A Controlled Descent Ch. 06

"Jack's just taking pity on you."

"Yes Sir."

"Say it."

"Jack's just taking pity on me." My left eye begins to twitch and roll back in my head.

"You're a waste of his time. Say it."

"I'm a waste of his time."

"Well we agree on that much," he says and removes his fingers abruptly, cutting the strings on my orgasm like a puppet. I groan, thighs slamming together as my body shakes uncontrollably. Robert snaps at me, and I fight to regain my composure enough to straighten my back and resume my position. My jaw clenches to keep my teeth from chattering.

He tells me to kneel. I hate him so much, but do as I'm told, wondering how long this opera could possibly be. He sighs dramatically and orders me to stand back up.

"Kneeling doesn't mean crumple to the floor. Try again, no hands this time. Both knees should touch the ground simultaneously."

I try, but it's still nowhere near his standards. He snaps his fingers twice. Automatically, Linda stands and joins us in the dark of the vestibule. She looks expectantly at Robert.

"Our young friend here doesn't know how to kneel. Take off your shoes and demonstrate."

"Yes Sir," Linda says and slips to her knees in one fluid motion, so that her bare feet appear to roll over her ankles like a wave. When her ass and ankles touch, her knees slide apart in the carpet. Her back is perfectly straight, shoulders back; chin up; eyes on the floor at Robert's feet; hands resting lightly on the tops of her thighs. It's beautiful like a dance.

"You see?" Robert asks.

"I don't think I can do that," I say.

"Or course not, but that's what you're working towards. A goal. Try again."

"Yes Sir," I say and do a crude approximation of Linda's effortless grace and kneel beside her waiting for Robert to mock my effort.

"Better," he says. "Not great, but better."

"Thank you, Sir." It's the first remotely nice thing he's said to me, and I'm ashamed at how much his approval matters to me.

"Lie on your back, face between my feet."

I do as instructed and look up at his upside-down face. He tells Linda to stand and take off her skirt and panties, which she folds and sets neatly on the ground beside my crumpled skirt.

"Kneel on this slut's face," he says.

"Yes Sir," Linda says, stepping over me, and I get to appreciate the art of her kneel from an entirely different perspective.

Her knees touch down on either side of my head, her bottom resting gently on my chest. I can smell her and know she's wet. My mind wanders to how she will taste but have a feeling it would go badly if I took it upon myself to find out. In the grand scheme of things, I describe myself as situationally bi. I'm attracted to women, but sleeping with one simply doesn't check my boxes like being used by a man. However, being made to sexually service this son of a bitch's submissive? That might just be the Venn diagram of my bisexuality.

Looking up, I see him unzip and take out his dick. Two girls at his feet, and he's only partially hard. I wonder if that's a function of age, or that he's just a jaded motherfucker.

I keep that question to myself.

"Can you hear me down there?" Robert asks conversationally.

"Yes Sir," I say from between Linda's beautiful thighs.

"Would you like to lick my girl?"

"Badly," I say and feel Linda squirm slightly.

"Then we're going to have a competition. There terms are these. Make her cum before I unload in her mouth, and Jack's debt is paid, and you can go back to him and enjoy the rest of the opera."

"And if I lose?"

"Lose and she makes a Jackson Pollock of your pretty face with my cum, and then I will send you back to your seat a whorish mess. Understood?"

Fuck. "Yes Sir."

"And you, girl," he admonishes Linda. "Lose to this whelp, and it will be a month before you sit comfortably again."

"Yes Sir," she says.

"No hands, just mouths. May the best whore win," he says, clearly amused with himself. "On your marks...get set..."

Linda's hips flex like a thoroughbred in the starting gate. This isn't some game to her, and Robert wasn't making an idle threat about her ass. She means to win.

"...Go."

Linda darts forward and takes him in her mouth. It's not a small cock by any means, but Robert disappears down her throat like it's nothing. If my arms weren't pinned to my sides, I'd applaud. From my back, looking up, all I can see is her chin pressing into his balls. Time stops, and she holds him there effortlessly, her chest still because of course she can't breathe now. I watch transfixed. It's perfect. That's the word that pops into my head - perfect. Not on my best day could I do that for Jack, and I feel woefully inadequate. Has she, I wonder. They all seem to know each other very well. Has Jack's cock been down her gifted throat? My stomach knots, and I feel an aching jealousy. Even as a whore, I'm going to be second best. Robert's words echo in my ears - I'm a waste of his time.

Slowly, her head backs off his cock, which isn't semi-hard anymore. It's rigid and angry, thick with thick strings of her saliva. One strand snaps and tumbles end over end, hitting me square on the forehead. It snaps me back to reality, and I remember the stakes. If I don't make her cum, a little spit on my face will be the least of my worries. I reach out with my tongue and take my first taste. Wish I could say her pussy is sour or bitter, but she's delicious, and I'm flattered at how wet she is. I'm not here to indulge my palette though and drive my tongue between the labia and search up for her clit. Thank God it's not dainty. I find it and attack her with my tongue.

