Chapter 13
Alex
I parted my lips at once, my heart pounding in my chest. I wondered how Porter’s patience could feel so much more dominant than Gowry’s brutality.
My new sponsor’s cock rose less than an inch from my face, loosely enclosed in the huge, strong hand that had, over his knee, so decisively ensured my obedience.
With his right hand he held my head in place while with his left he guided the tip of his manhood to my mouth. “Just the head first,” he murmured. “No deeper for the moment. You’ll take me in and hold still, to show me you can be a good girl.”
The first contact made me tremble all over. The blunt warmth pressed against my lower lip, then parted my mouth. I drew him in carefully, eyes stinging from the shame and strangeness of it.
“Good. More.”
I tried. My throat clenched at once, panic and memory rushing up together. He felt it. He withdrew before I could fail too visibly.
“Look at me.”
I did, startled, grateful and ashamed all at once.
“What is it?”
I forced the answer out. “I’m afraid of doing it wrong.”
“Because of what he said?”
I nodded.
Porter’s hand cupped my jaw.
“I’m a very different sort of man,” he said. “You do not need to impress me by pretending skill you haven’t been taught.”
He kept his voice soft, but I could hear a hint of threat there that went straight to my clit, though my rational mind couldn’t have explained why.
Porter’s dark eyes seemed to menace Gowry, but also somehow to menace me, too—as if I could find myself with the cane across my bottom if I confused the two of them.
He continued, and his words brought a deep crease to my forehead.
“You need to listen and obey.”
My eyes burned again. He had offered me a kind of comfort, but the lingering soreness in my backside told me that if I failed to obey, my inexperience wouldn’t save my ass from further discipline.
To my horror that ambiguous promise affected me at a much deeper level than any simple threat could have.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered.
“Good.” His thumb brushed my lower lip once. “Now take me in your mouth again. Only as far as you comfortably can. Let your lips soften around me.”
This time I obeyed with less panic. I let the head of his cock settle on my tongue.
The taste and weight of him almost constituted too much information at once.
I felt clumsy and innocent and deeply, scorchingly embarrassed.
But when I glanced up through my lashes without meaning to, I saw only concentrated attention on his face, not ridicule.
“Better,” he said. “Eyes down, though.”
I let out an involuntary, tiny whimper as I obeyed, returning my gaze to the wiry curls at the broad base of his rigid penis. Without thinking about it, I put my left hand behind me to touch my spanked bottom, as if to remind myself of what happened when I didn’t remember my sponsor’s rules.
His voice came again from above, patient and didactic, but now with an undercurrent of hunger that made me feel a little faint.
“Now use your hand with your mouth. There. That’s it.”
He repositioned my fingers lower on the shaft, so I did not need to take all of him. I moved as best I could, mouth and hand together, and his breathing changed immediately.
“That’s very pretty,” he said softly.
The praise sent a helpless pulse of hot need through me.
He let me do it for a little while, coaching me in low tones on how to perform this mortifying service.
“Relax your jaw… more saliva, now, so it feels nicer… that’s it… yes, use your tongue there… no, honey… slower than that. Now a little more pressure… that’s it… just like that. That feels so good on my cock. Good girl.”
Each instruction steadied me even as it humiliated me further. I was learning. On my knees. Naked. With a rich, exacting man teaching me how to suck his cock properly because it pleased him to train me.
After a few minutes he withdrew completely, pulling my head off his length.
I blinked up at him, lips swollen, breath unsteady.
“Eyes down,” he said, though his tone sounded forgiving, as if he understood how hard a command this might be to remember. With a hot blush, I obeyed, and I saw how his hardness glistened with the way I had tried to please him in my mouth.
“I’ve decided I want to take my time with you,” he said, as if from far above.
My whole body reacted to those words as if they held some charge I couldn’t untangle.
“So I’m going to come in your mouth. I’ll have your pussy later.”
My stomach lurched. I almost looked up again, the urge to beg him not to demand such a mortifying thing rising almost to my throat. His next words, though, brought a deep shudder to my limbs.
“Before I come, though,” he said slowly, as if intending to judge my reaction, “I’m going to fuck your face a little.”
A hot, frightened throb went through me between the legs.
He must have seen it. “Just a little. Enough for you to learn. I’m not interested in scaring you out of your senses, which would only make you less likely to please my cock today or in the future.”
He moved his hand back into my hair and gathered it, not cruelly, simply preparing.
“Before I go deep, you’re going to learn how to breathe. Listen carefully.”
I listened with every nerve I had.
“When I’m in your mouth, you breathe through your nose. If I go deeper and you need air, I’ll let you have it. You do not panic. If you panic, your body tightens and everything becomes more difficult. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you feel yourself about to gag, hold still. Gagging doesn’t mean failure. It means you’re learning the shape of what’s in your mouth. From now on, you’re going to be the kind of girl who takes a man deep that way, when he’s entitled to use you as he pleases.”
I flushed again, my face certainly scarlet.
He touched my cheek. “Now open for the cock.”
I opened, with a little whimper.
He placed the head of his manhood on my tongue again. “Good. Relax.”
