Irina Blackwell, Ch. 8

 

Chapter 8: The Taste of Success

 

The atmosphere is awkward in the office. Maddie, having been left out of the strange situation in the shower, the shower-that-wasn’t, gets on with her work in silence. Not angry at me, as such – after what she’s done, I doubt she feels she has the right to be – but distant, all the same.

Things are real, now. Real, and accelerating. There’s a faint discomfort, a result of not actually having washed. At least I don’t particularly smell, so far as I can tell, but I can’t get the opulent odours of Irina out of my head. Her muskiness, her tantalising fragrances, create lurid lascivious thought loops, things I shouldn’t be considering for even a passing moment.

But I’m too far gone, aren’t I? To step back from this now seems a thorough impossibility. Had things gone on for a few moments more, I’d have had Irina’s cock inside my mouth again. She didn’t even have to tell me what to do, but I’d have done it. Shit, even the thought of it makes me lick my lips and salivate at the possibility of such perversion.

And somehow, I can’t be angry at Mads. She went behind my back, made a decision without consulting me, and yet…again, too far gone. Maddie made up her mind, and chose to carry Irina’s child. Children. I don’t know just yet. We’d agreed on our scheme, had everything in motion, and then this. A rejection that all reason and logic say should hurt like hell, but it doesn’t.

It doesn’t, because when I was on my knees, with my boss’s big dark dick ahead of me, stinking richly of muskiness and stale spooge, I found some awful appreciation for Irina Blackwell that has always been there in the background, scratching at my sanity with its titillating talons.

‘I’m sorry for what I did,’ Mads says, speaking first. ‘I don’t have any excuse that isn’t slutty, and maybe even a little bit disgusting, but I’m sorry all the same.’

Still, she doesn’t turn to me. The pretty blonde pauses her work, wrings her hands anxiously, yet stares at the screen of her laptop without bothering to turn my way. Perhaps without the capacity to do so.

‘Was it really a dangerous day?’

She nods without a moment’s pause. ‘The most fertile in my cycle. I suppose we’ll know soon enough, right?’

‘Fuck.’

At my quick utterance, Maddie looks at me half-on. Her eyes, that brilliant shade of blue, are faintly wet. Her lips quiver, her cheeks take on a low pinkness. Pretty, verging on beautiful, with those bouncy blonde curls, with her petite yet womanly form.

‘We’ll find a way to have our children, if it means that much to you,’ Mads says, slow and methodical. ‘But I want her, Theo. God, I want her so badly. And the crueller she seems, the meaner and madder, the more I want her.’ A single tear slips down her right cheek, and she hastily brushes it away. ‘It’s messed up, I know, but her body…her cock.’

‘I know,’ I say, earning her full attention. ‘I think I want her, too. It’s slowly making sense, and on some level, I hate myself for it, but I appreciate why you did what you did. She’s…exquisite.’

The word just comes out, carrying all of these bundled-up beliefs in one neat, vulgar package. Exquisite. Peerless, in so many ways. And what Mads says is true, as well. That the eviler she seems, the more enrapturing she is. I know better than to continue down this path, know sanely that this is an abandonment of the self, but I’m not sure I care anymore. Maddie is carrying, or will soon be carrying, Irina’s offspring. I can either submit to her or relinquish everything I’ve suffered through to earn, but there’s no middle ground option.

‘Theo…’

‘I know.’ I shut my eyes, her judgement soft but the surprise obvious in her voice. ‘Look, I have two choices, right? I stay, with you, with Irina, and keep what I’ve got. Or I go, and lose it all. But when it comes to Irina herself? There’s no choice. I have tried, again, and again, to fight back these urges in me, but…I am more attracted to her now than I was when this began. I am ever so attracted to her, Mads.’ When I open my eyes, meeting her gaze, I’m surprised that I’m not crying. What I’m admitting, after all, is the closest thing to pathetic that I’ve ever acknowledged. ‘I can stay, or I can go, but I can’t refuse Irina. Be it tomorrow, be it a week, or a month, or a year, she’s going to win. I don’t have a lifetime’s willpower inside of me.’

Maddie flutters her eyes, sucks in a short breath. ‘I’ll still love you, Theo. If you can still love me, that is.’

‘Of course,’ I say, nodding. ‘I don’t think that’s part of what she’s after. I mean, I don’t know if I can love her, but I can certainly love what we do. And maybe this is the best way, in the end. Wealthy pets of Irina Blackwell, but we’ll still have one another.’

She smiles sweetly, and turns back to her laptop. ‘Thank you, Theo. I was worried I might have to do this alone.’

‘She’s that irresistible?’

Maddie chews on her lower lip and nods frantically. ‘Y-eah. Her cock is just…it’s perfect. It’s not just big, but she knows just what to do with it, and always shoots such big, hot, heavy loads.’

To hear such an admission would’ve hurt, before these latest events. I can accept, now, that I can’t compete with Irina Blackwell. Mads is absolutely something of a size-queen, and that’s her prerogative. But Mads, as well, has a bond with me. Gets her affection from me…and gets her sex from Irina. From Mummy.

In fact, merely considering Maddie’s words, her appreciation for the awesome endowment of our hung futanari boss, provokes a solidifying in my trousers. A throbbing, and a need to do something about it.

‘Maddie,’ I say, pushing back on my chair. She glances my way, and for half a moment seems to expect a sexual request. For half a moment, that’s where my head ends up, as well. But then I find myself…find myself wanting something more thorough. ‘Excuse me.’

Mads blushes as I pass her by, going out into the hallway of the uppermost floor of Blackwell Limited. The boss’s door is open, and the sight of it gives me pause. I’m aware, passingly, that if I ask for this, I’m going to have to do something in return. That if I want Irina to make me cum, I’m going to have to return the favour. Both parts of this sordid scenario involve, without fail, an admittance of my shifting patterns of thought. Both parts involve, without fail, an acceptance of Irina as Mummy.

