Chapter 4: The Gag Reflex
Jane’s heartbeat echoed the frantic patter of water in the small fountain, a counterpoint to the heavy silence settling over the massage table. She lay cocooned in the towel Marcus had tucked around her waist, her body humming with spent tremors and a dawning, terrifying awareness. What had she just done? What had he just done? His dark eyes held hers, unblinking, stripping her bare in a way that went beyond the physical exposure of moments ago. There was no retreating now. The line wasn't just crossed; it was incinerated.
Marcus broke the gaze first. He stepped back, the warmth of his proximity receding, leaving her skin suddenly cool despite the room's ambient heat. He didn't speak. Instead, his hands went to the knot of the loose, dark linen pants he wore. With deliberate, unhurried movements, he untied it. The fabric slithered down lean hips, pooling around his ankles. He stepped out of them, standing before her clad only in snug, black boxer briefs. The outline beneath was unmistakable: thick, hard, straining against the thin cotton. A bead of moisture had already darkened the fabric at the tip.
This wasn't therapist and client. This was a man, powerfully aroused, standing naked before a woman he’d just brought to a shuddering climax. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the briefs. Her eyes widened, glued to the movement. Down they slid, revealing the hard planes of his lower abdomen, the trail of dark hair leading down. And then, springing free, his cock. It was thick, impressively so, the shaft rigid and flushed, the head glistening with pre-cum under the warm, flickering candlelight. He kicked the briefs aside.
He stood there, completely naked, allowing her to look. Commanding it. The power dynamic had shifted entirely. He wasn't waiting for permission anymore; he was presenting the undeniable next step. The sight sent a fresh jolt of liquid heat straight to Jane’s core, making her clench involuntarily. Her earlier release felt like a distant memory, replaced by a sharp, urgent hunger.
"Fuck," she breathed, the word escaping on a shaky exhale.
A ghost of a smirk touched Marcus’s lips. He moved towards the head of the table. "Sit up," he instructed, his voice low and rough.
The towel slipped as Jane pushed herself up on trembling arms. She was naked from the waist up, the lower towel barely covering her hips. Marcus stood beside the table, his erection level with her face. The scent of him, musky and primal, mixed with the lavender oil, was dizzying. Up close, he looked even larger. Intimidating. Irresistible.
"Touch it," he murmured.
Her fingers, still trembling slightly, reached out. The skin was hot silk over steel. She wrapped her hand around the base, feeling the heavy, throbbing weight. The pre-cum slicked her palm. A low groan rumbled from Marcus’s chest. Encouraged, emboldened by the raw need still pulsing through her, Jane leaned forward. She opened her mouth, her tongue darting out tentatively to taste the salty bead at the slit. The flavour was earthy, potent.
"Good girl," Marcus murmured, his hand coming to rest lightly on the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. Not forcing. Guiding.
She took more of him into her mouth, stretching her lips wide around the broad head, her jaw clicked as it opened that wide. He felt enormous filling her. She sucked gently, swirling her tongue over the sensitive ridge, earning another deep groan. His fingers tightened slightly in her hair.
"More," he urged, voice thick with desire. "Take it deeper, Jane."
She tried. Relaxing her jaw, she pushed down, taking another inch of his thick shaft. Her eyes watered. It was intense, the stretch demanding. She focused on breathing through her nose, concentrating on the heavy, velvety feel of him on her tongue, the musky taste.
"Come on, beautiful," Marcus coaxed, a hint of roughness entering his tone. "All the way. Want to feel that tight throat."
He applied gentle pressure with the hand on her head. Jane pushed down again, determined. She got maybe halfway down his length before her throat spasmed violently. Her gag reflex kicked in hard. She choked, a wet, strangled sound tearing from her as her body instinctively rebelled. She jerked back, coughing, eyes streaming, saliva slicking her chin.
"Shit," Marcus hissed, his grip loosening instantly. He didn’t pull away, just held himself steady, allowing her to recover, his cock glistening inches from her face. His breathing was ragged.
Jane gasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, humiliation warring with the desperate need to please him, to take what he demanded. "Sorry... sorry," she rasped, voice raw.
