Chapter 2: The Deepthroat Tutorial
The screening room was a tomb of velvet and cool, recycled air. The only light came from the colossal screen, casting shifting blue and grey shadows across the seven empty plush leather seats. Andrew occupied the centre one, reclined back, a fat cigar smouldering between his fingers. His grey sweatpants were loose, the outline of his soft cock a vague mound against his thigh.
On screen, a close-up filled the wall. A pink, glistening throat, stretched obscenely around a thick, veined shaft. The camera was so close you could see every ripple of the swallowing muscles, every bead of spit caught in the light.
"See that?" Lyka’s voice was a whisper in the dark, sharp with intent. She stood behind the seat, her hands on Kadie’s bare shoulders, forcing the younger woman to look. "The tongue is flat. It’s not a fucking lollipop. It’s a ramp."
Kadie, naked except for a pair of ripped fishnets, shivered. The air conditioning was too cold on her skin. She knelt on the thick carpet between Andrew’s spread legs, Cathryn a silent, watchful statue to his left.
"Go on," Cathryn said, her tone devoid of warmth. It was an instruction, not encouragement. "Try. Just the head. Mirror the technique."
Andrew took a slow pull on his cigar, the end glowing like a malevolent eye. He didn’t look at Kadie. He watched the screen, where the penis withdrew, slick and shining, before plunging back into the waiting mouth. "The gag reflex is psychological," he stated, exhaling smoke. "You have to want to defeat it."
"I want to," Kadie whispered, her voice thin.
"Then stop thinking of it as a cock," Lyka said, leaning down, her lips brushing Kadie’s ear. Her hands slid from shoulders to breasts, pinching both nipples hard, twisting. "Think of it as a challenge. A fucking benchmark. Now, do it."
Kadie flinched at the pain, but it seemed to focus her. She leaned forward, her small hands trembling as she placed them on Andrew’s inner thighs. The fabric of his sweatpants was soft. She nuzzled him through it, her mouth opening. She took the softness into her mouth, sucking gently, trying to coax him to life.
On screen, the angle changed. A slow-motion penetration, the glans parting lips, disappearing. A trickle of saliva escaped the corner of the mouth.
"You’re kissing it," Lyka sighed, disappointed. She released one nipple to slap Kadie’s cheek, not hard, but a sting of admonishment. "Wider. Use your fucking jaw. Unhinge it, like a snake."
Andrew was hardening now, the sensation remote, a biological response to attention and the graphic tutorial. He tapped ash into a crystal ashtray. "She’s right. Look at the screen. See the stretch at the corners of the mouth? That’s commitment."
Kadie pulled back, panting. He was half-erect now, springing free of the sweatpants' waistband. She stared at it, then at the monstrous, detailed close-up on the wall. She opened her mouth, wider, trying to mimic the shape she saw.
"Tongue flat!" Lyka hissed.
Kadie tried. She leaned in, got the head past her lips, and flattened her tongue. She pushed forward. The tip hit the back of her throat. Panic flared, white-hot behind her eyes. She gagged, jerking back, a string of spit connecting her lip to his shaft.
"Useless," Andrew murmured, not looking away from the screen.
"Again," Cathryn said. Her hand came out, not to hurt, but to grip Kadie’s hair firmly, decisively. She guided her head back. "Breathe through your nose. When you feel the panic, swallow. Don’t fight it. Swallow around him."
Kadie’s eyes were watering. She was caught between Cathryn’s unyielding grip and Lyka’s pinching, torturing fingers on her nipples. The pain was an anchor. She opened again, took him in, felt the spongy head press against her palate. She pushed. The resistance was visceral, a primal choke-hold. Her body screamed to reject.
"Swallow," Cathryn commanded, her voice low and steady.
Kadie swallowed. The convulsive motion of her throat forced him a fraction deeper. The sensation was terrifying, a full, invasive pressure. She gagged again, a wet, choking sound, but didn’t pull away. Tears streamed down her face.
