The poove lay back amongst the bed's plushy cushions with her optic closed, and groaned in frustration. She glanced down at the head of the man between her spread head legs and regarded the mop of curly blond hair bobbing frantically as he tried to please her. His natural language jabbed erratically between her cunt lips, like he was trying to stab her with it. There was no rhythm, no technique. Just as she was beginning to feel some wave of pleasure building he'd deflower it time and time again by changing pacing or doing something else to break the build-up.

The man had shown such promise when he'd been captured during the siege of Garanelle far to the south. When she finally led her warrior maid to her enemy's throne room, this man had stood defiantly at the foreland of the old Martin Luther King's escort. He was grandiloquent and bare-chested, his sun-kissed hide glistening with the heat and sweat of battle. He crouched in a defensive airs, two short swords held ready before him. Ten early men stood by him, glancing nervously at each other and looking almost like they'd break and run as the Queen and her warriors approached. Only he had stood firm and defiant.

The fight had been agile and bloody, her rough maiden making prompt work of the enemy. Within minute of arc only the whimpering king and the handsome senior pilot remained alive. Knowing their queen regnant's unsatiable desires well, two of her smirking maid bound the man's hands behind his back, hauled him to his ft and carried him away. Satisfied, the Queen swiftly executed the snivelling queen at her feet, installed one of her close ally as city regulator, and began preparations for the long marchland home.

The Queen's donjon were filled with men like the captain - proud, brave and fine male specimens taken in her interminable subjection of neighbouring lands, shackled and marched back to her palace for her pleasure. She had her maiden over bring her one, sometimes two, every couple of day. She would dominate them, push them to worship her snatch and fuck her, in her constant search for anyone who could satisfy her, who could meet her demands and check her combustion passions.

After spending close to a calendar month in her dungeon, the Garanellian captain's bluster was gone. No incertitude he'd watched as others before him were taken to her. Some, those that particularly displeased her, would not return ; others would be dragged whimpering back to the jail cell displaying the signs of her displeasure for all to see - furious red lash marks, maybe pierced or deplumate nipples, sometimes move out cocks or globe. She liked to imagine such men acted as warnings and encouragement to those awaiting their turn, like the captain.

The defiance he'd shown in battle was definitely gone when he was brought to her bedroom, and he was eager to please when she ordered him between her second joint. But who would hold thought such a ok looking man would eat pussy like a doll pecking for a dirt ball ? Sighing, she propped herself up on one elbow and reached down to tug him away. Sensing his unsuccessful person, the panicked man began to furiously try rubbing her clit.

She winced at the sudden discomfort and kicked him sprawling to the base of the bed."turn back it, you idiot !"she snapped,"What was that ? Were you trying to light a firing on my clit or something ?"

"mistress, forgive me !"he spluttered.

She reached for a gold campana on the ornate side-table and rang it. Almost instantly, the big double doors to her chambers swung inward and an attendee entered. Like the Queen, the cleaning woman was powerfully built, with dusky skin and long brown hair. She was barefoot, and wore a flowing White robe cinched at her waist with a gold braid. The fabric was sheer, the servant's little knocker, saturnine areolae and pointed pap clearly visible. She rushed to the bedside and dropped to one human knee, both palms flat on the tile before her and head bowed.

"What is your desire, my Queen ?"

"hold this one,"said the queen regnant, gesturing dismissively,"Cut out his natural language, and remove the index and middle digit of his right wing hand."

"As you command."The attender gestured beyond the spread out threshold and two muscled warrior maidens entered. The captain sobbed as they each gripped under one of his arms and hauled him away.

The meeter waited until they had left, then returned to her kneeling position, head bowed and eyes cast down again.

"There was something else ?"asked the Queen.

"A message from General Syndara, my state of grace. I did not bid to disturb you."

"What does my general say ?"

"full general Syndara has returned from her raiding in the savage tribal lands to the far north. She has captured one of their chieftains. She has him in the throne elbow room now and says you may be….interested in him."

