Chapter 8: Quinn's whimpers turn to choked moans as Marcus' thick cock stretches her throat, her manicured nails scratching at his thighs while he growls, 'That's it, take it all, princess' before slamming her against the metal lockers and fucking her raw.
The metallic taste of the locker mixed with the salt of her own sweat on her lips. Quinn’s cheek was pressed against the cool, painted steel, her body bent at the waist, fingers scrambling for purchase against the smooth surface. Behind her, Marcus was a mountain of heat and intent, his hands rough on her hips. The echoes of her choked gasps from minutes before still seemed to hang in the hairspray-thick air.
With Marcus’s penis on her lips, Quinn Fabray parted them slightly to let her tongue slide over the enormous glans. Next to Marcus’s, with which the head cheerleader was playing, Puck’s, her boyfriend’s, resembled that of a little boy. The comparison was involuntary, stark, and it sent a fresh, shameful current of heat pooling low in her belly. She circled her tongue around it, then traced the entire length of the penis. Quinn Fabray felt like she’d never reach the end, the black man’s penis was so long. The thick vein along the underside pulsed against her tongue, a terrifying, living thing.
Quinn felt her pussy becoming increasingly wet as she licked Marcus’s penis. The sensation was a betrayal, a deep, bodily surrender that her mind screamed against even as her hips gave a slight, involuntary rock against empty air. The janitor congratulated the cheerleader but told her that this wasn’t the only way she was going to please a real man.
“Good girl,” he rumbled, the voice like gravel shaking loose in his chest. “You learn fast. But a real man needs more than a pretty little tongue.”
He grabbed her ponytail, making it clear what he expected of her. The grip wasn’t painful, not yet, but it was absolute, controlling the angle of her head completely. He told her it was time a real man taught her what to do.
“Open up, princess. Let’s see you take it. All of it.”
Quinn Fabray opened her mouth, encouraged by Marcus, and tried to swallow the glans. It was already much bigger than anything she’d ever sucked, a daunting stretch that made her jaw ache immediately. But Marcus pushed, and the entire head disappeared into her mouth. The taste of him, clean skin and something musky and profoundly male, flooded her senses. She gagged, her eyes watering.
“None of that,” he said, his tone leaving no room for protest.
Marcus grabbed Quinn’s head with both hands and pushed his cock even further into the cheerleader’s mouth. It was a slow, relentless invasion. The pressure in her throat was unbelievable, a feeling of being filled and stretched beyond capacity. Tears welled and spilled over, cutting tracks through the smudged remains of her mascara. Slowly, Marcus’s cock disappeared down Quinn’s throat. Her nose was buried in the coarse, dark hair at his base. She couldn’t breathe. The world narrowed to the burning in her lungs and the overwhelming presence of him fucking her face.
Strangely, the cheerleader’s pussy was completely soaked. The dampness soaked through her thin cotton panties, a stark, humilitating counterpoint to the violation of her mouth. A low, ragged sound escaped her, muffled by his flesh.
He held her there for a long moment, letting her struggle, letting her feel the full, suffocating weight of his cock down her throat. Then he pulled out, letting Quinn catch her breath. She dragged in huge, shuddering gulps of air, strings of saliva connecting her swollen lips to his glistening shaft.
“See? You can take it. You want to take it.”
Then he kissed her mouth, going in and out faster and faster. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a claiming. Each thrust was harder, deeper, the wet slap of his hips against her face rhythmic and brutal. Her throat opened, resisted, opened again, learned the brutal rhythm he set. The sounds were obscene, guttural and wet. Her mind floated away, disassociated, even as her body thrummed with a perverse, electrified awareness.
His rhythm became erratic, frantic. A low groan built in his chest.
“Gonna fill that pretty mouth up. Take it, you little fucking tease.”
The chapter ends with Marcus ejaculating in Quinn’s mouth. The first pulse was a shock, hot and bitter, hitting the back of her throat. She convulsed, but his hands held her fast. The flow of sperm is so great that she can’t swallow it all, and some of it runs down her chin and onto her cheerleader uniform. Thick, pearlescent streaks landed on the pristine fabric of her pleated skirt and the worn McKinley High crest on her sweater. She choked, swallowed desperately, the alien taste coating her tongue.
He finally pulled out, his cock slick with her saliva and his own release. He looked down at her, a masterpiece of degradation—tear-streaked, lipstick ruined, his cum on her face and clothes.
Quinn slumped against the locker, trembling, trying to breathe through the aftermath.
Marcus tucked himself back into his jeans, his movements slow, satisfied. He wiped his thumb through the mess on her chin, then shoved it roughly into her mouth. She tasted salt and bitterness again.
“Now,” he said, his voice a dark promise as his other hand hooked into the waistband of her panties, the cotton soaked through from her own arousal. “Your pussy’s turn. Let’s see if it’s as tight as that asshole was. The little princess is becoming my personal fucking slut, isn’t she?”
His words clearly revealed what he thought of the little princess, the head cheerleader, who was becoming.
Marcus chuckled, a low sound that vibrated against her back. “Enough of that pretty mouth; it’s this pretty pussy’s turn to satisfy a real man,” he declared, his large hands encircling her waist.
He lifted Quinn Fabray with unsettling ease and slammed her front-first against the cold metal of a nearby locker, the impact jarring her teeth.