the Chateau

bythestars Jun 6th, 2019 149 Never
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  1. stαr12/20/2018
  2. On the eve of the autumn solstice, the township of Wyrmscale faithfully covered their mirrors and made runic symbols in blood upon their doors. A few with larger properties or a special connection to the old ways established ceremonial altars to beseech the ancient one protection. Many searched the night sky or shilouette of the distant fortress that overlooked the valley for a sign of their guardian. Others wept at the genuine fear that this would be the year they would lose a beloved child, while gaining esteem from their neighbors. The chosen, pure of flesh and fair in appearance, were waiting in the meadow that resided between the town's gates and the mist ridden forest. Freshly scrubbed clean and groomed, anointed with oil or fragrance to garner favor, beacons in white against the wildflowers and glare of torch light. There were no binds to keep them in place from escaping judgement, just the oath that their lone sacrifice would guarantee another twenty years of good fortune. At the steep price of a single, innocent soul.. Only a demon would make such a demand. And yet no one saw the benefit in challenging it. As the sun dipped over the horizon to give way to twilight, a crowd began to form on the outskirts of the gate in morbid curiosity. An echoing crack as a tree fell in the woods was so unnerving for one of the chosen ten, that she scream in terror before returning back to  her family's hearth.
  3. ¢нυвву вυηηү12/21/2018
  4. felt his fingers brush against the grass that perked up upon the meadows. Just then his fingers pinched upon a single blade and tugged at it lightly. It was, perhaps more than anything, a defense mechanism for him to hold steady to his fears. Because the male knew full well that if he had succumb to the fear that loomed in the airs of Wyrmscale, he wasn't going to make it out alive even if he wasn't a part of the Chosen. A calm deep sense was needed. However, it was certainly difficult to try and ignore the pleas and cries of his mother, his father long passed. Luscious eyes flipped up, seeing the woman who birthed him begging for the townsfolk to open the door. And his best guess? That wasn't going to happen anytime soon. A frown propped upon his lips, genuine pain was felt just seeing the woman he loved most. If there was any way to make it better for her, he would take it. For the longest time, he's done nothing but work at the woodshop just so he could make a living for her. Perhaps cure her illness that his father died fighting. The sudden crack of a tree caused the blonde male to raise his head up, hair falling slightly to his face. It seemed they had caught him in a bad time, he wasn't even given enough to prepare his long hair into the usual ponytail. The woman, who had been so startled, began dashing back into the town, the male almost wanting to stand up and stop her. But really? She was just a woman wanting the comfort of her own home. So he was going to stay, let things happen. If he died tonight, then he died knowing that his family, his mother would have nothing else to worry about.
  5. stαr12/21/2018
  6. It was an unnerving affair at the very least, but only one of the Chosen would be taken by the Night Queen. The rest would be spared to remember this horrifying uncertainty, and watch as their town continued to prosper without corruption from the outside world. News of war, famine, and wickedness were brought with travelers. But the valley remained pure, fortuitous, and protected.. Several minutes passed between the sound of the felled tree, and when the mist from the forest began to pool into the meadow with the slithering movements of a serpent. A few gasped and others made sign of the cross. None bore witness to the exact moment that the cloaked figure appeared from within, as if materializing from thin air. A cloak of the deepest black that made the nightsky pale in comparison, while shrouding the petite form from view, produced a strange allure to the near glide as it drew forward for a better look of the offerings. The hood was drawn low to conceal features, a mercy to the public who could not stomach to bare witness to the devil that saved and plagued them. Yet the elegance of finely boned fingers prodded and caressed each of the Chosen in turn, almost clinical in manner. One of the girls fainted, and a boy not far behind her, unable to bare the idea of their fate. Yet it was the blonde that suddenly felt the full stare of the ancient one, as the cloaked figure returned to stand before him for another look.