"Oh ?"the Queen arched a curious eyebrow, and felt the familiar spirit urge oceanic abyss in her cunt, bore to be scratched.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hard worker stood naked in the crowded pot room. Where the Garanellian captain was bronzed with aureate hair and clean chiselled features, the Northern barbarian chieftain was snow picket, with a smooth bald head and a shaggy beard speckled chocolate-brown, red and a dusting of blond around the upper lip. His bared bureau was similarly covered in fuzz, and his powerful arms were bound before him. He tested the alloy shackles around his articulatio radiocarpea. They were solidly built, but there was a little give in the range of mountains links. He thought he could probably pull them apart, but in this immense crowded manse it would mean null but a swift death.

Many of the buildings he'd passed on the long MArch to the capital had been amazing, far beyond anything in his frozen homeland, but the palace throne room was the undivided most impressive quad he'd ever seen. The vaulted ceiling was over 80 pes high-pitched, supported by two rows of ten thick marble columns. At each English of the antechamber, just below the ceiling, were words of arciform windowpane, stained glass illuminating the cavernous space in brilliant instinctive lighter. The walls were decorated floor to ceiling in elaborate murals of a carnal and hedonistic nature, tricks of light seeming to make the depicted seas of flesh writhe in mania, painted mouths open in ecstasy.

But the mural were not the most lurid things in the throne room.

The hallway was packed with women - 100 of courtiers, guards and officials crowded around him among the towering pillar. All were dark and stunningly beautiful and most were completely naked, adorned only in glittering jewelry - gold or silver medal necklaces plunging between firm breasts, preciously set inlaid with gems wrapped around their coat of arms, luxuriant head objet d'art catching the light as they moved their school principal. Even those fair sex who wore some fabrics the Slave would not prognosticate ‘ clothed ’. The dresses were long, wanton and flow, but invariably cut to go forth very short to the imagination.

The women were not the only ones in the manse, however ; many of them were accompanied by virile companions. The men ranged dramatically in appearing, and it seemed to the Slave that here was represented every race of man on the planet. Some wore various type of leather vest, harnesses or straps, though every one of them had their peter exposed. They were not bound at the radiocarpal joint as he was, but each man wore a tight collar around his neck. Some of the men stood silently with their heads bowed beside their cleaning woman. With one manus the cleaning woman held tenacious chains linked back to the neck opening apprehension, while the other hand languidly stroked the men's erect cocks up and down. Others knelt on the tiled trading floor before their fancy woman, their faces buried and tongues lapping. Those cleaning lady would absentmindedly run their hands through their pet'hair while they chatted and laughed cordially amongst themselves.

Despite his state of affairs, the Slave could not serve but finger a inspiration in his loins at the casual presentation around him, his cock prolongation to a rig erection.

Just then, there seemed to be some movement near the presence of the throne room, at a room access off to the side behind the throne. A mussitation of excited rustling rippled through the gathered crowd like a wave, and the hard worker heard a trumpet blowing somewhere out of mountain. He glanced at his captor beside him. The fair sex was dressed in ceremonial occasion gold armour and the Slave knew her to be an important general, the leader of the U. S. Army that had invaded his motherland.

She reached out and gripped him tightly, one arm on his shoulder, the early at his cubitus. As she began marching him forward the people in movement of them parted to construct way, and he could finally get a proper flavor at the crapper. It sat on a raised rostrum and appeared to be carved of a single small-arm of whiteness stone streaked through with glittering pink. It had a high back, decorated in flowing abstracted patterns that somehow managed to take care erotic despite depicting no obvious body parts or sexual enactment. However, what struck the striver as they approached closer, was that the hot seat appeared to situation quite low to the floor, and the al-Qaida, where the occupant would sit, featured a large U-shaped cut-out.

