Cock-Drunk

March 27

Strapped to the bed, leather restraints tugging on skin. I lay there, naked, face hanging over the edge of the bed. The disoriented view makes me queasy.
He stands, legs apart, stiff denim of His jeans rustling as he shifts weight onto His hip.
"Look up." He demands. My eyes trace over His form, landing on His smiling face. It's not a good smile, I've learned. That's cruel punishment waiting to happen.
"Tsk, look at you," He coos. "No idea how bad I want to *** this hole."
I whine at the thought, still meeting His eyes. He simply chuckles and unbuttons the fly of His jeans. My eyes snap down to watch Him work.
He pulls Himself free and I feel myself clench around nothing. I know He knows from the way He laughs. My face heats in embarrassment.
Just before I begin to beg, He wrenches my jaw open with three fingers against my tongue. My immediate gag makes Him laugh harder.
"Can't even take that, crybaby?" He ***s. I say nothing, weak whine escaping me. He wastes no time in prying my mouth as open as it can be and slowly lining Himself up. There's barely enough time for a breath before He slams into the back of my throat. I tense and constrict around him.
"Open. Your. Throat." He demands with each thrust against the soft pallet in the back of my mouth.
I convulse, tears slipping down my face as a retch claws it's way through my body. My throat opens, but He sits heavy down my throat, plugging vomit from pooling in my mouth.The worst of it passes as He keeps steady pressure against my face.
When I feel darkness clouding my vision, when my lungs burn, when it build and builds… He pulls back, just enough for me to suck in a breath around His length. Another ***istic gag pulls from my throat, but there's not even enough time to panic before He grinds His hips into my face, shutting me up once again.
My sinuses burn. My eyes water and nose stings with the *** of Him. This is where my fight response kicks in. The urge to breathe, gag, pull away, anything else has me writhing against my restraints. He grabs my neck, palming His cock through the delicate skin of my throat.
"Stay still," He orders. Like it's as easy as breathing. Which I can't do right now. A wet gurgle pries itself from the depths of my throat that He's currently invading.
The sounds that He pulls from me make me want to shrivel up in a corner. It sounds disgusting. I almost want to stop, in *** of embarrassing myself further.
But then He groans, a pleasured "mmf-".
And it's like every other feeling dissapates. All that's left is this… warmth. Accomplishment. My head floats in the feeling, eyes rolling back and body relaxing. Enough for Him to push further into the wet heat of my esophagus. And I don't gag.
More sounds escape me but I can't be bothered to care because He keeps making these noises. Enough to drive me insane. I clench around absolutely nothing, leaking into the bedsheets.
And then I recall a name for what I currently feel. Something I only ever read in erotic writings and silly pornos.
Cock-drunk.