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“I can’t! I cannot do that!” I squeaked, fear changing my voice and making it higher.
“Time is ticking.”
I was frozen. Cold tears rushed down my cheeks as I wasted seconds I didn’t have. I dragged courage from somewhere within and used it to shift myself across the floor, my unusable legs dragging behind with my shadow as the concrete scraped along my bare skin.
“I need more time,” I pleaded.
The robotic voice didn’t respond, but a loud ticking sounded, reminding me how fast time was moving against me.
I reached the unconscious man, my sweaty hands pawing at his face. He was cold beyond his dark stubble, like the room, but not like me, whose nerves started burning through my skin. Ironically, those hadn’t been damaged when I lost the ability to walk.
Unsure of how much time I had left, my clumsy fingers fidgeted with the button of his pants, taking far too long to push it through the small hole. The zipper was next, pulled down to reveal designer underwear.
My painted nails shimmered in the light, the color dancing on my fingertips as I pulled the man’s penis free. It was hard to do without yanking down his trousers. Hard to do without any help from him, and harder still, because it was huge.
I looked at his face, taking in the dark lashes and golden skin that hinted at an exotic heritage, mine telling him I was so sorry that I had to do this.
I prayed, my hands clasping as I said a prayer to a higher force. I angled my head up to heaven and asked God to get me through this.
“Please, let this work. Please guide me and let him finish in time. Please, help him to forgive me.”
I took one last look at the man’s face. His eyes were closed, long lashes shadowing on his cheeks. His lips were perfectly shaped and parted slightly. I ventured a slight glance at the red light, my eyes begging when my dry mouth wouldn’t.
The ticking grew louder, but only in my head, and I feared that time would run out before I did anything.
I turned back to the man in front of me, and placing my hand on his face, I closed the distance between us and whispered against his mouth, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I lowered myself down, my elbows propping me up. My fingers tightened on him, not closing but moving up and down his thick penis in a slow motion. It had been years since I did this. My experience was minimal.
Tears dropped to his length, and my hand moved over them, using them as lube. My breath landed on his tip, feather-light but enough to make him twitch as his cock grew long and thick against my palm.
My tongue met his silky skin, swiping over the tip and stealing the first bead of precum. I pulled back, my dry mouth now full of his salty taste. I licked my lips, looking up at him. He was still motionless.
I moved back in. Devastated by my circumstances, my hand stroked over his length, my mouth not granted much access due to his clothes. I took the tip of him inside my mouth, and I delivered my focus there. My head bobbed slightly as my suction increased. I took him an inch deeper, kissing and sucking him, my lips tightening around his shaft. My hand was still working every other inch.
I glanced up, expecting to see his eyes open. Expecting to see some kind of reaction, but he remained still. Unmovable.
“One minute remaining,” the metallic voice boomed.
I picked up my pace, more tears forming in my eyes. My fingers slipped to the edge of his pants, clawing at them to get them down lower.
The clock still ticked, ominously pressing down on me, making me aware I hadn’t done enough to please this cruel master.
I put as much of the man’s penis into my mouth as I could, my tongue lapping the length of his cock from base to tip and back again. I sucked hard, my mouth working up and down, as I tried to count down the seconds until this was over.
I breathed in his musky scent, absorbing it in all my senses. I relaxed my jaw a little but kept my mouth clamped on his sensitive tip, my tongue swirling, coating his slit in the salvia building up in my mouth, edging him closer and closer until…
He exploded, coating my tongue in a wash of salty cum. White dribbled from my mouth as I reared back, my bony elbows aching from the rough concrete.
“Three, two, one.” My time was up, just as I swallowed the last drop, fearful that spitting it all over the floor would deem me unworthy of living.
The ticking stopped, and as if a magnetic force rattled through me, I spun toward the camera.
“Well done, Feebee. Your first mission is complete. Your stolen heart gets to beat another day.” My body turned cold with his words.
The wall held me up as I backed up and slumped beside my companion—the man I had abused. I took one of his bound hands, needing a friend, needing someone to share the weight of this trauma with.
A shiver ran over every skin cell. My legs were bent in an awkward pose, but I couldn’t feel the discomfort—just the cold from the ice forming in my chest over what I had just done.