They came to a hitch just before the ambo, and a moment later the Slave watched as a contact woman swept across the raised political program to the can. Her tenacious auburn hair was tied up in a senior high school bun, lose strands on either side framing a gorgeous face with full moon rim and dark brown heart like pond of unthaw coffee. Her crown was a simpleton silver band across her os frontale, and she wore earrings decorated with a synodic month and heart pattern. Her berm were bare and she wore a ridicule black corset around her waist. Like most women in the room, her chest was bare, her large breasts firm, her nipples hard. She wore black silk bird, split high gear to the coxa at the side so that as she walked the Slave caught frequent glimpse of strong muscled stage and a large ass.

The Queen stopped before the potty and turned to gaze out over the sea of bodies. The grumble died down to an heedful silence, such was the respect and devotion she commanded. The world-wide at the striver's side pushed forcefully at his berm, trying to get him to kneel. He gritted his teeth and resisted, but one of the warrior maid behind him swiftly jabbed him in the back of the knee with the butt of her fizgig. He grunted with the sharp sudden pain and dropped to one knee.

The superior general and the Queen spoke at length. The Slave did not speak their linguistic process, but he surmised that the general was recounting the success of the invasion, occasionally pointing at him. After some time, the poove nodded her head, stretched out an arm and beckoned towards him. The universal hauled him to his invertebrate foot with misleading strength and pushed him forward, up two footprint to the rostrum and five feet from the Queen.

He tested his bail bond again, could feel the weakened chain liaison stretch as he exerted pressure. He was simple metrical foot from the charwoman responsible for the invasion of his homeland, the slaughter of his people and the burning of his body politic. With one sudden motion he could wrench his manus liberal, cover the distance between them and rip out her throat. It would think of certain expiry for him of course, but he could avenge his people and prevent this demoness's insatiable spread across the realms.

He was about to act when she surprised him and spoke his language.

"You are a boldface one,"she said with a hint of wry amusement, an eyebrow raised as she glanced down. Had she noticed the shackles giving way, or was she commenting on his turncock's partial erection, his physical structure's betrayal ? He wasn't sure.

She turned away before he could think any more of it, and moved to the toilet. A naked attender ran up beside her and the striver was further surprised when the faggot unclasped the chick at her side, folded it and gave it to the attendant, leaving herself defenseless apart from the corset. She turned back to face the Slave.

"You are going to please me,"she said,"Or, you will at least try."

He shook his head, snarled a hex at her and bickering on the story before him. She continued as though nil had happened, her tone matter-of-fact, almost conversational."We brought nearly two thousand of your countryman with you here in chains, and we hold close to another ten thousand in prison house camps across your motherland. If you make the attempt and fail, you will be executed. If you refuse to make the attempt, I will start with executing the two thousand here."

The threat horrified him and he stared at her with widened centre. Part of him tried to reason that it was a lie, a bluff, but the grownup part, the office that knew the Queen's reputation, told him otherwise. He relaxed the breed in his limb. He would stick bound and obedient for the prison term being. He would show her what northern tyke could do. If he pleased her, he would live a while longer to plot his next activeness. He bowed his head and nodded once slightly, never taking his cold eyes off her.

The Queen's smirk grew to a satisfied grinning, and she lowered herself onto her commode, her legs supported on either side of the U-shaped hole. As it was lower than a standard president, her knee were raised somewhat higher, causing her puss backtalk to voice, opening her up to the story below. As he watched, the slave noted what appeared to be a small dent cushion on the story under the throne.

The general stepped away and two warrior maiden took him by the arms and marched him to the throne. They turned him around so that he faced the crowd with his back to the Queen, and pushed him down, first to his knees and then back. He found himself lying on the dais with his feet towards the crowd, his point just in front of the throne with the Queen's feet on either side of him. The warrior maid stepped to the face, reached under the throne and grabbed him under his arm pits, sliding him under.

He found his point resting on the concave cushion, forcing it penny-pinching to the yap in the throne. He was an column inch from the fagot's exposed pussy and asshole. Her pussy was shaved bare, the John Brown chassis surrounding her lips smooth and soft. Her post opened her labia like peak petals, and he could see her glistening moist folds, pink and wet with upheaval. He took a acute intake of breathing space and his nostril were filled with her scent, an intoxicating smell that spoke to his primal core, despite himself.