I find her utterly peerless, despite not having showered this morning. Irina Blackwell sits behind her desk, studying a report on her tablet, glancing over those half-rimmed glasses in an effortlessly sensual fashion. Her eyes, raw enchanting emeralds, are all the more perfect for their contrast with her dark, exotic skin. Despite the lack of shower, her makeup is nonetheless spotless, done partly during the car journey and then finalised here in her office.

‘Theodore,’ she says, without glancing my way. ‘Is there a reason you’re looming in my doorway?’

I shiver beneath the lurid luxury of her voice, stepping inside and shutting the door behind me. Down go the blinds, for the sake of precaution, and only with the veil of privacy surrounding us does the dusky-skinned dickgirl dominatrix glance up at me, her full crescent lips forming a cock-aching smirk.

‘Well, honey?’

‘I’ve come to certain realisations,’ I say, taking a steady step forwards. ‘About my situation. About our situation.’

She runs her perfect white teeth along her lower lip and brings down an elbow atop her desk, leaning on a flattened upright palm. ‘Do tell, Theo. I’m all ears. Has my wisdom finally started to get its claws into you, this late in the day?’

‘Look, we both know I can’t step back from this now. I’m in too deep, and I have far too much to lose.’

‘That sounds about right, yes.’ Irina smirks at me, wets her lovely crimson lips. ‘As I said, so you are. All this time you’ve fought me, pushed back at me, but it’s not so easy, is it? Not when you’re contending with your true nature.’

I pause in my approach, hesitating midway between the doorway and the front of her desk. True nature, she says, and it’s not meant to be an empowering notion. Not in the traditional sense. My “true nature,” in the eyes of Irina Blackwell, is that of a submissive servant for her delectable dominance. Someone who, confronted with her, with all of her beauty and balefulness, capitulates.

And before, I feared it. Hated it with every ounce of me. But I can’t pretend away the fact that, just earlier today, I was on the cusp of acting without any need for her to command me. I wanted…wanted what I know, still, that which I should never want, but I wanted it all the same.

‘Let’s say that I am,’ I say, moving towards her. Towards that desk, opulent and unnecessarily showy, suiting her perfectly. ‘Can I ask, in this case, for a sexual favour?’

Irina snorts, her composure faltering for a moment, not in the least impinging on her well-made-up attractiveness. ‘You are getting bold, aren’t you? But words don’t mean a great deal, honey. It’s all well and good, you implying that I’m right, but I need proof. Actions speak far louder than words, Theodore.’

I knew, on some level, that things would go this way. Now, if only she’ll tell me what to do, I’m spared the indignation of it. Somehow, that saves me. Or it would, and will, if only she’ll say something.

But as I approach her desk, as I stand before it, a mere metre across from her, Irina merely smirks at me. Smugness, devilish pride. An exquisitely beautiful woman, with a rotten black counterfeit soul. And yet here I am, making a choice. Here I am, in the lion’s den.

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘I don’t want you to do anything, honey. I want you to tell me what it is that you want to do to me.’ She winks, emerald enchantment in a momentary gesture. ‘I’m not stupid, Theo. This isn’t going to work unless you’re happy to come clean with me.’ Irina pulls back from the desk and relaxes into her grand chair, her throne of office. It’s impossible to avoid noting, as she moves, the jiggle of those sublimely sizeable breasts. The same tits I was applying my tongue to, earlier this morning. ‘We’re so close, I can feel it. So close to finally getting what we both want. So give me it, honey. Tell me the honest truth. I’ve done so much to break you down, isn’t it about time we build you up? An honest, happier Theodore Brackley?’

Her words put a chill down my back, their meaning undeniable. Irina, getting her own way, but more than that. Me, admitting that I want her to get her own way. Me, admitting what I was about to do in the bathroom earlier. Me, admitting that for all she’s done to me, it hasn’t deterred this desire I feel towards her.

‘You know what I was about to do,’ I say. ‘In the bathroom, this morning.’

‘Oh, I know.’ Irina smirks, hinting at lovely pearly-whites. ‘Spell it out for me, in English. I want to know, honey. I want to know what you were about to do without me telling you to do it.’

There’s no going back from this, is there? I step forwards again, right up to the edge of her desk, catching a whiff of her scents. Sweet perfume and yet, beneath it, that potent muskiness of her body, this morning unwashed. Cock and balls pleasantly ripe, their potent odour thick and virile, enticingly vulgar.

‘I wanted to give you a blowjob, all right? I wanted you to tell me to do it, but you didn’t. I wouldn’t have refused.’ To speak such an admittance, lurid as it is, to this woman of all people in the world, is somehow liberating. ‘I know why you didn’t have me do it, and here I am. Telling you the truth.’

Irina’s mouth is a thing of enthralling magic, a dark enchantment etched into the shape of a pair of full, lacquered lips. She moves it just so, provoking a tinge of excitement in my trousers. It’s endlessly bothersome, that she has so powerful an impact on me. That for all she’s done, I can’t separate my attraction from her sins.

‘It’s been a long time since this all began, hasn’t it?’ Irina says, pushing gently backwards from her desk. ‘Do you remember that blowjob you gave me to secure that promotion? It meant something, didn’t it?’

The implication in her stance is obvious, the quick descent of her hands to hike up her skirt while she widens her gait to make room for me below her, beneath her desk. Irina, noting the awareness in my eyes, smirks all the fiercer.

‘This one won’t mean anything, Theo. Maybe I’ll get you off, or maybe I won’t, but this isn’t transactional. Continue being honest, honey, right up to the moment my sperm are swimming across your tongue. Acknowledge me as I deserve.’

It boils down to this, doesn’t it? She’s laid out the terms, and if I go forwards, then I’ll be playing to her tune. This isn’t about some deal, this isn’t about obeying her. This is about me, wanting this. Wanting to service her. Wanting, as well, to taste the same genes that have doubtlessly put a baby inside of Mads. Wanting to…wanting to acknowledge my balefully beautiful boss in the most servile manner either of us can picture.

