Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This night could not be going any worse.

You, Dustin, and Ran stand in the ruins of the water tower, freshly disturbed dust still settling within the eerie silence. All three of you remain completely frozen, eyes locked onto the back of your greatest fear.

Once Vi and the Piltover scum made their escape, Silco had taken a seat on a fallen beam and has remained there for minutes now. His inaction in this moment terrified you more than anything else. Silco, your boss for more than a year, is someone you’ve grown to admire, look up to for his wit and leadership – but seeing him like this rattles you. Even Dustin, the absolute buffoon he is, knows better than to make a sound.

Silco suddenly rises, and so does the hair on the back of your neck. Then, he rears back his arms and releases a raw, horrific scream. Your jaw drops as you watch him, his leg rising to stomp down on a bottle that shatters with ease. He sharply turns and begins his march back to the three of you. You shared panicked glances with Ran and Dustin, who are both as baffled as you. It seems that this is new territory for them, too. The thought of running crosses your mind, but the consequences if you were caught would likely be worse than whatever Silco was about to do to you. So, you try to cement your wavering stance as he approaches.

The rare common sense Dustin demonstrated is quickly discarded once he takes a step towards Silco. “B-Boss,” he stammers, “w-we’ll get her next time, I s-”

His voice distorts into a garbled cry as Silco grips him by the throat, long fingers completing a tight circle, and drags him closer. “You’re fucking worthless,” he yells with such rage that you can see a stream of spit smear across Dustin’s cheek. Silco’s fist rises and pounds into the struggling man’s forehead once, then twice, and you can’t peel your eyes away from the sight. The sound of Silco’s swearing and panting creeps inside of you through your ears, drowning out Dustin’s wails as you soak in the horror of his assaulter’s fury.

Silco throws Dustin to the ground, hard enough that he himself stumbles back and nearly topples over. Another bloodcurdling scream you never dreamt Silco would be capable of escapes his mouth. “God fucking dammit!”

His eyes dart over your face, stabbing you straight in the chest with fear. Yet, in his moment of frenzy, Silco barely seems to register you. Instead, he focuses his attention on a sudden noise – a moan of pain coming from beneath a piece of debris. He wastes no time in his swift stride over to the writhing body. When he presses his hand against the wall and raises his foot above the pained face of some poor soul, you nearly find it within you to scream “Stop!”

But you don’t. You stand there and watch as his heel stomps into an open mouth, cutting the person off mid-shriek. He repeats – you can hear the crack echo around the vast space. Again, and again, and again, crack crack cracks surrounding you, swarming within your brain, fighting with Silco’s haggard growling for control over your morbid voyeurism. What starts as a dent in the skull caves in until blood is spurting up onto Silco’s boots and pants, until there’s nothing left for him to mutilate but a flattened and disfigured idea of what once was a human face.

After what feels like hours, Silco is finished. One last kick to the mush beneath his feet, then he turns away from the decapitated body and runs a hand through his hair. As he regains his composure, his eyes search the surroundings and flicker onto you. This time, they stay locked with your gaze. He takes a step towards you, and whatever strange trance you were in breaks apart. Not entirely, though, as your unsteady stagger backwards does not land. You keel pathetically to your knees, too embarrassed to raise your head as you stare at the dirt.

His heels make small thuds on the ground, until his bloodied boots are right under your face. There’s only a second for you to stare – a grip on your hair, then a sharp jerk upwards forces you to meet Silco’s gaze as he drags your knees off the ground. You whine loudly, mouth dumbly hanging open while you blink away tears and try to make out Silco’s face.

Silco’s eyes bore into you like he’s seeing something beneath your flesh. The intense scrutiny of his red iris has stripped you down, laid bare for him to dissect. Yet, the hardened wrinkles of his scowl slowly lessen as he takes note of your tongue nearly lolling out of your mouth, the way your cheeks are tinted red, your utter lack of struggling as he holds you up solely by your hair. You sniffle and pant, but make no move to defy him.

His brows furrow briefly, before he suddenly releases his grip on your hair and lets you drop back down. The painful impact on your knees is nothing compared to how aggressively your heart is beating. Your entire body is shaking, fifty different sensations and emotions curling around your insides. Still, you instinctively look up to Silco – but he’s already turned his back and begun to saunter away.

“Clean up.” Then he’s gone.

--

You and Ran (who had wisely decided to hide in the shadows of the wreckage to avoid Silco’s wrath) helped get the beaten and bruised Dustin to his home. You were lost in your thoughts the entire time, struggling to process what you just witnessed. Even more so, struggling to process how what you just witnessed was making you feel.

Once Ran ensured you safely made your way home, you lock the door and rest your back against it. Certain scenes keep replaying in your head against your will. You grind the heels of your palms into your eyes and groan, back sliding down the door until you’ve hit the floor.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you mutter. Now that you’re alone, there’s no hiding from yourself. No hiding from the wetness you’ve accumulated in your panties and the empty sensation deep in your stomach that yearns to be filled. No hiding from your utter depravity.

You came to terms with the fact that you have a crush on your boss a while ago. Sure, your attraction to him is questionable and concerning, but not entirely deranged. This, though – this is fucking psychopathic. You are the first person to have ever gotten aroused by the sight of a crazed man stomping someone to death.

As you carried Dustin to his home, eyeing his wounds and hearing his whimpers, you just kept thinking I wish it was me Silco was hitting. To switch places with Dustin, having Silco’s hand wrapped around your throat as he screams such horrible things right in your face – another pulsation of pleasure radiates from your sopping cunt.