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  8. His eyes found the mist slowly creeping into the meadow, something so simple felt so unnerving an unnatural. Even as his entire body and features presented one that gave off the idea that he feared nothing. That he feared no one, the male's entire soul was eating out pf his physical body. He was afraid. Death wasn't something one could take on lightly, and having to face a demon for that made things even more unsettling. The gasps from the crowd finally turned his attention to the cloaked figure stepping out of the forest. Each and every one of the chosen stood up, save for those who already were. It felt as if they were all enticed to do so, each and every one of them were firm and in attention. As if any sudden movements would make the hooded figure outright end their lives. Two people had passed out, and the male struggled, did his best not to join them in their venture. His eyes, as handsome as they were, were drawn into the gaze of the hooded figure. From where he stood, he couldn't exactly tell how it looked like, but the fingers that prodded and caressed him made his body quiver in fear. For one, it was staring at him for longer than it should have. Oh no. Good lord no. Was he? Was he the chosen? The few people off to his side were intently watching, perhaps praying that the hooded figure would choose him and simply be over with it. His heart clenched and made silent prayers to whoever was willing to listen. This was going to be the last night he saw wasn't it?
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  10. Perhaps it was the false bravado of his stance that drew attention. Or was it the fair coloring of his hair, that shined like white gold in the moonlight? Or maybe it was the expressive nature of his eyes? Or the unbidden parting of his mouth in silent horror? Or it could be the broad set of shoulders coupled with a lean frame and a slim waist? Whatever it was that drew interest, the demon or goddess, depending on one's outlook.. seemed to grow steadily more interested with every passing moment in the apprentice carpenter. The inspection was more caressing and kneading in administration this time around, as they took careful inventory of his frame. Fingers sliding beneath the waistband of trousers to give his dick a few experimental pumps. Touch was firm and cool, soft as velvet and applied the right amount of pressure to be pleasurable. If he did not pull back from shame or terror, slender hand would continue to stroke him as opposite hand would settle on the male's hip to steady him. The perversion was witnessed occasionally in the past when the Night Queen came, in various ways that left more than a few with confused inner demons. But this would be the first time, a parent was present to witness a 'milking' of their son's seed.
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  12. The male was a man who had firm belief in himself, and that he did right by his family with everything that he did. It was the only thing he wanted to do in life. So in turn, there was that small release of pressure from his body, knowing that he's had no regrets in the past. But it was made extremely difficult by the way it looked at him. The male could tell that whatever the hooded one was, it was female. She had a way about her, and her fingers were more than enough of an indication to know. But something had caught him off-guard, one that set confusion in not only him, but those around them. Her hand found itself within his trousers, slipping past it's garters. When she'd find his member, it would have been set off to one side of his leg. Some would consider it a waste for him not to be using it. For that he has NEVER used it on a woman. Ever. But it was because he had better things in mind than the pleasures of the body. Work. His family. His mother. One that was bearing witness to this lustful act. And while it did feel good, and shamefully he leaned just a bit closer for her to have a better stroke of that slowly hardening cock, his hand came up to her wrist, immediately stopping her. His grip was firm, and the act of stopping her that way might set her off for his slow , painful death.
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  14. There was no mistaking the flare of desire that sprouted from the youth. Born no doubt as it was the first time that another hand had taken liberties with his length. The abrupt pressure of fingers to wrist was not strong enough to detour her should she wish to continue, but she paused none the less. Or rather the stroking maneuver was stilled, only for thumb to rub insidiously at the tip until rewarded with a single droplet of precum. It was this prize that when hand was removed from trousers, would be offered up to a mouth that lurked beneath the hood for a taste. After a moment, free hand would grasp cloak and give it an abrupt snap upwards shrouding the pair from view. He would immediately be met with a dizzying sensation of falling, even as the heartbroken wail of a mother who has lost everything echoed behind him. Into darkness he was plunged, with the lifeline being the hold upon wrist. In the end however, he would succumb, as they all did.. When he awoke later, it was in a dark bedchamber with nothing but the moonlight to give him a clue to his initial surroundings.
