[Fiction] The Special District

[Maximilian Jenius]

CNC, gaslighting, illusion of choice, Victorian, gothic, deepthroat.



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I watch silently from my 3rd floor window as you run down the alleyway in your frilly black dress, your heels clicking loudly on the cobblestone. I muse to myself, it's not every day I get a pretty young little thing like running through my streets literally begging to offer herself up. Most of the time I've just had to satisfy myself with the occasional female that wanders in, only in their mid to late twenties but already used up.

I can tell by your look that you're voluptuous and young and still full of energy, perfect for my tastes. I allow my mind to drift a moment and think about the tight holes you still have and I feel a hard pulse run down my cock.

I know every inch of this maze and while you're lost and running into dead ends I can move about easily through the myriad of secret doors and tunnels. Catching you will be almost too easy, so I'll let you run about for a while longer as I watch silently, sipping on my drink, before I take what’s rightfully mine.

You turn around again. It feels like you’re in a dream, it's true, you’re not used to walking the streets on your own, but you know what streets are, and these are impossible. How long have you been lost? The sky's growing darker. You may not know much about the world, father loved to tell you so, and to make certain it was so, but you can see this is no place for a young lady to be out after dark.

Headstrong was how your parents described you and you had always thought that unfair. Whatever father wanted of you, you did. You had no choice after all, but you try to make the best of things. But now you wonder if he might have known something about you that you, yourself, did not.

It had only been two weeks since his funeral, and already you'd slipped from your uncle's home, without any plan, with nothing but your shawl and some pocket money. Just to think, to breathe.

And now you are lost. You are...incapable. Failing at the basic task of walking through streets. No, now you are running. Panicking. A poor showing indeed, for your little stab at independence.

Watching you from my window, I chuckle to myself a bit. Watching your casual steady steps turn into a faster paced walk in an attempt to find an exit into an almost panicked run was quite amusing and I felt a throb run down the length of my cock.

This is going to be exhilarating I think to myself. I have not felt this much life in awhile. I trade my tea for my cane and step into the simple cage lift to go down.

The air is cool when I step out into the empty street. I can hear your heels clicking even faster not too far away. With the wave of the cane several doorways in the walls open up to give me a straight shot to the alley where you are. The echoes of my cane tapping lightly on the ground are amplified in the silence. I allowed you to hear me approach you from behind but took care to stay out of sight.

When you hear the sound of a walking stick, your first thought is, thank goodness, someone who can help me. When you turn and see no one, a shiver goes down your spine.

Perhaps you’re a silly girl to have gone towards the first sound you heard. What is it you’re afraid of? Is it not people? Men? Anyone can walk with a cane.

But you’re not sure what choice you have. Certainly no one's accosted you yet, but you have not seen a single soul since wandering into this maze of tall brick buildings and high brick walls. Every pathway, corner, turn and brick looked identical..

"Hello?" you ask, too quietly, but perhaps any noise at all is too loud.

I take another passage, this one leads out directly in front of the way you were headed before you heard my cane and turned around. I step into the street and see you up close for the first time. You are a tiny little thing, probably no more than 5'3". I am a full head and more taller than you.

"Good day Mi'lady. It is not everyday we have such beauty as yourself grace our streets. You seem lost, perhaps I could be of service." I say as innocently as I can muster, with a slight bow and arms open wide as to show I’ve nothing to hide.

You spin around, startled half out of your wits, for I am an intimidating figure. But I’m also exactly the kind of person you've been taught all your life to trust in situations such as these. I’m older, and well dressed at least in your own class, but likely higher and I spoke eloquently, gently. I've kept my distance, and I’m very correct that you’ve lost your way. What are you to do, turn down my aid and run around until dark, letting someone less savory find you? You bow your head demurely.

"You're very kind, Sir. I'm afraid I am quite lost. Would you know where I might hail a carriage?"

"Silly girl," I say in a condescending tone, "this is the special district not even the police come here no carriage owner that's been around the block more than once ever comes in here. You're in luck though I happen to know all the ins and outs of this place, I can certainly tell you how to get out. But everything has a price here and our laws forbids me from rendering any assistance without payment."

I look at you with a smirk on my face feigning my dilemma of wanting to help you but not wanting to 'break the law'. I almost laugh at myself at that thought, but I keep up my facade.

