Page 12 of Cruel Delights
The curtain lifts. Blinding stage lights make my eyes water. Rows upon rows of masked partygoers sit obediently in their seats. Many with curious, knitted brows. Many with wide smiles. Others with the flare of judgment and disgust to their nostrils.
I look to my left.
There’s a bed. A bed sitting in the middle of the stage.
My heart explodes. It beats so fast it’s a wonder it doesn’t beat its way out of my chest. I take a horrified step back. The guys who have brought me out here, push me forward.
I fall to the ground. My knees bang against the wood flooring and my palms fly out to catch myself from sliding.
The audiencelaughs. Apparently, me falling is hilarious. My head tilts up as I cast them a glare.
What the hell is so funny about me skinning up my knee?
Several of them intake audible breaths. I follow where their attention has gone, and my insides go ice-cold.
A man walks up the stairs to the stage. He’s in the proper party guest uniform, a designer tux and steel-molded mask that hides half his face. Unfortunately, his bottom half is still visible—the sick grin he’s aiming at me.
All the pieces click together. Thisisa performance of some kind.
These people are here to watch the show. Watch me perform.
On that bed.
I scramble to my feet, but the man reaches me first. He grabs me by my elbow and wrenches me toward him.
“Not bad,” he says, and a few more members chuckle. “Get on your knees and open that pretty mouth.”
I’m horrified. I’m guided down by him and his hand clamped on my shoulder. My sore knees touch the ground for a second time and my ice-cold insides feel like they’re so frozen they’ll snap in half. If I take a breath too deep, if I move too suddenly, my ribcage will crack and my lungs will implode.
My gaze swings from the man standing above me, unzipping his pants, to several hoots and hollers from the audience, to the two security guards blocking my exit.
The man whips out his penis—average in size and girth, uncircumcised—and he tells me to get started.
“You know what to do.”
I glance out at the audience. Despite their masks, their faces teem with anticipation.
The man scrabbles at my hair to force my attention back to him. His dick is inches away from my face, half hard.
“Please,” I gasp. My brain has gone blank. Either from horror, fear, panic, or all three. I can’t think and my body feels incapable of moving as fast as I’d like. “Please don’t make me.”
The audienceroarswith laughter. As I look back out at them, I realize they believe this is role-play. That I’m acting.
He does too. His grin grows nastier and his fingers twist deeper into my thick coils. “Naughty girl,” he says. “Do you really think those sad eyes will make me feel sorry for you? Suck my fucking cock.”
“AHHH!” I scream.
He yanks me onto him so hard, my scalp prickles from the rough tug. My mouth fills with his penis ’til I’m pressed against his pelvis and wiry pubic hair, and he’s hit the back of my throat. I flail and push at him. My hands slap onto his thighs and I fight against him. He’s trying to choke me on his dick and I’m trying to push myself up off it.
A moment that feels like an eternity passes where we’re locked into this struggle. Me trying to fight his dick out of my mouth and him squashing me back down onto it.
I can’t breathe. A wave of dizziness washes over me. I begin screaming around his dick. The muffled sounds fill the theater and more members of the audience laugh, hoot, applaud.
The man who’s shoved his dick into my mouth seems to be realizing I’m not role-playing. I actually don’t want to suck him off. But he’s going to force me anyway. His aura darkens, his teeth gritting. He digs his fingers tighter than ever into my hair and barks at me.
“You’re going to suck this fucking cock and if you dare to use teeth, then—ARGH!ARGHHHHH!”
In my panic, as my lungs run out of air and my screams go ignored, I’m left no choice. I go to my last resort. His warning about teeth comes at the same time I use them. I bite down as hard as I can on his dick.