One shaking hand begins its descent down your body, creeping past the waistline of your pants. You’re disgusted with yourself. There has to be something intrinsically flawed with how you’re hardwired… but when Silco yanked you up by your hair, every nerve in your body burnt hotter than ever before. Replaying the look of pure hatred on Silco’s face drives you to frantically circle your clit with your fingers.

It takes mere moments for you to cum, so hard that you can’t hold back how you moan “Silco!” into the empty air.

You sit there for a while afterwards. Staring blankly at the black night sky out your window as you try to build up the courage to face yourself in the mirror.

“Fuck.”

Chapter Text

Going into work the next day is, to put it lightly, an unpleasant experience. For starters, you got barely two hours of sleep due to your excessive tossing and turning. Your entire brain has been flooded with one man and one man only… that creepy, mysterious, terrifying, and unsettlingly attractive geezer you’re very anxious about crossing paths with again.

Nonetheless, you dragged yourself up in the late morning and got ready for work. You find newly bloomed bruises on your knees; a sick thrill rushes up your spine before you regain enough sense to shake the thoughts away.

Your entire walk to The Last Drop is spent agonizing over your possible scenarios that could transpire when you step into the bar. Will you be immediately called to Silco’s office and reprimanded? Yelled at for being such a complete and utter failure at your job? Or, worse… does he somehow know what was going on in your mind last night? You wouldn’t put it past him to have some telepathic abilities, considering how he seems to look right through you whenever you speak to him. Maybe he’ll just call you a freak of nature and make you take the walk of shame out of your former place of work. You’d prefer to be yelled at, honestly.

You enter The Last Drop, and are instead faced with Sevika looming over you. With a furrowed brow and bared teeth, she hisses, “Are you going to explain to me why Silco returned this morning with blood all over his clothes, yet no Vi?”

Why didn’t he tell you himself? You want to refute, but wouldn’t dare. Instead, you swallow and slowly reply, “There was a mishap. Vi was able to bring down the water tower and escape.”

Sevika blinks for a moment, eyebrow quirked with suspicion. “You’re telling me… she managed to knock over the entire water tower?”

“With one punch,” you affirm, praying that Sevika doesn’t believe you’re just making shit up. “S-Seriously. Then Silco kinda lost his mind. Roughed Dustin up bad.” You decide not to mention the other event, merely for the sake of not reliving the memory.

The taller woman surveys you for a moment, checking for signs of deception, but apparently does not find any. She releases a deep sigh and leans back, crossing her arms over her broad chest. “Well then. I’m assuming you’ll have to go hunt down that good-for-nothing sister of Jinx’s,” she spits with vitriol. “You’d better go talk to the boss yourself about that, though. I’ve got my own shit to deal with.” Without further elaboration, Sevika is out the door.

Your heart sinks as you think about having to go speak to Silco directly. You look around the empty room sprawling in front of you – usually so full of life and noise, but completely desolate this time of day. There must be a couple other workers roaming around the place, but it feels like only you and the tar-black energy radiating from the upstairs balcony are present right now.

No point wallowing here in your anxiety, you suppose. The creaky floorboards announce your presence to the entire building when you walk, worsening with each step up the staircase as you near closer and closer to Silco’s office. But nothing is more horrifying than that knock on the ornate door, the only barrier you have protecting you from your deepest, darkest desire.

“Come in.”

His deep, soothing voice never ceases to startle you. Your shaky hand turns the knob, and you shuffle into the room with as little presence as possible. Foggy light from outside the green-tinted window casts the entire room in a moody shadow. The wiry frame of Silco, hunched over at his desk with a hand splayed across his forehead, is accentuated by the stream of grainy light that hits his back. He spares you one millisecond of a glance – more than enough to electrify your nervous system – before looking back down at his paperwork. “What do you need?”

You fiddle with your hands, sucking in a deep breath to steady your voice. “I was wondering what you needed from me today. L-Like, what job, or task, or whatever.” Dear Janna.

Multiple beats pass before Silco even acknowledges your words. Finally, he leans back in his chair and raises his thumb and index finger to squeeze the bridge of his nose.  “… Go back home. I have nothing for you.”

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what exactly that meant. There was usually too much going on, too many jobs to juggle, especially after a shitshow like last night.

A pang of guilt hits you as you take in just how horribly stressed Silco looks. His head remains leaned back as he massages the bridge of his nose, blackened eye staring blankly up at the ceiling. The poor man probably hasn’t slept since you last saw him. You can’t just go home and be useless to him – there must be something you can do.

With a bit more confidence than before, you take a step forward. “Not to step out of line, sir, but you look… really overwhelmed. I’m sure there’s something I can do to help – anything you need.”

Silco takes another moment to process your words. Then, he tips his head back down and regards you properly. That humiliating sensation of being stripped to nothing but your innermost secrets returns. It’s like he’s playing a game you can’t quite grasp; the only hint at the rules you get is when he simply replies, “Fetch me a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.”

Though you’re not sure what you were expecting, it was certainly not that. You scurry downstairs to the bar, digging through the whiskey for whatever looked to be the fanciest, and got two glasses. Why does he need two?

When you return to Silco’s office, you set the glasses and bottle on his desk, then stand there awkwardly as you await dismissal. Instead, Silco looks up at you expectantly. “Pull up a chair.”

It takes a moment for you to process what’s actually happening here, and a wave of terror hits you when that realization settles in. But Silco’s insistent gaze leaves no room to panic – you grab a chair opposite to the couch and drag it to the front of his desk. You watch as Silco’s steady hands pour a generous amount of whiskey in both glasses, then gracefully offers one to you. 

