Are You Tiffani Caine? Ch. 01

She took his cock out of her mouth long enough to say, "I'm trying!" before taking him in again.

"And you're failing," Man-Bun told her bluntly. "Which means we have to keep meeting like this until you get it right."

She jerked her head off his cock, smacking it against the steering wheel and his hand as she did and making the car lurch to the right. He slammed on the brakes, knocking her against the dashboard as she tried to sit up. She pulled herself up, pushed herself into the corner of her seat, and stared at him. "WHAT?"

He was plainly annoyed by her reaction -- mostly the almost-getting-in-an-accident part, probably -- and glared at her for a moment before putting the car in gear and driving on. "Yeah, you heard me. We have to keep doing this until you get good enough that I can honestly say I enjoyed your blowjob. And I hate to break it to you, but you ain't close."

She winced. "Why?"

"Because I owe somebody a favor," he said. "Probably not as big as the favor you owe."

She almost launched herself across the car at him. "Who? Who's doing this to me?"

He shrugged. "Beats me. The guy I owe told me that somebody would be getting in touch with me about how to clear my marker. Somebody I don't know called me and told me that this was how I do it."

She sagged. "Unidentified number? Disguised voice?"

"Yeah. I gotta say, when I was told that getting my knob waxed was how I'd pay off my debt, I was pretty jacked." He frowned, then added, "That was before I met you."

She ignored the insult. "So I just have to keep doing this to you forever?"

"No.Just until you get it right."

Sara was so incensed that she was dizzy. "So you'll just keep saying I'm doing it wrong and get me to suck your thing again and again!"

He snorted a derisive laugh. "Listen Tiffani, neither your blowjobs or your personality make me want to see you any more than I have to. You're hot, but you're a prissy, bitchy prude, and to be honest you're kind of a cunt. I could put up with it if you gave great skull, but it's like getting my dick sucked by a lesbian nun with a gun to her damned head. The sooner I don't have to see you anymore, the better."

A thousand replies stormed through Sara's head, each angrier and more derisive than the last, but somehow they tangled on her tongue and she just made a garbled, rage-filled sound of disgust.

Man-Bun laughed, plainly in spite of himself. "If you could just be mad all the time and never talk, I wouldn't mind this so much."

"You...are...loathsome!"

He sighed. "Whatever. This cock ain't gonna suck itself."

She considered slapping him. She considered unleashing a torrent of invective. She very strongly considered getting out of the car and walking away, consequences be damned. But she did none of those things. Instead she threw herself forward and had his semi-hard cock in her mouth before he could say another word. She needed this over with, and if it meant giving him the best blowjob she had ever given (out of an admittedly small sample size) then so be it.

"There you go, Tiff," he said, his voice showing surprise. "Keep doing that and you'll get the job done."

Sara tried her best to keep doing just that, and for a couple of minutes she managed it with aplomb. He was quivering in her mouth, and she thought he might finish quickly enough that even a little wretch like him couldn't deny that the blowjob had been good. But then she caught her ear on the steering wheel again which threw her off her pace, and then a sudden cramp in her side from the awkward position made her shift, which again nudged her shoulder against his arm and made him swerve and curse her for her clumsiness, and she lost the mojo. She kept going, of course, because she had to, but she could feel in his body that he was finding her efforts uninspired at best, and the anger that had motivated her for a few effective minutes began to fade and be replaced by anxiety and even despair. Was he ever going to finish?

"You know, Tiffani, I only have three-quarters of a tank," he observed dryly. "I'd like to come before I run out of gas."

She didn't mean to cry. She certainly didn't want to cry, to show Man-Bun weakness and vulnerability. It seemed important to be tough, to not let this touch her, to only lament when she was alone and none of her tormentors could see or hear her. And she tried, she really did. But she lost the fight. Her first sob surprised her, but by her second she was already pushing herself up and away from him, pulling herself back into her seat, and putting her hands over her face so at least he couldn't see her tears, even if he could plainly hear them being shed.

Man-Bun just made a disgusted sound and kept driving.

She let herself cry for a few minutes. She disliked herself for it, but she didn't think she could have stopped herself if she had tried, so she let out as much as she had to so she could master herself. And when she finally did fight down the tears, she went back to the job she needed to do.

