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I’m gagging and drooling all over his cock, yet he only goes harder. The breaths I’m able to get in are short and not nearly enough, and it only heightens my sensations. My head grows a little fuzzy as I rub my clit harder, faster.
It only takes a couple minutes before I feel my orgasm closing in. Wes’s groans are more consistent and closer together, and it’s driving me higher and higher.
The feeling of being used, of being completely powerless, is one I’ve craved for years. And Wes… he’s using me for his pleasure and only his pleasure. Knowing one of my deepest, darkest fantasies is finally happening in a manner at least somewhat close to what I’ve always wanted sends me barreling over the edge.
My screams are muffled by Wes’s cock, and I lightly stroke my clit, trying to make my orgasm last for as long as I can. Tears fill my eyes, and I stare up at Wes just as a soft grunt leaves his lips.
Cum hits the back of my throat, spilling out of my mouth as Wes pumps deeper into me, emptying straight into my throat. I choke and gag, hitting his leg repeatedly until he pulls out. When he does, he shoves me away like he’s disgusted with me.
He’s silent as I fall onto my side, trying to swallow down the cum coating my throat. After a second, he makes a disturbed sound and stoops next to me. His fingers work at the back of my head, undoing the gag, and then he removes it from my mouth.
From there, I’m able to clear my airway enough to breathe. It takes some coughing and some painful swallowing, but I can finally get in a proper amount of oxygen.
Wes grabs the bandana he used to clean me up earlier and tosses it onto the ground. “Clean yourself up.”
I grab it, trying to shake off the dirt and leaves before wiping at my face. My breathing is just returning to normal as I look up at him. He’s fixed his pants, zipping and buttoning them up so it barely looks like he did anything.
Me, on the other hand… he’s destroyed me.
Just like he always does.
“Give me your hands.”
I hold them out when I see the key in his hand. When he undoes the cuffs, I immediately rub at my wrists. They weren’t too tight, but I ended up putting pressure on my arms in weird ways while I was fingering myself.
“Get up.”
Wes’s voice is so cold and detached that it sends a shiver through me. Any warmth or care is gone, not that there was ever very much.
“Do I get to go home now?” I start to get up, but my head is spinning, and I fall on my ass.
“Get up, Harper,” he snaps.
“I…” This time, I grab onto the tree and use it for balance. Once I’m on my feet, I lean against it, turning to look at Wes.
His head is tilted, that stupid mask glowing red and smiling at me with that stitched-together mouth. He’s fucking sick for doing this. I should be angry. So fucking angry.
Instead, all I feel is tired and maybe a little nauseated.
“I wanna go home,” I say weakly. I’m dizzy—so dizzy. Instead of stepping away from the tree to get the hell out of here, I slump against it. “Please take me home.”
Wes shakes his head, coming to stand in front of me. He takes my chin in between his thumb and forefinger, tilting it up until I’m looking past his mask and into his dark eyes.
“I want to go to bed,” I whine, unsure of why I think he’ll care. But my mind is just so… fuzzy.
“Not yet,” Wes says softly.
“Why am I not angry with you?” I whisper.
“Probably the drugs,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll feel differently in the morning.”
“D… drugs,” I slur.
“That’s right,” he says, and I swear I hear some warmth return to his voice. But what he says next sends chills through my whole body. “You’re coming home with me, and I’m going to let my friends use your helpless, unconscious body for the rest of the night.”
Chapter Fourteen
Wes
