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However, Xerxes is quickly banished from my mind. The man gets rougher. Really squeezes my clit and thrusts into me in disgust. And now the fat is doing its job. The fingers slide smoothly into me instead of hurting me.

"You know, the man you're about to have his cock in your mouth is Magda's close confidant," whispers Platura and moves away from me a little. I immediately look at Magda and recognize her satisfied smile. Normally I would assume that Platura is lying to me, but Magda's self-important expression alone shows that he is right. And with that, my indifference disappears. Suddenly I no longer feel like I'm going to emerge as the winner tonight. Magda will do anything for as many men as possible to adopt me. Xerxes will have to watch. He will not be able to forbid that I serve men. Then he would admit in front of everyone that he sees more in me than a simple prostitute. And that would be fatal.

As if Magda could read my mind, her grin widens. And while the man curls his fingers sharply inside me, drawing another throaty moan from me, Magda forms her lips into a word. I can't decipher it. Maybe go? Possibly now. But whatever it is, the man next to me seems to understand. He grabs my hair and jerks me to my knees.

The impact on the wood is hard, but I finally manage to tear myself away from Magda and look at the man. He looks good. Blonde hair. Blue eyes and a distinctive face. Under normal circumstances I would probably have called him attractive. But right now he's just Magda's accomplice. It makes me feel like she's sitting in front of me. I would love to just get up and say I don't want that. But the words get stuck in my throat as he just pushes me under the table.

Actually, I should fight back. But it's like my body automatically goes into prostitution mode. I dodge the tabletop and duck a little. Even the renewed pain from the small iron rod in my neck doesn't stop me from crawling under the table and turning to the man. It's dark down here. The tablecloth takes away some of the brightness in the room. Nevertheless, I can literally smell the lust of the men. And not only that. With a quick movement, the man in front of me removed the disturbing fabric from his crotch.

The erection stretches towards me and I take another deep breath. I don't like doing Magda's orders indirectly. And I like it even less that Magda has the upper hand right now. This man clearly got a signal from her. But I don't see any alternative to finally unloading the guilt that is slowly crushing me. In order to be able to kill Magda, I must not attract attention today. I have to submit. No matter in which way. And when I've had my revenge, maybe I'll be better. Then I won't hear Claire's screams anymore. No more seeing her so beautiful face in front of me. And maybe I can forget that she died because of me. Perhaps then I will no longer have the feeling of being the demon that sends everyone to suffering and death. It's a thread by which I'm hanging. A little hope that my nightmares will go away. And my only chance to finally put it all behind me.

I lean forward with that thought. I want to take it slow. Only gently slide my tongue over the glans and get used to the taste of the man. But my plan doesn't work. Just as he feels my breath hardening, he grabs the back of my head and forces the member into my mouth. I want to scream More out of surprise than anything, but I'm not even allowed that. My scream is stifled as the glans practically pushes down my throat. The shrill sound is lost in a gurgle.

I can almost feel the twitching of the erection as my throat closes tightly around the heated skin. I immediately want to push myself away from him, but I can hardly find support. The clothes keep me slipping off, so he can squeeze the entire length into my mouth. The sensitive skin on my throat screams at the rough penetration and I choke, but the man won't let go. A soft sigh sounds and his pelvis twitches a little. This causes the hardness to rub down my throat. hurt me a little more But I don't care about the pain. i want to breathe Or at least collect myself. But he doesn't begrudge me all that. Instead, he directs my head just a little backwards. So much that the glans releases my throat and immediately pushes back over my throat. Rough and unyielding.

It's small thrusts that he executes. Small bumps that only make me whimper helplessly. But even my pitiful sounds are not heard. The grip on my hair tightens. The twitching of the scalp increases and tears well up in my eyes. But nobody sees it. I'm alone under this table. No Xerxes holding his hand over me. No zaret looking out for me in his screwed up way.

And so the man can use me as he pleases. Nobody stops him. I keep hitting his thighs. But my strength is diminishing. Even my gurgling is getting quieter. His erection causes a hot throbbing in my throat. Creates an ember that creeps into my chest. And while my lungs burn, the first tear slips out of my eye. It is a final sign of deep despair. Once again I want to push away. Again it does nothing. Only the pain in my throat is there. My hands slip off his thighs and fall to the ground, powerless.