Man-Bun did finish, eventually. It took her almost half an hour to get him hard and get him off, but finally, finally, he released into her mouth. Of course he didn't warn her, and the sudden flood of bitter sperm made her gag from surprise and cough some up into her nose, but she made herself stay in place until he was done. Only then did she push herself up and away from him, trying her level best not to swallow a drop of his cum.

"Napkins in the glove box," was all he said.

She opened the compartment and found a messy array of fast-food napkins. Of course. She spat his seed into a triple thickness of white Burger King napkins, and he rolled down the window so she could toss the napkins out (she was not normally one to litter, but she just wanted his emissions as far away from her as she could get them).

After a moment, he said, "That was a piss-poor effort. I guess I'll be seeing you in a couple of days."

She was too miserable to reply; it was all she could do to manage a hopeless shrug.

"You want a ride back to your car?"

"No," she said, quietly but emphatically. "Let me out here."

"We're like...six miles from where I picked you up," he observed. "I mean, we're in St. Paul. Gonna be a long walk."

"Let me out," she repeated firmly.

"It's raining and cold --"

"LET ME OUT!"

He was grinning as he pulled over to the curb. She threw the door open and was halfway out the door when he said, "Gotta see your panties, church mouse."

She froze. Without looking over her shoulder, she said, "What?"

"I told you last time, girl who looks like you needs to wear sexy panties. I gotta check."

"They're not sexy! I was at church. They're the same kind I had on last time."

"Leave 'em," he told her. "And next time do better, clothes and blowjob."

She sat back down, slammed the door, and lifted her hips. In little more than a second she had skimmed off her pantiess, aware but too angry and sad to care that he was watching every bit of skin she revealed. She opened the door and hurled the panties into his face as she stepped out.

It was raining, and it was cold. One Lyft ride later and she was at her car. She sat in it for 20 minutes, finally releasing the tears. It was all the worse because she knew that she would have to do this all again soon. It wasn't ending, not until she satisfied Man-Bun. And after that? Would that be the end of it?

No. As much as she hated to admit it, it would not be the end. Something worse would come after. She knew that now. She had feared to suspect it before, but now she knew. This was the start, not the finish.

Perhaps prison was the better alternative after all.

She turned on her phone and saw a string of messages, phone and voice, from Isaac. Of course he was worried, she was acting completely out of character. She needed to talk to him and confess --

Of course not. He would never understand. How could he when she didn't understand herself? She typed a brief lie ("Up to my neck in work") followed by a brief truth ("I love you tons, babe"), and somehow the truth seemed less consequential than the lie as she hit Send. Then she drove home.

Three hours of tears and prayer later and with a clearer head, Sara realized that she wasn't going to get better at it quickly enough. She didn't know how to perform oral sex, and learning it on Man-Bun would be lengthy, exquisite torture. It might take her a dozen tries or more to perform to his standards, and she honestly believed she would say or do something to him that sent her to a Florida prison before she did that.

The internet, of course, could give her some tips, but the problem there was that it would be mixed in with awful advice and she wouldn't be able to tell which was which. Besides, she had installed parental controls on her laptop to keep her younger siblings from using it to see things they shouldn't, and she didn't want to take them off and then screw up getting them back on again -- not that she would screw it up, but she didn't want to take a chance.

She needed to talk to someone. A friend, someone she could trust, who knew what she was talking about. Someone who would help without demanding too many answers.

Moments later, Emma answered her call with a cheerful, "Hey Sars! What's up?"

"Are you...busy?"

"Kind of. What's going on?"

"I really need to talk to you."

Pause, then, "You OK, Sara?"

"Yes. No. I'm not. I need help and I don't know who I can talk to except you. I really --" Her voice broke and she swallowed hard before continuing. "I really need to see you."

"You at home?"

"Yeah."

"See you in twenty."

Emma buzzed the front door nineteen minutes later, and a minute-and-a-half after that she was opening Sara's door, hanging her purse on the rack, and shrugging off her coat as she asked, "OK, what's going on?"

Sara responded by swallowing her friend up in a wordless hug that got pretty ferocious before the women turned each other loose. "Come on, let's sit down," Sara said. "I definitely need to be sitting for this."

Moments later they were on the sofa, facing each other, close enough that Emma had a comforting hand on Sara's knee. Sara swallowed and said, "OK, first thing, I...I don't know how to start."

