God in heaven, what have I become? My mind screams in silent agony as I slide off his lap, my eyes finding Hansen's.

  His gaze meets mine, hollow and sheep-like. The coward won't even acknowledge my suffering.

  My heart shatters like glass as I sink to my knees before Yao. Each movement feels like drowning. With trembling fingers that betray my revulsion, I hook them into his waistband and pull downward, my soul retreating further with each inch.

  Bile rises in my throat as his erection springs free, the violent contact against my cheek leaving me marked, claimed. The stench—primal and overpowering—fills my nostrils, and I fight the convulsion that threatens to overtake me.

  Drawing a shaky breath that does nothing to calm me, I extend my tongue. The taste is vile, salt and musk coating my mouth like poison. Each ridge beneath my tongue is a new humiliation, a reminder of my powerlessness.

  The vice chairman groans, his fist tightening in my hair until tears spring to my eyes. He yanks me toward his swollen cock like I'm nothing but a doll, a thing to be used.

  "Do it," he commands, his voice thick with a desire that makes my skin crawl. "Taste that dick. Get it nice and wet before you wrap those lips around it.”

  A violent shudder runs through me as I force myself to continue, my dignity crumbling with each passing second. His grip becomes brutal, twisting his fingers in my hair and pulling me closer to his tip. I can feel the warmth emanating from it and see the way it throbs with every beat of his pulse.

  My breath is hot on his dick. I lean in and press my red lips against the swollen head. Slowly and deliberately, I close my lips over his tip and swirl my tongue around the sensitive head.

  Inch by excruciating inch, I force him deeper, my throat constricting in protest. Through watery eyes, I look up, searching for any hint of mercy and finding none. I hold him there until my lungs scream for air, then pull back gasping, each breath a small rebellion.

  "Not bad. But it's time for the main course," he announces with cruel impatience, jerking his hips to smear the leaking head of his cock against my lips. "Open wide, bitch, let me fuck that throat of yours.”

  Desperation drives my eyes to my husband once more. He sits frozen, not even daring to blink, his face a mask of carefully constructed neutrality, without a shred of displeasure. In his silence, I hear his abandonment.

  Choice is a luxury I no longer possess. I part my lips, surrendering to the invasion, the taste now overwhelming as he pushes deeper, claiming territory that was never meant to be his.

  "Fucking hell," Gang Yao groans, his grip on my hair becoming savage as he shoves more of his length past my lips. "Your mouth feels so fucking good. Suck it just like that."

  I gag as the head of his cock reaches the back of my throat, tears no longer just threatening but flowing freely down my cheeks. I feel the urge to pull away, but I fight against it. I know that I have to take it. Slowly, he begins to press himself deeper inch by inch until the head of his cock is caught in my tight throat, his balls almost resting against my chin.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  "What a sight. Just look at you," the vice chairman pants, his hips rocking as he goads my husband. His words cut deeper than any physical pain. "I've got to hand it to you, Hansen. Your wife is taking my cock like a real pro. Many have tried, many have failed. Not you though. You're going to take it and swallow it all, right? Like a good little slut.”

  I gag violently as he slams into my throat over and over, my body convulsing with each brutal thrust. My vision blurs through tears while saliva streams down my chin in rivulets. Every instinct screams to pull away, yet I force myself to relax my throat and take his brutal pace.

  The vice chairman's balls strike my chin with sickening rhythmic slaps that echo like gunshots through the room. Each impact punctuates my degradation.

  "Just like that," he growls, fingers twisting in my hair until my scalp burns with white-hot pain. "Take all of me, you cock-hungry whore. Milk me with your filthy mouth.”

  Shut the fuck up already, you pig!

  The primal urge to clamp my teeth down pulses through me like electricity.

  Just survive this. Just survive.

  I can only whimper and gurgle around the thick length invading my throat. I feel used and my humanity dissolves with each thrust. To him, I am nothing more than a warm, wet hole for him to fuck.

  As he forces himself deeper, the room fills with obscene, wet sounds that make my soul shrivel. Sounds of slurping and slobbering. My cheeks hollow with each suck as I desperately work to end this torment sooner. My mouth creates a vacuum that amplifies the obscene noises. The telltale gluck-gluck sounds that can't be mistaken by listeners for anything else.

  His rhythm fractures, becoming desperate and feral. His ragged breathing fills the room like a predator's. His cock pulses against my tongue – a vile warning of what's to come. I brace myself against the inevitable.

  "Coming. Coming..." he pants, before ramming himself to the hilt of my throat one final time. "Swallow it," he commands with savage finality. "Swallow every fucking drop!”

  Horror floods me as the first scalding jet shoots directly down my throat. My eyes bulge, my body shudders in revulsion.

  I have no choice. Each swallow feels like consuming my own dignity. It burns a path to my stomach as he groans above me. My throat spasms around him as pulse after pulse of his release floods my mouth, the quantity seemingly endless, as if he's emptying not just his body but his contempt into me.

  The sheer volume overwhelms me, threatening to choke me anew. His hips jerk wildly as he rides the powerful waves of his orgasm, grinding his pelvis into my face like I'm nothing more than toilet paper to be used and thrown away. He holds me firmly in place, emptying his balls completely into me.

  After what feels like hours, his movements slow then cease. He keeps me impaled on his softening length as the final remnants dribble onto my tongue, marking me with his essence.

  When he finally releases me, I collapse back onto my heels, gasping desperately for air that doesn't taste of him.

  A mixture of saliva and his release streaks down my face. My hair hangs in tangled disarray, makeup smeared beyond recognition. I've never felt more shattered, more defiled.

  Gang Yao tucks himself away with casual indifference, his satisfied smirk cutting through me as he surveys the wreckage he's made of me.

  "Damn, girl, that was fucking incredible," he says, voice still raw from his release – a sound I'll never be able to unhear.

  Just as I lie shattered on the carpet, desperately trying to scrub the violation from my memory, Yao's son lunges from the sofa. He seizes my hair in a vicious grip, yanking me upward with such force that my scalp screams in protest. Without a word, he drags me across the floor and up the stairs, my knees scraping painfully against each step as I struggle to keep up.

  He barges into my bedroom as if he owns it. In the bathroom, his movements are clinical, detached. He snatches a toothbrush cup, fills it with mouthwash until it sloshes over the sides, then thrusts it at me, his eyes cold with disgust. "Rinse," he commands, voice like steel. "Then drink it."

  The liquid burns my already raw throat as I obey, the chemical sting a welcome replacement for the other taste lingering there. When I finish, his lip curls in revulsion. "Wash your face and brush your teeth. Thoroughly," he orders through clenched teeth. "I want every last trace of my father's seed purged from your mouth."