This time there is no gentle push he’s all the way back and trying to go further, I feel like I can’t breathe but I can’t fight him my hands are...behind my back. Then it happens he’s in my throat and he’s just fucking my mouth like I’m some kind of 5 dollar whore. There’s nothing I can do but let him pump and pump and pump into my open mouth. I begin to feel weak, he most have noticed he’d gone too far because he stops and pulls out. He takes something and wipes my mouth of all my drool then. Note: The explanation of the Steampunk genre is adapted from the genre description on the Short-Fiction site and is only included to give a little background on the creation of this short story.Chapter 1The fog was particularly thick this damp London night. The streetlamps had a strange halo that made them all look like ghostly lanterns floating in the air. The clatter of a carriage in the distance made Justin Whitecastle wince in frustration because he could barely see his hand in front of his. More

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