"Just take a deep breath and start at the beginning."

One deep breath later, Sara asked, "Do you know how to give good...blow jobs?"

Emma stared for a moment, then suddenly laughed. "Oh my God, is that all? Girl, you scared the crap out of me! Of course I do! Is Isaac getting restless?"

"No," Sara said quietly with a shake of her head. "It's not for him."

Emma arched an eyebrow and tried not to smirk. She almost succeeded. "So you're seeing someone else?"

"It's not like that," Sara replied. "It's something...it's..."

"What? What is it?"

"It's..." She sighed. "I need you to promise me you won't press me for answers if I tell you this, OK?"

Emma frowned, obviously not liking the conditions, but she nodded. "OK."

"I'm...in trouble. Something I did a long time ago, before we even met, is coming back. Please don't ask me what it was, please. I thought...I thought nobody knew, but someone does. And...they're blackmailing me."

Emma was pale. "Jesus -- I mean, shit, sorry, darn! What the hell -- no, I said I wouldn't press, right?"

Sara nodded. "Yeah. So...so right now, the first thing I need to do, is oral sex on this awful little man."

"The first thing?"

Sara sighed miserably and shrugged. "Probably just the first thing. Somebody went to a lot of trouble over this and I doubt they'll let it go with a few...blow jobs."

"A few?"

"I've done it twice now. I'm not good at it, Emma. I think I'm pretty bad. And I have to keep doing it to this guy until I give him a good one."

"What the hell?"

"I don't know," Sara said wearily. "I know it doesn't make sense, but that's what the guy said,"

"And you believe a guy who's blackmailing you for sex?"

"He's not the one who's blackmailing me. This guy is part of it, but...look, I don't understand it, I just know that he says that once I give him a good...blow job, then I won't have to see him again. And I know it sounds crazy, but I actually believe him. I think he dislikes me as much as I dislike him, and I think he wants to see the end of me."

With a frown, Emma asked, "Are you sure?"

"No. Of course not. It's just a feeling I have."

"Sara, I think you need to go to the cops with this."

Sara shook her head emphatically. "No! It's prison for me if I do. I mean it. I'm in really, really bad trouble and...and right now I need to do what they tell me. That's all. Will you help me?"

Emma put her face in her hands. "I can't believe this. Sara, I just..."

"I need your help, Emma."

"I'll do what I can, of course. Whatever I can. But Sara...if it doesn't end with this..."

"I know."

Emma blew out a long exhalation. "So, what do you want to know?"

"Anything you can tell me. Everything. I...'suck at sucking' to use his words."

"Well I hate to tell you, but it's mostly a matter of practice. It's a skill, you just have to do it a lot to get good at it."

"There has to be something you can tell me!"

"Well...how big is he?"

Emma held her hands about five or six inches apart.

"So pretty average. You can deep throat him, right? Guys love that."

Sara shook her head. "My throat locks up. I gag."

"Is he, you know, clean down there? Not all cheesy?"

"Ugh! No, he's clean. He uses Axe."

"Ooooof course he does," Emma smirked.

"And he has a man-bun."

"Why am I not surprised? OK, so you need to work on the gag reflex. Do you have anything you can use to practice? All it takes is practice."

"Like..."

"Like something that size and shape? A dildo would be good but I know better than to ask. How about...do you have carrots?"

"Baby carrots."

Emme snerked, then burst into laughter. "Oh my God, if you could give him a great BJ and then tell him you practiced on baby carrots!"

Sara couldn't help but laugh in spite of the blasphemy. "Wait, I have a toothbrush case. That's about right."

"Use that then. You start out slow, just push it into your mouth as far as it will go without gagging, like when you start to gag pull it back to just before that spot and hold it there for ten seconds or so."

"OK, I can do that."

"And do that like you're working out. Do reps and sets a couple times a day. You'll get better and better at it. And you have to remember to breathe -- use your nose, not your mouth, that's important. And just stay calm and keep practicing."

"And so this takes, what, a couple of days?"

"Well no, like a few weeks, but --"

"A few weeks? Emma, I have to see this guy like every two days until I get this right, I can't go weeks!"

Emma frowned. "OK, well...practice it anyway, Isaac will love it when you guys are on your honeymoon."