‘Okay,’ I manage to say. ‘I will.’

Irina wets her lips, while I’m aware that I’m beginning to salivate. She turns her chair out in my direction, legs spread wide, and as I turn the corner to the rear of her desk, her excessive endowments are on full and fantastic show.

Her cock is mostly erect, from the simple prelude of conversation. The weight of it is obvious, the way it sits across her plump pair of smooth balls, each like a fat kiwi fruit in size and shape. Her pubes are dark, bushy, wild above the base of her length, which is dusky and alluring, veined towards its overtly opulent crown, the dark purple of which peeks through the folds of her foreskin, faintly glistening.

The dominant dickgirl beckons me closer, and I go to her like a zombie, caught up in a trance. Where before I knew I needed to resist, now I can’t seem to envision it. Now, all that matters is that I capitulate to her. That I sate this vulgar urge, boiling up within me, which demands I demean myself by honouring her.

And when I get close enough, Irina snatches me by the shoulders and pulls me in close, pressing her mouth to my own. Mwah. Smack. With dominating hunger she eats my face, sticking her tongue right past my lips and using it as some tool of lasciviousness to push down my own, to assert herself over me. For all her womanliness, the Amazonian beauty is strong, effortlessly pressing down on me and forcing me onto my knees, all the while maintaining the rough snogging up until the last moment.

She pulls away, lips glistening, emerald eyes aflame with possessive passion, depraved dominance. Irina brings up a hand to the top of my head and strokes back my hair, winding her fingers through the individual fibres.

‘I know you’re not completely where I want you to be yet, Theo,’ she says, resting back in her chair, the veritable throne of her office. ‘You don’t fool me.’

‘You think I’m going to do this and not mean it?’

‘It’s not that.’ She presses a finger to the middle of my forehead, nail faintly scratching on the skin. ‘You’re still reticent. Still trying to supress that part of you that wants nothing more than to give yourself to me. I see it in your eyes, honey.’

After a moment, unsure quite where to look, I say, ‘Wouldn’t you be?’

‘I’d never be in your situation, Theo. This is going above and beyond, and I’m not going to turn you away, but you can’t really give yourself fully over to the rightfulness of things. That first admittance, that request for something of a trade, makes it clear even if your face were better at concealing the truth.’ She sighs, and taps my forehead, rolling her emerald eyes. ‘What I want, Theo, is for you to never think of yourself. To never ask for anything in return. To enter this room with the sole purpose of sating my lusts, without a hint of hope that you might get some pleasure as a reward.’

Her utterance puts a chill through me, culminating in a violent throbbing of my cock. It says something vulgar, absurd, that the possibility of some future self who capitulates to her in so thorough and perverse a fashion seems something readily imaginable now, where before I despised such a permutation of the self that it seemed the antithesis of my very being. As I inhale the disturbingly delectable musk of her crotch, finding in its odour a saliva-invoking waft of potency that far outpaces my own, my gaze falls down from hers to passingly marvel at the exceptional excess of her chest, the womanly curvature of her torso, and finally comes to rest on the sensual sight of her mighty member.

‘I’m letting you do this because, despite all I’ve just said, I also know that you want it,’ Irina says, garnering an upwards flick of my eyes. Her face is exquisite, her beauty dark and delicious, terrifying and tantalising. The contrast of her dusky skin, that dyed crimson hair, and those verdant green eyes is astounding. ‘Are you going to give me a real blowjob, honey? A long, slow, worshipful act of service, culminating in a heavy mouthful of my genes?’

I don’t hesitate to lick my lips, something about the depravity desirable as well as worrisome. ‘That’s why I’m here, Mummy.’

She laughs, a two-note humour. Irina pats my head, sending coruscations of carnality down my spine as she runs her nails across my scalp. ‘Then say it, Theo. Stop hiding. Admit that I’m superior, and admit that the closest you’ll ever be to my equal is to let my sperm swim across your tastebuds, and into your belly. Give me a blowjob that says not merely that you want to please me, but that all you want in return is the opportunity to taste my body in its rawest and most intimate form.’

As I slowly reach for her cock, I shy away from her green gaze. The warmth of her body tickles at the tips of my fingers, and the moment I touch her shaft, very almost fully engorged, I shiver. Familiar and yet foreign, somehow, as if today is different. As if today is somehow the very first time I’ve actually done this, despite knowing full well that it’s not.

As if today, I’m doing it for real, and not simply wishing I was elsewhere.

‘I can’t,’ I say. ‘Sorry.’

‘You can’t what, honey? You’re still touching me.’

‘I can’t tell you what you want to hear, Irina. I…I’m not there yet.’

The buxom, baleful beauty chuckles. ‘That’s a spicy choice of wording, Theodore. You know what it implies, don’t you?’

‘I know.’ As I firm up my grip on her mammoth member, lavishing in the heat and weight and power of it, I know. ‘I’m not going anywhere, all right? One of these days, I’ll…I’ll be who you want me to be. Just not today.’

‘We’ll see,’ she says. ‘Kiss me, honey. I give you permission.’

A final glance at her gorgeous greens does all that’s necessary, paired with that vulgar command. I lift her lance towards my mouth, the muskiness tingling my nostrils, her bulky bell-end, richly lustrous purple beneath the folds of dusky skin, warming my lips simply from proximity. Mwah. The kiss comes without hesitation, for all reservation is dead. But…it doesn’t come without a degree of surprise, either.

Smooch. Smack.

The heat of her body against my skin begets a second peck, and a third. There’s something right about the impressiveness of her immense organ, particularly when pressed against the opening of my mouth. Something about it that’s so enjoyable, with how it feels against my flesh, leaving a kiss of its own in sticky oily form where my mouth touches upon the opening of her foreskin.

‘Mhm.’

Schlep. Smooch.