“T-Thanks,” you stammer as you take the glass, dutifully noting the frigid coldness of the finger that grazes yours. You take a sip, both to be polite and to mask your own awkwardness. What the hell do you say in a situation like this? What does he want you to say?

“… You’re right.” Your back straightens as Silco beguiles you with the intoxicating drawl of his words. “I am facing a multitude of problems at the moment, if that was not evident already.” He runs a hand through his perfectly smoothed hair. “It’d be nice to take some time to drink and talk with an employee I can trust.”

Your cheeks warm a little. “Ah, of course,” you (try to) casually reply while taking another sip. “I can’t imagine being in your position, dealing with everything you have on your plate. I’d go crazy.”

The corner of his lip curls upward. “It certainly is tempting to go crazy some days. The amount of coddling I have to do just trying to manage one Piltover officer…”

The two of you go back and forth a bit, discussing the latest issues Silco’s facing with Marcus, Jinx, and Piltover, all while pointedly avoiding the topic of last night. You find that the whiskey is greatly helpful in reducing your overworked nerves; Silco is more than happy to refill you when your glass runs low. It’s a dangerous line to toe, but perhaps the liquid courage will help you stop acting like a nervous schoolgirl in front of your boss.

“… I’m incredibly frustrated with how last night went, as well,” Silco adds to his ongoing rant, alarming you with the abrupt addressal of the elephant in the room. “I do not like to lose control of myself like that.”

You blink hard, trying to erase the images of his attractively unbridled rage from your mind. “Honestly, I can’t blame you for getting so mad. It was just shocking to see.”

He takes a contemplative sip of his drink. “I hope my actions did not… disturb you.”

“No, no, I’m fine. It’s not like I haven’t seen stuff like that before.” You’re not sure you like where this conversation is going.

“Hmm. Your job is a particularly violent one, isn’t it?” Silco asks. A truly redundant question, especially coming from the guy who assigns you the violent tasks. “You, however, do not appear to be a very aggressive individual. Quite curious that you’ve stuck around.”

“Yeah, I guess I tend to let whoever I’m working with do the beatings. I’m not a fan of hurting people or anything like that,” you reply a bit too honestly. “I’m much better at doing the talking.”

Silco nods along, invested in every word. “I do not typically hire individuals unwilling to commit acts of violence. Rather, I end up with people too eager to get their hands dirty,” he muses. “But you… you bring other skills to the table. And though you avoid being violent yourself, you never stray far from the scene, do you?”

Just like that, you’re back in the midst of his game with no eye on the finish line. You swallow, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you always watch so, so closely, and seemingly enjoy yourself all the while. Even when that poor man was stomped to death, you just couldn’t look away.” He swirls the glass of whiskey around in his hand, but his eyes are still fixated on you. “Your reaction fascinated me.”

You cannot help but gawk at him, trying to dig through all the possible implications he’s putting down. “Uhm… it’s not, like, a weird thing…” This is it. You should just begin the walk of shame now, save yourself the further humiliation.

“I never intended to pass judgment, child,” Silco hums, easily soothing your kneejerk panic. “Violence is a necessary aspect of life underneath Piltover’s fist. You might as well find some sort of gratification in it.”

The nonchalance of his response nags at you to push him, primarily out of hope that he shares your level of depravity. “Well,” you start, vaguely regretting the words before they even leave your mouth, “do you?”

A small chuckle rumbles from his chest. “I will not deny that it’s a reliable method for stress relief.” He strums his nimble fingers on the rim of his glass, the corner of his lip quirked upwards. “Such a shame it’s considered unethical to self-soothe through harming others.”

Oh. The confirmation of Silco’s sadism provides you far too much confidence. You cannot help but giggle, head tilting to the side playfully. “But if the other person likes it, doesn’t that make it okay?”

“Where could I possibly find such a willing volunteer?” There’s a smugness on his face that eggs you on, like you’re going along with his script perfectly. He’s exciting you in shameful ways, stomach twirling in knots as it would for a first crush. You’re nearing close to something previously deemed untouchable – you can feel it.

“Someone like me would fit that role pretty well, I think.”

Victory flashes in Silco’s eye. “What role?” he urges, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk and fingers steepled under his chin. “The role of a masochist?” Mockery drips from the word, that shameful word you never wanted to embrace until you heard it from his lips.

“Y-Yes.” Even with the alcohol, your resolve is weakened by his effortless intensity. You take a deep breath. “Or like… a punching bag. For your stress relief.”

You get your very first sighting of Silco’s chipped teeth in a smile. Not a smile of joy or amusement, but one that sinks deep into your skin, the jagged edges of his canines shining like a predator’s. “How generous of you.” He rises from his chair and commences the torturously slow journey around the desk. His movements are akin to a snake’s with how he slinks and sways towards his prey. “Offering yourself like a sacrificial lamb to the jaws of a beast.”

You find yourself unable to breathe when he finally reaches your side. He bends over, his mouth hovering next to your ear. “Though… does the lamb enjoy its slaughter? Or is that experience reserved only for the perverse and depraved?”

Without much pre-thought, you turn your head to face Silco – his hand circles around your throat and mercilessly grabs hold. Whatever you were going to say is choked out into a strange yawp, provoking that sinister smirk again. You can feel your eager pulse reverberating off his hand.

“You’ve made a grave mistake, little girl.”

Chapter Text

The first slap across your face is not hesitant nor reserved. Silco’s flat palm leaves a sharp, stinging pain behind, dragging out a choked cry that your compressed windpipes cannot properly release. Jolts of pleasure fire all across your body, creating a horribly pleasant sensation in your lower abdomen that sends your eyes rolling back. The fingers pressed against the sides of your throat tighten slightly.