You look up at me wide-eyed. My tone has changed quickly and though I sound aggrieved by these laws, my smug countenance would suggest otherwise. It's all very confusing. That would explain why the streets were empty, but why would an obvious man of means such as myself choose to be here, if it were truly so awful?

“I...have little with which to pay, Sir," you begin. "But my uncle is Mr. Ambrose Hilliard. If you help me to his home on upper Brook Street, he'll surely see you recompensed." Most that have talked to any human in the city should know your uncle's name, and his wealth.

I can no longer contain myself and let out a hearty laugh. That name means something to the peasants to be sure but dropping a name of such low ranking on the grand scheme of things is almost insulting. "But of course miss, if only money meant anything here in this place." I take a step towards you and in that single step, I am mere inches from you and towering above.

With an evil grin on my face and a glint in my eye. "I'll show you the form of payment we accept here." My voice drips with vitriol as I stare daggers into your eyes. "Now get on your knees little girl."

As I move suddenly closer, towering over you, you take a step back by instinct. Now, without having to think, you turn to run.

I watch you run and let out a deep long laugh that echoes across the streets. Such a delicious chase, as much as my cock wants you right there and now I still want to savor this opportunity. Besides catching up with you is but a wave of the hand away. I watch you turn the corner and recover from my amusement and straighten my tunic.

"Come back miss, we were having such a fun time." I say in a low tone more to myself than anyone. A wave of the cane and the next passageway opens up.I know you're headed for a dead end and this will bring me to that wall you'll soon be facing.

It seems to you that the horrible man isn't giving chase. Perhaps I was only mocking you, but why’d I have to be so cruel is beyond you. It would've given me no trouble at all to help, as any good Christian should be glad to, you think to yourself. When you come around the corner you notice you’re in a cul-de-sac. That's...strange. You are nearly positive this was where you'd just come from? You must be turned around again. You creep slowly back towards the corner, listening. Since you haven't heard my cane, likely you can slip out the other direction, if you’re careful, you reason.

Silently as though possessed by the night itself I'm behind you. "What are we looking for?" I whisper softly, my face so close to your ears you swear you felt the cold radiating from my face onto your neck, as I press my body to yours.

"Don't worry there's no one there that knows what's good for themselves."

You feel me against you, the first time you've felt a man's body, ever and you start to scream.

Oh the screams of a young woman, such wonderful music to my ears. My cock throbs again as I momentarily lose control and spin around. I grab a fistful of your hair and pull you down hard and effortlessly. In an instant, you're spun around, on your knees, face just millimeters from the bulge in my pants. You can smell the musk emanating from behind the fabric. With my other hand I pop open the front of my pants and my large cock springs forward and smacks you in the nose.

"Open your mouth, if you know what's good for you."

For a long moment, you truly don't understand what's going on. What you’re... looking at. My roughness has startled you into silence and you stare at the monstrous fleshy organ touching your face. You haven't been taught about bodies. About what men want. You've been assured that they do want, and that you must be protected from that. But you have no idea what my plan is. I want my mouth open, so that must be very bad, but I’m gripping your hair, and I’m terrifying, and my scent is overwhelming. Trembling, tears forming in my eyes, you open my mouth, strangely enough in a fleeting second the pull of your hair combined with the smell and your submission in opening your mouth seems to hit a part of you that’s been secreted away from a time long before you came here today.

I smile and slam my hard cock into your virgin mouth for the first time. It fills the back of your throat but I'm only a little more than half way in. With little effort I pull your head to me, crushing your nose against me and I feel your throat open up and take the rest of my length down.

I let out a long satisfied sigh. "You should have gotten on your knees on your own little girl."

You try to scream again but of course you can't–you’re choking, drowning perhaps dying. You can't see anything, your glasses flown from your nose, your face pressed against me. Your body convulses, trying to force me out, but I’m there, a fact, impaling you. You desperately press your hands against my thighs as you try to pull yourself away, that of course proves just as futile, and you look up at me through the tears soaking your eyes. You can't see much. Just a tower. I might as well be steel or stone, the way I’m gripping you.

