Red Room Hours with John Tan

Don't Think

Your knees hit the soft carpet instantly, his demand driving all thought from your head. You only wanted to follow directions, execute orders, fulfill needs. You clasped your hands together as if in prayer and extended them outward to John who had looped the belt into a figure eight. He slipped them between your palms cuffing you in leather that felt tight as he pushed above your wrists, to avoid cutting off circulation, and secured them.

"Good girl," he purred to you and directed your hands against the front of his jeans, you could feel him growing against the thick material and he groaned at your touch. Unbuttoning his jeans was infinitely more difficult with your hands cuffed and mostly immobile but he watched you struggle without helping. Finally you opened the jeans and slowly dragged the zipper downward until you could rub him through his boxers and between your fingers. He'd already begun to leave dampness against the cotton and you wanted to lean forward and touch it with your tongue, tasting the saltiness. His moan of pleasure and next directions kept you from your distraction.

"Yes baby, that feels good, keep going," he looked down at you, still not giving you any assistance as you continued to exert effort to wiggle the jeans and boxers down his hips enough to access his length. Frustration grew and you frowned up at him and dropped your hands to your lap obstinately. Without warning he had your wrists yanked upward in his hand lifting your whole body, the abrupt stretch making your shoulders scream in pain. You whimpered and pouted up at him and he glared down at you.

"I said keep going babygirl," despite the severe reprimand his voice stayed delicate and he loosened his grip, placing your hands back to his jeans. With more focus you were able to lower them enough to pull his hardness free.

"Open your mouth Y/N." You did as he asked and leaned forward thinking he meant for you take him inside but he stopped you with two fingers against your lips. His fingers trailed along the lower one until you stuck out your tongue so he could ease them into your mouth. You sucked them, tongue swirling around while you stroked his hardness between your palms.

"Yes, just like that baby," he took your chin in his other hand tilting your head and pushed his fingers toward the back of your throat until you felt yourself start to gag around them. He didn't stop, instead parted his fingers until you did gag, roughly, thick spit spilling into your mouth from your throat. He added a third finger and grazed them deeply along the back of your throat until you retched around them. His fingers dragged from your mouth and he angled your chin higher until you were looking into his eyes.

"Now spit on it," he insisted darkly and dropped your chin, his hips pushed forward his erection thrusting through your hands. You did as instructed, the sticky drool dribbling wetly down his length. "Put it in your mouth babygirl, do I have to tell you how to do everything?" His words felt harsh and you sprang into action, mouth wide to take him inside, tongue stroking as you closed your lips around him sucking deeply.

He didn't wait for you to adjust instead took a handful of hair and cruelly pulled you toward him until your lips were tight against his body, another choke emitting from your lips and you squeezed your eyes shut. You let him have his way with your mouth, both hands tangled in your hair as he used your lips and tongue over and over with each stroke. It took measured control to breathe each time he pulled backward, saliva spilling from between your lips with the effort, dribbling to your chest. Each drive back into your mouth punctuated with a gag or cough as he reached the back of your throat. Tears flooded from your eyes until you had to open them once more. You saw John's head tipped back, not even watching you kneeling between his thighs, used for his pleasure. After a couple minutes he pulled from your lips and stared down at you hotly.

"Don't you look lovely with your makeup running down your face babygirl? You made such a mess for Daddy." He dipped his thumb in the pool of spit at the corner of your mouth and smeared it across your lips. Why did you remember how he'd so gently used the same thumb to brush tears away earlier?  That thought was forbidden and you focused on how your body vibrated with hunger for John. The way he talked to you with filthy language and his brutal treatment turned you on and all you wanted to think about was this moment and your bodies.