“Shameful,” Silco mutters, his face hovering over your own with an expression of morbid curiosity. He watches like a scientist observes their lab rat, taking note of each and every minute reaction. When his hand raises like he’ll slap you again, you instinctively flinch away – provoking a cruel snicker when the impact never lands. “You learn quickly.”

Of course, you’re then caught off-guard when his hand does strike you. Pins and needles stab all over your cheek in its wake, bringing tears to your eyes. You don’t possess enough self-respect to hold back your broken moan.

Silco’s gaze flickers down to your throat, and he gives it a squeeze that fills your head with fog. You gasp for air, but fight against the urge to wry his hands off you. You’re determined to behave. Even as he brutally rips all away all your oxygen, which he seems entirely intent on doing. The enlarged pupil of his right eye awaits each of your shaky breaths. Another flash of those daunting teeth as his thin lips curl back into a smile – you know he’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

A backhanded slap this time. His bony knuckles dig into your cheek, adding a whole new layer of agonizing pain that makes your cunt clench. You squirm, trying desperately to relieve the pressure as you drag yourself along the chair. “F-Fuck,” you pant.

“Hmm… got so excited from being roughed up a bit, you start humping the chair like a dog,” Silco remarks, tinged with a mixture of judgment and genuine fascination. The pressure on your neck finally relents, and your head hangs forward as you suck as much air into your lungs as you can manage. You sputter and cough on the spit that lodges in your throat. Drool drips down the side of your chin, much to Silco’s amusement.

His hand, the gentlest it’s been thus far, cups your chin. His thumb swipes away the saliva and your eyes flutter up to meet his. “Thank y-”

“You drool like a dog too,” he flatly states, cutting you off. “Filthy mutts don’t speak, do they?”

Your mouth clamps shut and you shake your head. Silco pats your cheek in approval. “Good doggy,” he praises mockingly. The honeyed rasp in his voice is driving you insane. You sloppily grind your cunt against the chair again, desperate for relief from the pulsating between your legs.

Silco’s hand creeps from your chin to the side of your throat, then into your hair – and grabs on tightly. With one sharp yank, you’re dragged from soft fabric onto the hard, cold floor. You let out a cry of pain, knees slamming onto the unforgiving wood. Another tug, and you’re forced to stare up at Silco. Though his face remains unemotive, there’s the undeniable shimmer of sadistic glee in his eye as he leers at you.

“Brace yourself,” is the only warning you get before the tip of his boot digs into your stomach. The force behind his kick utterly winds you, leaving you open for another a little higher up. You crumple like a piece of paper, falling onto your side as you clutch your arms around the aching pain. Low moans fill the room as you squeeze your eyes shut. You’re drowning in the throes of agony, writhing at the feet of the older man.

“Not even putting up a fight?” he hums. Then, something cold and smooth presses down on your cheek – your eyes fly open, and you see Silco’s raised leg over your face. The sole of his boot smushes your face further into the floor, twisting back and forth slightly just to pinch at your skin. Hopelessness floods you, the intensity of absolute inferiority increasing with each wriggle of Silco’s foot.

You start to cry. Each sniffle and sob greets you with added pressure on your burning face. “Oh, keep crying… just like that, pet,” he grunts, voice saturated with desire. Only now, blinking up through tear-filled eyes, do you notice the prominent bulge in his pants. His hand massages the mass as he breathes harder. “You’re gorgeous, beneath my feet like this.”

There’s little time to appreciate the compliment. Silco’s eyes fly like a trained hunter to your most vulnerable point: a gap of skin on your stomach where your shirt has ridden up. The coldness on your cheek disappears, and then he kicks right into your exposed flesh. He digs in the heel and drags it up, and you know from the stinging sensation that he's drawn blood. Even more horrifying is the wave of nausea that overcomes you. You scramble to roll onto your stomach and fold into yourself, knees pulled to your chest and palm cupping your mouth as you suppress a violent gag.

A gentle hand rests on your back, sliding up and down your spine comfortingly. “Was that too much for you, doggy?” Silco coos with such kindness, but you can hear the smile on his lips. “I forget how delicate you are.” His hand crawls down your side and underneath your stomach, probing into your skin with his fingers. You whine from the pain of him pressing into your fresh bruises, but he merely shushes you.

He eventually seems to find what he is looking for and pulls his hand away. You can't resist the temptation to turn your head and see his prize – your blood, coating his fingers and dripping down his palm. The sight makes you as queasy as you are aroused. He meets your gaze, then proceeds to open his mouth. His tongue flicks out and begins lapping up the blood on his fingertip.

Your face scrunches in disbelief. This old man really is a fucking freak. Crouching in front of you, one hand kneading his bulge while his mouth practically made love to the other, a low groan rumbles in his throat as he licks your blood. It might be the most erotic thing you've ever witnessed. Your cunt clenches and you let out a small whine, pleading for any relief.

Silco raises an eyebrow. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing your blood on his lips. “Tell me what you want,” he brusquely commands, elbows on his knees as he leans in closer. “Bark for me.”

You regret making any noises now. Bark? You're not even sure how to do that without sounding like an idiot. Still, you roll from your stomach onto your side and prop yourself up – wincing at the pain radiating from your thoroughly beaten midsection – and suck in a shaky breath. “R-ruff.”

Silco tuts. “Louder.”

