If her mouth feels this tight... Ross mused, the thought stirring a deeper hunger within him. I can’t wait to see how her pussy handles . How that tight little body will struggle to take all of my cock. He could barely suppress the thrill that ran through him at the thought.
The image of Iris, trembling, helpless to resist as her body fought to accommodate him, was all he could think about.
Her pace quickened under his silent command, but Ross wanted more. He wanted to break through the last of her defenses, to see her fully submit beneath him, to hear her breath catch not just in hesitation, but in helpless surrender.
He watched her closely, every flicker of resistance making his blood rush hotter. The power, the control—it was addictive.
Iris, on the other hand, felt herself slipping deeper into despair, each passing second more unbearable than the last.
She had thought she could keep herself together, that her sense of duty would shield her from the worst of this humiliation.
But now, as she felt Ross’s gaze burning into her, she knew there was no escape from the depths of degradation she had been forced into.
Ross’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, sharper now, tinged with impatience.
"You can do better than that, Iris," he muttered, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Show how much you want this."
Iris swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words crush any lingering shred of dignity she had. But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.
There was no choice but to obey, to finish what she had started, no matter how much it tore at her soul.
"Hmmmmmm…" Iris tried, desperately, to cradle the entire cock in her mouth, but it was a monuntal task. The head, a stubborn, hard point, stubbornly resisted complete capture.
She could only manage a frantic suckling at the tip, her tongue darting around the throbbing flesh in a futile attempt to sohow, magically, satisfy the beast.
Her hands, however, found a different, more direct route to the heart of the matter.
They moved with a feverish urgency, a desperate rhythm up and down the length of the shaft, a frantic dance of pressure and release.
Each touch, each slide, was a prayer, a desperate plea for this tornt to end.
She moved them as fast as she could, hoping the sheer intensity of her movent might sohow coax Ross to release, to break free from this nightmare.
The sweat beaded on her skin, the throbbing in her chest mirrored the frantic pulse in her hands.
"Here it cos, Iris! Take it all in!" Ross commanded.
Iris’s body tensed, her mind reeling as the ten minutes passed, and her throat was suddenly flooded by a scalding torrent of white, thick liquid.
The taste was strange, almost bitter, and her imdiate instinct was to pull away and spit it out.
She gagged slightly, her throat tightening against the urge to expel it. But before she could even think to act, Ross’s voice cut through the haze of her thoughts, cold and nacing.
"If you waste a single drop," he said, his voice a dark threat laced with all seriousness, "I’ll make sure that your son Derek loses all his limbs tonight. He doesn’t have feet anymore so I might as well make it all identical and take off his arms too."
Iris’s heart pounded at the ntion of her son, Derek. The image of him, young and handso, stripped of his limbs flashed across her mind.
Although he may strayed down the wrong, the truth remained that she was still his mother.
She knew Ross was cruel enough to follow through on his words. With trembling lips, she forced herself to swallow.
"GULP!"
"GULP!"
"GULP!" Her throat worked against the thick fluid, the taste lingering on her tongue in an unpleasant reminder of her situation.
She felt her lips instinctively tighten around him, knowing any hesitation might cost her dearly.
Ross moaned, his fingers brushing through her hair in a sweet display of affection. He could feel the change in her, the mont of resignation as she gave in to his demands.
"That’s more like it," he whispered, his grip tightening slightly in her hair as she continued to drink, each swallow a sign of her submission.
iris’s mind raced as she tried to block out the humiliation and sha coursing through her. This wasn’t who she was—this wasn’t the proud, strong and popular Iris Davies.
Yet here she was, forced into this degrading act, her only consolation being the safety of her son. Her only motivation was to prevent Ross from carrying out his vile threat.
When she finally swallowed the last drop, Iris gasped for air, her body shuddering from the effort. Ross looked down at her, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"Hmmm… you really are an amazing woman, Iris," he murmured, his tone dripping with false praise. "I knew there was sothing special about you."
Iris glared up at him, her face flushed with anger and sha, but she said nothing. Words were pointless here. All she could do was endure.
Ross on the other hand took this chance to properly see Iris in all her glorious nudity.
Iris sat there, exposed and vulnerable, her body that of a goddess—ripe, full, and curvaceous. Her breasts, large and heavy, swayed slightly as she moved, the pink tips already hardened against her will, her body betraying her even as her mind resisted.
The patch of fiery blonde hair between her legs caught his attention, an arrow pointing downwards to the place that made his mouth water with lustful hunger. Ross’s cock stiffened, throbbing with the anticipation of what was to co.
Her body, once a source of pride, now felt like a curse. Each curve, each inch of exposed skin only served to heighten Ross’s desire, and her helplessness in the face of his lust filled her with a bitter sense of futility.
"Perfect. Just Perfect." Ross praised.
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