Then he slid in farther than before, not all at once, but with a firm, inexorable pressure that made my eyes widen. I concentrated desperately on my nose, on air, on not jerking back. His hand held my head steady.
“That’s it,” he said. “Take it.”
He withdrew, then pushed in again, a little deeper. My throat convulsed. I made a choked sound around him.
“Breathe,” he said.
I obeyed, barely.
A third thrust, deeper still, and I nearly gagged. Tears sprang to my eyes. My hands flew to his thighs, clutching. His grip in my hair tightened just enough to keep me where he wanted me.
“Good girl. There. You’re all right.”
The reassurance in the middle of the domination was disorienting enough that I almost sobbed.
Then he began to use my mouth in short, measured thrusts, not gentle now exactly, with a rhythm that made it impossible to pretend this was still only a lesson.
His hips drove upward. His hand at the back of my head kept me where he wanted me. All I could do was kneel there and take him, my eyes wet, my throat working around him in miserable little spasms while he used my mouth.
I could feel the control in him and also, dismayingly, the strain on it.
He liked this. Not abstractly, not as part of some scheme of instruction—a perverse but charitable academy for wayward young women.
He liked having me on my knees with his cock in my mouth so much that it changed the sounds he made.
That realization went through me in a wave of heat.
He pulled out enough to let me breathe, then pushed back in, even more firmly. My nose brushed the wiry curls at the base of his thick penis. I nearly gagged again. He grunted, low and rough, and the noise made my whole body tighten.
“That’s it,” he said, but it came out less composed than before. “Take it. Let me use that pretty mouth.”
I tried to, the best I could. I held still because he had told me to, because I was afraid not to, because some deeper and much more humiliating part of me wanted desperately to do it well.
He thrust again, and this time the gag came anyway, my throat convulsing hard around him. I made a helpless sound.
Instead of stopping, he swore under his breath. “Fuck.”
The sound shocked me almost as much as the thrusting.
Porter did not seem like a man who swore because his body had forced the word out of him.
But his hand tightened in my hair and his cock drove into my mouth again and I understood, in the most shameful possible way, that it felt incredibly good to him.
Pride bloomed in me at once, ugly and hot.
I had done that to him. I was the reason his breathing had roughened, the reason he had lost some of that perfect, smooth control.
I was on my knees with my mouth full of his cock, and the thought made me burn with shame, but beneath the shame something in me lifted, pleased and feminine and depraved.
He withdrew almost all the way and then thrust himself back into my mouth in a hard stroke.
Tears spilled from the corners of my eyes.
My hands clutched at his thighs. His muscles bunched beneath my fingers.
The room narrowed to the pressure in my mouth, the salt taste of him, the ache in my jaw, the sound of his breathing.
“Such a good little slut,” he said hoarsely.
The word struck straight between my legs. My hips jerked with the force of it. Slut. From him. Said not with contempt exactly, but with possession. I felt my pussy pulse so hard that for one insane second I thought I might actually come from the shame of hearing it while his cock was in my throat.
He must have felt me tense, or heard the tiny sound I made around him, because he gave a soft laugh that turned into another grunt.
“Oh, you like that, don’t you,” he murmured. “Naughty little thing.”
Horror traveled through me, a tingle in my toes that rose to white heat in my scalp. Because, yes… my body liked it. I liked it.
I liked being called filthy names while I knelt naked on my wealthy sponsor’s carpet and let him use my mouth. I wanted to deny it, but denial had become impossible in the face of the wet heat throbbing between my legs and the involuntary way my hips kept trying to move.
He fucked my face a little harder.
“Look at you,” he said, voice thickening. “Trying so hard to be good while I use you like a cheap whore.”
A strangled little whimper escaped me.
“That’s right. Take it.” His hand left my hair just long enough to thumb at the corner of my mouth where saliva had gathered, then he put it back and pushed in again. “I can’t wait to fuck that sweet little cunt.”
My thighs trembled.
“And your adorable bottom,” he added, the phrase so appallingly intimate that my whole body lit up with answering shame. “God, Alex. I’m going to have so much fun inside your little bottom.”
I gagged again, from the sheer depth.
He growled at that, deep in his chest. His hips had lost any pretense of measured teaching now.
He was still careful in the sense that he gave me air, but appetite had come to the surface.
He used my mouth because it pleased him, because he wanted to, because I belonged under his power like this for the moment and he intended to enjoy it fully.
I could tell he had gotten close, just from the way his body changed against my hands, from the tension in his thighs, from the roughness of the sounds he let out now, from the way each thrust seemed to carry less deliberation and more need.
The realization thrilled me so much I wanted to hide from myself, somehow.
He pulled me off him just far enough that I could breathe through my mouth as well as my nose, and I gasped. Saliva stretched obscenely between my lips and his cock before breaking.
“Open,” he snarled.
I opened at once, my whole body seeming to clench at the hunger in that word, his utter disdain for my comfort.
He thrust back in and held me there for a second, then gave two hard, deep strokes that made my eyes flood again. “That’s it. Good girl. You’re going to swallow for me in just a moment.”