Irina shivers as I grip her glans between my lips and tilt my head to the left, sliding my mouth down the side of her helmet while keeping it hooded and held in place. I flick my tongue against it, glazing my tastebuds with her dirtily delicious flavours, salty and slightly bitter, some distant hint of Mads present, dried onto her skin. The explosion of taste flutters my eyelids, wedges my heart thundering away in the back of my throat.

‘Worshipful.’ The exotic enchantress cups the back of my head as I run my lips against the side of her prick, tongue tasting the skin. ‘It’s your default stance, honey. In my presence, you’re caught up in this–ugh–admiration for me. It’s cute. It’s sexy.’

Schlap. Mwah.

I make it halfway down her pole and then draw back slightly, flicking my gaze left to right and sizing up the sheer magnificence of her erection. To consider a penis beautiful is something that, once, I’d never have dreamed of, and yet Irina’s is. Irina’s is a thing of sculpted sensation, a natural wonder of the world. Intimidating, impressive, intense. Just like her, fittingly enough.

‘You know how attractive I find you,’ I say, sucking in a breath through my mouth, to avoid her musk. Not for dislike, but…out of caution. To not wholly lose myself. ‘Your body is beautiful, despite the blackness of your heart.’

She laughs softly, moans sweetly, as I run my lips further down. Her delicious skin becomes steadily glazed in my spit, rewarding me in turn with her filthy flavour. But I stop as her pubes begin brushing ticklishly against my cheek, wary of what I want, and what following my heart will tell her. Wary, but past the point of no return.

‘It’s more than that, honey,’ Irina says. ‘That might help you sleep at night, but that’s not urging you onwards in this act.’ The way she strokes the back of my head, with this perversion of affection, corrupt and yet captivating, makes my loins ache. Makes my gutter mind race with deviancy. ‘This dynamic of ours suits us both, doesn’t it? Like as not our culture has you obsess over cock size and virility, of male power and dominance, but with me you can’t be that paragon. You never will be, and I think it turns you on. In fact, I know it does.’

I shudder uncomfortably as she shifts her left foot, slipping free of its heel and bringing the tights-clad extremity up against my bulge. ‘Look at this little thing, raring to go. Does it know that you’ll have to milk it by hand, do you think? Or does it love that idea?’

Jesus Christ, I can’t stop salivating. Can’t stop throbbing away, all the more so for her foot’s fiendish affection, sliding slowly back and forth against the shape of my shaft, toes twitching and curling upon my clothed tent.

Irina chuckles, continuing to drag her foot against me. ‘With every word I say, your little warrior wobbles and strains, doesn’t it? Or is it this body, so close to you, that’s really getting you going?’

The temptation is growing disturbingly great, to go above and beyond. To turn and kiss her groin, to rub my face into those thick black hairs, and mark myself with her muskiness. For some part of me doesn’t merely want to do this thing, but to relish in it. To worship her, just as she so desires to be worshipped.

‘It’s both,’ I say, breathing in her sensual stink. ‘It’s both, and you know it.’

She laughs luridly, and taps her nails against my scalp. ‘I do, don’t I? So what’s holding you back, Theo? What could possibly be worth delaying not only the inevitable, but the so desperately desirable?’

I want to speak, but I find myself turning on reflex. Ahead of the reason, the counter-argument, the rejection. Her curls brush against my lips, ticklish, teasing. Oil-black, dense and dirty, psychologically if not physically. Irina slips her hand behind my head, her light touch sending a shiver down my spine.

‘Go on, honey. Make this proper. There’s no reason to hold back. Not with me.’

All of it is too much, and I cave. I, Theodore Brackley, cave. What am I doing, after all, except delaying the inevitability of this deviant and delicious deed, this admiration for her potency and power, her dominance which oozes out of every syllable and gentle motion?

Mwah. Smooch.

Irina shivers faintly, and slowly strokes the back of my head. It doesn’t bother me in the least, all of a sudden. As if all my mind was really waiting for was the opportunity to just surrender, to just allow the movements to occur and the transition between reluctance and reverence to dispel all possible concerns.

‘Good boy,’ Irina says, her hands electric against the back of my head. ‘Get me all worked up and I’ll feed you. It’s good enough for Mads, and you know it’s good enough for you.’

I keep hold of her cock with one hand and sink the other into a thigh, the plush fleshiness engulfing my fingers where her luscious bronze skin is warm and womanly against them. Her pubes, abundant and musky with her obvious potency, surround my mouth and swallow up my nose while my lips move between them, smooching away at the fantastic furriness.

‘Mhm.’

Smack. Smooch.

It’s dirty, divine, moreish. Something in her scent drives me forwards, something about the silken ticklishness of her curls teases at the psyche, tugs at something primal and powerful. Submit, submit, submit, and why fucking shouldn’t I? I want this, as much as I fear it. And that fear only comes from wanting to submit, all the same. That fear that I am somehow less of a man, somehow a loser, in the presence of this entity of excessive eroticism that so readily surpasses myself.

For isn’t that what I’m here to admit, in one way or another? In my glancing upwards, nose pressed into the mound at the base of her cock, face furred with her crotch hairs, I can only marvel at her delightful body. Irina Blackwell is beautiful, even if her insides are dark and dangerous. Even if her soul is black, I cannot restrain myself.

‘This is how it’s meant to be, Theo. Mhm.’ She moans sweetly as I brush my lips from side to side, touching against the base of her member. ‘You, on your knees, taking care of me. A mistress, and her pet. Mummy, and her boy. It’s as simple as that. If you were a woman, like Mads, you’d crave the chance to my me children.’ My spine arches from her words, her touch, as she slides her fingers against the back of my head. Each launches forth a coruscation of carnality, depraved and dirty. ‘Instead, you crave the taste of my seed. To honour me as only a man can, in tasting the superior sperm of your better, your goddess.’

Every time in the past her ego tripping was despicable, driving me nuts. For her to go off on these grandiose fantasies was never short of obnoxious, and yet here it feels different. Here, it’s like she’s speaking to some vulgar partition of my psyche, which nods along with her words, smiling away. What if she’s right, after all? What if she’s always been right?

