Gagging was his other control. About
3 months after our first liaison we’d been drinking, me more now than ever
before. He carried me from his truck to his bedroom. I stripped and waited for
my twirl for his entry selection. Instead he pulled his pants down, pushed me
to kneel before him and directed me to orally stimulate him.
As I trilled my tongue on his penis
he gripped my head by the hair with his left hand, forced my mouth wide open
with his right hand thumb and index fingers and pushed his penis deep to the
hilt in my mouth. It stuck in my throat. I could hardly breathe. His left hand
held the back of my head forcing me to keep it all in while I panicked and
flayed my hands against him. After a moment I relaxed to see if he would
release me but as soon as I did he jerked my head back and forth, his penis in
my mouth, gagging me. I tried to hold it in but soon vomited.
He made me get a towel and clean it
up while belittling me of not being able to give a decent blow job. The mess,
smell, my misery instead of discouraging him turned him on. Cleaned up he stood
before me. Again I knelt and again he forced his penis in to the hilt, the end
stuck in my throat as I wheezed through my nose for air. He slowly withdrew
then forced it in again. Over and over he held my head ridged and my mouth open
as his penis slid out and in. When I choked he pulled out but kept it in my
face until I recovered sufficiently to again open my mouth wide and accept it
down my throat. Finally he ejaculated, holding my head rigid as I was forced to
When he finished my jaw was sore from keeping my mouth so wide open and the force of his thumb and index finger. My mascara was streaked down my face, my lipstick gone. He kept complimenting me for a good job, and how he would teach me to give a good blow job. I cleaned up and left, debased his throat whore.
The image of his penis before my face, my mouth forced open wide, his penis down to my throat kept coming back again and again. It didn't matter where, sitting in the office, trying to sleep in bed, walking down the street. His semen spurting down my throat haunted me while eating. I was ready to quickly obey to avoid throating me again. I didn’t admit it then but I was black mailed.
Thereafter, when we had sex, my mind raced as I stripped how to get him to ejaculate without throat duty. To avoid gagging if forced to throat again I got cherry flavored Cepacol sore throat lozenges. Seeing the package he teased about popping my cherry throat. It, however worked. When he saw them, forced my mouth open and didn't get his gag he lost interest, lifted me on the bed and entered me missionary style. If, however, I said or did something he disliked he said.
"Babe, you need a good throating."
I became a prisoner of fear, free only when doing what he demanded when with him yet afraid when with him of what he might suddenly demand. When not together, it was fear of his calling. I lived in the secret hell of blackmail.
Once we drove to his house and his roommate was in the little kitchen. He just led me past to the bedroom where I quickly stripped as expected and he pounded on me with the head board banging against the wall as usual. As we left he stopped me in front of his roommate.
"Babe, lift your dress up; Jeff, look, slanted cunt!"
He laughed, gave thumbs up as I dropped my skirt back down as he led me to my car. Driving home instead of being insulted I was pleased, pleased he was happy, pleased he didn't throat me, pleased he was spent and was temporarily not a threat.
My level of
debasement was such I was simply pleased I was doing what he wanted and in
return he didn’t expose or throat me. It was okay I was abused, I deserved it. In
my delirium I was simply to please him.
Shamed, with lost self-respect, I
drank at home alone to numb the abyss of debasement I’d fallen into. I wander
in and out of the house in a dyspeptic stupor. There were times I shouldn’t
have driven. I took medication to sleep, sometimes in the middle of the day. My
husband knew something was wrong and asked if I was ill. It was worse. I was,
mentally and morally debilitated.
He badgered me to see a doctor and eventually I did, to see if I had contracted a STD.