You repeat yourself, sounding a little less human and a little more animalistic in your desperation. Silco’s pleased at this, his hand coated in red-tinted saliva reaching forward and patting your cheek. “That's more like it. Again, louder.”

Once more, you bark like a beaten puppy, crawling forward slightly as you let out a couple high-pitched yips. He flashes his teeth in a satisfied smile. “Good dog.” He rises from his crouched position, his towering height over your cowering form reminding you of just how deliciously humiliating this whole situation is. His boots click on the ground as he strolls to the couch, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Crawl.”

Silco settles on the sofa, arms outstretched behind him as he leans back. You feel like a jester in front of their king, degrading yourself for any hint of his entertainment. You push yourself onto your hands and knees and begin to crawl forwards. The aching all over your body worsens with each motion, each press of your knees against the wood reminding you of the abuse you’ve endured. Silco watches your exertion with ambivalence, but you don't miss how his legs spread slightly as you grow nearer.

You end up between his knees, gazing up at him expectantly. You wonder how you must look right now, face stained with tears, saliva, and blood, flesh discolored from his brutal slaps. Silco appears entranced by the sight, taking several moments to enjoy your disheveled state.

Finally, he brings his hands up and undoes the first buttons of his slacks. You find yourself a bit too eager to see what his cock looks like, find out what it tastes, smells like… your mouth waters. But his hands halt once his black briefs are fully exposed, the thick bulge taunting you. There's already a distinct smell of musk wafting to your nose. You pleadingly look up at Silco, begging for him to quell your curiosity.

“Use your mouth,” he instructs, and that's all you need to hear. You bring your mouth to the top of his briefs and clamp your teeth around the waistband, dragging the fabric down. A sudden hot mass slaps your cheek and leaves a trail of wetness before resting against Silco’s stomach.

His cock is thick, crooked, and leaking with purplish pre-cum. You'd heard rumors that shimmer could discolor bodily fluids, but you'd never seen it firsthand until now – and you found yourself strangely thirsty for it. The shaft curves to the right, thickest in the middle and narrowing out to a pulsating head. You were certainly not disappointed at the display.

“Do you want it?” he coos, placing his hand on the back of your head and pushing you forward. Not towards the top, but rather into his balls. Suddenly, your nose is shoved directly into his low-hanging sack, all senses assaulted with the heady, virile scent of sweat. Your eyes water from its intensity, the prickly skin rubbing against your cheek as he grinds his cum-filled balls against your face. “Inhale, you cock-hungry mutt. Worship the scent of the cock that’s about to ruin you.”

You mouth at his balls, hungrily sniffing and lapping at the sensitive flesh. Silco sucks in air between his gritted teeth, gripping your hair tight as he groans. The taste is intoxicating, salty with a tinge of addictive sweetness that has you suckling on the heavy mass for more. You’re disgusted by how much you enjoy being used and defiled like this. When he bucks his hips up against your cheek you shamefully moan, mouth open and drooling as you take in as much of his ballsack as you can.

“Aren’t you embarrassed?” Silco hisses, his leg slowly readjusting and slinking between your legs. “Whoring yourself out for a man old enough to be your father. Isn’t that humiliating?” The tip of his shoe taps against your throbbing cunt and you squeal. “Go on. Hump my shoe like the worthless bitch in heat you are.”

You latch onto his leg and position yourself over his boot, desperate for any pleasure. By the way his hand tightens around your hair, you know you can’t let yourself get distracted from the main task at hand. Your tongue goes back to swirling around his balls, licking stripes upwards as you grind your clothed pussy onto his boot. Having direct contact against your cunt after all this torture is overwhelming, to the point that you cry out with each drag of your folds on his shoe.

You’re hungry for more of Silco, to have him deeper inside of you, to draw out every whimper and moan he has buried inside of him. Your lips ascend, kissing up his shaft as you peer at him for any reactions. His head is tilted up and one of his eyes is squeezed shut tight, as if he were trying to control himself. But the red-hot intensity of the other is fixated on you, wavering slightly with each stroke of your tongue against his cock.

More purple-tinted liquid drips from the head, egging you on. You inhale deeply before taking the tip into your mouth. The sweetness of his pre-cum is much more intense when it’s straight from the source, coating your tongue with its essence as Silco leaks incessantly. One flick of your tongue against his slit has him lurching forward, groaning like he got punched in the gut.

Like this, you’re able to establish a steadier rhythm. With each grind against his shoe, you suck in a little more of his cock. The reactions you’re getting from Silco are unbelievable, to the point that you’re questioning how long it’s been since the last time he got laid. He heaves violently above you, both hands pinned to the sides of your head and entangled in your hair. Vague curses and groans fill the air, jabbing you right in the abdomen with arousal, pushing your clit harder into his boot. The texture of your underwear sliding against your cunt is torturous in how it jolts you with pleasure, but never enough to bring you closer to the edge. You focus more on Silco’s enjoyment than your own, eager to watch him fall apart completely by your doing.

Once you start nearing the bottom of his cock, your gag reflex kicks in. His cockhead teases the back of your mouth as your throat tries to reject him. Your nails dig into his leg as you steady yourself, swallowing back each gag.

“Are you struggling, little one?” Silco rasps, voice shaking slightly. “Here, let me help you…” His hands tighten around your head, holding you in place as his cock thrusts straight into your throat. You choke out a cry and try to recoil, but your efforts are fruitless. His hips recede, granting you a small moment of reprieve, before he violates your tight throat again. He begins a relentless rhythm, shuddering and hissing each time you gag around his thick length.