Then he finally lets go of me. I immediately pull back and cough. Wants to breathe and not collapse completely. I find that difficult. I would love to crouch down on the floor and rest. It's just the first man - and he hasn't come yet. I cough again, and as I tremble, a hand lands hard on my face. I gasp and blink hard. What was that for?

"Shut up," someone hisses and automatically I suppress a cough. I don't really succeed, but at least it's not as loud as before. I also owe this quick adjustment to my job as a prostitute. This isn't my first time under a table. Some want to hear me. Like the smacking and gurgling that comes with such a service. But there is also the other side. The one who wants to be pampered without it being obvious who is using my mouth. Apparently the second variant is desired here. And just to confirm my assumption, someone else grabs me and pulls me to the right.

The table itself is not large. Still, I have trouble crawling as fast as the other seems to want. He really tugs at my hair and I press my lips together to keep from giving a telltale whimper. But unlike its predecessor, it doesn't force its hardness directly into my mouth.

Instead, he opens his pants wide and pushes his pelvis forward. This exposes his testicles and since I like everything as long as I can still rest my throat a little, I follow his wordless instructions without hesitation. I gently slide my tongue over the heated skin and gently suck on the sensitive area. I can usually tell from body language how much pressure I'm allowed to apply with my lips. A slight relaxation indicates that it is enough. A tense that more is desired. But there are no clues for me here. So I play around the testicles with my tongue a little tighter. And now his grip is a little looser. This is definitely the right pressure. So I encourage my efforts and try to ignore foreign tastes.

It's harder for me than it was then. But back then I never had the same sex partners. That's different now. For weeks I've only tasted Zaret and Xerxes. With both I know the taste of lust. Both of them do something positive for me. It's not like that here. Rather, the question arises whose testicles I have in my mouth right now. The old man at the table? From the one who looked rather unkempt or is it the one who twirled his beard between his fingers, sometimes bored? It could be anyone. I couldn't see enough of the men because of my limited vision. Especially not the pants.

But the question is pushed aside when I'm suddenly withdrawn. Not far. Just a few inches and before I can wonder what's next, his erection lands on my face. Again he pulls out and lets the hardness sow on my cheek. Then on my nose and eyes. Again and again the shaft lands on me as if he wanted to hit me with it. The clapping echoes dully under the table, but I know that too. So I accept that he presses his member in my face and spreads his precum on my skin.

Even when he presses the glans over my cheek and glides almost smoothly over my lips, I hold still. Don't give a peep from me and just think of Magda. Xerxe's promise to turn her over to me. I keep replaying the thought of Magda kneeling in front of me and begging for mercy. With each new erection pushing down my throat, I picture her screaming. Every time a man uses my mouth for his urges, I clench my fist and almost think I'm already gripping the handle of the knife. To feel the blood running down my fingers and Magda's last gurgle. But even this scenario fails to alleviate the pain. It hurts when another glans presses over my throat. It hurts, when they force themselves into me with full force and my desperation also increases when I can't breathe again because the man keeps poking into my mouth. Without mercy. They all use me And yet only very few pour into my throat. Most don't seem to want to come yet.

That makes me uneasy. There must be a reason why hardly anyone uses me for an orgasm. But my mind is too muddled to come up with a logical answer. My knees hurt. And more and more of my saliva wets the floor. This makes it difficult to find a good grip. I really have to tense up to keep my knees from slipping. And on top of that, my lips keep getting numb. My tongue also seems to be slowly being affected by the tingling, which makes me feel less. That should make me happy. But it doesn't. As a result, my tongue play is no longer so targeted. This causes men to adopt my mouth more quickly. And they hardly take anything.

One pushes his erection slowly over my tongue and only gradually gains speed. The other directs my head directly in fluid movements, without enjoying the delicate play of the massage of my lips. But they all have one thing in common, they ram their glans down my throat at some point.

Now I'm not even able to muffle my noises. The gurgling echoes loudly under the table, but they don't seem to care. The conversations above me increase in volume. Probably because the alcohol level is rising. Again I am being pulled towards the lap by someone and again I just crawl in that direction. It does not matter. A man more or less. I don't even look at the hardness anymore, but close my eyes and willingly open my mouth.

