Stacey's Pigs Ch. 03

Fapter 3 -- Torments and Tastes

Oh, God. I opened my jaw as wide as I could. "Perfect! I love it when you do exactly as I say. Stick out your tongue." As soon as I did so, she slapped the wet, condom covered end of the stick down onto it. First the odor of latex, and then the tangerine taste of her juices flooded my senses. I felt the pressure of her hand under my chin.

"Close your mouth." I wrapped my lips delicately around loose, used plastic, breathing noisily through my nostrils. My eyes bulged. The revolting Jaeger botanicals still lingered on my breath, adding to the strange bouquet. She stared me down, unsmiling.

"Suck it."

Though I was definitely not gay and had never sucked cock before, for her I did my utmost. It's not like anybody could see, but I was still sweating with embarrassment. At least one of us was having fun. It was cold and slippery when it filled my mouth at first, with the unforgiving butt end of the wooden stick inside. It soon warmed with my body heat. Even though it was my first time, she wasn't gentle. My overstimulation was total; I felt small, pried open, helpless.

She shoved it deeper and deeper into my mouth, strategically exploring the edges of how much I could take while her free hand kept a constant pressure on the back of my head. I had no idea this was what it felt like... it wasn't great, honestly. I tried to turn my head to the side, but she grabbed a fistful of my hair to make sure I didn't go anywhere.

Relaxing into her hand, I was able to find some measure of surrender. The sting of my hair being pulled kept me tied to the present, with the rhythm of her thrusts lulling me into a sort of trance. After a time, I found I could not easily control my own saliva production. I breathed only when she let me. She cackled at me with feral joy every time I drooled, coughed or gagged.

Then I felt an odd, new kind of pressure starting to build in my cage. I glanced down and realized the devilwoman was multitasking again; as my mouth was being fucked, she was stepping on my tightly confined member with the toe of her boot, which had the effect of pulling my whole package away from my body. It was quite a stretch! If my little friend had been possessed of a voice at that moment, he would have been screeching death metal.

"Tastes good, doesn't it, fucker?"

"Mmmph!" I replied powerlessly. Between her grip on my hair and her hard boot grinding my cage into the floor, trying to escape was nothing but a pipe dream. She had me pinned like a butterfly- exactly where she wanted me.

"Suck it real good for me, slut. No teeth." I pursed my lips tighter around the shaft to protect it from any accidental grazing.

"Yeah, that's it. Don't stop. Oh yeah, just like that."

I let my eyes droop closed. I was here for the ride. Every sensation made me feel disgusting and alive. I was in a plastic scented dream. I hated it. I loved it. I would suffer for her as much as she wanted me to. She kept on ruthlessly penetrating my mouth.

Once she'd begun to toe the line of almost legitimately making me throw up, she finally decided to extract it from my deflowered orifice. I felt a couple tears roll hotly from of the corners of my eyes as I wretched dryly and gasped for air, like a shipwreck finally touching land.

When she pulled it out, however, the ruined condom slid off the stick and stayed behind. It flopped impotently against my wet chin. I wanted to spit it out, but she spoke more quickly than my instincts.

"Haha! Keep that in your mouth, my dirty little Piggy." I closed my mouth with disgust. It dangled from my lips, quivering. My jaw ached. She took a moment to massage some leftover spittle into my face with her thumb, clearly enjoying spreading it around. It was obnoxiously erotic. Her touch -- her touch! She was touching me! -- was somehow both mean and loving.

"Oh you look so damn cute! Crawl for me." Fuck. Anything for her. I moved forward on my hands and knees, forging an ever more intimate relationship with the godforsaken carpet. Tiny little crumbly bits of God-knows-what jabbed into my naked flesh. They should really fire their janitor, I thought morosely.

She had me crawl in circles, first clockwise, then counterclockwise, and finally in figure eights, until my knees were quite sore, the shadows of the dim room wheeling around me. The bottoms of the tables were dotted with bubblegum. The defiled rubber protruding from my mouth swayed left and right every time my next kneecap or palm pressed into the awful floor. I stole a glance at her as I made another turn. She looked thoughtful.

"Oink for me."

"... Like a pig?" I spoke awkwardly around the latex. She rolled her eyes.

