The Initial Impact: A Slap and a Submission
Miss Dizzum, porcelain-skinned and doe-eyed, is already on her knees when the first slap lands. It echoes – loud, sharp, final. There’s no warm-up. Just the blunt reality of being claimed. Her face turns with the hit, her body catching up to the violence, eyes wide but not surprised. Then comes the cock – thick, veiny, and merciless. Her mouth stretches to take it, and there’s no courtesy in his grip, just a need to dominate. This isn’t romantic. This is primal, ugly, and hot as hell. He doesn’t speak. His actions say enough. She’s not just being used – she’s being owned. No safety net. Just wet submission under the weight of a man who knows exactly what she’s good for.
Gag Reflex Test: Black Gloves and Brutal Depth
His black gloves wrap around her head like a noose of flesh and leather. They squeeze, guiding her down with surgical cruelty. He doesn’t ease in. He buries himself. Gagging follows – noisy, guttural, honest. Her mascara runs, her throat fights, but she doesn’t pull away. He’s in too deep, and she knows this isn’t about her comfort. This is about her breaking point. A silent test: how much spit, stretch, and throat can she endure before she’s ruined? She gags again, her body twitching, and he just smiles. Gloves gripping tighter. A man doesn’t need to be a monster to make a girl weep like this – just cold, focused, and mean enough to enjoy it.
Spit Slapped: The Final Mark of Humiliation
The cock finally exits, coated in spit, strings of it still connecting to her open mouth like sticky confessions. She gasps, lips trembling, and then – *smack.* His hand cracks across her face again, and this time the slap’s not just violence. It’s punctuation. Spit flies, her cheeks burn, and she’s left looking like art – filthy, shamed, radiant. He steps back and admires her: the snot, the tears, the defeat. And she – God help her – looks up. She doesn’t say “thank you,” but her eyes do. That’s the ending she gets. Not a cuddle. Not a safe word. Just spit, slapped.