Tears and snot stream down your face, worsened each time he buries himself entirely in your mouth. A familiar wave of nausea returns and provokes more cries of panic. You pound your fist against his thigh, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. His cock drags up and down your throat until it’s raw. Less and less air is getting through your nose as more terror overrides you, as you desperately try to swallow down any bile that threatens to rise.

“Just shut up and take it,” Silco groans, thrusts shallowing and pace quickening. “You should be grateful for this, grateful to be sucking my dirty old cock.” His shoe jerks up and jabs into your clit, triggering another sob that constricts your throat further around him. “Fuck.”

One hand grips the back of your head and the other grabs your nose, plugging it shut completely. If you weren’t panicking before, you certainly were now. Both of your hands slap frantically at Silco’s legs, body thrashing beneath him as he continued to fuck your aching throat. Your hearing’s going hazy, his deep panting fading away into static. Just barely, you hear his warning. “Waste a single drop and I’ll let you choke to death on my cock.”

His thrusting finally comes to a halt with his dick buried to the hilt in your throat. A hot liquid erupts inside of you, shooting straight into and filling your stomach. Silco drags himself nearly all the way out of your mouth, and air fills your lungs – but you keep sputtering and gagging around the cum shooting from the cockhead that rests against your lips. Now the sickly sweet fluid invades your mouth, forcing you to gulp it down to prevent spillage over your lips.

“That’s right… swallow it all,” Silco rumbles, chest heaving rapidly. He grabs his flaccid cock and pulls it away, watching the string of saliva and cum that connects to your lips and eventually falls to your chest. “You did such a good job, pet.”

You’re slow to recover from how brutally Silco fucked your face. Your head hangs forward, panting as your snot, drool, and tears drip onto his pant leg. Everything is still a bit foggy. Your entire body is trembling with red-hot adrenaline, and you can feel his cum churning in your belly. Plus, you’re pretty sure you’ve soaked both your underwear and pants with how uncomfortably wet everything is down there.

After a couple moments, Silco reaches to grasp your chin and pull your face up towards him. A sneer warps his scarred face. “Wow. You should see yourself. So cock-drunk, you look barely conscious.” He leans in closer, eyes flickering up and down as his hot breath fans across your skin. “Mm, I think you deserve a treat. Stand up and undress yourself.”

You make a pathetic display as you attempt to stand, knees threatening to give out on you anytime. Silco chuckles with amusement, but makes no offer to help. Once you find your balance, you make quick work of shedding your clothes that are stained with too many different bodily fluids to count. You can’t help but admire the angry red splotches of tender flesh all across your stomach – not to mention the jagged gash across your lower abdomen, scabbed over with dried blood.

“Beautiful,” Silco praises, clearly appreciating the marks he’s left on you. You’ve degraded yourself to Hell and back for this man, but you still manage to feel bashful about his eyes raking over your bare form. Still, you grab onto your pants and underwear and drag them down your legs. Your inner thighs are glistening with how much of your arousal has dripped.

Silco motions you to sit back down on his shoe, and you immediately resume your former spot. The cold leather of his boot against your clit makes you shudder, fisting the fabric of his pants as you look up at him for permission.

He purrs, “Cum on my shoe or don’t cum at all.”

Your hips rock back and forth, greedily grinding your slick cunt into his boot without hesitation. Both of your arms wrap around his leg tightly, supporting your trembling body as you erratically hump against him. The squelching of your cunt and your moans fill up the room. It’s humiliating, yet so gratifying to lose all control like this – you really are like a dog.

Silco is content to lean back and watch the show at first, but he knows a perverted mutt like you could use some extra help getting off. He commands, “Show me your chest.” You loosen your grip on his calf and arch your back towards him, tits bouncing with each rut of your hips. One of his large hands completely swallows up your breast, squeezing and groping at the malleable flesh. The roughness of his touch builds you up to your peak rapidly.

When his fingers pinch at your nipple, you nearly cum on the spot. He tugs and pulls at the sensitive nub and you throw your head back, crying out. The bolts of pain electrocute every nerve perfectly. “F-Fuck, oh fuck, I-I’m gonna cum,” you squeak, clit hitting the tip of his shoe at just the right angle.

“Beg for it, bitch. Beg for your owner to let you cum,” Silco snarls, twisting your nipple mercilessly until you sob.

“Please, please, please,” you babble, bordering on incoherent the closer and closer you get. “I-I need it, please let me cum, please let me cum, please!”

“Good girl. Go ahead.” All it takes is one bounce of his leg, and you crumble to pieces. Burning pleasure overrides all your senses, stripping away your vision and replacing it with pure white. Your legs spasm beneath you and your entire body falls forward on him, your own weight too much to carry. You’ve never experienced something this intense. Your hips carry out a couple more thrusts before you’re totally spent, sweaty forehead sticking to his knee as you pant heavily.

“Looks like my doggy really enjoyed humping its owner’s shoe,” Silco taunts with a chuckle. He gently rolls your head to the side, positioning you to face him with your temple still pressed against his knee. One of his fingers swipes away a damp strand of hair from your cheek. “Poor thing. So tired, yet you still have such a big mess to clean up.”

“Huh…?” you dumbly mewl.

“Scoot back, pet. You’ll see.”

With limbs like jelly, you clumsily crawl backwards and off of Silco. You quickly understand the mess he’s referring to. His boot gleams with your fluids, so copious that they’ve created a small puddle surrounding it as well. Your cheeks flush at the sight.

He taps his foot on the ground. “Get to work.”