Sara held up her hands. "Please don't mention his name during this. I feel bad enough already."

"OK, OK. Practice makes perfect and there aren't any shortcuts. So what you need is something to make this guy think you give great blowjobs even when you don't."

"I guess that would be ideal, yeah."

Emma considered for a long moment, then asked, "So how does this guy taste?"

"You mean like when he finishes?"

"No, just when his dick is in your mouth. How does it taste?"

Sara frowned, assuming she was missing something. "Well aside from the faint taste of Axe Body Spray..."

"LIke nothing, right? Like licking your wrist or something, it's just skin. Right?"

"Yeah, it just tastes like licking any other skin."

"And has he finished in your mouth? He has? Well how does that taste?"

"Um...a little bitter I guess, kinda watery, maybe...salty?"

"Is it delicious?"

"Ugh, no. I mean it doesn't even taste like much. It's just like...almost like runny snot when you sniffle."

"Is it the greatest thing you ever tasted?"

"Of course not!"

Emma grinned. "Well let me tell you a secret, dear. Ask any guy how he thinks guys taste to girls and they'll probably say some version of that. Ask them how they taste and they'll say their dicks taste like T-bones and their cum tastes like champagne."

Sara wrinkled her nose. "No they don't!"

"That's the secret. Even if they know it isn't true, they still believe it. Or they want to believe it enough that they can be convinced it's true."

"Well that's awful, but what does it have to do with anything?"

"Listen, I have no doubt that you can learn to give blowjobs that make guys' toenails fly off if you practice for a long time with lots of dicks, but you don't want to do that. So instead of convincing him that you're giving him great head, convince him that he's the best thing you ever put in your mouth."

"I don't know..." Sara said uneasily. "I really don't think I can do that. I'm a bad liar and he is just the worst."

"I mean it, Sara. Men are simple. If you can't suck his dick like a pro, then suck his ego. He'll love it. And if you're right about him just wanting to be finished with you, then..."

"Then I won't have to see him again," Sara whispered.

"Bingo."

Sara considered this for a long, long moment, eyes down, thoughts chasing each other through her brain. Finally, she looked up at her friend and said, "Teach me."

March 29th

Sarah had barely walked in the door when Josh accosted her again. She had just come back from lunch with Rhonda and Diane, the only coworkers she had whom she considered friends, and the three of them had spent 45 minutes commiserating about her losing the account to a tool like Josh. And how here the tool was, leaping out of the box to climb right up into her face. "Sara, I need you to drop everything you're doing and help me with Ingers --"

"I can't, Josh," she told him. "My afternoon is full with Zoom meetings with my new clients, which used to be your clients. Maybe you should be the one helping me."

Josh snorted deep in his throat and sneered. "Pile all those losers together and they aren't a tenth of Ingers. You know that as well as I do."

"They're my clients now," she told him levelly, "and they get my attention. One-hundred percent of my attention." She moved to walk past him but he grabbed her wrist firmly and she rounded on him with a snarled, "GET your HANDS OFF of me!"

Her sudden ferocity made Josh's eyes widen a bit and he stepped back, putting his hands up to show everyone who'd looked over at Sara's loud exclamation that no, he wasn't touching her at all, he had no idea what she was talking about. She immediately turned toward her cube again and he followed behind snapping at her heels. "Sara! Sara, come on, be reasonable! I spent the whole weekend with my nose buried in these files and I have my first meeting with the client on Wednesday. I don't even know what to say!"

"You should have thought of that before you worked Ken to get the account transferred to you."

He had the temerity to try to look surprised and innocent but only managed to look like a dog she'd just caught in the kitchen wastebasket. "Hey, this whole thing took me by surprise as much as it did you!"

"Right, and you didn't lobby Ken for months to turn over the account to you?" Sara demanded. Natalie had told her things. "You didn't invite people from Ingers to dinner so you could convince them that a big manly manful man like you would handle their account better than a stupid girl like me?"

Josh wasn't much better at lying than at doing his job, so he may as well have had a neon sign on his forehead flashing GUILTY as he said, "Of course not! I would never do that!"

She took a deep breath, looked Josh in the eye, and calmly asked, "Do you want to know what the Bible says happens to liars in Hell?"