Page 178 of Phobia

I’m nothing more than a whimpering, pleading mess for a freaking clown to put my dick back into his mouth.

What the hell happened to this day? Am I even alive? Did I die minutes after walking inside Mayhem?

“You’re very much here, darlin’, and at my mercy, just how I want ya.”

Nope, okay. This is happening.

I’m just screwed in the head. Gone completely mental… It’s the psychological torture they stated in the waiver.

Static made me his victim, and I fell right into his hands… or his mouth. His very sharp mouth. That feels way too good…

He buries his face in my crotch. I can feel his nose dragging over my flesh, the sharp plumes of air as he pants against me, inhaling every inch he touches.

Oh… my God.

“Such a little treat,” he drawls, accent so thick and heavy. And then his mouth is back on my cock, enveloping every inch with a heady swallow.

A swallow that is my ticket straight into hell, break lines cut, and gas pedal pinned to the floor.

Chapter 7

Madison’s timid little whimpers are a hit straight to my brain—and my fuckin’ dick. Which is harder than it’s ever been. My little treat is… such a surprise.

The scrape of his fingers against the metal as he scrambles for purchase is music to my ears. I bob my head over his length, sheathing my teeth the best I can, but fuck, these fuckers were not made for suckin’ a dick. No way, no how.

I know he feels ‘em with every drag of my mouth, but it seems the sharp bite of pain only makes my little darlin’ that much hotter.

Shit, he’s amazin’.

The lingering scent of his urine wafts into my nose whenever I bury close to his groin. I swallow around his cockhead, just to get as close as I can. He fills my throat. Not too big, leaning on the average side, but definitely the perfect size to fit inside my throat without suffocating me or triggering my gag reflex too harshly.

Every time I pull back to tongue the ridge just beneath his head, I bury my fingers deeper in his crack. My gloves keep my fingertips from feeling much more than hot, damp heat.

A heat I want nothing more than to feel against my bare skin, but there’s no time.

Not yet, anyway.

But I’ll make sure to get more with my little treat.

He and I are far from done.

His body is glistening, the white light only accentuating the gleam. He flashes in and out, like the shutter of a disposable camera.

Now that I think about it… I wish I would’ve brought one. To capture this moment in time… and to send as a little reminder to my treat if he decides he wants to try and forget this. Forgetme.

Yeah… I chuckle around his dick, making it buck against the vibration. My little darlin’ willneverforget this.

Getting head from a clown is something no one would be able to stop thinking about.

I swallow greedily, relishing in the taste of him. Salty and musky. A little bitter.

Those hands of his keep scraping, the rest of his body bowing, resisting the binds keeping him secure. My eyes flash up to his left hand.

Before I can think of the consequences, I release the strap around his wrist, freeing just that hand. His fingers delve straight into my hair like they have a mind of their own. Like heneedsto touch me.

He yanks my hair, ripping a few strands right out of my fuckin’ skull. I grunt. He tugs harder. Yanking, pulling me closer, further away. Like he can’t make up his mind.

I shake my head, and his dick stabs the inside of my cheek. He hisses as my teeth dig in near his base.