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  16. Had no doubt that whatever he tried, there was no way he was going to stop her. Perhaps it was the male's way of at least sparing his mother of a sight she didn't want to see. For the briefest of moments, their eyes met, the blonde finally having a better look of her slender features, but not nearly enough to make anything out. She seemed hungry for what he had accidentally released, a tinge of guilt welling upon his throat. But before he could even say anything, her cloak began swallowing them whole, and the last of which he could accurately hear was his mother calling out for his name, one that had been lost to the wind. The grip upon her wrist was tightened, showing exactly how strong someone as an apprentice carpenter would be like. But of course, the dizzying sensation tossed him down upon the ground even before he could analyze where he was. Both palms were pressed on the ground, a single knee propping him up. "Where are we?" His voice was rather deep, but it complemented the well-toned body that he possessed.
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  18. For several long moments it would appear that the Chosen was alone in his new and strange surroundings. A spacious room shrouded in shadows that seemed to dance just out of the corner of eye. No matter how he twisted head or attempted to pierce their depths, he would be denied unless he left the safety of the moonlight to wander blind. The bed itself was large and intimidating in appearance, the heavy curtains of canopy were tied securely to posts. Yet the sheer lining still billowed and shifted with the chilling breeze, almost like ghost fingers that beckoned him forward into the security of black satin sheets. The posts themselves upon close inspection were a marriage of ebony wood and white gold engravings to produce imagery of twining vines and roses. Delicate and savage. "The Chateau," a voice finally answered, utterly feminine in quality, like a red wine and silk. It was unnerving only because it seemed to project from nowhere and everywhere at once. "What is your name?" the curiosity evident, as a sensation of fingertips could be felt upon neck in a caress. But no one was there to claim his vision.
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  20. The sickening feeling still filled his lungs, breath was steady, yet needy. The presence of something dark loomed the area as to where he had been put. The nagging sensation of fear pulled him in and out of consciousness, yet the male remained steady upon the ground. Even as he attempted to stand, it felt as if something had kept him down. Not otherworldly per se, but one that had been conjured entirely by his thoughts. In other words, he was scared. Of course, this time around, there was no one he needed to keep a face with. Death was knocking on his door, yet the blonde refused to answer. "Chateau?" Almost immediately, he had assumed it was her home. "If you sought to kill me, then take my life while I am remain ready." Because whatever higher being was watching should know, that if the anticipation lasted even a minute longer, the male would come unprepared to face his fate. "Must you know? I see no purpose for you to learn my name if you only seek to rid me of this world, no?" And as words escaped lips, hand came to touch at his nape. Something had touched him, but he couldn't see whatever it was.
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  22. To be fair, it would be a terrifying situation for anyone to be in. If he had broken to his knees in fretful sobs or cursed the gods for his plight, there would have been no judgment. A high price was being demanded of him, one life to secure the future of many. What tomorrows had he dreamed of? What experiences was he to be robbed of? There was an equal measure of fear and ire within him, enough so that it gave his captor pause in the teasing of her meal. "Do you desire death?" this time the inquiry was in his ear, a sultry whisper that felt as if someone was stroking circles of fire on his abdomen. Abruptly the Chosen was forced back onto the bed, a featherbed mattress was akin to a cloud in it's embrace of muscular form, as sheets seemed to pool around him like a pool of water. "Do you wish to die here, in my arms?" familiar fingers of the cloaked woman from before now were visible as they traced over handsome jaw. The moonlight turned flawless skin into the pure brilliance of snow, cool like the gray hours of morning but not unpleasant. Blonde head prompted to turn towards a face that could have been featured in the palace of king, sharp like a knife in quality with a beauty that rivaled an angel. From the delicate line of brow, to slender upturned nose, to lips red as ripe cherries there wasn't a single imperfection to bare witness to. Even her terrible eyes, red as blood rubies, were luminous in quality and ringed by long black lashes. A mane of deep ebony, tumbled in bewitching waves to frame face and conceal nude torso from view.
