Depraved by Trent Evans

Chapter 21

She should have hated him for it, should have bitten him, cursed him, but as she licked slowly down his lower abdomen, her tongue tracing the ridges and bulges of his incredibly defined muscles there, she was horrified at the heat between her thighs.

Blaming it on her frustrated, denied pussy might have explained part of it, but being forced to serve and worship every inch of Jon’s body as he reclined on her own bed in her cell—itself something that seemed calculated to reinforce her helplessness—was one of the most erotic things she’d ever done.

He was so… big. Muscles upon muscles upon muscles. Veins everywhere. Pure masculine power, enough to break her in two—if he decided it.

When he’d held her by the hair and slowly growled at her to lick along the V-taper of muscle at the lowest part of his belly—she seemed to recall that being referred to as “Orion’s Belt” from some long-ago human anatomy lesson—she almost whimpered with her arousal.

This was made worse by the way he’d cruelly bound her hands, locking them by only two links of chain to the heavy ring at the front of her collar, it forced her into a humiliating mockery of supplication as she licked him. It did allow her to use her hands, at least a little, to help balance herself, but she’d have been a liar if she’d said she didn’t want to touch him in a much more active way.

That’s just survival instinct, Yulia. Pleasing him like this.

But even now, she knew it was increasingly a lie.

The fact was, he was gorgeous, a male body like none she’d ever encountered, and the way he handled her—the way he forced her to serve that body—had her almost dripping.

And he hadn’t even so much as swiped a finger across her clit.

Even the scent of his sweat was leaving her light-headed, the smell of him making her literally drool onto his skin as she licked still lower, her tongue delving into the thick wiriness of his pubic hair.

His thick, hard cock lolled against her neck, then her jaw as she licked further down into the humid divide between his immensely power thigh, and his huge balls. They were hot against her cheek, the testicles sliding within the smooth, tender scrotum, as she curled her tongue underneath their weight at his growled order.

She expected him then to order her to take his big cock into her mouth, to try to take it deep once more, and she dreaded it and thrilled at it both.

What’s happening to you?

The ache and forlorn need from her pussy seemed to be winning the day, and in her mind, in the dark, seething fever of her arousal, and her denial, serving him well, submitting, giving him the maximum pleasure she knew how to seemed…right. Proper.

You’re losing it.

But it wasn’t that simple. Nothing was anymore. Especially when, increasingly, he seemed much more focused on convincing her to want to please him, and less on forcing her through naked brutality.

She harbored no illusions about his capacity for it, if the situation called for such measures, but that side of him seemed to be receding, like the foam of the ocean at ebb tide, that need in him was no longer nearly so urgent, so threatening.

What did that mean? And what did it mean that she no longer resisted, well, at all? Was that mere cooperation, placating her captor until she found the perfect opportunity to make her escape?

Perhaps—until she admitted that it had been quite a long time indeed since she’d even contemplated escape.

He was beginning to awaken things, dark, troubling truths she knew had always lurked within, but that she’d never been forced to confront.

Until now.

She attempted to engulf the broad head of his cock within the clutch of her lips, but he shook his head, taking hold of her by the hair.

“No. I want something else from you, girl.”

He sat forward, unlocking her wrist cuffs from her collar. She almost moaned with how good it felt to be able to stretch her arms out.

“Oh Gods… thank you!”

She knew better than to try to push herself away, her face mere inches from his hard, veined shaft, clutched in his fist.

He smiled down at her. “Kneel up. No, further. Put it between those big tits of yours, slut.”

She blushed furiously at the words, never even imagining that would be something he’d want.

Still, she obeyed, and sighed at the seething heat of his erection as she laid it against her breastbone, the big head tickling under the hollow of her throat.

He produced a bottle of clear, fragrant oil, pouring some of it across the upper slopes of her breasts as she settled them down into his lap.

“Use your hands,” he murmured, smoothing the oil into her breasts, massaging and squeezing them as he did, until he left them glistening and slippery. “Hold them together—yes, good. Just like that.”

She huddled them around his cock, squeezing their softness around his iron hardness, the contrast surprisingly delicious, deviant, and fascinating.

“Now, use them on my cock.” He leaned back against the bars of her cage, a lazy smile creasing his lips as he looked down upon her as she moved her breasts up and down, squeezing his penis even tighter inside their slippery embrace as he did.