"Good girl," Lyka purred, her voice dripping with a vicious pride. She increased the pressure on the nipples, twisting until Kadie moaned around Andrew’s cock, the vibration drawing a low grunt from him. "See? Pain focuses the mind. Now hold it. Count to five."
On screen, the actress took the entire length, her nose buried in pubic hair, her throat visibly distended. Andrew’s breath hitched. He was fully hard now, jutting up from the nest of dark hair, slick with Kadie’s spit and tears.
Kadie held, her body trembling violently, her throat fluttering in frantic, uncontrollable spasms around the intrusion. Cathryn counted aloud, slowly. "One. Two. Three."
At four, Kadie’s eyes rolled back. Her body convulsed in a full, body-wracking gag. She vomited, a hot, acidic rush that spilled over Andrew’s cock and onto his sweatpants and the leather seat.
"Fucking hell!" Andrew snarled, sitting bolt upright. He shoved her head away. She collapsed sideways onto the carpet, retching, bile and spit pooling beneath her.
Lyka leapt back, laughing. "Oh, Christ! She really can’t handle it!"
Cathryn released Kadie’s hair, her face a mask of cool disdain. She handed Andrew a monogrammed handkerchief from the pocket of her silk robe. "I did warn you her reflex was pronounced."
Andrew cleaned himself with sharp, angry motions, his arousal momentarily replaced by disgust. He looked down at Kadie, curled and sobbing, covered in her own sick. The pathetic sight of her, the absolute abjection, did something else to him. The disgust curdled back into a dark, hungry interest. His cock, smeared with vomit, twitched, still painfully hard.
"Clean it up," he said, his voice flat.
Lyka stopped laughing. She looked from Andrew’s face to his cock, still erect amidst the mess. Understanding flickered in her eyes, followed by a surge of competitive arousal. She knelt beside Kadie, not to help, but to whisper. "You made a mess, baby. Now you have to clean it. Properly."
Kadie shook her head, whimpers escaping her. "I can’t, I’m sorry, I’m—"
"You can," Lyka interrupted. She grabbed a handful of Kadie’s hair, forcing her face towards the mess on Andrew’s groin. The smell was sharp, sour. "Lick it. Clean him with your tongue. Every last bit."
Cathryn watched, her arms crossed. A faint line of tension showed around her mouth. This was a new low, even for here. But she said nothing.
Sobbing, defeated, Kadie obeyed. She extended a trembling tongue and licked at the vile mixture on his skin. She cleaned the shaft with slow, miserable strokes, her tears mixing with the spit and vomit. The taste made her heave again, but she kept going, her movements becoming mechanical.
Andrew watched, his earlier anger dissipating into a profound, icy satisfaction. This was better than the porn. This was real degradation, voluntary and complete. He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head.
"See," he said to the room, as Kadie’s tongue lapped at him. "Willpower. She just needed the right motivation."
Once he was clean, Kadie slumped back, her body wracked with silent shudders. Lyka, her own arousal now palpable, didn’t wait for an invitation. She pushed Kadie out of the way and took Andrew into her mouth, deep and fast, moaning as if she were tasting something exquisite. She was showing off, demonstrating her mastery, her lack of squeamishness.
Andrew let her work for a minute, his eyes on the screen where a new scene had begun, a tangle of limbs and orifices. Then he tapped Lyka’s head. "Enough. Cathryn."
Lyka pulled off, annoyed but compliant. Cathryn, summoned, moved from her perch. She didn’t kneel. She simply turned her back to him, pushed her silk robe off her shoulders, and bent over the arm of the plush leather seat, presenting herself. She knew what he wanted. Not a lesson. Not a performance. A function.
Andrew stood up. He spat into his palm, rubbed himself, and without a word, drove into Cathryn from behind. She took him with a sharp intake of breath, her hands gripping the leather armrest. He fucked her with a steady, ruthless pace, his eyes fixed on the screen, on Lyka’s jealous face, on Kadie’s broken form on the floor.