If I'm being honest, I'm average at best between a woman's leg especially compared to my cocksucking. It's not that I don't like it, my skills just aren't nearly as developed. Fortunately, skill doesn't look like it's going to be a factor. This is less about me licking her and more her using my mouth as a launch pad. Locking my head between her calves, she sits down on my face and begins to grind it out. I do my best to hold my tongue out flat against her clit, but my main concern is gasping for breath on her downstroke. My vision starts to blur, so I shut my eyes. Probably for the best since her drool is raining down steadily on me now. Time passes, but I have no idea how much. Is she getting close? I'm as sentient as a dildo. That's what I am right now. A dildo getting fucked and about as smart as one. The thought drives my legs together, and I squeeze my pussy between my thighs. It feels really good, and I wonder idly if I could make myself cum just from the pressure. Wouldn't that be a useful trick?

Before I can experiment though, Linda freezes in place. It feels significant, and I open my eyes just wide enough to see that Robert has his hands on either of her face in a vice grip. When he cums, it's with an animal grunt. With violent thrusts, he works her head back and forth. From this angle it looks like he might fuck her head clean off. She doesn't appear at all concerned though because her hands never once leave her knees. She's amazing, and I think I may have just found a new role model. The way she just takes everything he has to give with stoic composure, letting him empty himself into her. There's no hint of defiance from her. She's not out to prove anything to anyone and looks impossibly relaxed under the circumstances. This is her gift to Robert - her total submission. It's awe inspiring. Is that what Jack thinks I could be to him?

When Robert is satisfied, she sits back on my chest, catching her breath. Cum and spit coat her lips and hang from her chin. She opens her mouth and shows him that she hasn't swallowed the rest. Robert smiles and pets her head affectionately, mouthing something private to her. Then they both look down at me pinned on the floor between her legs. Somewhere far away, there is an opera happening.

"Could you have cum?" Robert asks her. "If I'd let you?"

Impressively, she answers him even with a mouth full of cum. "Yes Sir."

"So she did a good job?"

Linda glances down at me without spilling a drop. "Yes Sir."

I realize now Linda was never going to cum, not without his explicit permission. She's much too well trained for that, and he never gave it to her. I've been playing against the house and lost.

"Well, time to pay the piper," Robert says to me. "Ready?"

"Yes Sir," I say and inhale deeply when Linda opens her mouth above me. All I can think about is how I'm going to sneak out of the Kennedy Center without making a scene. Maybe Jack should leave without me, so I can make the walk of shame without embarrassing him. That feels right given how badly I've let him down. I'm supposed to be representing him. That's what he said. And all I've done is fail. Well, at the very least Robert won't be able to accuse me of whining. I'll take my humiliation like a brave girl. Jack's brave girl.

"Make a mess of her," Robert tells Linda.

I look up expectantly, telling myself not to close my eyes. I fight back my natural defiance. Don't do that, I tell myself. This isn't about me. This is for Jack. My gift to him. Take what she gives you. Be calm. Be stoic. Be like Linda.

A fat droplet of cum lands on my eyelid and lashes. I don't flinch but wait for the rest to come.

"Stop," Robert says.

Linda shuts her mouth and looks at him expectantly. To my surprise, he tells her to swallow. She does and then opens her mouth wide for his inspection.

"Not bad," he says, regarding me with newfound interest.

"I don't understand."

"Well then you're a dumb whore."

"Yes Sir," I say.

"As for you," he says to Linda. "You've been a very good girl."

"Thank you, Sir."

"I know you were looking forward to the opera, and as usual I let myself be sidetracked."

Linda says nothing.

"Do you still need to cum?"

"So much, Sir," she says.

"Well you've earned it. How would you like to?"

"Her face."

"Finish what you started?"

"Yes please, Sir."

Robert kisses her on the forehead. "Have at it, pet."

Linda grins wickedly and repositions herself astride my head like a sprinter in the blocks. With both hands, she takes fistfuls of my hair and lifts my head to her, grazing her pussy across my lips. If that momentarily gives me hope that she means to be gentle with me, I am quickly disabused. Before, her attention had been split between Robert's cock and my tongue. Now I have her undivided attention, and it is hard to describe how brutal it is. Men like to talk about facefucking, but I realized now that they only mean the throat. Linda teaches me what it really means. Every surface, every angle, every part of my face is her playground. I'm a sheen of cum, spit, and pussy from neck to forehead. At one point, I feel her working my chin inside her. All I can do is hang on for dear life and be grateful that she waxes. Even a hint of stubble, and I would end up in the burn ward.