I can’t think of a more frightening concept, nor a more arousing one.

But I don’t speak, don’t say anything. Mlep. Schlap. I tongue the bulky origins of her prodigious prick, enjoying the saltiness of her flesh and the muskiness of her hairs, the way her opulent organ throbs and strains beneath my tastebuds. The urge is too strong now, to simply get this over with. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it properly.

‘Ooh.’ Irina sighs salaciously as my lips press against the top of her left testicle, tongue promptly following to glaze the upper curve of the orchid in spit. ‘You really want my genes, don’t you? Do a good job, honey. I’ll happily feed you every last wriggling white tadpole.’

The hunger such a proclamation stirs is not that of satiety, not of a nutritional form at least. Raw and perverse, it harkens to that beast in me, which acknowledges crude hierarchies and nonsensical notions that should have no place in this day and age, yet do. Feed, feed, feed. Taste, taste, taste. Sperm, sperm, sperm.

I wet my lips, and kiss her left bollock. ‘I’ll swallow every drop,’ I say, breathy, mindless, ravenous. ‘Feed me, Mummy. Feed me your pride.’

Irina chuckles, grates her nails into my scalp. ‘I knew you wanted it, honey. God, it’s so wonderful to hear you say it. Work for that load, Theo. Work for Mummy’s milk.’

Schlep. Mwah. Slup.

It’s impossible to fit the entirety of a ball so big as Irina’s, as either of them, inside my mouth, but I manage to get a suction upon it and nurse on the sack, pleasing the orb within to the extent that it ripples and strains, doubtlessly working hard to produce an even greater quantity of seed than existed prior to this. For this is what I’m doing, after all. Telling her loins that I want their produce, regardless of whether the endpoint is to be a womb or a man’s mouth.

‘Mhm-hm. Mumph.’

‘We don’t have to–ugh–tell Mads that you’re being this enthusiastic,’ Irina says, the suggestion of secrecy invoking an illicitness. ‘Just never go back to how it was, Theo. Acknowledge me as–aah–your superior, every single day, and I will never leave you wanting. Be my cocksucker, honey. Be Mummy’s cumslut.’

Mwah. Slurp. Mlep.

I’m wrong, and yet I cannot go back. Cannot undo what I am here and now, this cretinous excuse of a man, some shadow of the person I once was. Irina has won, even if this is just the start. Irina has beaten me, even if I act with initial reticence next time.

One way or another, this is my truth. This feels right, and good, and true. As I press my face into the cleft between her colossal cum-makers, relishing the lustrousness of her sack and the weight of its contents, I can’t picture a future where I am not like this. Where I can forget this, and pretend that I don’t want to dedicate my lips and mouth and tongue to her risqué release.

Mummy’s big beautiful bronze balls pulse and tremble against my skin, growing heavier in my imagination, or perhaps in reality. They’re going to feed me. She is going to feed me. A big dose of the same genetic material that utterly painted Maddie’s womb, that has put a baby in there or will do shortly. And fuck, it’s all the more special for it. All the more profoundly perverse.

‘Mhm.’

I can’t hold back any longer. Leaving her balls slick with spit, it’s time to do what I need to. To give Irina the treatment she so thoroughly deserves. To honour her like only a cock-hungry slut of a man can manage.

‘Go on,’ she says, giving the back of my head a pleasing pat as my tongue reaches the base of her member, just above the point where shaft becomes sack. ‘Work for your reward, Theo. It’s going to be a very big mouthful, it feels like. After your teasing earlier, and after this extra bout of loving.’

‘Y-es, Mummy.’

Irina sniggers, and drags about her nails. ‘It’s going to be wonderful, seeing the look on your face each and every day as I pump sperm onto that tongue. You know that’s what the future looks like, don’t you? Leaving this room, day in and day out, with your breath smelling of my cum. With your belly swimming full of it.’

The prospect of receiving what is doubtless to be a tremendous quantity of her potent, healthy jism, should not provoke such salacious shivering. It shouldn’t instil me with a profound desire to do whatever it takes to bring her to climax. But, of course, it does.

Mwah. Smooch.

‘Mhm.’

It comes so naturally, to kiss at the underside of her shaft, to run my tongue back and forth, side to side across her cum vein. Irina quivers, her cock throbbing against my lips as I lift my head, gliding my mouth up her perfect penis. When I angle my head to the side, left and right, I make sure to meet her eyes and marvel at that gorgeous green gaze, that pair of gemstones in the enthralling duskiness of her face.

Irina Blackwell is getting what she wants. What she believes she deserves, and what I am powerless to deny her. My boss is exquisitely attractive, peerless in all the world, from all that I’ve seen. Whatever else she is, whatever cruelness exists in her soul, it’s irrelevant here and now. Irrelevant, in large part, because I don’t seem to care anymore.

I know I should. Sanely, fairly, I should. As my lips brush the base of her helmet, still shrouded in skin, the imminence of the illicitness is like an icicle sliding down the bones of my back. It should provoke fear, yet only stirs my cock all the fiercer into a throbbing lance between my legs. It’s undeniable – I want nothing more than to see this thing through.

‘I love how you taste,’ I say, at last pulling my head back, mouth level with her prominent helmet. A hint of that lustrous purple peeks through the wrinkles of skin, glistening with precum. ‘I’ve liked it for so long, but I…I just–’

‘No more lying,’ Irina says, casually brushing a lock of my fringe aside. ‘You realise you could have been blowing me multiple times every day, Theo? Do you realise how silly it sounds, to deny yourself this thing you crave?’

‘You know it’s more complicated than that.’

The way she wets her lips, cocks her head to the side, provokes another twitch of my dick. Her beauty is unreasonable, her effortless sexiness like some slow-acting venom that only now is truly starting to corrode my innards.