"Now,"he heard her Call out, her vocalisation carrying over the audience,"Eat me !"

The crew cheered and applauded, and the fag shifted her position slightly, pushing herself further down into the hole. The hard worker found his nose suddenly buried between her ass cheeks, probing her anus which puckered at the contact. He gave a muffled grunt of surprise, his mouth pushed against her hot mound. With the shock absorber holding his headway in situation, the pouf ground herself against his aspect and moaned.

Her juice coated his beard and flooded his mouth, the taste thick and salty, and he found his tongue lapping at her sheepcote, as if instinctively seeking more of the nectar.

"Yessss,"she hissed through gritted tooth,"That's it, lick me."

He ran his tongue in longsighted steady strokes over and over again from the floor of her cunt to her clitoris, barely touching it, just teasing it with a Light Within picture before returning to her deepness. She gasped each prison term and he smirked inwardly as he sensed her frustration, her longing. She was very wet now, her grool thick and stringy and ruffle with his saliva. He couldn't see it from his position, but he knew his peter was standing rock hard now, twitching and bobbing, plain for all the audience to see.

The Queen pushed down further and gasped."Oh shtup, yes !"

The striver pushed up as far as he could to meet her, rasped his tongue across her plane flesh, gathering her juices to swallow. Then he drove his clapper as abstruse into her channel as he could. She shuddered and moaned,"Ai, ai, ai, ai"in shortly ragged groan over and over again.

The Slave savoured her musk, the gasping sound of her excitement enflaming his own desires. He bucked his hips as he feasted on her slit, instinctively thrusting his shaft in the air seeking dismissal. He lapped again with a ferocious thirst, his tongue lashing up and down her pussy. Then he shifted slightly and attacked her button, flicking his clapper across it and sucking it tightly between his hot lips.

As he sucked the engorged nub, she cried out and mashed her pussy down, grinding quickly back and forth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the toilet, the Queen threw her pass back, her centre closed, as the luscious sensations built and built within her. She reached a hand to one of her titty, and her digit pinched and pulled her knockout chocolate coloured nipple, electricity shooting through her dresser, traveling down her body and adding to the pressure level in her center. She felt like every face was singing as the Slave's tongue lashed at her.

She opened her optic and looked down before her. She was dimly aware of the crowded hall. As was custom, the audience took their cue from her to gratify in their own joy in earnest, and had waited until the Slave began eating her out. Now the throne room was filled with moans and groans, the slapping strait of hard flesh driving into soft. But she ignored it all, filtered it out, focusing only on the hard worker stopcock bobbing before her. It was long and thick, the head swollen and purple. A glistening string of precum leaked from the eye, and she watched with hungriness as it dripped and connected with the striver's stomach, forming a thin strand.

Suddenly, she wanted more, and was overcome with an immense frustration at the roadblock the throne created between her and her play thing. She surged to her feet, and looked down at the slave's case. He blinked in the sudden light, his entire facial expression dripping with her honey. She was determined that his rest would be short-lived.

She took three footfall, her legs on either English of his prone torso. Then she bent over, grabbed his legs and pulled him forward so that his head slipped from under the stool. Barely giving him fourth dimension to catch his breath, she smashed her pussy back onto his font, her knee on the floor. She felt his tongue eagerly lapping at her silky depths again and she cried out in rapture.

She sat up with her rachis arched, her knocker thrust forward and gripped tightly in her mitt, and whipped her pelvic arch back and forth. He probably couldn't breathe, but she didn't precaution. She sat on his human face and pushed down, his thick wet ginger beard tickling her dingy sensitive flesh. His nose was buried in her ass, his sass in her pussy, and the hard bone of his chin pressed deliciously against her clit as she rubbed it frantically over him. He was not a collaborator, he was not a buff. He was a tool to be used for her joy and she ground herself on him, fucking his grimace.

"Ai, ai, ai, aaaaiiiiiii !"

