Sergei hummed in approval as he unzipped his flies and pulled his semi erect cock out shamelessly, giving it a few firm tugs and smiling when Sherlock couldn't look away. The man was huge! He felt his jaw go slack as he stared at the engorged cock, quickly darkening with increased blood flow as the Russian casually wanked in front of everyone.
Sergei laughed at his expression, and stood in front of Sherlock then, thrusting his now fully erect penis into the detectives face and holding the back of his head before he could pull away.
"Put your pretty mouth to good use. I am sure you are knowing what to do."
Sherlock panicked as the weeping head of Sergei's cock brushed against his lips, and gagged even as he instinctively wrenched away from his captors grasp. He found that the others had all moved in close behind him, ready to hold him in place however, and he cried out as he was pulled down to the floor and forced onto his knees while Sergei sat in the space he'd vacated, knees either side of Sherlock's head, grinning as Sherlock was pinned mercilessly by the other men. The detective, even in his moment of panic, noticed flashes of white light going off every few seconds, and knew someone was taking pictures. He honestly thought he might cry.
"No.. please no just.. please.. my brother he'll pay you anything you want, just let me g-" Something cold and wet brushed against his backside and he jumped forwards away from the touch, gasping in fear.. and Sergei used the lapse in concentration to force Sherlocks head down, sliding himself past Sherlocks lips and right to the back of his throat, where the detective gagged around the intruding length.
He retched and choked but still the relentless pressure on the back of his head held him steady. Salt and bitter, acrid unpleasantness spread over his tongue, and his senses were invaded by the overpowering musk that seemed to be enveloping his every cell, clinging. He knew that scent wouldn't wash out no matter how hard he scrubbed. The groan as Sergei began thrusting slowly in and out, getting deeper down Sherlock's throat each time, was also something he wouldn't be forgetting. There would be nightmares.. terrible nightmares.. but they would pale in comparison to the living one he was enduring at that moment.
The Russian fucked his throat carelessly, not concerned with the pain it caused his victim, but he never allowed Sherlock to black out from lack of oxygen. Just as his vision began to darken the intrusion would pull out, and he would gasp in great lungfuls of air before being forced back onto the length. It was agony. His throat was raw and bleeding, the fingers in his hair tearing and nails scratching his scalp. The hands holding him still were bruising tight. The slicked up finger probing his entrance was almost nothing compared to the pain he was already going through.. until another was added and he was stretched beyond the level of discomfort.
Re: Complications Part 12
Sergei laughed at his expression, and stood in front of Sherlock then, thrusting his now fully erect penis into the detectives face and holding the back of his head before he could pull away.
"Put your pretty mouth to good use. I am sure you are knowing what to do."
Sherlock panicked as the weeping head of Sergei's cock brushed against his lips, and gagged even as he instinctively wrenched away from his captors grasp. He found that the others had all moved in close behind him, ready to hold him in place however, and he cried out as he was pulled down to the floor and forced onto his knees while Sergei sat in the space he'd vacated, knees either side of Sherlock's head, grinning as Sherlock was pinned mercilessly by the other men. The detective, even in his moment of panic, noticed flashes of white light going off every few seconds, and knew someone was taking pictures. He honestly thought he might cry.
"No.. please no just.. please.. my brother he'll pay you anything you want, just let me g-" Something cold and wet brushed against his backside and he jumped forwards away from the touch, gasping in fear.. and Sergei used the lapse in concentration to force Sherlocks head down, sliding himself past Sherlocks lips and right to the back of his throat, where the detective gagged around the intruding length.
He retched and choked but still the relentless pressure on the back of his head held him steady. Salt and bitter, acrid unpleasantness spread over his tongue, and his senses were invaded by the overpowering musk that seemed to be enveloping his every cell, clinging. He knew that scent wouldn't wash out no matter how hard he scrubbed. The groan as Sergei began thrusting slowly in and out, getting deeper down Sherlock's throat each time, was also something he wouldn't be forgetting. There would be nightmares.. terrible nightmares.. but they would pale in comparison to the living one he was enduring at that moment.
The Russian fucked his throat carelessly, not concerned with the pain it caused his victim, but he never allowed Sherlock to black out from lack of oxygen. Just as his vision began to darken the intrusion would pull out, and he would gasp in great lungfuls of air before being forced back onto the length. It was agony. His throat was raw and bleeding, the fingers in his hair tearing and nails scratching his scalp. The hands holding him still were bruising tight. The slicked up finger probing his entrance was almost nothing compared to the pain he was already going through.. until another was added and he was stretched beyond the level of discomfort.