She says it, gulping, sorethroated, whenever her mouth is free, which isn’t often. I make sure that, for most of the time she’s under me, her mouth is filled with my tongue, my fingers, my cock. My forearm pressed through her lips like a bit gag. My spit which she is ordered to swallow.
But whenever her mouthisn’tbeing used in this fashion, she says it:use me, use me. That’s it. Whatever you want to do to me. Use me. I’m yours.
She doesn’tjustsay it. Every little movement she makes is her wanting to be used. To be useful. To give and please and pleasure and suffer. Any time I push her down towards my groin her mouth is already open, waiting for me. She goes where I put her with an obscene willingness. I turn her over and she splays her legs, sticking her arse in the air, ready to be fucked.
Use me, she says.You can use me however you want.
And I do. I use her. However I want. However it occurs to me in each chaotic moment. If I want my fingers to be inside her they are inside her a few seconds later. If I want to feel her lips around my cock, the same.
After half an hour or so we end up on the floor. She lies on her side, knees cocooned to chest, panting and pinked. I fuck her mouth, hard, until I feel my cock slip into her throat. The intrusion of it makes her scrabble, kick, fingers pressing into my hips… but not to push me away; she pulls me in. Deep in to her throat, until her nose is buried in my pubic hair, the entire length of my cock snugged inside her.
It is something I did not know she could do. She who issosmall – whose slender neck fits comfortably in one of my hands. Thinlimbed and slight. That she can take the whole length of me, without gagging, and still want more.
I pull out for a moment, fully expecting her to choke. To pull back too, eyes streaming, retching roughly. But she doesn’t. Instead, the very moment her mouth is free she says it again, her voice choked and wet:use me, please, use me, use me.
And so I plunge my cock back into her mouth, and she pulls me in again, and I drive down into her throat, and stay there for as long as I wish. I feel every little movement. Her striving to breathe. Her body convulsing. Her throat repeatedly contracting in a spasmodic almostgag.
She says it every time I pull out of her, until eventually I shoot my load straight down her throat, so deep in her that she doesn’t even need to swallow. So deep in her that she takes my load before she’s next able to take a breath.
Afterwards, lying spent with me on the floor, so thoroughly used, her voiceroughfrom that usage, she thanks me, abjectly, as thoughIhave done something forher.
