Sell Some Lives

Suck

"On your knees." Jaquet ordered once we were in his own carriage, going to his, I imagined, grand mega mansion. 

I didn't move. I could tell he was frowning. I heard him grit his teeth. Inside the carriage it was dark, a white moonlight shooting through the window, high above our heads. 

Suddenly his hand was around my throat, pulling me up then down, the leather of my opera boots creaking as he lowered me between his spread knees. He crossed his arms and glared down at me, his green eyes turning icy blue and frown lines appearing between his thin blonde half eyebrows.

The carriage jolted and bumped beneath our knees, the wheels rolling along the uneven road as he commanded: "Suck me." 

I frowned because I'd never sucked anyone and didn't want to either. His corduroy pants were already down to his ankles with his underwear. The large red plasticine looking dick didn't look appetizing. At all. 

So I punched him. Which wasn't wise because he punched me back and body slammed me against the side of the carriage. He started punching me again, slamming his hard fist in my nose. I used all my strength to hit the wall of the carriage behind me. My head was ringing, my eyes hurt and I felt sick but I kept doing it. We were standing up and I heard the driver asking if everything was alright and then suddenly the carriage started tipping over...