It was quiet, save for the slap of skin, Cathryn’s muffled grunts, and the cinematic moans from the speakers. Lyka, watching, slid her hand between her own legs, her fingers working in fast, frustrated circles. Kadie just stared at the carpet, her mind somewhere far away, in a place where she wasn’t.
Andrew came inside Cathryn with a final, deep thrust, holding himself there for a long moment. He withdrew, tucking himself back into his stained sweatpants.
The screen went black, plunging the room into near-darkness. The hum of the projector was the only sound.
"Get her out of here," Andrew said, nodding towards Kadie. "And air this room out. It stinks of failure."
He picked up his cigar, which had gone out, and relit it, the flame illuminating his impassive face for a second before he vanished into the smoke. Lyka scrambled up, pulling a limp Kadie to her feet. Cathryn straightened her robe, her face unreadable in the gloom. The lesson was over. The only thing learned was the depth of the hole, and that there was always further to fall.-m
The only thing learned was the depth of the hole, and that there was always further to fall.
Yet Kadie, in the following days, did not retreat. The shame that had curled her on the carpet hardened into a stubborn, silent resolve. She practiced alone in her ensuite bathroom, gagging on her toothbrush, pushing the handle deeper each time, her eyes streaming into the sink. She watched the videos Andrew left playing on tablets around the house, studying the mechanics with a clinical detachment she hadn’t possessed before.
During the next gathering in the screening room, the air still carried a phantom scent of cigar smoke and disinfectant. Andrew was already seated, a fresh glass of rum in hand, another grotesque close-up frozen on the screen. Lyka and Cathryn flanked his chair, their expressions bored, anticipating another tedious lesson in failure.
“Let’s get this over with,” Lyka sighed, gesturing for Kadie to kneel.
Kadie moved forward slowly. She didn’t look at them. Her focus was entirely on Andrew’s cock, already half-hard against his thigh. She remembered the burn of vomit in her sinuses, the metallic tang of despair. This time, she pushed those sensations down into a cold, dark place. She placed her hands on his knees, felt the coarse hair on his legs against her palms. She took a long, silent breath through her nose, and leaned in.
Her mouth opened, wider than seemed possible, her jaw yielding with a soft pop. She didn’t start with tentative licks. She went straight for the head, taking it in, her tongue flattening automatically. Then she pushed forward, a slow, deliberate invasion of her own throat.
Andrew’s fingers tightened around his glass. He felt the familiar, tight ring of resistance, the convulsive flutter against the crown of his cock. But instead of jerking away, Kadie swallowed. A deep, deliberate gulp that forced him another inch down. Her throat muscles rippled, massaging him, adapting. She held, her nose buried in him. Her body trembled, but she didn’t retreat.
“Well, fuck me,” Lyka whispered, her boredom evaporating.
Cathryn leaned forward, a sharp interest in her eyes. “She’s breathing through her nose. Look at her shoulders.”
Kadie held for a five-count, then withdrew with a wet, gasping slurp. Spit coated her chin and his shaft. She immediately went back down, deeper this time, her throat opening with less resistance. The obscene, gulping sounds filled the quiet room, syncopated with the low hum of the projector. She did it a third time, taking him to the root, her lips meeting skin, holding it for a staggering eight seconds before surfacing, panting, her eyes bright with a wild, tearless triumph.
Andrew let out a long, slow breath. He looked from the expert on the screen to the girl on her knees, her face slick and determined. A faint, approving smile touched his lips. “There it is.”
Pride, warm and startling, bloomed in Kadie’s chest. Lyka laughed, a genuine sound of delight, and crouched down to squeeze her shoulder. “You fucking did it, you little bitch! You actually learned!”
“Her technique is still raw,” Cathryn said, but her voice held a note of professional respect. She placed a hand on Andrew’s other shoulder. “But the commitment is finally there. Acknowledgment is due.”