It doesn’t take much inferring to figure out what he wants you to do. Shakily, you dip forward and hover your lips over the tip of his boot. Your tongue darts out to test whatever flavor awaits you; the tangy sweetness of your own arousal just barely overpowers the bitterness of the leather. Overall, it’s rather unpleasant. Yet, you don’t even think about putting up a fight. You obediently flatten your tongue across his boot and begin to lick up your mess.

Above you, you vaguely hear Silco’s breathing harshen. You spare a moment to glance up – he has his hand wrapped around his half-hard cock, lazily stroking it as he stares back down at you. A shiver of excitement darts through you, and you return to your task with more vigor than before.

“Look at you. You’re a natural,” Silco rasps. “So well-trained, like you were born to be a braindead slut.” His foot shifts backwards. “Make sure the floor is spotless.”

You nod, your mind a haze of submission and arousal. With your tongue you diligently work over the wooden floor, each stroke a testament to your submission. Instead of bitter leather, your taste buds are introduced to the dirt and grime of the floor. No matter how your throat clenches, your body pleading with you to stop, you refuse to give in. Your lips form disgusting slurping noises as you suck up every last drop.

One more final, sweeping lick, and the floor shines with your efforts. You look up to Silco for approval. Between his full erection and the hunger in his eyes, you know you did something right.

“Not even a single complaint,” Silco praises, nearly sounding like he was in awe of your eager subservience. “Such a perfect little doggy. Now,” he stands up from the couch and steps away, motioning you towards it. “Get on your hands and knees and present yourself. I believe you're ready for the greatest gift of all.”

You’re too excited to bother standing, instead opting to climb up onto the sofa like an animal would. You rest forward on your elbows and spread your legs apart for Silco’s viewing. Would he finally touch your cunt directly? Run his hands along your body, put his –

A sharp strike against your cunt sends your face into the couch cushion, crying out in pain. Fuck, that hurt. Just the little slide of his finger against your clit makes your innards twist with arousal. Your hole clenches around the empty space, begging for more of him.

“You like that, mutt?” he coos, a tilt of amusement in his voice. “You’re absolutely drenched. Just slapping this filthy pussy dirtied my hand.” He rubs his palm over your ass, smearing your juices off. “I think puppy wants a little more, hmm? You can use your words. Tell your owner what you want.”

“I-I want you,” you whimper, cringing at how pathetic and broken you sound. “I want your… cock. Please.”

“Yeah? Where?” His fingers dance along your inner thigh, and your entire body tenses.

“In my pussy,” you whine, arching your back a little further. “Please.”

“Here?” His thumb grazes your slit and you gasp, rapidly nodding in response. He pinches at your clit, squeezing the nub so hard you sob and squirm against the sofa. “Words.”

“Yes! Yes, there!” you wail, bucking your hips.

One long finger parts your folds and easily slips into your hole. Your walls squeeze around him. Every ridge and callus drag inside of you and you squeeze your eyes shut, gasping at the foreign sensation. He adds another finger, meeting only minimal resistance. Even at a slow place, the sounds of your wetness reach your ears and shame you.

The relaxed movement of him inside of you is ripped away, only to be replaced by a bigger intrusion prodding at your hole. You scramble to grab at the couch, sucking in a deep breath as you brace yourself for your gift.

Silco’s tip presses into you, a small pop reverberating as your hole stretches to accommodate his thickness. It’s overwhelming how even just an inch of him reaches your lungs, making it harder to breathe. He keeps pushing forward, hands gripping onto your hips as he pulls you back onto him.

“So tight,” he hisses with undercurrents of strain in his voice, kneading the flesh under his palm. “Come on, sweetie. Relax a little more.”

You shudder and try to will the tension in your body away. With another harsh rock of his hips, the thickest part of his shaft stretches you out and the rest of him slides in. It feels like he’s on the brink of ripping you apart, a pulsating spear stabbed straight through you. The sensation is horribly overwhelming and you never want it to end.

The slow pace Silco moves at surprises you. Even with his cock all the way inside, he’s paused, fingers digging deep into your hips. You glance back at him.

Beads of sweat drip down his cheeks, normally slicked-back hair tousled and hanging over his forehead in grey, drenched strands. His right eye is shut and his eyebrows are knit tightly together, deep in concentration. With a surge of glee, you realize he’s about to burst at any second.

Silco notices your gloating smile and huffs in frustration. “Turn back around,” he snarks through grit teeth. You obey, but not without a little wiggle of your hips. A whimper escapes Silco’s lips.

Oh. That was an unexpected noise from him – one that undoubtedly made your cunt throb. His nails start to break the skin they’re gripping so tightly.  “Dear Janna,” he mutters under his breath. “You’re such a slutty little girl. See what you’ve done to me?” The sharp bones of his hips dig into you as he leans forward, a hand tangling itself into your hair. “Gotten this old man all riled up.”

You moan, rocking back against him. He grunts indiscernible swears and shoves your face hard into the couch. “Knock it off or I’ll knock your teeth out,” he spits. “Just… g-give me a second.”

With your face firmly pressed in the couch cushion, you don’t have much other to do than wait. After a moment, Silco shakily exhales and drags himself out, then slams back in. All of a sudden, he sets a brutal, numbing pace that shocks you with pain every time he thrusts all the way in. Your wails are completely muffled as he keeps you in place, one hand on your head and the other groping your ass.

This is everything you’ve ever dreamed of, the fantasies you’ve touched yourself to for the past year. Silco abusing you, cruelly using all your holes regardless of your discomfort. The way he’s fucking you into the sofa is making your head spin, forcing all the air of your lungs. You truly believe you could implode at any second.