‘I know how wrong you think it is. Not because of what it is – we both know you don’t care – but because it’s me, honey.’ She brushes my cheek with a curled finger, the nail some subtle threat before my eyes. ‘You’re so concerned about degrading yourself, lowering yourself, but you’ve got this all the wrong way round. You’re worthy, Theo.’

‘Worthy?’

Irina nods slowly. ‘Of course, honey. You know the importance of semen, passingly, but it’s always had something of a mythical status. In Catholicism, in Egyptian mythology, even in the teachings of Aristotle. Language itself has the word seminal, the root of ideas and yet, as well, denoting semen itself.’

As she speaks, my cheeks grow flusher. The more important she puts upon this final stage of the act, the more aroused I become. The dirtier it all feels, and yet, drastically more powerful. That this is so important to her, on the psychological level, transforms the already intimate into something practically religious. Some law of nature, and the world.

‘We’re animals, honey. Animals, you and I, and sexual creatures,’ she continues. I follow her hand as it leaves my face, retreating to her throbbing rod ahead of me. ‘Animals, who put such silly importance onto things.’ Irina moves her hand to that of mine, holding her member steady. ‘I do not share my seed casually, Theo. It’s my essence, after all. My nature, distilled into an extremely intimate product.’

I suck in a breath, getting with it a whiff of her musky sensuality, as the Amazonian beauty firms up her grip on my hand and gently tugs, readily sliding back her foreskin and freeing the gargantuan gooey glans beneath it. Some build-up of precum splatters forth as the lustrous lump reveals itself, hitting my lips with warm stickiness. Instinctively I run my tongue across them, tasting saltiness, tanginess.

Irina chuckles. ‘I am not degrading you, by feeding you my sperm. I am giving you the opportunity to taste someone superior to any you’ll ever meet, and to appreciate my genes swimming about your mouth, to be absorbed into your body.’ She releases my head, and calmly reclines into her big chair, leaving me staring at that cycloptic glory ahead of me. ‘Begin when you’re ready. I do enjoy you appreciating me with your eyes. It really is quite a beautiful penis, isn’t it?’

Yes. Yes, it is. Unshrouded, with its huge helmet on display, Irina’s cock is a thing of tantalising terror. So thick, and fat, and yes, beautiful. Its glans is thickly-crested, mighty and magnificent, glazed in slick shimmering gooiness. Its eyelet is broad, threatening, perfectly capable of widening enough to release dense healthy strings and ropes of her pride. My nostrils twitch beneath its perverse pungency, not recently washed and yet remarkably clean all the same, the natural odours of her body provoking salivation and subservience.

‘You…you don’t think I’m less of a man, for this? For wanting this?’

I manage, somehow, to meet her gaze. And find, surprisingly, no note of mockery or judgement. Affection, perhaps, pure and simple. Twisted, of course – for with Irina, nothing straight and decent can result – but affection nonetheless.

‘Theo, how many men do I have in this room? How many have you seen come and go?’

‘None?’

She wets her lips. ‘Isn’t that your answer?’

‘But the others…they refused to submit.’

Irina chuckles. ‘Is that how you see it? It’s one way to view things.’ Her grin is gorgeous, teeth white and straight, canines as sharp-looking as ever. ‘I see it like this: those other men? They didn’t know how lucky they were. But you tell me, Theodore Brackley. Are you lucky, to be able to gorge on the quality of a woman such as myself? To taste the same perfect genes that have put a baby in the womb of your lover?’

Whether on cue, or by accident, my gaze drops to her bell-end as it strains, twitches. A drooling strand of precum, glistening and enticing, hangs from beneath its broad and proud purple meatiness. On some low and perverse reflex I lean in close, and catch the dangling deliciousness on my tongue, and then – with just as much intuition – press my lips against the front of her crown.

Mwah.

And then, meeting her eyes again, I surrender. The heat of her helmet against my lips is sensually scorching, its flavours salty and oily, sticky and dirtily divine. It takes so little effort to slide my mouth around the first half of her generously gigantic glans, up to the point that its wide rear crest provokes a faint straining where her thickness is truly prodigious.

‘Just as I thought,’ Irina says, smirking salaciously. ‘I don’t have to make you do this ever again. I’m going to write it out of your contract, and yet still, you’re going to do it for me. Whenever I want, and sometimes – best of all – even when I don’t ask for it. Ooh.’

Schlup. Slurp.

She moans sweetly, victoriously, as I manage to just about get the entirety of her fat prominence past the opening of my mouth. It slides lushly onto the blade of my tongue and drags across it, oozing her perversely pleasant produce all the way. The hulking hugeness throbs wonderfully against my promptly sucked-in cheeks, against the roof of my mouth and my lips so carefully moved to shield her from my teeth.

Whether this is wrong or right, pathetic or profound, I don’t have it in me to care anymore. Right now, all I want is to taste her sperm. To acknowledge her as the winner here, in whatever this carnal contest happens to be. To let swim around my mouth, and then my belly, the winning bloodline. To taste, and savour, and swallow what amounts to her success.

‘Good boy. Ughn.’ Mummy grunts, widening her knees slightly. She brings down a hand atop my head, roughly massaging my scalp beneath my hair. ‘You’re so special, honey. You’re worthy of this. Deserving of the right to–mhm–be my cocksucker. To be an outlet for my heavy, healthy loads.’

Schlurp. Schlep.

‘Mumph. Mhm.’

I moan with a mouthful of her manhood, completely under her sway, accepting this most filthy of fates. Somehow she makes my worthiness, my specialness, at once resplendent and repulsive. Fitting, given how much I know of Irina. That for her, the highest mark of quality in another human being is their willingness to act as an on-demand cumdump. Why I expected, even passingly, that she’d see me as something more, I have no idea.

But at the same time, I think I like it. Know that I do. Irina Blackwell is gorgeous, and wealthy, and intelligent, and dominant. Sexy beyond reckoning. Maddie is pretty, even beautiful, but compared to Irina? It’s like they’re of a different species.

It’s like Irina is of a different species compared to all of us.