Your makeup runs down your face as more tears pour from your eyes. Horrid sounds come from your throat as I scrape and fill it. Saliva floods out of your mouth and down your chin, completely soaking the white blouse under the underbust corset. The thin fabric now clinging to your tits turns translucent, revealing perfectly perky breasts underneath. The cold air on your damn skin makes your nipples poke through the blouse in a very pronounced way.

I hold my cock down your throat for a full minute suffocating you as I feel you squirm and panic. Each little spasm feels amazing against my cock.

I slowly ease off and pull my dick out only to start fucking your mouth, making sure to go all the way down your throat with each stroke. Your glasses glass by the wayside as I pump in and out of you ceaselessly.

When I pull out of your mouth you try to plead with me, but in an instant your mouth is full again. It's even worse now, to feel me enter my throat over and over. This cannot be happening. You’re not going to survive this. And all out in the street, like a whore...you are already crying, but now you sob around my cock as I rape my throat, your body sagging from shame. You’re holding my arms now to keep yourself upright. You wonder if this is ever going to end.

With a firm grip of your hair your head is going nowhere that I don't want it to go. "This is the lowest and most basic form of payment in these parts!" I saw in a booming voice drowning out the gagging gurgling sounds that were bouncing off the walls.

"I recon everyone in the district can hear your payment. This is proof of our transaction." I pull you off my cock and your head up closer to my eye level, "do you feel like the whore you are?"

You barely hear my words through your weeping and gasps, your feet scraping the ground as I lift you one handed. you must cough your own spit out in order to be.

"Please, stop, I can't--" you don't know what words to say. You hear me say the word whore and you lapse again into helpless tears.

"Please... Sir!" I slap your face a few times, not hard enough to draw blood but definitely enough to sting. "You will always refer to me as Sir! Whore." Before I even finish my sentence my dick is already back down your throat.

I pump in and out of you for a few more minutes and I feel my cock throbbing ready to explode.

You see an endlessness of darkness and you start losing hope, wandering to yourself where you’d gone wrong. Your body is going limp, but you don't think it matters, I’m so much stronger. Your throat isn't even fighting me anymore. This can't be a nightmare because you wouldn't know how to dream up something like this.

I pull my dick out so just the head is in your mouth as my first stream of cum shoots out and fills your mouth. This is the first time in a few days and it is a heavy load. Then I jam it right at your nose and the second stream fills both your nostrils.

I finish off the rest in your mouth and over your tits. Then I wipe my dick on your face. Done with you for the moment I let go of your hair and let your limp body fall to the cold ground.

What is this, what is this, what is happening. When I pull out and aim at your nose, your mind goes blank. You find yourself face down on the ground. You want to stay on the filthy ground, but you’re the one who's filthy. Something horrid pours from your nose and mouth, you’re snorting weakly, trying not to inhale, but the smell, the taste, you think they'll never go away. Your cheek is against the dirty cobblestone and you can see the thick white ooze, there is so much of it, you feel it coating your face. If this is what it means to be a whore, it's a worse fate than you knew. All you do is lie there. No tears or moans. Just the few pathetic sputters of a foolish girl hoping not to drown in an evil man's spunk.

"Come on. Get up. It's your one chance to get out of here now that you've paid up." I say in a low, less than threatening tone.

Numb, your body pulls itself to its hands and knees without your mind's assistance. A mixture of my fluid and yours drips from you. Somehow you get to your feet, but you feel as though you’re underwater. Nothing you look at stands still, and my voice sounds very far away.

I open up another door and inside is a dark room that I point into. "Inside there are 3 doors. If you want to leave, simply go through door number 3. Of course, if you want to, you can always choose one of the other doors and come back to me."

You stumble inwards. You’re not able to think about anything except staying upright as you walk, the ground tilting beneath you with each footstep. When you reach the doorway you lean on it a moment, your hand on the wood of the frame. It steadies you. You breathe and your eyes focus, adjusting to the dark. You fumble for the handkerchief in your pocket, only to find it drenched in your own drool.

I watch you from outside, momentarily satisfied. Perhaps this would be a good time to go and have another drink I think to myself.

I think about the room that it leads to. Yes, it has been awhile since I was in that room with a toy. I think to myself. "Yes, I shall wait there." I say softly to myself. I leave you alone in the room as I turn and walk down yet another passageway.