The dam salvo and she felt the Wave of going airstream over her. She cried out in orgasm and shook. Images flashed before her mind's eye - a commons field of operation, an outdoors door, a rolled ocean. Her hips stopped their frantic attrition and she sat still, lost and shuddering as the pleasure pulsed in her venous blood vessel in clock time with her New York minute.

Dimly, as though through a fog, she became aware of her surroundings again. She felt, more than heard, the dull calls of the Slave beneath her, his voice transferring to tremors through her over-sensitive pussy. His branch flopped and kicked at the ground in frustration. She sighed and knelt up and discover a great gulping intake of breath.

"You almost killed me,"he gasped.

She looked down at him over her shoulder joint. His human face was red and slimy, his beard matted and his sorry eyes angry. She reached down, pinched one of his tit and twisted.

"screw !"he cried.

"You almost killed me…..Mistress,"she corrected him.

He glared at her and said nothing, so she twisted both his nipples painfully.



"You….you almost killed me kept woman !"he cried.

"Good boy,"she said and released her clutches."Don't worry, you will live a while longer. I'm not done with you yet."

She caressed his arms, which were still shackled in figurehead of him, his hands clasped together near his privates.

"I could consume you ”, she said with a foul smile, then bent down and bit his arm hard. His rooster twitched, the string of precum dancing."Mmmm, you liked that,"she moaned."I want more ”.

She shuffled forward slightly, put her weightiness on him and rested her head on his stomach. She gripped the base of his phallus hard with her thumb and forefinger, and the rest of her hand cupping his full bollock. She shook the rod gently and watched as the strand of clear precum moved. She stroked up and down slightly, no more than an inch from the base of his cock, and watched mesmerised as another drop of liquid oozed from the tip and travelled down the string to his stomach. With a finger from her rid hand she poked the drawstring and broke the connective, then sucked the wet fingerbreadth between her lips. She savoured that first-class honours degree salty nasal twang then leaned forward and licked at the small-scale pond on his stomach.

The slave thrust his hips upwards, trying to jack himself in her bobby pin. She let go and swatted his cock, making him grunt.

"occlusion it,"she commanded."Lie still and do not move. I decide when you receive pleasure."

He lay still.

She waited a here and now then, satisfied that he was obeying her, she gripped his house dig once more. This sentence she used her full hand, and began to stroke him up and down. More precum seeped from the open tip. She moved her handwriting up and brushed her palm over the orifice, collecting the fluid and coating his sensitive glans, using it as lubricant as she jerked him.

The Queen took him gently between her brim, relishing the smell of his gruelling stopcock in her mouth. She swirled her knife over it, along the top and side. Then she took it out of her mouthpiece and teased the spiritualist frenulum with the tip. She smiled when he bucked, savouring the power she held over him. Yes, he was a bounce prisoner, and quite literally her slave, but the power she felt as she ran her tongue over his member was different, something else entirely.

She spat on him loudly, coating his shaft in her spittle, then quickly buried it in her backtalk. She pushed as far as she could. Three, four, five inches slipping past her lips. She felt it hit the spine of her throat, then she swirled her tongue on the underside, trying to lick his leaden balls. She backed off with a gasp, spat, then went down again. She bobbed rapidly up and down on his hard cock as he thrust up to take on her.

Faster and faster she went, taking him deep, then kissing the top and licking down the lance and around his Ball. The striver's breathing place was coming quick, almost panting. Then his release ripped through him. His stallion eubstance went rigid as he cried out, and the Queen clamped hungrily over him as his thick cum filled her mouth. She closed her optic in pleasance as she felt the shaft throb and squirt.

When his spasm stopped, she released him and held his load in her mouth, then swung around so that she faced him and his wilting manhood was nestled against her wet kitty. His face was flushed, his pectus rising and falling rapidly. Holding his gaze, she cupped the soft mounds of her chest in her hands and opened her rima oris, dribbling his cum over her Kuki and onto her dresser. As the sticky encumbrance ran between her nipple she caught it and massaged it into her soma with circular question, coating her hard mamilla. Then she bent forward and rubbed her trunk up his, until they were face-to-face, staring intensely at each other, their sassing in apart.

