Page 31 of Cracked Doll

"Even the thought of your soft little lips on me is enough to make me want to blow," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I’ve spent every fucking night watching you sleep, jerking off to the sight of you, imagining this. But tonight... tonight I’m not doing it myself. You’re going to give me this orgasm, Ophelia."

The cold steel of the knife returns, pressing firmly against the sensitive skin of my throat. I shiver, the metal biting in.

"I want to feel my cock deep in your throat while I hold this blade right here," he whispers. "One wrong move, one attempt to pull away, and I'll see if you bleed as beautifully as you scream."

I know exactly what he wants. I’ve never done this—never let a man inside me, let alone in my mouth—but I’ve read the classics. I’ve read the descriptions of blowjobs in those old books, the longing and the heat. I’m terrified, but there’s a dark, sick curiosity blooming in my chest, fueled by the sheer dominance he’s exerting over me. He knows I’m a novice; he can see it in my wide, trembling eyes.

"First time, isn't it, love?" he sneers, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Your first time taking a real man's cock. Don't worry... I'll make sure you remember it."

The threat of the knife is the only thing keeping me here, but as I look at the glistening tip of him, I find myself moving. I don't want to die. I want to survive. Slowly, tentatively, I stick out my tongue and lick the head of his cock. The taste of his pre-cum is salty and sharp, hitting my taste buds with an intensity that makes me recoil for a second, but it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. It tastes like him—musk and heat.

"Hold it," he commands. "Use both hands, you clumsy thing. It'll be easier."

I reach out, my fingers shaking violently. I wrap both hands around the shaft, but I gasp when I realize my fingers barely meet my thumb. Even with both hands gripped tight, there is still so much of him left, towering over my grip. I’ve never seen a cock in person; is it supposed to be this big? It feels like a warm, pulsing iron bar.

I open my mouth, thinking of it like a lollipop, trying to mimic the things I've read. I slide the head inside, and the moment the wet heat of my mouth closes around him, Rhys lets out a low, guttural groan. He flexes his neck, his muscles tightening, and the sound sends a jolt of electricity straight to my core. My pussy suddenly throbbed, melting between my thighs. I find myself wanting to hear that sound again—the sound of me breaking him.

I begin to suck slowly, my tongue swirling around the ridge of the head, my hands trembling as they slide up and down the shaft. I’m clumsy, my movements hesitant, but I can feel him reacting to every touch.

"Fuck, Ophelia," he moans, his voice strained. "Your trembling little hands... that tongue... it's driving me fucking insane. You have no idea how good the inside of your mouth feels."

From the counter, the operator's voice is still there, a tinny, desperate ghost. "Ophelia? Ophelia, are you there? Please answer me! Are you okay?"

I can't answer. I'm too busy trying to navigate the mass of him. Suddenly, I feel the knife move. He’s using the flat of the blade to push my hand away from my face, forcing me to open wider. I try to resist for a second, pushing back, but he’s had enough of my hesitation.

He reaches back, grabbing a handful of my hair in a brutal grip, yanking my head back. The knife is pressed hard against my throat, and without warning, he shoves his entire cock into my mouth, driving it deep down my throat in one violent motion.

I scream on his cock and I swear I hear him chuckle with joy at that.

I gag violently, my eyes watering, my lungs screaming for air. He groans in pure, unadulterated pleasure, and I feel the blunt side of the knife tap against my neck, exactly where the tip of his cock is hitting the back of my throat. He’s marking the depth.

I try to push him away, my hands clawing at his thighs, but he keeps his grip on my hair, locking me in place. I’m suffocating, my nose pressed hard into his coarse pubic hair, the scent of him overwhelming my senses. He holds me there for a long, agonizing moment, forcing me to take all of him, before he slowly pulls out.

I collapse forward, coughing and gasping for air, trying to push myself up. But he doesn't give me a second to recover. He shoves his cock back in, but this time, he doesn't just hold it there. He begins to fuck my mouth, his hips thrusting with a rhythmic, punishing force.

"That's it, my cracked doll," he praises, his voice a dark caress. "Take it all, love. Take it for me, Ophelia."

A strange, traitorous heat floods my body. The feeling of him claiming my mouth, the sheer power of his thrusts, begins to arouse me. I find myself opening my mouth wider, leaning into the friction, wanting more. My pussy is crying now, throbbing with a desperate, aching need.

My hands move from my thighs to his balls, my fingers gently squeezing and playing with them. Rhys lets out a loud, shaking moan and shoves deeper, throat-fucking me with a sudden, savage intensity. My entire body shivers, my toes curling against the floor. I begin to suck him greedily, my tongue working frantically around him, my throat opening up to accommodate the brutality of his movements.

The sensation of him filling my throat makes my pussy leak, the wetness soaking into my dress. I'm begging for him—not in my head, but in my body. I want that cock inside my pussy, tearing through me just as he's tearing through my mouth.

He seems to sense it. He fucks my mouth harder, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You're soaking, aren't you, love? I can smell you from here. If you're a good girl, if you take every drop of this, I'll fuck that pussy of yours until you forget your own fucking name."

And then, the sound cuts through the air.

The wail of police sirens.

They are close. Very close. The operator’s voice screams through the phone, "Ophelia! Hold on! The police are right outside! They're there now!"

Blue and red lights begin to flash through the windows of the shop, strobing across the walls and the toys, turning the room into a chaotic neon nightmare. The police cars screech to a halt right in front of the door.

Just as the sirens reach a deafening crescendo, Rhys gives one final, powerful thrust, burying himself as deep as he can in my throat. He freezes, his body locking up, and then he comes.

It’s a violent release. I feel the hot, thick jets of his cum hitting the back of my throat in waves. It’s overwhelming, the taste of him filling my mouth, forcing me to swallow or choke. He holds me there, pinning my head against his pelvis, wasting every single drop of his release deep inside me.

As the police doors slam and the shouts of "Hands in the air!" echo from outside, Rhys slowly pulls away. He reaches for the phone receiver on the counter.