(Mara's POV)
His taste flooded my tongue and I felt something inside me fracture. I swirled my tongue again, slower this time, tracing the thick ridge beneath the head, and his fingers immediately tightened in my hair like steel cables. He pulled.
Hard.
My scalp stung as he forced me down, my mouth onto the full, pulsing length of his cock.
"Suck it like I know you fucking want to."
The words landed low and rough, vibrating through his chest and into my lips where they stretched around him. My jaw protested instantly. The corners of my mouth burned as they stretched impossibly wide to accommodate his girth. He was huge, thicker than anything I'd ever taken, veins ridged and prominent under velvet skin and the sheer size made my eyes water before I'd even begun.
I tried to breathe through it. Tried to remember how to relax. But he didn't give me time.
"Take it all in," he groaned, voice gravel-rough with satisfaction.
He yanked my head back just enough to realign me with his now fully erect cock glistening with the slick evidence of my mouth and then shoved forward again. I hollowed my cheeks on instinct, sucking hard, desperate to please even as my body screamed in protest.
My head moved in shallow, frantic bobs while my small hand stayed locked around the thick base, stroking what I couldn't possibly fit. He swelled against my tongue, hotter, heavier, impossibly thicker with every heartbeat.
"Fuck…"
The single word tore out of him like a curse and a prayer combined.
I let my tongue glide along the underside, following the thickest vein, trying to take in more but he didn't wait for my amateur attempts at control. His hand fisted tighter in my hair and he drove himself past my teeth in one brutal, unrelenting thrust.
I gagged instantly.
Tears sprang to my eyes, hot and involuntary. My throat convulsed around the intrusion, muscles clamping down in panic. The head of his cock battered the back of my throat and kept going. I choked, hands flying up to grip his powerful thighs trying to push, to gain even an inch of relief.
"Breathe," he ordered. Soft. Almost tender. The contrast made my stomach twist.
I dragged in a ragged, whistling breath through my nose. His clean, musk, raw masculine scent filled my lungs and made my head spin.
Then he moved.
He rose to his full height in one fluid motion.
The white towel that had been knotted loosely at his hips slipped and pooled forgotten on the floor. There he stood, tall, broad-shouldered, every line of him sculpted like some ancient Greek God brought violently to life. And there, inches from my tear-streaked face, his cock stood proud glistening with my spit, veins throbbing, the head flushed dark and slick.
He pushed forward again.
This time my throat knew what was coming.
The muscles fluttered, fought, then gave in. He slid in deeper all the way in. My nose pressed flush against the coarse hair at his pelvis; his pubic bone kissed my swollen lips. I was full every inch of him claiming space that wasn't meant to be claimed.
He held there for a long heartbeat, letting me feel it. Letting me feel the stretch, the burn, the absolute helplessness.
Then he started to move.
Slow at first. Almost careful. Long, deliberate drags out until only the head remained trapped behind my teeth, then slow slides back in until my nose was buried again. Each withdrawal let me suck in desperate air; each re-entry forced a fresh gag, fresh tears. Saliva spilled from the corners of my mouth in thick strands, dripping onto my chest, soaking the delicate lace that barely covered me.
He groaned, deep and satisfied.
"That's it. Take it all."
The praise shouldn't have mattered. It shouldn't have sent heat curling low in my belly. But it did.
My lungs began to burn. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. My gag reflex clawed relentlessly at me. Muffled whimpers vibrated around his length releasing pathetic, broken sounds I couldn't stop.
He tightened his grip in my hair until my scalp throbbed in time with my racing pulse.
"You can take it," he said, voice low and certain. "You will."
And then he pulled out.
I gasped, coughed and sucked air into my starving lungs like I'd been drowning. Spit and tears coated my chin. Before the relief could settle, before I could even wipe my face, he thrust again.
Faster this time.
Harder.
A ruthless, piston-like rhythm. Fucking my throat deep and merciless like it was another cunt made for him. My jaw screamed, my throat felt raw and bruised. Tears streamed unchecked; saliva ran down my neck, pooling between my breasts.
He swelled impossibly thicker. A low, primal growl rolled from his chest.
"Swallow."
One final, brutal thrust deeper than before.
Hot pulses flooded my mouth, thick ropes coating my tongue, sliding down my throat. I choked, swallowed reflexively around him, some escaping past the seal of my lips to drip down my chin in shameful streaks.
He stayed buried until the last shudder passed, cock twitching on my tongue, giving me every drop. Only then did he pull out dragging the sensitive head across my lower lip, leaving one final smear of cum.
I coughed violently. Gasped. Tears continued to fall. My whole face felt swollen, wrecked. Cum and saliva glistened on my chin, dripping onto the ruined lace.
He stepped close again. Towered over me.
One large hand cupped my jaw tilting my ruined face up so I had no choice but to meet his eyes.
"You did well," he said quietly. Almost tender.
"Better than I expected."
His thumb traced the swollen curve of my lower lip, smearing the mess there.
My heart hammered so hard I thought it might crack a rib.
"But we're not finished."
He leaned down until his mouth brushed the shell of my ear, breath hot against damp skin.
"Tonight," he whispered, "I'll take the rest of you."
My stomach flipped, sick lurch of fear, dread, and something darker, hotter, that I refused to name. A shameful pulse throbbed between my thighs. I was soaked, aching, untouched and hating myself for it.
He released me. Stepped back.
"Clean yourself up. Rest." His voice was calm again, almost clinical. "You'll need it."
He turned and walked to the heavy door. The keypad beeped, soft tones that sounded like a sentence.
I stayed kneeling on the cold floor, trembling, chest heaving, thighs slick beneath the lace.
My body felt foreign, marked and alive in ways that terrified me.
Footsteps approached. His staff appeared to escort me back to my room.
I rose on shaking legs.
And followed walking through halls half-dressed, cum still on her chin, avoiding eye contact with staff.
Knowing that whatever came tonight would be worse.
And some sick, hidden part of me was already waiting for it.