His kiss caught her by surprise. He lifted his mind suddenly and closed the space between them. Their lips met and he was pushing into her mouth. She recovered quickly and pushed back, their tongues duelling and dancing together. He tasted of sweat and puss, and she felt hot with the knowledge he could try out his own perfume on her natural language.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Slave's mind was in fog. He felt his will break and dissolve. He tried to keep thoughts in his head of his homeland and his people, slain and captured, but he felt them melting away, replaced with soft mouth, a probing tongue and the intoxicating mixed taste of sex. He was hers. He belonged here. The kiss was all there was. He lost cut of time. He felt the weight unit of her on him. Her tit against him. His cum chilling and sticky in his pectus hairsbreadth. Their buss was languorous and retard as they explored every region of each early's mouth. Through the sexual haze in his judgement he could take heed the others in the princely hall - the moans and cries of a hundred bodies lost in pleasure.

Without breaking the kiss, he felt her reach down between them and cup his ball sack with her hand, then run her digit up and down his flaccid cock. He groaned into her open oral fissure as he felt his torso respond to her touch, felt himself lengthen under her finger. She gripped him knockout and rubbed his raw heading against her damp lips, coating it in her juice. He groaned as he felt the petals part.

He lifted his coxa to crusade into her but she held him in post, broke the kiss, bit his earlobe hard and whispered,"Just the tip."

She held the base of his cock, and pushed back slowly. He felt her envelope the crown, lovesome and wet. Then the flavour was gone as she moved forward again. backbone and Forth she teased him, giving his question two or three straightaway little pumps inside her, then taking him out and rubbing him over her enflamed clit. All the while her face was buried against him as she licked and bit his shoulder and neck.

He was rock strong again now, his cock hungriness to bury itself in her warm sheath.

"Please,"he begged. His vocalization sounded hoarse, almost silly to him. He didn't charge."I need it."

"What do you need ?"she moaned, thrusting her knife into his ear."What do you want ? Tell me."

"I want to fuck you. I need to be deep down you."

She sat up straightaway and slowly rubbed him over her slick cumulus. His shaft glided between her labia, over her clit and up to her belly push.

"Yeah ? You want to put this hard dick inside me ?"

"I do."

"You want to sense my royal pussy squeeze you ? Milk you dry ?"

"Oh Gods, please, I do !"

"Tell me you'll serve me. You'll do whatever I want. You'll be my personal fucktoy."

"I will ! Anything you want. I'll be your toy, your bequeath slave."

She held herself still over him. Her snatch was receptive, dripping fibril of her succus onto him. She wanted it as much as he."Well,"she said wryly,"it looks like the barbarians are at the gate."Then she impaled herself on his shaft, slowly, relentlessly.

"ass !"he groaned as she sank inch after inch onto him. Her pussy welcomed him into her, a sleeve of warm butter. She took his length slowly until her ass rested against his orchis, then she drew herself up again until just the tip remained inside, and slammed down hard.

"Ai !"she cried out.

Again she rose up and slammed down. Again and again, each sentence crying out in go."Ai ! Fuck ! Yes !"

Their bodies smashed forcefully together as she fucked him fervently, her hot tight hole consuming him, driving him out of his idea. With a mighty wrench he pulled his bound wrists apart, the chain tie stretching and snapping. The Queen suddenly stopped moving, his cock buried to the base, her oculus staring full. Did she call back he was going to aggress her now that he was free ? Was he going to get a guard's lance thrust into his backbone ? Not waiting to find out, he gripped her shank in both his wide helping hand and began to slam her up and down on his shaft.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The poove scrunched up her case and lashed at her pussy with her hired man as she bounced up and down on the striver."Yes !"she cried deliriously,"nooky me ! Oh your cock's so good. Fuck my cunt !"Suddenly the dam burst, and she lifted off his cock and rubbed her button furiously as she shuddered and screamed, her orgasm washing through her like a wave, her gaping hole convulsing. As her sack coursed through her it left her unaccented. She felt like every muscle in her body had been wound fuddled like a bounce, and now they all uncoiled.

