Waking Up With Black Tongue Novels & Stories

Kyrian woke up and needed to pee badly, He stumbled out of bed. His head felt like it had been split open . His mouth tasted like something died in it. The bathroom was too bright. He squinted at himself in the mirror while he washed his hands. He looked like hell. His hair was sticking up everywhere. There were dark circles under his eyes. His lips were swollen and red. And there. Right there on his neck. The bite mark. Dark purple. Impossible to miss.

TATE I WOKE UP and everything was black. Not the kind of dark you can push through or guess where you are. It was the kind that swallows you whole, thick and endless. No rough ropes biting into my skin, no blood clogging my throat—just silence and cold that creeped under my skin.

The way his hungry black eyes peer up at me through his equally black lashes, the way his plump, red lips look wrapped around my pussy eating me out. it’s filthy and wrong and everything my wet dreams are made of. The slurping noises turn me on almost as much as his skilled tongue, twirling and whirling around me. He teases the sensitive spot right under the tip of my clit before dragging his tongue along the entrance of my opening tongue fucking me. My hand comes to the top of his head, fingers tightening in his thick, black strands as my hips begin to rock up into his mouth. He cups my ass, rolling and squeezing them in his palm as he tongued fucked my pussy.

the doctor droned in a professional tone, clip board in hand. I felt like shit to say the least. It was early morning the next day after Michael had brought me to the hospital. I had blacked out as soon as we got here and woke up with a bandage around by jaw and head, plus an excruciating pain on the lower part of my mouth. The worst part about this is I couldn’t talk too much or yell at Michael after he had so blatantly humiliated me last night.

The man turned ashen, and I worried that these middle-aged people might suffer a heart attack. I uttered my first word since waking up. ‘Water.’ The single word grated against my throat, and before I could say anything else, something gurgled at the back of my lungs. I’d just turned over to the side, right in time for a vile surge to escape my lips. A torrent of murky, foul-tasting water cascaded out, splattering the white tiles. Each heave expelled more of the tainted liquid, leaving a bitter, acrid taste clinging desperately to my tongue.

My mouth is bandaged with something that tastes bitter, some kind of healing poultice, but underneath it everything is raw and wrong and gone. I try to speak—just a word, just a sound, anything—but my tongue won't move the way it should and the only thing that comes out is blood and a wet clicking noise that doesn't sound human. They took it. They actually took my tongue. I curl up on the cold floor and try to cry, but even that makes my throat hurt so badly I have to stop, and so I just lie there in the dark with silent tears running down my face and blood still seeping through the bandages. The stone floor is freezing against my cheek, and somewhere in the distance I can hear water drippin

The rest of the walk home is a blur of self-hatred and exhaustion. I replay the night in fragments—the bar, the drink, his eyes finding me across the dim room, the weight of his body on mine, the sharp pain of the bite, the strange, terrifying pleasure that came after it. Each memory is a fresh wound. I prod at them like a tongue prodding a sore tooth, unable to stop.

A moan escaped me and I tried to bit my tongue to stop it. “Don’t you dare bite it down. I want you to wake up your whole pack house, do you understand?” I nodded and as his tongue licked the tip of my cock I screamed out his name. I sputtered, trying to stop him but his lips were already around my head and his tongue swirled around. My eyes squeezed shut as I tried hold back. My breath became ragged as I felt his lips slip further down my shaft. His warm tongue swirled and then he sucked.

I was sure I never completed a full cycle though, because the pain in my neck and bones that accompanied me when I woke up was simply from a place of pain. I pushed all the irrelevant thoughts out of my mind as I pulled myself back to the present. The taste still remained, and for a moment, I could only ask myself how the blood had even gotten to my mouth in the first place. Had I bitten down on my tongue so hard that I'd bled without even knowing. It was sharp, metallic, and bitter as it slid down the back of my throat. I coughed, hard, but the sound barely echoed in the small, cold space I was trapped in.

I lost consciousness and did not know anything else. Upon waking, I discovered water and food on the ground, so I twisted my neck so that my tongue would reach it. I lick it from the ground as if I were an animal, but at this point, nothing mattered to me anymore. And with the food, I didn't bother, I was so exhausted and weak that despite being so hungry, I couldn't move to grab it.