“Get up here,” Andrew said, his voice a low command edged with new heat.
Kadie rose on shaky legs, but before she could move, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto the wide leather seat beside him. It was still warm from his body. Lyka and Cathryn closed in without needing instruction, a well-oiled machine reactivating. The porn flickered back to life, a chaotic orgy of entangled limbs and gaping mouths, the sound turned up just enough to provide a filthy soundtrack.
“Show us again,” Andrew said, not to Kadie alone, but to all three.
It began as a coordinated assault. Lyka, competitive to the last, took the head, plunging down fiercely, wanting to reclaim dominance. But Kadie, emboldened, didn’t wait her turn. She ducked her head beside Lyka’s, licking and sucking the heavy length of his shaft, her mouth meeting Lyka’s in a wet, accidental kiss over his skin. Cathryn, not to be sidelined, pushed both their heads aside gently but firmly and took him entirely into her own throat in one fluid, masterful motion, setting a brutal standard.
Then it dissolved into glorious, unhinged sloppiness.
They were everywhere at once. No hierarchy, just a hungry, shared purpose. Lyka dove lower, her mouth engulfing one of his balls, sucking the tight sack deep, her tongue probing the wrinkled skin. Kadie, following her lead, took the other, laving it with broad, messy strokes. Their cheeks were smeared with pre-come and spit, their hair sticking to their faces and his skin.
Andrew groaned, a raw, unfiltered sound. He spread his legs wider, pushing his hips up. “Deeper. Get your fucking tongues deeper.”
Cathryn, after another expert deep-throat, moved her attention lower. She pushed Lyka’s head aside gently and pressed her face into the crease of his ass. She licked a broad, wet stripe from his perineum up over his puckered hole. Andrew jolted as if electrocuted. “Christ, yes.”
Seeing this, Lyka scrambled to join, her tongue jabbing beside Cathryn’s, both women rimming him with frantic, slobbering intensity. The sounds were animalistic: wet, squelching laps, gagging gurgles, hungry moans swallowed by flesh. Kadie, still working on his balls, looked up and saw his face, eyes clenched shut, mouth agape, his hands fisted in Cathryn’s and Lyka’s hair, grinding himself against their mouths.
“All of you,” he gasped. “On the cock. Now.”
They obeyed in a tangle. Lyka took him back into her throat, Kadie licked and sucked the base, and Cathryn, her chin slick from his ass, knelt beside Lyka and began frenziedly kissing and licking his shaft, his balls, their tongues colliding, their lips smearing against each other. It was a single, slobbering organism devoted to his pleasure. Spit dripped in thick ropes onto the leather seat, onto their breasts, pooling in the dark hair at his base.
Andrew’s gaze was locked on the screen, where a woman was being simultaneously fucked in the mouth and ass. The reality beneath him was better, hotter, messier. “You’re all such filthy, desperate cunts,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “Look at this fucking mess.”
He came with a shout, his back arching off the seat. His release pulsed in hot, salty jets into Lyka’s waiting mouth, over Kadie’s cheek, across Cathryn’s thrusting tongue. They didn’t pull away. They drank, they licked, they cleaned him with their mouths until he was soft and spent, their faces glittering with the evidence.
For a moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the pornographic moans from the speakers. They slumped against him, against the seat, a heap of satisfied exhaustion.
Andrew pushed them off, not ungently, and reached for his rum. He took a long swallow, his eyes distant again, already retreating from the closeness. He glanced at Kadie, who was wiping her face, a dazed, proud smile playing on her swollen lips.
“Good,” he said, the single word landing on her like a blessing. Then he turned back to the screen. “Now clean this seat. The leather is stained.”
The pride curdled, settling into something familiar and hollow. But it was, she told herself, a better hollow than before. She fetched a cloth, her body aching, her throat raw, and began to wipe.
She fetched a cloth, her body aching, her throat raw, and began to wipe. The leather was slick and sticky beneath the fabric. A week passed in a haze of practiced subservience, but the air in the house had changed. A new current, cold and expectant, had replaced the usual weed-scented torpor.