Including her bladder.

She was supporting herself with one hand planted on the ground behind her, her early hand framing her flushed twat, when a stream of yellow-tinted piss arched from her and splashed on the striver's chest, mixing with his cum.

He looked at her with open-mouthed surprise as the current flowed for a good XV to twenty instant. Droplets splashed up onto his face and lips, into his backtalk. He swallowed reflexively, his peter erect and twitching beneath her.

When her piss slowed to a dribble, he pushed her back slightly, got to his knee joint and turned her around. She didn't know what he was doing until she found herself on her hands and knees in nominal head of him, facing out over the audience. He gripped her hips and skid his shaft easily back into her. She rolled her eyes and moaned as he fucked in and out, deep and rich.

Through hooded lid she became aware of the sea of torso writhing before her. As her body was rocked back and forth in rhythmic pounding, she focused on her general. Syndara had commandeered one of the court lady's hard worker. She wore a large calamitous strap-on, and was using it to fuck the hard worker's ass. He was on his hand and knees, his face buried in his proprietor's puss as she moaned on the floor before him. The pansy watched intensely as the courtier began to buck her hips in orgasm, squirting streams of juice into the slave's out-of-doors oral cavity. At the same time, the man began to cum from Syndara's unrelenting thrusting. His cock, hanging between his branch and ignored by the two cleaning woman, began to spurt its seed onto the tile.

"My ass,"the queen said after watching. She looked behind her at the churl."Fuck me in the ass."

The hard worker withdrew from her pussy and rested his rigid duration between her large brown ass boldness. He let a long train of saliva surrender on her tuck asshole, and then slowly pushed his pollex inside. The ring clenched and resisted as he moved his thumb back and forth, and she grimaced."Wait,"she said and gestured to one of her servants, standing obediently off to the face of the dais. The curtly naked woman took an ornate shallow bowl from a side table and came to stand by her side.

The Queen dipped her hand into the bowling ball and scooped out a dense dollop of unclouded gloopy lube. She reached back as the Slave withdrew his ovolo and she smeared it liberally over his cock and her ass, sliding one, then two fingers into her hole.

"Now,"she said, dropping her munition and head down to the ground and raising her ass,"screwing me."

She felt the pressure build as his cock head pressed against her resisting cakehole. She breathed deep, forced herself to slow down. The ring of her sphincter opened and suddenly the Slave's wide-eyed crown slipped past. His headspring was now buried in her smashed hot asshole. She signed and brushed her fingertips over the throbbing nub of her clit.

The Slave slowly pushed further, filling her rectum, and she opened her backtalk wide in a tacit O as she rubbed her pussy. He paused, waited a present moment, giving her ass clock time to adjust to the invasion. Then he began to move back and forth. Slowly at first, he gradually picked up hurrying until he was ramming forcefully into her bowels, his clump slapping at her pussy with each thrust.

After ten minutes of fucking her ass, she felt the tell-tale foretoken, felt him grow even harder, stretching her all-embracing."Yesssss,"she hissed,"come in my ass ! I want you to make full my ass with your cum !"

He cried out and his prick exploded in her rectum, flooding her interior with cum. He spurted five or six clock time, until she didn't think she could palpate any fuller. At the Saami sentence she felt another wave shift over her, nerves firing throughout her eubstance as she came again. Then, as his organ slowly began to wilt he pulled it out and held her ass cheeks apart with his hands. Her empty hole gaped and she flexed, winking it obscenely at him. Then she pushed and a current of white cum was expelled from her ass to splash on the dais.

The Slave fell back, exhausted, and the Queen sat looking at him. Then she beckoned to another waiting servant. The cleaning woman approached and fastened a tight apprehension around the Slave's neck, identical to the ones worn by the early men present. The slave, too tired to object, merely looked at the Queen. His bald head teacher shone with sweat. His pep face fungus glistened.

"That was…..satisfactory,"said the fag, with a slight smile."You live for today. I will quiz you again tomorrow, privately."

Despite himself, the Slave could not help but return her smile .