What's terrifying is that she's so strong and seemingly inexhaustible. Also, I think she's toying with me and herself. When she finally cums, it's with her whole body although remarkably she never makes a sound. Another thing I can't do. Foolishly, I relax thinking that must be it. She must be done. Think again, dummy. She's right back at it like a witch, working my face between her thighs. The next time she cums it's in multiples, one after another in quick succession. It goes on and on until, from far away, I hear Robert say that's enough. Reluctantly, Linda slows and then stops. I'm not sure how much more I could have taken and actually feel grateful to him. Linda looms above me while I lay there panting and breathless. I feel like I just ran ten miles in five minutes.

"Up," Robert tells Linda who climbs unsteadily to her feet.

"May I get dressed, Sir?" she asks.

He waves away her question. "Yes, make yourself presentable and go watch the rest of the opera."

"Thank you, Sir."

He leans forward and gazes down at me. "Still with us?"

Good question. "Yes Sir."

"Happy to hear it," he says and pauses just long enough to make me scared that there's about to be round three. "Tell Jack his debt is paid."

My shoulders go limp, and I realize how tense I was and how relieved I am that it's over. I survived without using my safeword. Barely, but no one knows that but me.

"I will, Sir."

"Take care of him. Prove me wrong about you." There's emotion in his voice that I wouldn't have thought possible.

"I will, Sir."

"Right, well off you go." He stands and puts his chair back in its place before sitting beside Linda and taking her hand. After that they never look back or acknowledge me again. They're done with me, so why would they? It might be the hottest thing about it to me.

I fetch my shoes and balled-up dress from the corner. The opera sounds like it's coming to a big finish, which means if I hurry I can make it to the restroom before the crowd let's out. I can only imagine how I look. Stepping into my dress, I glance across to the next box. The three old ladies are happily oblivious, which only adds to surrealism of the situation. Carrying me shoes, I let myself out and bump straight into an attendant in her sixties. She looks at me in horror and asks if I'm okay.

"Food poisoning," I say and hurry away before she can poke holes in that lie.

In the restroom, I see what alarmed the attendant so badly. Linda did a real number on my hair, which looks like what my mother would call a rat's nest. I look cracked out. My face might as well have been power washed. All my carefully applied makeup is gone, and my skin has a pale, bleached-out quality. How many layers of skin did I lose? I open my stupid clutch and stare forlornly at my wallet and mascara. Fat lot of good that will do me now. Instead, I rinse my face in the sink with hand soap and paper towels. I do my best to finger comb the knots out of my hair, but it's beyond salvaging at this point. Fortunately, I always have a hair tie for just such an emergency and pull my hair back in a gnarled ponytail.

It's not the first time I've looked like a whore but never before around fancy people at the Kennedy Center. The thought fills me with dread, so I hide in one of the stalls until all the nice, respectable women start pouring in post-opera. No one pays attention to anything but themselves and getting out as fast as possible after a show. Keeping my head down, I use that as cover to blend into the departing throngs.

Jack is waiting impatiently at the column. His eyes widen at the sight of me. That's when I know what an unholy mess I really look. He takes off his jacket and drapes it around my shoulders.

"I survived."

"You survived," he says and there is a hint of awe in his voice.

"He said to say your debt is paid," I relay and wonder what Robert meant that Jack is grieving.

"Remarkable. It couldn't have been easy."

"It could have been worse," I say, thinking about how Robert let me off the hook after I lost the race.

"Always," he agrees. "Especially with a man like Robert. Want to get out of here?"

"More than anything."

"So how about that steak? Still sound good?"

This might be the hungriest I've ever been in my life. "It sounds incredible, but we can just go home if you want."

"Why would I want that?" he asks.

"Because look at me? I look awful. I'll just embarrass you."

"Embarrass me? Little girl, you just made me so proud."

"Really?" I say dumbfounded at the concept.

"I'm a very lucky man. Why? Would you feel more comfortable going home?"

I shake my head. "No, I want to go out with you. If you'll take me."

"Nothing would make me happier."

I flush with emotion. "Can I ask for something?"

"Anything," he says seriously.

"Can I have a hug?" I feel stupid and needy for asking.

Jack's face falls. "What is wrong with me? Come here."

He pulls me in and holds me tight. I rest the side of my face against his chest, safe in his arms, and everything outside the hug falls away. He kisses the top of my head. I never want him to stop.

"Who said the opera was boring?" Jack asks and, despite feeling sorry for myself, I burst out laughing. After a moment, he joins in, and we stand there like a couple of crazy people. I've never had anyone to share afterwards with. It feels nice, I think. A girl broken by men hoping a man will fix her. Is that what I am?