"Don't apologize," he said, his own voice tight with strain. He smoothed a hand over her hair, the gesture incongruously tender against the explicit scene. "Just breathe. Relax your throat." His thumb brushed her cheek, smearing a tear track. "Try again. Slow. Let me feel you."
The command, laced with that unexpected tenderness, broke through the panic. She met his darkened gaze, seeing the hunger there, the unwavering expectation. She wanted this. Needed to conquer it for him. For herself. She leaned in once more, her lips parting.
Jane leaned in once more, her lips parting, tasting the salt-slick head of his cock. "Wait," she breathed, pulling back slightly, her voice raspy but surprisingly steady. "Lie down."
Marcus's dark eyes held hers, a flicker of surprise shifting into intense interest. He didn't question her. With slow, deliberate movements, he climbed onto the broad massage table, settling onto his back. The candlelight danced over his defined chest and stomach, the hard length of his cock jutting upward, glistening, demanding. The air thickened with anticipation.
Jane slid off her end of the table, the towel falling away completely, leaving her naked in the warm, scented air. She moved with a newfound determination, fuelled by the humiliation of choking and the raw need to prove herself, to conquer this. She climbed onto the table, positioning herself over him, her knees straddling his hips. His cock stood rigid against her belly, hot and heavy. She could feel his pulse thrumming through it.
"Okay," she whispered, more to herself than him. Her hand wrapped around the base again, feeling the thick, veined shaft, the smooth, taut skin. She guided him towards her mouth, her other hand braced lightly on his chest. She took a slow, deep breath through her nose, consciously relaxing her jaw, pushing down the instinctive panic. Relax your throat, his earlier words echoed. She lowered her head, taking the swollen head between her lips, sucking gently, swirling her tongue.
Marcus groaned, a deep rumble she felt vibrate through his chest beneath her hand. "Fuck yeah, Jane. Just like that." His hands settled on her hips, fingers digging in slightly, but he didn't push, letting her set the pace. She took another inch, deeper than before, her jaw stretching wide. The head nudged the back of her throat. She felt the familiar spasm begin, the urge to gag rising. No. Not this time.
She focused all her will. She tilted her head slightly, adjusting the angle, breathing steadily through her nostrils. She pushed down, deliberately, steadily. The thick shaft slid deeper, stretching her lips impossibly wide, past the point where her throat instinctively clenched. She pressed down further, her nose brushing the dark curls at his base, his cock filling her mouth entirely, the heavy weight pressing against her palate, the tip nudging deep into her throat.
Holy shit. She'd done it. His entire length was buried in her mouth and throat. She held still for a heartbeat, stunned by the intense, overwhelming sensation of being so completely filled, stretched, dominated by him in this vulnerable way she’d initiated. She felt the frantic pulse of his cock deep inside her. The wet, muffled sounds of her own breathing filled the sudden silence.
Marcus made a choked, animal noise. "Jesus fucking Christ, Jane!" His hips jerked involuntarily, seeking more friction deep within her. His fingers clenched bruisingly tight on her hips. "You're taking it all. Every fucking inch."
A surge of fierce triumph mixed with the intense physicality of it washed over her. She began to move. Slowly at first, lifting her head until just the head remained in her mouth, sucking hard, tasting the flood of his pre-cum, then sinking back down, taking him deep again. The rhythm was clumsy at first, her throat working, accommodating the thick intrusion. Each descent was a battle against her gag reflex, a surrender she consciously chose each time.
"Ungh... yeah... fuck your throat," Marcus growled, his voice thick and ragged, abandoning any pretence of control. His hands slid from her hips to grip her ass, pulling her down harder, faster onto his thrusting cock. "Take it deeper. Harder. Choke on it."
His raw words sent a jolt of filthy excitement straight to her core, making her pussy clench around nothing. She obeyed, driving herself down onto him with more force, her throat opening wider, accepting the brutal penetration. The sounds were obscene: wet, sucking noises, her own choked gurgles as he hit the back of her throat, the low, animalistic groans tearing from his chest. Spit slicked her chin, dripped onto his stomach. She looked down, meeting his gaze, seeing pure, unadulterated lust burning in his eyes as she used her mouth on him with desperate hunger.
"Gona make me come," he warned, his voice strained, his body tensing beneath her. "Right down that fucking throat."