An acorn brushes my lips. The drop of pleasure settles on my tongue and even though I would never have thought it possible, I recognize the taste immediately. Xerxes. At least now I have the certainty that the men are changing their positions. How many have already used me today? But I really shouldn't care. Xerxes is here.

That calms my fluttering heart and suddenly my tiredness seems to be a little less. So I blow him a kiss on the glans. Let my tongue glide through the slit as light as a feather and just happily absorb the drop of pleasure. He should make me taste like other men. Should make me forget that I'm serving for Magda's allies right now. Xerxes pats my head and the hardness practically spasms as I close my lips around the glans, only to let the heated skin go right away. I never would have thought that I would still be able to play with Xerxes Lust. But he seems to have more control over me than I thought. Maybe it's some kind of conditioning he applied. In the end it doesn't matter what the reason is. I finally feel some strength again.

But just as I'm about to lean forward again, I'm jerked away by Xerxes. Not to the other side of the table this time, or to a different lap. Someone pulls me out from under the table and straight to my feet. But my legs are not ready to support my body weight. I twist my ankle and only the grip on my hair keeps me from hitting the floor again. However, the fall would probably have been the less painful option. My scalp is screaming and the pain is eating right into my brain.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Xerxes jump up, but that's all I see. Someone comes between us. magda She looks angry. Her jaw muscle really twitches and I want to laugh. Yes, now even society has seen that Xerxes desires me. He sat down at the table I was under. A blow in her direction.

"You'll regret that," she hisses softly and nods to someone. And with that, I'm being pulled backwards. I twist my ankle again and a glaring pain lets me see stars for a moment.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Platura's voice sounds and as little as he intends it, this question really makes my heart skip a beat. He sounds surprised. Like he didn't see something coming. This is not good. Not at all.

"Nothing," Magda whispers and I blink hard. I would love to see something but tears are still blurring my vision and the man won't stop pulling me back. "We just want to take full advantage of the booked prostitute, don't we?" I'm pushed onto a table with it. Cold wood presses against my cheek. It feels comfortable. Nevertheless, I inevitably gasp and want to push myself up again. But someone grabs my wrists and pulls them to the table legs.

"Wait," I choke out, but no one hears me. No faltering in movement. No loosening of the grip. Instead, iron chains wrap themselves around my skin and I whimper softly. Everything in me screams that I have to do something. If they tie me here, I won't have a chance to escape. But there are too many. Countless hands press me firmly onto the table top while my legs and hands are fixed to the table legs. too tight The iron is already digging into my skin painfully and I howl.

"Magda," comes Xerxe's voice, but he seems at odds as to what to do. Again he underestimated Magda. Or their influence on the nobles? It could be.

Magda kneels down in front of me and a satisfied smile crosses her lips. She looks at me almost apologetically. Like she resents me but is sorry at the same time. "Did you really think I didn't know what was said behind closed doors?" Almost tenderly she brushes a strand of hair behind my ear and I jerk away a bit. This digs the iron rod into my skin, but the pain is secondary. Magda knows Xerxes and I have something planned. It's written in their eyes. I see the suffering in it. The endless torment. "I know Xer's naivety, but I just thought a prostitute should know that the walls have ears." And that makes my pulse race. I am unable to speak or react. Can only watch with wide eyes as Magda leans forward a little and lets her lips levitate over my ear. "You have to understand that. It's just you or me."

I shake my head and close my eyes convulsively. She has no way of knowing that Xeres and I wanted to kill her today. We hardly talked about it. And if then only for two. But all my arguments are useless. Magda knows what has been driving me to get up every day lately. Perhaps she was suspicious of my newfound strength? Maybe it was just the slight grin that betrayed me. In the end it doesn't matter. She knows. And just to confirm my assumption, she takes another deep breath.

"I will not die today if you are gone." Just a whiff. A soft whisper that carries so much sadness and yet a self-confidence that makes me shudder. Magda wants me to die here. On this table. And as paradoxical as it is, she's right. Killing me is her only way to survive.