Cathryn found her by the pool two days later, the morning sun harsh on the blue water. “You want to prove you belong here? Truly?” Her voice was low, carrying over the gentle hum of the filter. “Not just as the girl who gags.”
Kadie put down her book, a cheap romance she wasn’t reading. “Yes.”
“Andrew enjoys spectacle. He enjoys… objectivity.” Cathryn sipped her espresso, her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. “A demonstration of pure function. Can you handle that?”
Lyka emerged from the house, bouncing on her heels, a conspiratorial grin on her face. “It’s all arranged. A dozen. Three at a time. They’ll be here tonight.”
“A dozen what?” Kadie asked, though a cold knot was already tightening in her stomach.
“Men,” Lyka said, as if it were obvious. “Anonymous. Clean, but anonymous. Your only job is to kneel in the middle of the room and open your mouth. You don’t speak. You don’t touch yourself. You just take what they give you. Every last drop.” She leaned close, her breath smelling of mint. “A dozen loads, baby. A real marathon. Think of it as your final exam.”
The screening room that night was different. The giant screen was dark, silent. Instead, a single, stark spotlight was positioned to illuminate the center of the Persian rug. Andrew sat in his usual throne-like chair in the deep shadows just beyond the light’s edge, a cut-crystal glass of rum resting on his knee. He wore a dark silk robe, tied loosely. He was a spectator in his own theatre.
Cathryn, in a severe black leather bustier, stood by the door. Lyka, practically vibrating in a neon green lingerie set, paced at the room’s perimeter. Kadie knelt in the cone of blinding white light. She was naked, shivering, her skin pebbled. The spotlight was hot on her back. She kept her eyes on Andrew’s shadowy form, clinging to the faint, approving smile he’d given her a week ago.
A soft knock. Cathryn opened the door.
Three men filed in. They were nondescript, dressed in plain dark t-shirts and jeans, as instructed. Their faces were blank masks of anticipation. They said nothing, their eyes immediately drawn to the girl on her knees in the light.
“You know the rules,” Cathryn stated, her voice cool and administrative. “One at a time. You use her mouth only. You finish in her mouth. She swallows. You leave.”
The first man, broad-shouldered and smelling of cheap soap, stepped into the light. He unzipped his jeans, already hard. He didn’t stroke himself, didn’t tease. He simply guided his cock, thick and uncut, towards Kadie’s waiting lips.
“Open wide, sweetheart,” Lyka cooed from the darkness. “Show Andrew what a good little cocksucker you are.”
Kadie opened her mouth, her jaw already aching in anticipation. The man pushed in, his hips snapping forward with an impersonal urgency. He fucked her face with short, deep thrusts, his hands tangling in her hair, controlling her head. The gag reflex threatened, a familiar ghost, but she forced it down, thinking of the vomit, the shame, the approving ‘good’. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard, mimicking the motions she’d studied.
“Look at her throat work,” Lyka commented, her voice a stage whisper. “She’s a natural fucking sponge.”
The man grunted, his pace becoming erratic. “Gonna come,” he muttered, a statement of fact. He shoved himself deep, holding her head tight against his groin. Kadie felt the first hot, salty pulse hit the back of her throat. She swallowed convulsively, the bitter, alien taste flooding her mouth. He pumped again, and again, until he was spent. He pulled out, glistening wet, and tucked himself away without a word, stepping back into the shadows.
The second man was already moving forward, his erection bobbing. This one was thinner, longer. He didn’t wait for her to recover. He slid his cock over her lips, smearing the first man’s residue, then pushed in. His angle was wrong, jabbing the roof of her mouth. She winced, tears springing to her eyes.
“Adjust your angle, Kadie,” Cathryn’s voice cut through, clinical. “Tilt your head up. Accommodate him.”
