Burn

You’re taking too much time in the photo booth.

Ugly retching sounds of your gagging bounce off the walls. Your knees hurt. Your leg struggles against the confines of the booth. Your body shakes each time it reaches the back of your throat. The taste of plastic fills your stomach. There should be at least a tinge of shame, or fear, or disgust of yourself, but you just keep going. Heejin holds you by the head, pushing you onto her lathered, glistening cock, again and again, and you just helplessly gag on her cock, again and again. Your throat fucking hurts.

The middle of her panties are pushed to the side, making way for the other end of the strap to penetrate her. The musky scent of her slick, sweaty cunt fills your nostrils, and it just drives you feral. She lets out a groan each time you reach the base. Her legs, tensing, reach around your back, pinning you in place. Globs of your spit fall to the floor. Another wish to make to the genie: please don’t let the next ones in the queue notice. Maybe how fucking drunk they are would help.

“Goddamn, you’re such a natural cocksucker,” Heejin groans, tightening her legs around you.

You don’t reply; it’s like you can. Your hands grip onto the milky softness of her thighs, holding them for your dear life. The photo booth reeks of alcohol, sweat, and your perfumes clashing together, making it feel much smaller than it already is—so suffocating. Faint techno music can be heard, and the muffled voices of the people just outside this curtain only add to the rush. This is supposed to be so fucking humiliating for you. You should’ve wanted to run away, yet you’re somehow relishing in it. Maybe it’s the fact that her cock is stretching your mouth open like this. Maybe it’s how she begins to thrust her hips into your mouth, using it the way you deserve. You’re submitting to her truly and fully, to the goth woman you’ve just met mere hours ago—not a single tinge of defiance. You just don’t want this to end.

And suddenly, she yanks you off her length by the hair—so carelessly. Your eyes meet hers. It’s all hazy. It’s all blurry, but you just throw any care left into the wind. She examines you for a second, as if looking for any resistance.

Of course, you’re relishing in this spit-smeared state.

“Such a good little slut.”

She reaches forward towards the button on the panel, and you hear the sound of the machinery. You two are taking a photo. This moment is going to be immortalized forever—your tears, your ruined mouth, the haze on her face. It’s going to be all in a piece of glossy paper.

“Smile!”

You turn to the camera.

And the shutter clicks.

The photo prints, slowly revealing your debauched, fucked up face. Heejin is grinning so wickedly, relishing in the way her cockwhore yields to her.

But goddamn.

You just look so full of joy in the photo. You just love her cock so much, don’t you?

Heejin snatches the photo with her hand, grabs her pen from the pocket, before scribbling something onto the back of the glossy paper. You just watch expectantly, like a dog waiting for a bone. Her eyes are so determined when she writes, and you can’t help but admire how she looks. God, she’s just so resolute at everything.

Then, she pushes it into your hand. You flip it over.

Ten numbers, two dashes in the middle.

“Call me if you want your ass fucked later, bitch.”

And she just smirks—so cool, so effortless. Her eyes are sharp as ever, and you can only swallow with the lingering taste of plastic. She licks her lips devilishly, tightening her grip on your hair. She wants more. She wants more of you.

“For now, fucking make me cum first.”