grip the back of her head, holding her down. He was risking his physical wellbeing for this rare opportunity to dominate her. “You shoved your fingers down my throat, but can’t even handle less than half of my cock?”
Her brow furrowed and she huffed against his sensitive flesh. She lifted her head slightly, pulling back further against before his other hand joined its companion behind her head. He pushed his palms downwards and shifted his hips upwards, forcing her mouth back further down his shaft while surging it forward, hitting the back of her throat again. While she released a muffled shriek, he moaned, his fingers digging into those coils, purposefully tangling his scarred digits in them.
He was expecting the gnashing of her perfect teeth against his shaft, his heated and firm muscle being ripped out by the root. He doubted his new ‘blessing’ would be enough to prevent a brand new life as a eunuch.
Yet the bite never came.
He felt her nails against his skin, finding his thighs more comfortable to grip than the shaggy fur of the carpet. However, she refused to give in to her rage. Refused to raise to the bait.
Refused to become his monster.
How the fuck was he supposed to feel about that?
He bit his bottom lip, chewing it before sighing. “Relax, Ira. Relax your throat.” He wasn’t about to let go of this payoff. He wasn’t about to end this test.
Not when her mouth felt so warm. Not when her desperate tongue caressed the underside of his shaft, pressing against the pulsing veins.
Definitely not when the power he felt at this moment was so intoxicating.
He loosened his grip on the back of her head just slightly, just enough so she could pull back, take a breath, and try again. One hand moved down to just under her chin, pressing against it. “You want to ‘spoil’ me, huh?” His lips curled to a slight smirk, his cheeks flushed as Ira took him all the way to back of her throat. When she gagged again, he gripped her chin. “Hold it. Just hold it. Breathe through your nose.” He flinched as she scraped his outer thighs, the serrated pain rippling pleasure straight to his cock, making it leak down her esophagus. When she closed her eyes tightly and her nostrils flared open, he stroked her neck, focusing less on giving her affection and more on teaching her.
It was hilarious, disturbingly.
All the power, beauty, confidence, and money in the world… and her mouth couldn’t handle his cock.
No, that wasn’t the unusual part.
Ira, the head of the Dante family, on her knees like this?
Never.
The power she wielded with terrifying brutality was hers, and not something she shared with anyone. The control she commanded was not a gift to be passed on to.
No one, in her opinion, deserved it.
No one… but him.
This psychotic bitch who could rip him apart, was so desperate to please him. To give him anything else… but the pain she had put him through.
He swallowed, struggling to keep his voice calm, even detached, “Relax your throat and just hold me-” His breath hitched and he ground his teeth. “Just hold it.” His hand moved from her neck and back to her hair, burying itself into those wild curls as he buried any feelings of emotional warmth. As far as he was concerned, she was giving herself to him as a flesh light.
Which was just fine.
“I would love to just choke you with my dick, Ira.” He hissed, shuddering as she lapped his length with her tongue, having gotten used to his girth, “Yet…I’m not-not like you. See? This is your limit.” He shifted his hips back, accumulated drool streaming down her chin and down his shaft, coating the sack that hung heavily underneath. His hands gripped her head from behind her ears, trapping her, leaving the throbbing head within her mouth. Just so he can be the one to speak, for once, “Besides, this is enough to get me off.”
He shoved what he could towards the back of her throat again, hitting the point where her gag reflex kicked in. Once more, her nails dug into his legs, and that pain just added to the sensation, making him thick with anticipation. He held himself there, feeling her relax, watching her breath, before pulling back and going forward.
Tristan was face fucking her.
He wondered if she killed him in that spa. And this was just some twisted form of karmic heaven. He gasped, his toes curling. The sensation felt too real. The powerful scent of sweat mixing with copper permeating into the air smelled too real. Her undulating mouth and sweeping tongue were too real for this to be a dying dream. Between hurried pants and chuckles, he spoke. “This... this is how I was taught. How my gag reflex got so…so lax.” He growled, Ira’s own words leaving his mouth in a spat, “My mom’s pimp made himself available as hands on-” He groaned, hips sliding back before shoving back forwards, “example!”
Bitter, humiliating nostalgia danced with the ecstasy and domination of this moment. “So…so yeah…he and my-my mom made me into their whore.”
He smiled, seeing her eyes shift upwards towards his own. Hazy blood pools, gazing into his piercing neon glare. “So…what does that make you, right now?”
The searing implication was not lost on Ira, and Tristan made sure it was as clear as day.
Why risk his member like this?
He needed her to get angry.
To disappoint him.
Like she has done so many times before.
…Ira refused.
Comments (5)
See all