Lucian Ch. 07

A sudden wave of heat permeated his being.

Rage it was, rage and hate and disgust. It felt like a curtain was pulled aside. Whatever chemical or mental inhibitors his body and mind might still contain, they evaporated.

This man had caused every bad thing that had been done to him; and all he proved to be now was a hypocritical pervert - a bullying closet homo.

In a flash Lucian remembered the endless years of disdain, the degradation and the humiliation. This man had locked him up and made him cry for hours and then punished him for it. He publically ridiculed everything Lucian held dear, and declared each thing he wanted wrong or unimportant - forbidding it and withholding his support.

And now this man held his head and moved it to his cock to have it sucked?

Lucian watched the monster approach, swollen and ugly. Its slit seemed to breathe like a fish's gill, vomiting clear slime that dripped on his underwear. It looked primordial and primitive, brutal too. But it also looked vulnerable.

Yes... fragile and defenseless, Lucian thought.

Scenting its pungent, fishy smell, his nostrils flared. The slick head felt hot to his lips. He extended his tongue. The taste was so much stronger than Taylor's or Harper's. He suppressed a gag reflex as nausea rose.

Was this how men tasted and smelled?

He gave in to the pressure on his head and sank his lips over the glans. He had to stretch his mouth as wide as he could to take it in. It stuffed his mouth and pushed down his tongue.

The hands kept pushing.

When the cock's head bumped into his throat's entrance, he fought back the pressure. The hands relented and he came up for air, panting and feeling tears run down his cheeks.

"Pussy," his father said, sounding surprisingly mild. "Is that all you can do?"

He watched the face through his tears and his anger returned.

Diving down he engulfed the penis and bit down hard. Someone was screaming, but he ignored the roaring sound and held on, shaking his head like a pitbull.

A sickly-sweet taste entered his mouth.

Blood, he knew, the blood of his father.

Hands tore at his hair to make him let go, but he didn't. He shook and bit, turning his teeth left and right.

Then he let go.

Falling to the floor he spit out the blood and what else he might have bitten off. He panted, holding himself up on his arms. Then he started gagging and vomiting, covering the already red planks with the remains of the sandwiches.

Lucian didn't care what happened around him.

Feet ran and voices cried out. Then he felt hands under his armpits lifting him up and leading him away. He stumbled on the impossible heels and when they gave out he let himself be dragged.

He gagged once more. Then he felt a sting in his arm and saw everything turning black.