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  24. The male held himself at a higher purpose than to just break down in tears, but it was no easy task to keep himself composed amidst the fleeting sense of safety. It had been taken away from him, and a future that was still unknown to him had been stripped away. or so he thoughts. Here he was, in what was known as the Chateau, and the only though in his mind was how he was going to leave the world, and in the hopes that the next life would be a much better experience than this. His head quickly jerked to the opposite side of the ear where she had whispered her query. Brows furrowed, almost meeting upon the middle of his features. "As long as it be done in favor of the town, then yes." The hearty tone of his voice echoed through the room, the male finally finding the strength to stand, only to be tossed towards the bed. Although the landing had been rough, he was embraced by it's fabrics into a seductive lull that almost made him want to accept the slumber it offered upon it's grasp. Could this be what she wanted? For him to accept death in his sleep? "Perhaps." He replied in turn, struggling to move upwards, but felt his chiseled jaw captured by the same slender fingers. Eyes focused upon her features. A beauty that most men would settle on their knees and beg for. It was nearly indescribable, so much so that her perfection was eerie in nature. It was unnatural to be that beautiful, or so that was how the male viewed it to be. Lips slowly parted, as if he were to speak, but lacking the necessary words. Her eyes were red, a frightening sight, but it was that same oddity that made him curious. Was this her true nature? Or did she take on a form that he would like? "What is it you want from me, creature?" He demanded an answer.
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  26. There was the usual marriage of admiration and horror in his gaze when favored with a view of her face. A look she had glimpsed a hundred times, and would likely bare witness to a thousand more.. It was nothing new or different to be found there. And yet, she hadn't killed him yet. Few that had been chosen continued to hold faith that their sacrifice held meaning, often they begged to be released or bargained for the soul of others. He remained resolute, despite his obvious fear.. anger.. and indignation. There was a time when the feeding was a far more public spectacle, but the display had been deemed barbaric over a hundred or so years ago. The protector was meant to be a benevolent force despite it's ritualistic demand. "I do not know," an honest answer to mirror his. "Perhaps I desire to hear a voice that is not mine. Or to prolong the ache I feel for your surrender. Or would I be satisfied with the taste of your seed on my lips?" dark head tilted upon axis as she studied the subtle curve of his mouth, surprisingly sensual for a man. Soft pad of thumb rubbing along it, "Give me your name." It was not a request this time, but a demand that would sink into his bones and carve it out of him.
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  28. had always been one of those people who thought that the ritual, whatever it was the town did to appease some form of ancient evil, to be cruel and needless. It wasn't something that needed to exist. Yet somehow, the people never bothered, or even tried questioning it. Everyone simply seemed to obey whatever was asking for it, like sheep lining up for the shepherd. Fingers grazed cruelly upon the delicate fabric of the bed, while eyes gazed upon her who hovered in front of him. Like an enigma waiting to suck the life from him. The words that escaped her lips would not go unnoticed. For it was foolish, and rather difficult to ignore such tone and viscosity. What was she implying? That she wanted company? Why would a being such as herself seek the company of the people? The male highly doubted what she spoke, but didn't question it verbally. There was still traces of fear laying within his chest. "My seed on your--" The chose shifted his gaze to watch her lips move. She talked about it, and it was only now that he came to admire the curve, the form, on the lush nature of it. Her request for his name, was again denied, legs shifting to one side as an attempt to leave the bed. Yet, a feeling inside of him began to burn. It was a torturing sensation, a fire hotter than lava seeped within his pores, urging him to speak his name. "Quentin." The blonde winced. "Quentin Oakley."
