Ransom

Astaria grunts and moans with the effort of taking me, but I am not under any illusions that this is a punishment anymore. She is arching her hot red ass up to me, inviting me deeper, almost challenging me to fuck her harder and harder. There is some part of her that craves destruction on every level and in every way.

I clamp my hands on either side of her hips and pull the lower half of her body up and off the bed. Her breasts are being jiggled against the bedding as I use her pussy like my personal possession, pulling all the way out and then slowly penetrating her all over again. Her sex is like a flower, all petals unfurled for me and the dark little void at the center of it a welcoming oblivion. With every inch I sink inside her, I am gripped and I am milked all the more. Her body was not made for me, but it knows what it is supposed to do, and the clenching motions of her inner muscles have great effect on me even though my mating rod is armored.

I am going to spill my seed deep inside her again. I am going to flood her with potency and potential life. It is being drawn from the very depths of me, commanded by forces and instincts beyond any of our controls. What we are doing now is following an imperative that came into existence at the very moment the universe was made. I have followed that imperative to the unwritten letter. I have fucked life into many fertile wombs. She will submit the same way they did because she is perfectly female, the same way they were.

I pull out of her pussy, though it is almost physically painful to do so this close to orgasm, and I toss her over onto her back, spreading her legs and tossing one over each shoulder. She is open before me, her fucked pussy spread and nearly properly ravaged. I hold back now. I let my cock brush the very entrance, not quite giving her what she wants and needs.

“Please,” she moans.

But I do not fuck her.

I spank her. My finger sweeps over the tender lips of her little cunt in a swift slap.

Her eyes fly open wide, and her lips make a little o of surprise. She did not expect that, pain in the midst of pleasure. But she does not fight it either. I see the little bud at the apex of her pussy hidden between the folds of her lips but peeking out all the more. It begs me to touch it.

I reach for that delicate, soft, timid little piece of her and I grip it lightly between two of my rough fingers. It is slick with her juices, and so sensitive she can’t help but roll her hips up and back down. I have found a new pleasure point to toy with and I intend to take full advantage of it. I alternate between teasing and spanking her pussy, enjoying the female scent of her ever wetter cunt.

Astaria is lost for words. I see her trying to form some occasionally, but they are always lost in a gasp or a moan. I have her under my control now, with her pussy spread before me like a biological dashboard. Every part of this sweet sexual display has a function that can be exploited.

I dip the head of my cock back inside her, just to give myself a fresh taste. She is hotter and wetter than before, and tighter. With every little rub of her bud, she clenches her muscles around me, threatening to grip the sensitive shaft of my cock so tightly I no longer know if I have the discipline to hold back. I push inside her, feeling her give for me and then grab me tight. Strumming and tapping her bud, I punish-pleasure her toward one of those greedy orgasms of hers, the toe-curling explosions of pure erotic energy unleashed around my cock.

“Blackmane!” She shouts my name in a ragged cry. Something about her voice, the desperate need in it, the rare vulnerability, the pure surrender makes me spill myself again. I pump rough seed inside her, flooding her once more.

I drop her hips back onto the bed and follow thereafter, wrapping her in my arms and holding her close. For a brief moment, we are just two souls. She is no captive princess, and I am no brutal warlord. We are just lovers, and that is enough.

The brief oasis of post-coital calm is broken by a dull thud coming from beneath the bed. I look over the edge and see that an arm has moved and a hand has slapped backward onto the ground.

I no longer have to ask where the body is. It’s under the bed. She’s managed to sneak out, kill another guard, and hide him while I was busy telling her father how she is entirely under my control.