He yanks your hair towards him roughly, the hand on your ass moving up to grip your throat. Your back arches out from him, head lolling back onto his shoulder as your mouth hangs open in a never-ending moan of ecstasy.

His mouth ghosts along the shell of your ear. “Say thank you. Thank me for indulging in your sick perversions. Tell me how disgusting you are.” Silco’s commands embody dominance, but there’s a twinge of desperation laced within them, like he needs to hear you say it.

You grab onto the forearm of the hand wrapped around your throat, seeking any stability as he bucks his hips into you wildly. “T-Thank you for hurting me! Thank you for your cock! I-I’m a disgusting mutt, your mutt, your stupid whore – thank you, thank you!” Everything begins to slur together as drool drips from your lips, pleasure wrecking all of your sensibility.

“That’s right,” he rumbles, his lips pulling back to nibble at your ear, then further down on your neck. He keeps slamming his cock in at different angles, finding the spots that make you cry out the loudest and pummeling them over and over. His sharp, chipped teeth nestle into your throat and sink in, sending your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. He sucks savagely, drawing out your blood and moaning deep in his chest at the metallic taste.

That spike of pain has you teetering right at the edge, threatening to push you into the raging waters below. “S-Sir, I’m gonna c-cum, please, please –”

“Cum all over your owner’s cock,” he whispers hoarsely into your ear, hand squeezing tighter around your throat. “Show me how much you love being degraded and beat, how you crave to be fucked like the useless cocksleeve you are.”

The pure filth spewing from his mouth and the exact jabs of his dick into your most sensitive spot are too much to bear. A tight knot unravels and you let out a silent scream, writhing in blissful agony as the world comes crashing down around you. The burning sensations that nip at your skin don’t reach their peak, but continue to worsen as Silco refuses to stop fucking into your raw cunt.

“N-No, stop, too much-” you shriek, overstimulation causing each of your limbs to jerk erratically and out of sync. The pleasure is becoming painful, too much for you to handle. Tears flow from your eyes and mix with your snot and saliva. “Please no – stop!”

“You don’t get to tell me when to stop,” Silco snaps, shoving your front onto the couch and pinning you down with a hand splayed across your back. “You were just begging for this, humiliating yourself for my cock. Now it’s too much?” His swollen balls slap against your clit repeatedly, zapping you with white-hot electricity. “Fuck – take it, sweetheart, please, take my cum –”

Silco’s hips stutter and he lurches forward, pressing his entire body weight onto you. Spurts of liquid coat your insides. You can feel each heated droplet running down your gummy walls, filling you up to the brim. Silco’s groans and pants are animalistic as he bucks slightly into your sensitive cunt, pushing his cum deeper inside. You’re bloated from the cum both in your stomach and deep in your pussy, sloshing around with each of Silco’s movements.

And then, he collapses. His body consumes your own, arms locking you in beneath him. His head hangs next to yours, ragged breaths tickling your ear. You’ve both hit your limits, left to twitch and catch your breath with your bodies intertwined.

Your mind slowly returns to you, raging senses calming down and allowing you to simply breathe. Silco’s heavy weight on your back is oddly comforting. You have a nagging fear that this moment won’t last long, that he’ll simply leave you to clean yourself up – the thought makes you want to sob.

He lifts himself off of you, the departure of his cock leaving your insides horribly empty, and you already feel the tears prickling at your eyes. However, his hand gently takes hold of your arm and helps you flip over onto your back. His demeanor is oddly soft, gazing at your worn down body with a look of pride.

“You did very well,” he murmurs, raising a hand to pet your damp hair. “I do feel that a lot of stress has been taken off my shoulders. Good job.” He leans in and presses his lips to your cheek, on top of a fresh tear.

His gesture tugs hard at your sensitive heart. You feel so small and vulnerable all of a sudden, aching for more of his kindness. “Could… I have a real kiss?” you ask quietly, eyes averting his.

“Only if you look at me.” You comply, watery eyes flickering over to meet his. There’s an uncharacteristic tenderness in his face, one that soothes the tremors in your core. He cups your face with his hand and swipes another tear from your cheek, then presses his mouth against yours. Despite the chapped texture of his lips, the kiss feels like a million perfect declarations of love wrapped up in one moment. You know you’re too broken down right now, foolishly yearning for the older man in a way you could never have – but you pray that there is something genuine in how he’s touching you like a fragile artifact, fingers ghosting along your stomach with no intentions other than comfort.

The kiss isn’t long, and you know that’s for best. Silco breaks the contact and sits up, tucking himself back in his pants and buttoning up. He regards your body again, smirking a little at the crusted fluids splattered across your skin. “I suppose I can’t let you walk out of here like this. Shall I go run a bath?”

You blink at him, shocked. “A bath?” you repeat. Him agreeing to the kiss was already asking for a lot – this was overboard.

But he nods, acting as if this were nothing. “Of course. Wait here a moment, dear. I’ll be back.”

He leaves you on the couch, still uncomfortably sweaty and bloated and aching all over. You stare up at the ceiling and try to process all the debauched insanity that has just occurred. For some reason, you’re most fixated on the sound of Silco running the bath water in a room further down the hall.

You’re realizing that you really do not know this man. The passion of his rage and the simpleness of his soft kiss, all wrapped up in one enigmatic figure that you really should not be getting this involved with. But you crave more, to understand what makes him tick. Now that you’ve ventured this far into his territory, fucking licked your own cum off his shoe and called yourself his disgusting dog… there’s really no turning back from that.

You’ve been permanently promoted, you suppose. The Eye of Zaun’s personal punching bag. Doesn’t have a bad ring to it.