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  30. It was an unfair advantage that the demoness would hold over him, compulsion was an example of dark and archaic magic. To bend and twist the mind for answers or actions that its bearer would be loathe to commit. And yet, no sooner had the information been fed to her, there was a surge of relief within him. A delicious and euphoric warmth that he had pleased her. The attempted roll towards the edge of the bed was short-lived, as instead he was guided back to the intensity of her stare. "Quentin," his name rolled about on tongue as if to savor a morsel of meat, "Quentin Oakley." There was a near purr in her voice as she said his name, with the sensation of being caressed and licked in the most private of places with a hundred tongues dedicated to his pleasure. "Yes, Quentin.. I desire your seed on my lips," a siren's call to the hot blooded man beneath the surface, no matter his inexperience. "Would it please you? " fingers running through his hair and beneath the linen of his shirt. Cool and fever inducing as she attempted to soothe his fears with the offering of carnal delight.
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  32. Lips were thin, and his breathing steady. The pain that had punished his body began to slowly subside when his name was denounced. Quentin. He was one of the few people who held their names at such a high regard. So much so that most people from the town knew who Quentin was. Although it was clear that he mostly kept to himself and his family. That had always been his first priority. Her offer had been met with a slow head shake. "I do not understand." The emotionless lips slowly became a frown on his features. And he didn't mean that he lacked knowledge in the sexual pleasures of life, but he was clueless as to why this is what she sought for. In his mind, the needs of an ancient being such as herself far surpassed carnal pleasures. "Why?" He asked, moving back slightly, away from her touch. yet her natural allure almost made him want to strip himself of his clothes and let her have her way with him. Something that would definitely be a first in his life. Quentin wasn't about to lie and say that he hadn't thought about it in the past, but greater things too precedence over carnal desires. "...I suppose." He whispered.
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  34. A chuckle sounded, husky and inviting, ideal for the close proximity they shared. The first note of true amusement on this night that was meant to be his demise. Yet, it would appear that a quick death was not in his cards. No doubt he would wonder if she was a cat playing with her food.. "Why, my love?" gaze watching his half-hearted retreat, the distance between them barely noticeable as morbid curiosity kept him from straying. Or was it the promise of pleasure that he had never known? "Because your taste lingers on my tongue still. I will not be satisfied until it burns my throat and fills my belly," a direct way of speaking, as the pair were alone and not in polite company. The demoness did not wait for him to accept or protest, instead the absurdity of white linen trousers were ripped open by the flick of wrist and nails that were sharper than teeth. Dreaded ruby gaze shifting from his to stare hungrily at his member, as the cloth fell to the wayside. Quentin would suffer no delusions that despite her lithe stature, he wouldn't be a match for her if he fled or fought his fate.
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  36. Her chuckle. She seemed so... normal. At least at times. But Quentin could tell that she wasn't here for what says she was. He could almost feel her lies kiss his skin. A lump had formed upon throat, head titled down to watch as the fabrics moved with every inch that she did. It wasn't just the promise of pleasure that made him stay, it was also the fear of no knowing where to go if he chose to fled. Exactly how far could he go? How fast could she keep up? These were the kinds of questions he first had to consider before making any rash decisions. However, even before he could say anymore, the trousers had been ripped by some force with the smallest flicks of her wrist. With that, revealed a member that could be appraised by most who desired one. It's length almost too unbelievable to be natural even in it's flaccid state. An arm shot up in front of him, as if on instinct, perhaps hoping that with that simple action she would stay back. But the both of them knew that wasn't going to deter her. "There is absolutely nothing of interest about me, creature." He spoke rather harshly, yet in a manner so calculated it would have been hard to determine whether he was insulting her, or he was speaking the truth.
