Chapter Text
Your knees ached something awful as you stared up at your captor. You had no idea who he even was. It was unnerving to say to least. Unnerving as your blurry eyes managed to stare back at that mask you had grown oddly familiar with. It was even worse when his cock was being crammed down your throat.
Every gag that was ripped from you squeezed around the masked man just right. Not for you though. He didn’t care if you wanted it or liked it. That wasn’t the point. Every rough jerk of his hips only forced you to choke on his cock more than the last movement. The crude noises borderline bothered him, although it seemed to fuel something inside of him.
You were suprised he wasn’t ridiculing you in some fashion, reminding you of how much you didn’t want be there. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he got to comfortably lounge himself on the couch while your knees dug into the carpet.
That didn’t matter either.
You didn’t dare to look away or give in and squeeze your watery eyes shut. No matter how violently your throat burned or how your vision blurred with tears. It was uncanny to stare back at him. To stare back at those painted features that did nothing to rest your nerves. You couldn’t tell what he was feeling, or what he looked like. The only thing you could figure out was how he wasn’t roughly fucking your face that day. In your favour, there isn’t anything like forcing a sweet thing like you on his cock after a long day. (you’d try not to pay attention to the blood that caked his jacket cuffs.)
When it came to violence, it wasn’t like it took much negotiation for you to listen to what he asked of you. It always more of an order though. You certainly did not want to face the consequences of misbehaving. You struggled to force deep breaths through your nose with each shove your head. You could’ve began hyperventilating at any moment when staring up at him. It wasn’t like breathing through your stuffy nose was a favorable option. You could’ve cried even more, considering how he was staring down at you stationed between his knees.
You could feel how the man’s wrist was steady, although his fingers barely - just barely trembled when pulling at the roots of your hair. (when grasping the back of your head, the rough tugs were anything but affectionate. drawing your lips down his cock wonderfully. to him, that is.) The masked man’s cock pulsed against the back of your throat with each rough shove of that pretty head of yours. The feeling of those twitches, the sound of his guttural vocals were absolute torture. The room reeked - the sound of his grunts and heaving breaths filled it.
Your jaw was growing sore and your throat was aching with each movement. This allowed his cock to prod as deep as he wanted it to. You felt your gags grow cautious. His cock was teasing your sensitive reflex, (pulsing with every jerk. every sloppy, not rhythmic buck of his hips against your face every few moments. followed by those low grunts. in any other scenario, it could’ve been attractive. oh fuck.)
The issue wasn’t his filthy noises or even how bad you needed to pee. No. Your stomach wasn’t empty. (on occasion, he would actually feed you.) Shit. You felt your throat tense up. Edging that familiar feeling. The teasing feeling you felt just before puking. Usually you were bent over a toilet when that happened, not with someone’s dick in your mouth!
throw up throw up throw up throw up you were going to fucking vomit on this masked man’s dick-
Your adorable puppy dog eyes did nothing to save your ass when desperately looking up at him. At the faux features where you knew some sort of unidentifiable man was behind.
That didn’t matter either!
You’d instinctively pull your head far from what was triggering your gag reflex, but it was no use. You were no match for this man. (no match for the greasy brunette locks that curtained over that mask of his either.) Your resistance only seemed to fuel whatever motivated him in the first place. Your pitiful whines were nothing to this man. It was no use at all. The grasp on the back of your head was no match for your weak hands that grasped at his thighs. (you were far too afraid of him to even try pushing at his hips. or even grasp at his belt loops that lazily rested by them?)
It wasn’t like you’d affect a man his size anyways. Your nails raked against the denim over his thighs, squeezing your pretty eyes shut as bile spilled from your full throat. You felt another painful retch, puke uncontrollably projecting from your throat. The sudden gush of vomit was enough to provoke a shift in weight from the man, forcing your head harder onto his dick. It was enough to rip a low “fuck” from him. It was disgusting. His voice .. your vomit that had spilled down his cock and ran down his shaft. But he didn’t seem to care how gross you were. Yet, at least.
