Chapter 10: Morning Devotion
The plush silence of the penthouse bedroom pressed down, thick and heavy as the velvet drapes blocking the dawn. Rara blinked, disoriented. Not her cramped apartment with Hali’s gentle snores. This expanse of silk sheets, the dizzying scent of Bram’s sandalwood cologne clinging to the air, the lingering musk of their night. Memory slammed back: the blurred car ride after the gala, Bram’s hand possessively high on her thigh, his low command, "Mine tonight," silencing her weak protest about Hali. The elevator ascent in stifling silence, his grip tightening. Then this room, the king-sized bed an altar to his dominance. He’d taken her again, bent over the silk-covered footboard, her cries muffled by the bedding, his enormous cock tearing into her already tender ass from the gallery violation, deeper, harder, until she’d blacked out from the brutal mix of pain and overwhelming, shameful ecstasy.
She shifted. A sharp ache bloomed deep in her rectum, radiating outwards. Warmth trickled between her buttocks onto the cool sheet – his seed, still leaking hours later. The sheer vulnerability of it, the raw, used feeling, sent a familiar tremor through her, part revulsion, part… thrill. Her augmented breasts felt heavy, sensitive against the silk. His creation.
Her phone buzzed softly on the absurdly ornate nightstand, a slab of black marble. She fumbled for it, the screen’s glow harsh in the dimness. Hali’s name. Her heart clenched.
> Working late again, my love. Client emergency. Don’t wait up. Get some rest. Love you.
The words blurred. Working late. Always working late. Covering for Rara’s absences, her lies. The guilt was a physical weight, a stone in her throat. Love you. Hali’s unwavering acceptance, her quiet sacrifice, knowing full well where Rara was, what she was doing. The knowledge was a knife twist. Yet… beneath the guilt, a treacherous sense of relief unfurled. Hali wouldn’t be waiting, wouldn’t see the marks, smell Bram on her, feel how loose she was… The relief curdled immediately into deeper shame.
A low groan came from beside her. Bram stirred, rolling onto his back. The silk sheet slid down, revealing the thick, rigid length of his morning erection already jutting aggressively from his groin, glistening faintly at the tip. It was a monstrous thing, intimidating even in repose, flushed dark and pulsing with primal need. The sight alone triggered an instant, visceral reaction deep in Rara’s gut – a clenching low in her belly, a sudden dampness that had nothing to do with the leaking cum. Addiction flared, hot and undeniable, momentarily scorching through the guilt and shame.
Before conscious thought could intervene, before Hali’s loving text could reclaim its hold, her body moved. Driven by a hunger that bypassed her mind and spoke directly to her cunt, to the nerve endings still humming from the night before, she slithered down the bed. The silk whispered against her skin. The scent of him – sweat, sex, expensive cologne – filled her nostrils, intoxicating and degrading.
She didn’t hesitate. She took the swollen, purplish head into her mouth, her lips stretching wide to accommodate the girth. It was hot, salty, tasting of sleep and dominance and her own essence from hours past. She swirled her tongue around the broad ridge, tasting the pre-cum already beading there – bitter, musky. A low, satisfied rumble vibrated from Bram’s chest. He didn’t open his eyes, just slid a heavy hand onto the back of her head, fingers tangling roughly in her hair.
"Fuck yeah," he muttered, voice thick with sleep and lust. "Morning mouth on my cock. That’s your place, isn’t it, slut? On your knees worshipping this dick."
He pushed down. Not gently. Rara’s jaw strained as he forced more of his massive thickness into her mouth, the head nudging the back of her throat. She gagged reflexively, tears springing to her eyes, saliva pooling. She fought the reflex, relaxing her throat muscles through sheer, practiced will, the memory of Hali's text a distant flicker drowned out by the immediate, overwhelming reality of his cock filling her mouth. She sucked hard, hollowing her cheeks, her tongue working frantically along the pulsing underside vein.
"Deep, cocksucker," Bram commanded, his hips lifting slightly off the bed to thrust shallowly into her mouth. "Take it all. You know how. That greedy throat was built for this." His grip on her hair tightened, guiding her rhythm, forcing her head down further with each push. "Suck it like the shemale whore you are. Like the bitch who traded her wife’s pride for silicone tits and my cock up her ass."
His words, vile and degrading, sent another jolt of conflicting sensation through her – humiliation warring with intense arousal. Her pussy clenched desperately, empty and aching, even as she choked on his shaft. She bobbed her head faster, taking him deeper with each descent, her nose pressing into his coarse pubic hair. The sounds were obscenely loud in the quiet room: her wet, rhythmic sucking, the slick slide of flesh, her choked gags, Bram’s low grunts of approval.
"Fucking perfect," he groaned, fingers tightening like a vice. "Feel that? Feel how hard you make Daddy? Your slut mouth owns you. Just like your slut ass." He bucked upwards, driving himself brutally deep into her throat. Rara’s eyes watered profusely, her throat convulsing around the invading thickness. He held her there, buried to the hilt, for agonizing seconds, letting her struggle, savoring the tight, desperate spasms of her throat muscles. "Gag on it," he rasped, a dark edge to his voice. "Choke on my fucking morning wood, you beautiful fucking bitch."
He finally released the pressure slightly, letting her pull back just enough to gasp for air, saliva and pre-cum stringing from her lips to his cock. She didn’t stop. She dove back down, taking him deep again, her hand wrapping around the base of his cock, slick with her spit, working the thick shaft in tandem with her mouth. She was lost in the rhythm, in the taste, in the suffocating pressure, the addictive power of him. Hali felt galaxies away. There was only this cock, this demand, the raw, degrading need consuming her.
Bram’s breathing grew ragged, his thrusts into her mouth becoming more erratic, more forceful. "Gonna fucking paint that pretty throat," he growled, his voice guttural. "Swallow every fucking drop, you hear me? Show Daddy what a good little cumdump you are. Show me you belong to this cock!"
He slammed home one final time, burying himself deep, and held her head down as his body tensed. Hot, thick spurts of cum exploded into the back of her throat, flooding her mouth with his bitter, salty essence. Rara swallowed convulsively, automatically, the sheer volume making her choke and sputter, but she kept sucking, milking him, taking every pulse until he finally, shuddering, went limp.
He released her hair. She pulled back, gasping, cum and saliva slick on her chin, her throat raw and aching. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, still dazed.
Bram looked down at her, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. He traced a thumb through the mess on her lips, then pushed it roughly back into her mouth. "Clean it," he ordered, his voice cold now, the brief moment of release gone, replaced by chilling command. "Then get dressed. I have a breakfast meeting. You’ll join me. Looking presentable." He swung his legs out of bed, the spell broken, the transaction complete… for now. The weight of what she’d done, the taste of him still coating her tongue, the soreness in her ass, and Hali’s patient, loving text glowing accusingly from the nightstand – it all crashed back in, leaving Rara kneeling on the silk sheets, trembling, owned, and utterly hollow.