"Duh."

I felt my cheeks redden as I gave her my best oink, a little shyly.

"No need to be demure. Do it again, louder. Oink as you crawl."

I oinked louder, and crawled.

"Did I say stop, fuckwad? Keep oinking!"

I oinked, and crawled, and oinked, and crawled. The cage wiggled stiffly between my naked thighs.

I was beginning to get tired. Did she want to fuck me, or just fuck with me?  Did some part of me relish the notion that it was probably the latter? Maybe this wasn't foreplay. Maybe this was just... play, at my expense. At least I was getting some kind -- any kind -- of female attention. The words I'm such a pathetic loser trailed across my mind.

As if reading my exhaustion, she pressed a smooth hand against my forehead, putting a halt to my torturous crawling without a word. I sank down onto my shins, giving my wrists a break. Why did it feel so right to kneel in front of her? Next, she reached two fingers into my mouth, removed the prophylactic, tossed it into a nearby trash bin, and patted me gently on the head. "Good Piggy."

I oinked and looked up at her pitifully, panting from my lowly exertions, relief and gratitude spreading across my weary expression. Towering above me in that moment, her high cheekbones framed by a halo of dark hair, she was my whole world. Nothing else mattered. I oinked again, weakly. She chuckled, full of satisfaction.

"You can stop oinking for now, my pet. You've done a very good job. Would you like to kiss my boot?" My brain felt hollow, her question like candlelight filling the void. Was she asking me what I wanted? The small dose of free will felt strange. I found that I kind of did want to kiss her boot (or at least I wanted to please her no matter what form that took) but no words would come out of my mouth.

"Tell me how much you want to kiss it. I know you wanna. You may express yourself in words." She presented the toe of her boot in front of me and waited.

"Please." My voice was hoarse and didn't feel like my own.

"Oh come on, I know you can do better. Beg for it."

"I want to kiss your boot so bad. My Queen. Please, pretty please, let me kiss it. I want, no, I need to."

"Nice. Whose piggy are you?"

"Yours." Her eyes flashed. When she responded, her voice took on an icy quality.

"Say it."

"I'm yours. I'm your piggy."

At this, her expression softened and she sighed happily. I watched her breasts move up and down with her breath, the little chain that held my freedom still diving deep into her cleavage. I whimpered.

"Alright. Because you've been so very well behaved, you may now kiss my boot." I leaned forward excitedly and pressed my lips to the earthy smelling leather, intoxicated. It was a long, reverent kiss. What the hell was this woman doing to me? Her words hinted at the maternal. "Mm, well done. What a sweet Piggy you are." I sat back up and looked at her, filled with bliss from her praise, awaiting my next instruction.

Something warm and wet splatted suddenly against my cheek. I blinked, recoiling in surprise. Holy fuck, she spit on me! Shock and arousal hit me like two freight trains at once. For a heated, pulsing moment I thought I might legitimately bust a nut in my cage. Why did that turn me on?? I stared up at her, sputtering.

"Did you just sp-"

"-Shut up and lick my boot."

"... L-lick it?" I breathed.

"You heard me." I took a long inhale, processing. It came out as a stammered moan. All bets were off. Nothing could disgust me anymore.

"Yes my Queen." I bent down again, and lightly licked her boot.

Then, abandoning myself, I licked it again. I found that I loved it. I indulged. She didn't stop me. I got completely lost in the licking. Her spit slowly oozed down my cheek toward my mouth and dripped onto the boot. I lapped it up like a worshipful dog. As I licked the leather, her spit mixed with mine. It was so close to kissing her; so close to heaven.

I couldn't feel how sore my knees were anymore. I was floating, devout, hers. I was only a tongue, eyes closed, an animal doing animal things. All thoughts in my mind dissolved like sugar in tea. I lost track of time and licked and licked and licked until she said, softly,

"That's enough now. You may thank me." There was a new warmth in her voice.

"Thank you for letting me lick your boot, my Queen."

In the honeyed dimness, I watched her mouth stretch into a devious grin.

"You're welcome. Would my Piggy like to know what he'll be doing next?"

"Oh yes! Please, my Queen."

"He's going to go get the 8 ball."