Schlap. Slurp. Schluck.

‘Aahn. That’s it, honey. Work for my sperm. Mhm.’

The feel of her helmet, that proud plump prominence which tops her tremendous titan, as it strains and swells at the inside of my mouth, is divine. It should be vulgar, that her body is effectively treating my mouth like a pussy, lubricating it with her precum, but it’s so delicious. That it comes out of her, that her flesh made this taste, this substance…I like every detail of the act.

I need to hate her, but I don’t need to hate this. I can do this, without completely losing myself. I’m going to have to. It’ll be fine.

I can be both her cocksucker and despise her as a human being, right?

‘Mhm-hm. Mumph.’

‘Deeper,’ Irina says, pushing on the back of my head. ‘You can do it, honey. You’re my slut now, aren’t you? You’re going to need to–ughn–get good at this. I own this mouth, Theo. It’s mine. My property. Ugh.’

The weirdest thing, the scariest, is that when she pushes against the opening to my throat, my body doesn’t protest. I’ve normally got a gag reflex, but now? In her presence, it seems to melt away. Irina doesn’t quite control my movements, but the way she urges me, the way she guides me to take her fat-headed prick right towards the back of my mouth, instils me with some depraved desire to see this through.

Her words, ringing about my head, speak of ownership. Ownership, which provokes such crude convulsions in my cock, filling my mind with dirtiness. What if she’s right? What if she does?

I mean, how far off being her property am I, at this point? I’m under her thrall, in her sway. Irina Blackwell holds the keys to my future, and can unlock either a trapdoor to hell or a lift to heaven. But fuck, why does it turn me on so much?!

Glugp. Schlep.

‘Aah. Good boy. Mummy’s good, dutiful cocksucker.’

The heat and hugeness of her presence, as it pushes into the tightness of my throat, provokes a fluttering of the eyes. A shiver down the spine, as if someone’s dripped cold water along the ditch of my back. Her bulky bell-end kisses my tonsils and then slides beyond them, as at last the wicked woman asserts herself over my submissive, rapidly-succumbing self.

Glugp. Schlack. Glugp.

‘Mumph. Mhaah.’

‘That’s it, honey. Your mouth is a cunt, and I’m going to–aahn–breed it. There’s no higher honour, and you bloody know it.’

All of a sudden, she’s got her other hand on my head, and all I can do is push my palms into the fat musculature of her thick thighs and accept this fate. The copulation of throat and phallus fills the room with sloppiness, with perverseness, and the first third of Irina’s dick disappears into my face.

She watches me with those evil emeralds, some conqueror, some barbarian queen of old dressed in the warrior-garb of the capitalist. Her heat strains my throat, fills out my neck, its chunky crown bobbing back and forth behind my Adam’s apple.

Schleck. Glugp. Schlup. Glugp.

Irina smiles, wider and wider by the passing second, as she pulls me deeper, closer towards her. I pass the halfway point, lips searing with strain, throat complaining, but still no overt gag reflex. It becomes harder and harder to meet her eyes, to do anything but stare in wonder at her hips and breasts and belly, clothed and yet obvious for her figure is simply so fantastic and familiar to me.

‘Ooh. I’m so g-ood to you, Theo, aren’t I? So fucking generous.’

She laughs, full of lust and mirth. I wish I could meet her gaze, but the best I can manage is a glance at that gorgeous grin, voluptuous lips hinting at pearly teeth. And even that promptly leaves my periphery as Irina urges me closer and closer towards the inevitability embodied by that jungle of oil-black pubes around the base of her sheer prodigiousness.

Glugp. Schlap. Glugp. Slurp.

‘I don’t just–ugh–pay you well, don’t just treat you to dinners.’ As the first hairs tickle my nose, another salacious shudder swims through me, making my dick ache and balls shift in their sack. ‘I’m far nicer than just that, aren’t I, honey? Ughn.’

She grunts loudly as at last, with one final push, she presses the ring of my sealed lips against the base of her prick, marking my face with her musky pubes. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath, adoring her odour, adoring this warmth and carnal comfort. All of a sudden, Irina grows gentle, playing with my hair, grip softening.

‘I let you give me blowjobs, Theo. I let you ride my cock. I let you taste my semen. I let you serve me, as you’re clearly meant to do. Has anything felt more natural, than doing what makes me happy? Has anything felt more genuine?’

She slides her hands off of my head, tickling with her fingernails right up until the last moment. Slowly but surely I retreat, not quite wanting to leave her lovely lance behind and yet being powerfully aware that she expects an answer, to this question.

And when I get back far enough that it’s just her bell-end in my mouth, oozing away, Irina Blackwell looks utterly resplendent. So crisp and cool in her confidence that some part of me is convinced that yes, she is generous. That yes, it was generous to rape me, to blackmail me, to trap me. Because it was all, after all, part of some greater good. Part of being hers, belonging to her, being nothing more than her cocksucker cock-riding bitch-boy.

The fear is fucking palpable. I’ve never, ever felt that particular chain of thoughts in quite this fashion, quite so strongly. But worse, so much worse, is that…there is appeal, in them, as well. That now, this late in the day, fear isn’t enough.

Schpup. Her helmet is so fat that it makes a wet sound, when I leave it behind with my lips. Instinctually I lick around my mouth, tasting her gooey glaze, inhaling in passing the marvellous musk of her member where her crotch, and balls, and her dick itself have left sensual scents upon my skin.

‘Irina…’

‘Don’t do that. Just answer. From your heart. How does it really make you feel, honey?’

‘Good,’ I say, without thinking. ‘It’s confusing and it’s strange and I know I should hate you, but I like this.’ The words just spill out, reflexive, pulled from somewhere. ‘I enjoy every moan you make. Every shiver that goes through you. I love how you taste, and smell, and–’

Irina puts a finger to my lips, quick as a bolt. ‘Well then, what are you waiting for? See just how good it feels, honey, to taste me wholly of your own volition.’ She smirks, cocks her head towards the door. ‘You can leave, of course. Send Mads in, to finish this off. Or you can let me baptise that mouth, and reward you for your efforts. What will it be?’