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  38. It was true, that as a male specimen he was in top form. There was a delicious jut of pelvic bones that tapered into a natural v shape towards his crotch. Golden curls a shade or two darker in hue than that of his head, pronounced his vitality loud and clear as it spilt over palm sized ball sac and the upper part of thighs. A well suited mane for the beast of a member at his disposal. What did they feed the men in his town? Or was it the breeding with outsiders that blessed him with such a glorious dick? "I beg to differ, my love," almost sing-songy in her reply, and the second usage of an endearment. The sheets shifted around him, winding about wrists and dragging them forcibly to the mattress. Gentle in their binding, but secure to prevent his attempt to stall her from continuing forward. She relocated with a fluid grace of a serpent in the grass to slip between his legs, prompting his thighs to stretch open as palms ran over the muscle beneath skin in a kneading press to afford some relief and apology to the shameful state he found himself in. "Forgive me, Quentin. I cannot help myself," gaze shifting up to meet his, even as head angled to the side and began to lower.
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  40. would have absolutely no idea as to how well formed the other males of the town were. For the most part, Quentin had kept mostly everything to himself, and that included his body. Although working as a carpenter for a few years of his life certainly attributed to the way his body had been finely shaped. Ranging from the abdomen that sported lumps that usually made women go crazy, or the V cut made his trousers so desirably low. His wrists had slowly been dragged apart, Quentin immediately tugging upon it, but even the bindings would not budge from the strength that he had applied. Even as he tried harder, no effect would come about, and only when she had asked for forgiveness did he stop to look at her. What was she doing? It did not take him long to realize that her head was slowly lowering down upon his cock. And although his legs shifted about, desperate to be free, his cock twitched with delight and anticipation. What was her mouth going to feel like? What was anything going to feel like? Even as his mind was screaming for her not to do it, words did not escape him. he was going to let her do it, because shamefully, maybe this time around he wanted her to.
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  42. The struggle for freedom was futile, but he did not voice a request to be released. Either surrendering to whatever torture she had planned or on some level not truly wanting her to cease. Tongue brushed roughly against the base of dick, before gliding upwards to trace the veins to the tip that would moisten soon enough under her attentions. It was warmer in temperature than the touch of her skin would otherwise lead him to believe. Sensitive nostrils breathing in the scents of cedar wood and his natural taint. She licked him several times in this manner, tip to base and back again; until he grew comfortable with the bathing sensation. Finding a special delight in the fretful twitching of excitement, and the near unblinking return of his gaze. For she was cruel enough to maintain eye contact with him, imprisoning him a second time. Dark head dipped lower still to permit tongue to rub intimately over the warmth of left side of sac, rolling the jewel gently. Fingers of one hand abandoning the kneading of his thigh to take hold of his member, and curl about his girth. But he was too big for fingers to quite meet palm. All the same, the shallow pool was a kiss of satin as it slid along his saliva slick shaft.
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  44. perhaps he had already given up on trying to set himself free. in fact, Quentin had forgotten all about escaping the place, for he found no viable way to escape her clutches. If she could so bring him and herself to a different location at the flick of a cape, what use is running then? What use is struggling for a life outside of her hold? In fact, the real frightening aspect about everything was that if he did run, what horrible things could she do to the town? His mother? Quentin would never know. However, her sudden actions upon his cock would reward her with legs that shift around a few times. It was a sensation that he was no familiar with. It was new. It was something else. it was... good. Shamelessly, the male tossed his head back, the pleasure getting the best of him. Whether it was the way she coated him with her saliva, or the way she stroked him. Her tongue rolling his sac, and what if held within caused Quentin to bite upon his lip. For as much as he tried to struggle, no use would come out of it. It was simply too good for him. The male struggled with himself internally, cursing the fact that he wanted more. He tried his best not to speak it, but  the weakening state of his arms, and the heavy breathing should be some form of indication for her. Slowly, precum would drip from the tip of his cock, pooling up into a tiny bubble at the top.
