The brutal rhythm of his face-fucking became Alexi's new reality. Time lost all meaning, measured only by the relentless cycle of his cock burying itself in her throat and the brief, desperate gasp for air he allowed her.
The initial panic, the sharp, stinging humiliation, began to fade, replaced by a strange, detached sense of purpose. She was an instrument, and he was the musician. Her body was learning the music.
Each thrust, once a violation, became a familiar beat. She stopped fighting her gag reflex and instead learned to ride it, to use the convulsive clenching of her throat to massage his shaft. The sounds she made changed, too.
The choked, panicked sobs were replaced by wetter, more rhythmic gurgles, punctuated by the low, guttural moans that she could no longer suppress. Her body, once a rigid cage of resistance, was now a pliant, eager vessel.
"♥ ACK~ACK~AGH~AGH!... ♥" Alexi groaned out as she felt his cock constantly slamming into the back of her throat.