She obeyed, tilting her head back until her neck screamed. It worked. He slid deeper, hitting her throat. He moaned, a high, reedy sound. His thrusts were frantic, desperate.
“She’s taking it so deep,” Lyka laughed. “Like she was born for it. A proper little cum dumpster.”
The second man came with a shudder, his release less voluminous but sharper in taste. Kadie swallowed, her throat working around him as he finished. He stumbled back, looking almost dazed.
The third man was older, quieter. He cupped her chin, his thumb rough on her cheek. He looked into her eyes as he fed his cock into her bruised mouth. His pace was slow, measured, almost tender, which somehow felt worse. He watched her struggle, watched her tears, with a detached curiosity.
“He’s making her work for it,” Andrew’s voice floated from the darkness, the first time he’d spoken. It was an observation, devoid of warmth. “Good. She shouldn’t get it easy.”
The man finally came with a low sigh, his thumb pressing hard into her cheekbone. She swallowed the warm, thick fluid, a stomach-turning concoction of three separate strangers. As the first trio left, another three entered. The cycle repeated. The spotlight became a circle of hell. Her jaw was a burning hinge of pain. Her throat was scraped raw, a tunnel for anonymous flesh. The taste, a layered, rancid cocktail of pre-come and semen, became a permanent film on her tongue.
During the second trio, she retched once, a dry, wrenching heave that made the man in her mouth curse and pull out.
“Swallow it down, Kadie!” Lyka shouted, clapping her hands. “Don’t you dare waste it! That’s the prize, you stupid slut!”
She fought the nausea, breathing harshly through her nose, and opened her mouth again. The man shoved back in, finishing quickly across her tongue.
By the third group, a strange numbness set in. Her body was a machine, a wet, warm receptacle. Her mind floated somewhere near the ceiling, watching the girl below with a distant pity. She caught glimpses of Andrew in the shadows. He was leaning forward, his glass forgotten, his eyes reflecting the stark light as it played over the scene. His hand was inside his robe, slowly stroking himself.
“Look at him,” Cathryn murmured, close to Kadie’s ear during a brief, spit-dripping intermission. “He’s never been harder. This is what he wants. This is what we do for him.”
The fourth and final group entered. Kadie was a ruin. Her makeup, applied hours ago, was streaked in chaotic trails. Her lips were swollen and split. Her eyes were glazed, seeing nothing. The men were rougher now, emboldened by the precedent, by her obvious degradation. One held her nose shut as he came, forcing her to swallow or suffocate. She swallowed.
The last man, sweating and breathless, finished with a guttural roar, pumping into her so forcefully it leaked from the corners of her stretched lips. He stepped back. Silence, save for Kadie’s ragged, wet breathing.
The door closed on the last stranger. The spotlight was switched off, plunging the room into merciful gloom, broken only by a single small lamp.
Kadie remained on her knees, trembling violently, strings of saliva and semen hanging from her chin, dripping onto her breasts. The smell of sex and sweat and anonymous men was overwhelming.
Andrew stood up from his chair. He walked into the lamplight, his robe falling open. He was fully, impressively erect. He looked down at her, at the human puddle of devotion and filth at his feet.
Lyka and Cathryn moved to flank him, their hands on his arms, their faces proud.
“Well?” Cathryn asked, her voice soft.
Andrew reached down. He didn’t touch her face. He wiped two fingers through the mess on her chin, collecting it. He held his glistening fingers in front of her eyes.
“Clean them,” he said.
Kadie, her mind blank, her body not her own, leaned forward and took his fingers into her mouth. She sucked them clean, the final, familiar taste of salt and skin a grotesque relief.
Andrew sighed, a sound of deep, satiated pleasure. He slid his hand behind Lyka’s neck, pulling her in for a rough, possessive kiss. Then he turned, taking Cathryn’s hand, and led them both toward the door, leaving Kadie kneeling in the dark.
“See to her,” he said over his shoulder, not looking back. “And get the carpet cleaned tomorrow. It stinks of strangers.”