Chapter 23: Day 6: Marks bedroom
The stale beer smell hit me first. That same sour tang clinging to the crumpled cans littering the coffee table, the scent embedded in the worn fabric of the couch where Mark sprawled, grinning like he’d won the lottery. Which, in his fucked-up world, he kinda had. Me. Payment rendered. Again.
My skin still felt raw from Chris’s garage intensity, the phantom ache deep inside where he’d hammered into me, using the yoga ball to pin me open. That had been brutal, direct. This… this felt different. Slimier. Mark’s easygoing charm was a veneer over something calculating. He’d offered a choice: ass or pussy for roughness, mouth for gentleness. Gentleness. A fucking joke. I’d chosen mouth, desperate for anything resembling mercy after Chris. A reprieve. A mistake.
"Alright, Tay-Tay," Mark drawled, patting the space between his spread legs on the couch. The flickering light from the muted sports game played across his sharp jawline, his athletic frame relaxed but radiating coiled energy. "Payment time. You picked the gentle option. Lucky me." His grin widened, predatory. "Hope you brought your A-game. Takes a bit more… finesse to get me off this way."
I swallowed, the taste of cheap beer lingering from earlier mingling with dread. My own body, this traitorous flesh with its heavy E-cup breasts straining against my thin top and its treacherous dampness between my legs, felt alien. Wrong. My mind screamed male, screamed get the fuck out, but the deal – Mark’s fucking deal – bound me tighter than chains. Satisfy them or be homeless. Simple. Brutal.
I knelt on the scratchy carpet, the posture itself a humiliation. My long hair fell forward, a curtain I wished could hide me completely. Mark shifted, adjusting himself in his sweatpants. Already, the thick outline was visible. He hadn’t been lying about one thing: he was ready.
"Gentle, remember?" I muttered, the words tasting like ash.
"Oh, I’ll be gentle," he chuckled, low and dark. "But gentle doesn't mean quick, sweetheart. See, I already took care of myself earlier. Thinking about you. About this." His hand cupped the bulge, squeezing lightly. A groan rumbled in his chest. "Means I’m gonna last. Means you’re gonna work for it."
Revulsion coiled cold in my gut. He’d planned this. Tricked me. Chosen the option that meant prolonged degradation. My jaw clenched. Get it over with.
I reached out, fingers trembling slightly despite my iron resolve. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and briefs, pulling them down just enough. His cock sprang free, thick, already fully hard, the head flushed dark and glistening faintly. The musky scent of him, pure male arousal, hit me hard. Unwanted heat prickled low in my belly. Fucking hormones.
"Go on," Mark urged, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. He leaned back, spreading his thighs wider, settling in. "Show me what you got. Gentle."
I took a shallow breath, steeling myself. This was mechanics. Biology. Just a task. I wrapped my fingers around the base, feeling the hot, pulsing weight. Then I leaned forward, opened my mouth, and took just the swollen head inside.
The taste was immediate, salty, musky. Alien. My tongue instinctively recoiled, but I forced it forward, flattening it against the underside of the glans. I swirled tentatively.
Mark hissed. "Yeah… like that. Soft. Slow." His hand came down, not roughly, but firmly, settling on the back of my head. Guiding. "Use your tongue more. Right under the ridge… fuck yeah…"
I focused on the spot he indicated, licking and swirling with deliberate, unhurried strokes. Trying to detach. Trying to think of anything else. The game on TV. The pile of laundry in the corner. Anything but the hot, living flesh filling my mouth, the low groans vibrating from Mark’s chest.
"Good girl," he murmured, fingers tangling gently in my hair. The praise felt like acid. "Now… suck a little. Just a little pressure. Yeah…"
I obeyed, hollowing my cheeks slightly, applying suction as I worked my tongue. Saliva pooled, making obscene wet sounds. My jaw was already starting to ache. Thirty minutes, he’d implied. Thirty fucking minutes of this.
Time stretched, thick and syrupy with discomfort. Mark kept up a low commentary, a filthy instruction manual disguised as encouragement.
"Tease the tip… just the very tip with your tongue… flick it… oh fuck, Tay…"
"Deep now… take more… yeah, just like that… throat relaxing… good…"
"Hands… use your hands too… stroke what you can’t take… twist a little… yeah…"
"Look up at me… let me see those pretty eyes…"
I met his gaze, my own eyes flat, dead. He grinned down at me, enjoying the sight, enjoying the control. His hips began a subtle, rhythmic rocking, fucking shallowly into my mouth. The head bumped against the back of my throat. I gagged reflexively, tears springing to my eyes.
"Easy," he soothed, thumb brushing a tear away from my cheekbone. The tenderness was worse than roughness. "Just breathe through your nose. Relax your throat. You’re doing so good…"
The conflicting sensations were torture. The physical discomfort – aching jaw, strained throat, drool slicking my chin. The unwanted, traitorous warmth spreading through my own core, a biological betrayal my male mind raged against. The sheer, grinding humiliation of being used like this, forced to perform, forced to care about his pleasure.
I doubled down on the techniques he’d demanded, trying to trigger his climax faster. Flicking my tongue relentlessly under the frenulum. Applying suction rhythmically as I bobbed my head. Twisting my hand on the shaft in time with my movements. Stroking his balls with my other hand, squeezing gently like he’d shown me earlier.
"Fuck… fuck…" Mark gasped, his breathing becoming ragged. His fingers tightened in my hair, not painfully, but possessively. His thrusts became less controlled, more urgent, pushing deeper. "Yeah… just like that… don’t stop… gonna… gonna…"
Hope, sharp and desperate, flared. Finally. I redoubled my efforts, sucking harder, stroking faster, focusing every ounce of degrading skill I’d learned in this nightmare onto that single goal: making him come.
His hips jerked. A guttural groan tore from his throat. "Oh GOD! Take it! Take it all!"
The first thick, hot pulse hit the back of my throat. Salty. Bitter. Unmistakable. I froze, gagging violently as the second spurt followed, flooding my mouth with the viscous fluid. My instinct was to wrench away, to spit, to vomit.
Mark’s hand clamped down hard on the back of my head, holding me firmly in place. "Swallow," he commanded, his voice thick with spent lust. "Swallow it all. Every drop. That’s the payment."
Revulsion choked me worse than his cum. Tears streamed freely down my face now, mingling with the spit and semen coating my lips and chin. I fought the gag reflex, forcing my throat to work. Swallowing. Once. Twice. Three times. The taste lingered, coating my tongue, thick and cloying.
He held me there for another agonizing moment, his cock softening slightly against my tongue, before finally releasing his grip. I pulled back instantly, gasping for air, wiping frantically at my mouth with the back of my hand. My chest heaved. I felt filthy. Violated down to my core.
Mark sighed, a sound of deep satisfaction. He tucked himself back into his sweats, looking utterly relaxed, utterly pleased with himself. He reached for his abandoned beer can, took a long swig, and grinned down at me where I knelt, trembling and wrecked.
"See?" he said, wiping his own mouth with his thumb. "Gentle. Told you." He took another swig. "Good job, Taylor. Real good." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. "Two down. One to go."
The words landed like stones. Two down. Chris’s brutal possession in the garage. Mark’s prolonged, manipulative degradation here. Only Alex remained. The quiet one. The unknown. The dread curdled in my stomach, colder and heavier than Mark’s cum. I pushed myself up on shaky legs, avoiding his gaze, the taste of salt and betrayal thick in my mouth. One more. Just one more payment. The thought offered no comfort. Only a deeper plunge into the nightmare my own body had become.