Schlup. Slurp.

Her bell-end is inside my mouth in the blink of an eye, without any urging, without any effort on her part. Irina simply sighs in relief, relaxing into her chair. Her huge helmet, halfway inside my lips, is positioned perfectly so that I get the full experience of her first load of the day.

‘Ooh. I thought so.’ The baleful beauty gives my head a playful, almost mocking pat. ‘You’re never going to have Maddie’s–ugh–womb, honey,’ Irina says, her knees beginning to tremble. ‘But you can still–aahn–feast on the sperm that claimed it!’

I’m not prepared for this one. I’ve swallowed so much of her, even just recently, but this is something else. Something special. Pure arousal? Delayed release from earlier? I can’t say, but it makes my eyes go wide and Irina chuckle-groans as her helmet swells and spits.

The first shot is super thick, one long rope of gooiness that hits the back of my mouth, almost enters my throat. As it begins to sag down, not quite touching my tongue in time, a second, like a shotgun blast, coats my tastebuds.

‘Mhm. Mumph.’

Irina laughs as I moan, completely in awe of her flavour. I’ve tasted it before, but…it really is different today. Salty, tangy, ever so creamy and profoundly rich. Hot, and fresh, and heavy. Utterly packed with the highest pedigree of sperm. A third rope, a fourth, and my tongue is entirely engulfed in her ejaculate. My mind races with the dirty image of a billion white tadpoles racing about on my tastebuds.

‘Don’t you dare–ugh–swallow until I tell you to,’ she says, firmer than I’m used to. ‘Remember that this same thing happened–mhm–just the other day, inside of Mads.’ Irina sucks in a breath, tilts her head back, grinning ear to ear. ‘I envy you, Theo. To have the luxury of–aahn–tasting sperm of my quality. Ughn.’

Schlup. Schlurp.

I keep sucking, and she keeps releasing. Fat ropes, thick bursts, dense strings. Reflexively I chew a little, as best I can with a mouthful of cock. Mixing the muck up, getting it caught in my teeth – as if it needed helping – ensuring that it meets every part of my mouth.

‘Mhm-hm.’

‘Of course, you like it. It’s natural to–mhm–appreciate the semen of your owner.’ She looks at me, so elegant and exceptional. It’s no wonder she tastes so, so…delicious. The woman, for all of her cruelty, is peerless. A dickgirl dominatrix of Amazonian awesomeness. And her sperm, in the billions, are swimming about inside my mouth. ‘You could’ve had this all to yourself, honey. Could’ve–ugh–been mine from the start, and Mads wouldn’t be involved.’ Irina shakes her head, rolls her emerald eyes. ‘Still, you’ll get plenty. Whenever you want, you come to me. I’m generous, like that.’ She chuckles, almost giggles, high on the power, on the prestige of it. Somehow, with a mouthful of her baby batter, her arrogance is bizarrely attractive. ‘Good cocksucker. Good cumslut. We’re both right where we–ughn–belong.’

My eyelids flutter as she continues to release, completely loading my mouth. My cheeks swell, bringing with them the building worry that she might overflow, spilling out of my nose or the sides of my lips. Perhaps it’s just that today’s load is so sticky, so gooey and viscous. Perhaps I’m better at handling such excessive loads, all of a sudden.

Whatever the reason, I manage to receive the whole thing. Lips straining, cheeks packed, throat desperate to bob and swallow to relieve the tension. But Irina, regaining some composure, simply beholds me with utmost appreciation. Down on my knees, while she sits on that veritable throne, the imbalance of power has never been clearer.

‘Chew,’ she says. ‘Savour. Taste. For the next…ten minutes. You don’t have to show me – by the look on your face, I’m sure you’d spill some – but I do want you to let my sperm claim that mouth thoroughly.’

I just about manage to release her softening cock, the diligence of my suction leaving her glistening only with spit, no hint of cum remaining. But my attention, rather than on her godly genitals, remains fixed on her arresting stare.

‘Mhm. Mumph.’

To churn the stuff, the thick nut-butter of the fearsome futanari, is no easy task. It really is so lacking for liquid today, an endless series of knots and strings. The flavour is, again, delicious. That her pride, that her genes – even though the stuff has a dirtiness to it, a carnal crudeness – can be so desirable on the tongue, all these sperm and all this salty-tangy rich creaminess rolling about, softening slightly with spit, is a grim testament to her victory.

On some terrible level, I’m glad that Mads went behind my back. If she hadn’t, would Irina have won? And if she hadn’t won, I wouldn’t…wouldn’t be doing this.

Even though, as I contemplate swallowing not to ease my burden but solely to accept her strong swimmers into my body, I realise that I love this. That I imagine I’ll be back here later today. Every day.

‘Ten minutes,’ Irina says, all of a sudden. I didn’t even notice the passage of time. ‘Go on, Theo. Swallow, and you can leave. I’m sure we both have less pressing work to do.’

It takes several gulps, to rid myself of it. Warm pulses, sliding down the gullet, into the belly where surely the stuff belongs. The source is rotten in the mind, but her body…I can’t deny what I like. What I want.

She doesn’t even tell me to show her my emptied mouth, but I do nonetheless. Irina’s eyes glisten with something, some particular shade of smugness, and then she begins sorting out her clothes.

‘Remember that I’m not going to tell you when to do it. You’re going to have to take initiative. Just like today.’

‘Y-es, Mummy.’ I nod, and stumblingly rise. ‘I’ll remember.’

The way she winks provokes a distinct leaking of my cock. Something Mads will have to take care of, back in our office.

‘Good boy,’ Mummy says, turning back to her desk. ‘I knew you had it in you.’ She chuckles. ‘Well, you have it in you now.’

And as I walk away, somewhat in a trance, it’s incredibly strange.

I don’t regret what I’ve done.

Huh.