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  46. The abilities witnessed thus far in their short time together were mere parlor tricks compared to the actual power at her disposal, and even those paled against the elders. A breed that would have seen the valley saturated in blood and tears, instead of maintaining its guardianship. But this was knowledge that Quentin would be ignorant of, at least for a time. It all mattered entirely on whether or not he could maintain her favor. As of that particular moment, this year's sacrifice was proving to be a certain delight. Embrace of fingers and palm continued their slow, languid pump of gradually hardening cock. Thumb certain to stroke teasingly over tip with each passing, knowing how sensitive it would be for him. But mouth was otherwise engaged with the peculiar tang of sac, applying suction now as it was invited into the moist cave of mouth. Tongue lifting and rolling the sensitive ball with the patience of a saint in prayer. After several long minutes, this act was repeated to the right side of sac.
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  48. knew nothing of the extent of her powers. But of course, at the same time it didn't mean that he was completely oblivious to the difference between himself, and the ancient one. However, that thought might have been something that was shelved for later. Now, the only thing that occupied Quentin's mind was the mouth of the woman. The mouth the seemed to be paying far too much attention to places that no one else has touched before. Moans spilled from the male's lips, moans that would have --and might have-- resembled pleads for more, for her to stick his cock into that hungry mouth of her's. After all, it's what she wanted, right? Hands balling into fist, resisting the constant twitching the his length had made. His mind swirled a few times, thinking about just how pleasurable this was. Yet, at the same time, Quentin constantly reminded himself to be grounded, anchored to reality, and not give in to the things she wanted him to succumb to. She was still after all, at least in his mind, an evil entity bent on killing him. For now, this must be what she though of as a form of sick game, no doubt playing around with the male for as long as she possibly could.
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  50. The sweet tenor of his moans were as encouraging as a spiced ale on a cold winter's night. Encouraging her in the most basic of communication to continue, even if he would not permit himself to speak it. A secret smile formed around the sac that she gave an affectionate nibble to, before releasing it to allow for head to lift and watch the war build within himself. All the while stroking him to continue the agonizing sensation of pleasure he had never witnessed outside of his own hand. Although, a part of her wondered if he had ever paid such self-worship to himself.. In time however, for his benefit and hers, plump tiers would come to cradle the sensitive tip of the impressive cock. Visiting a series of amorous kisses that eventually drew him into her mouth. Not entirely, just the tip! Pink muscle working over the delicious droplets of precum, even as it swirled and kneaded with the same maddening ministrations she had on his sac. Ever stroking, ever coaxing him towards the edge of oblivion.
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  52. Self-worship was never on the table for him. Mostly due to the fact that he worked from the morning to the evening, and whenever he'd get home, it would be straight to the comfort of his bed, and the sweet embrace of sleep. it was never so that he had time, or the willpower to do something such as that to himself. For the moment, Quentin feared that he would get used to the pleasure. That he would eventually succumb to how good it felt to have lips working upon his neglected parts. When she had drawn the tip of him into her mouth, the male's lips opened wide, a pleasure face being offered to the woman in return, yet the struggle within him still apparent on his features. Her tongue swirled, and he could feel it with every inch of skin that it passed by, driving Quentin crazier and crazier as the moments went by. So much that at which point his toes had curled up from the sheer pleasure that she as offering. "Please." he finally whispered. "More." And that was when he finally gave into his most basic needs.
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  54. The war continued to play out handsome features, as two sides of himself struggled to comprehend what was transpiring and if relinquishing control to her wouldn't be such a terrible thing. In the end, Quentin crumbled under the new sensations she brought to him. A sample of pleasure that he had denied himself for too long. There was an audible smack as mouth released his member, tongue raking over her lips to give him the satisfaction that she was enjoying it as much as he. "As you wish, my love," cruel to be kind, in a murmur of acceptance to his surrender. Mouth enclosed around the tip once more, but this time slid lower before retreating. Grip of hand not far behind, to give him the same unending attention. Tongue flattened and widened, swirled and stroked, as each time she fed herself a bit more of him. Inviting him ever deeper inside, until he was wet from tip to base with her mouth and his own juices. The pantomime began of sex between man and woman, but it was her mouth that gobbled him up, eager to be the chalice for his seed.
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