She couldn’t help but watch it as it plunged, the head almost disappearing inside the clutch of her breasts, then surging back upward, kissing the underside of her chin.

Over and over, she stroked him like this, giving him pleasure, literally using her breasts to masturbate her captor’s cock.

She should have been felt humiliated, degraded. Used. And maybe she was all of that.

But she thrilled at it, too.

The fact was, she liked it. A lot. It was, in its own way, intimate. She liked giving him pleasure, though she couldn’t begin to understand why. That didn’t mean she would ever tell him that. That didn’t mean that what he was making her do to him was in any stretch of the imagination right, or okay, or even defensible.

But as he cradled his huge, heavy shaft within the soft, shelter of her oiled, presented breasts, none of that mattered, if only for a little while.

“You were made for this, slut. Made to service my body. Your tits were designed to make me come, to make my cock feel so good.” He stroked a lock of hair out of her eyes, sweat coating her face now as she bobbed faster and faster between his legs, bringing him off with her own breasts. “You’ll see the truth of that in time, accept it. Embrace it.”

She said nothing though, staring at his cock surging between her breasts, his member if anything looking more swollen, the thick veins bulging still further.

His breathing grew heavier and heavier as she increased her speed still more.

Then he grasped her hair, twisting its locks painfully in his fingers. “I’m… gonna come. Gonna come!”

Then thick blasts of semen leapt forth, and she closed her eyes instinctively, hot wetness splashing onto her chin, all over her neck, some drops even coating her lips. She licked their saltiness away, even as he continued thrusting and groaning, his cock spasming between her soft breasts, compressed as tightly as she could make them, around the thick length of him.

Finally, he sagged back, his breathing fast, and deep. Sweat poured down his body, the scent of his seed strong in her nostrils. She kept his slowly deflating penis cradled between her breasts then waiting, instinctively knowing he’d want her to.

And she loved that, too, though she knew she shouldn’t have, that total expectation on Jon’s part that she do only what gave him the most pleasure, that her focus remain fixed on serving him—and his cock.

He finally smiled down at her, playing with the tangled locks of her hair. “You’re… very good at that. The big-titted little slut has found her calling serving my cock, hasn’t she? Those little bitches who tormented you all those years ago for your huge breasts? They’d be so jealous right now.”

She looked away, blushing furiously, even as her pussy threatened to drip with the power of her arousal at the playfully degrading words.

“Look at me, girl.”

She slid her gaze reluctantly to his.

“You may kiss it. Just the head.”

“Please, I…I can’t…”

His smile faded, threatening to slip away entirely. “Do as you’re told. This is part of it, a very important part of it.”

She swallowed, her face burning so hot she worried her scalp might actually be steaming. Bending her head, she pressed her lips to the semen-soaked crown of his still half-erect penis, the salty tang of his seed strong upon her lips. She licked that away, loving the taste, and hating herself for the truth of it.

“Say thank you, like a good girl.” He touched her chin. “Say: ‘Thank you, sir, for allowing me to serve your cock.’”

“Oh, Gods, I can’t say that…” She wanted to hide her head in her arms at just the prospect of speaking those words.

“Say it, Yulia, or you’re going to get my whip across those big tits of yours, rather than my cum.”

“Please…”

“No—you know better.” He held her chin, his eyes going cold for just a moment. “Gratitude is important. Besides, if you continue to be a good, obedient girl, you might get to come… eventually. But if you persist with your silly little defiance, that pussy of yours is going to stay very, very lonely. Your choice.”

She swallowed down the lump in her throat, her cheeks flaming hot. “Thank you… sir.” She dropped her gaze, taking a breath. Then she met his sparkling eyes again. “For allowing me to s-serve your cock.”

His grin was a million watts of triumph, and something else that had her belly doing strange little flip-flops.

Pride.

He was genuinely proud of her. “You really are a very good girl,” he murmured, caressing her cheek. “When you try to be.”

She smiled then. “Th-thank you.”

And she hated herself for saying those words the most. Thanking her captor for allowing her to help make his cock spill his cum all over her breasts?

What was happening here?

Gods, you really are hopelessly lost, Yulia.