The palms of your hands only trembled as they spread against his thighs in retreat. Your jaw ached with another drawn out whine, (a sob.) but it was no use. If anything, it made it worse. Your head was forced harder between his thighs, catching up with the sloppy grinds of his hips against your face. (and raw, somewhat muffled grunts.)
The stench of vomit was forced up your nose as you felt your teeth graze his now saliva, puke, and cum lathered cock in your throat. He didn’t stop. He didn’t care. He was tugging at your knotted locks now, continuing to assist you in choking on his cock. The close proximity only solidified the horrible stench of puke and musk. The strong musk of this masked man. You hadn’t gotten used to your nose being forced against the unruly hair of his stomach. A guttural slew of curses and grunts escaped his mouth as his hips bucked particularly roughly against your own mouth. (hard and painful. you feared he was going to kill you with that thing.)
You felt him throb in your tight little throat, violating it completely as it was filled with his cum. (this strange man’s filthy seed.) You could only whimper out a cry. It was pathetic. Just like you were. (Your face forced against Masky’s crotch; bitching and crying about it?) You squeezed your thighs together at the violation, desperately wishing your body would stop betraying you. (you could hear it now. snide remarks from the masked man on what he could do to you.)
You sniffled hard, retching with the taste - the feeling . Oh god -
“Look at me, sunshine.” You heard him finally speak up, yanking at your sore scalp. His voice kept that same stern tone, all the while mocking you. It was an order, not a suggestion. (the sweet name should’ve felt welcoming; but it felt more like an insult.)
You blinked your stinging eyes open, meeting the eyes? of his mask. It felt unfair. He got to see every inch of you, but you only saw glimpses of his stomach and cock. Every now and then you’d focus on what you could see. Brown hair .. side burns. A voice with a southern drawl to it. Hell, you didn’t even know if you were in Alabama anymore. That didn’t matter either. You did your best to ‘look at him.’ You squinted with blurred vision, mustering another pitiful whine. If only you could make out what he was thinking. Did he sadistically smirk when teasing you? Did he truly have distaste for you? It it wasn’t hard to guess. (any day now the blood painting his cuffs could be yours!) You could only hear jagged breaths and feel his fingers tremble against the back of your head. He only grunted in appreciation. Approval? You weren’t sure.
You didn’t have time to psychoanalyze this man! He yanked your head backwards, sliding his cock out of your mouth with a lewd sound. Your eyes never left his, but you could feel the thick string of vomit, salvia, and cum follow between your swollen lips and his dick.
You felt disgusting. Messy, wet, used. You felt like a used condom thrown in the trash. In that moment, you could only tremble, not daring to even think of wiping your mouth off. You could only whimper, swallowing hard as the masked man leaned fowards, (with an exhausted sound.) to get closer to you. Your pathetic little self. You chewed on your raw lip, an attempt to control how fearful you were of his next move - taking everything in you not to move as he lifted a hand right before your face.
You whined as his fingers smeared that disgusting mixture across your stained cheek. Was that what he wanted to do? Humiliate you more? His coarse fingers wiped your mouth off, rubbing past your chapped lips. It felt .. comforting. For a second that is. You fluttered your puffy eyelids shut and enjoyed the feeling. Even for a moment. “You poor thing.” The masked man rubbed your cheek, caressing the warm skin with sticky fingers. (taking advantage of this moment.) You sniffled with a childish whine, allowing yourself to lean against his hand.
Only, you knew he didn’t feel bad for you.
That fantasy was torn away as those welcoming fingers lifted off your burning skin. You didn’t have to opportunity to defend yourself - as that comforting touch struck you right across the face. (he finally let go of your hair, allowing you to jerk away.) A pitiful cry was choked out of you as your cheek burned at the strike. You wished to finally collapse on the floor and cry it out - but you knew you couldn’t do that. You sniffled hard, lifting your head up to meet him once more.
(you wished to see what sort of expression he held beyond that mask. if he had any sort of emotion other than .. whatever this was, that is.) You weren’t even sure what that was for, but from the way you glanced back at him, the way your eyes trailed down to his half-soft cock pressed against his stomach; you knew he was far from being done with you.