CHAPTER SIXTEEN
NALLA
Tannor’s face of relief is all I need. He spun, and I was greeted by the sight of his long cock, dripping with pre-cum. Panting and needy, his legs spread, and I settled between them. He laid back, his hands grasped the sheets, just as I instructed him. He was such a desperate little whore. I was a little apprehensive as I looked at his cock, but it’s mixed with desire to feel it deep within me.
He watched me with dark eyes, his fingers curling in the bedding. It was hard to read him at this moment. Hard to recognize if he truly desired me and what I do to him or he was just a man, reacting to what was being done to him. I was, after all, still his master in every sense of the word. And all he wished to do was spread his wings and be gone from me despite the temporary pleasure.
“Do you hate me?” I asked suddenly. “I can imagine you do.”
I don’t know why I need to know this. While it was possible for me to engage in sexual activity with him despite his animosity, I would enjoy it more if he didn’t hate me.
His face was sharp as his blue eyes lingered over my flesh. “I— I don’t know.”
I placed my hands on his knees and trailed my fingers towards his cock. He trembled, and I found him rather endearing when he was like this, completely under my control despite his enormous size.
“I don’t hate you,” I admitted quietly.
He breathed sharply at my words. His cock was so hard it bounced against his stomach which was peppered with soft brown hair, and slick with pre-cum.
“Then come fuck me,” he said it with such a plea I almost laughed.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” I whispered as my fingers trailed closer to his raging member.
His eyes closed, mouth agape. “Yesss.”
“Look at me,” I told him, and he obeyed. His eyes were dilated and nearly black. “How many ways do you want me to fuck you?”
I leaned forward and rose to my knees.
He hesitated but licked his lips. “All the ways.”
I hover over him, my breasts brushing over his twitching cock. He buckled up, and I pressed my hands to his hips, holding him in place. Our gazes are locked.
“Do you want me to drive into you in the same way you’re about to enter me?” I whispered. “Fully stretch you until you don’t know where the pain ends, and the pleasure begins?”
He bit his lip and grimaced. It was hard for him to admit it. I could see he wanted it, I sensed it when I entered him with my fingers, could smell the heady aroma of his arousal. He was a closeted little ass slut, and I loved it.
“I asked you a question, my angel. Do you want me to fuck your shy little asshole?” I urged him, with a smile tugging my mouth.
My words send him rocking up, desperate, with a needy, weepy cock. “Yes, fuck. Are you happy? Yes, you can fuck my shy little asshole and split it in half. Now come ride me before I explode without you.”
I grinned and lifted myself, squatting down over him. I was hot, wet, and desperate to have him in me. After watching his ass bounce as I spanked it, after feeling him from the inside, I was beyond ready to have him in me. I slowly lowered myself into him. He was so large I felt a burn as he stretched me, opening me wide. He let out a strangled cry, his head thrown back, his hands fisting into his hair. The feeling of connection was incredible, like we were chained to one another.
“Touch me, Tannor,” I said between gasps.
His hands were instantly on my breasts and waist as he pulled me in and sat so that we were locked in an embrace. I stared at his face. He was shaking, quaking inside of me.
I pecked his lips, and he blinked, then he tenderly placed his hand on the back of my neck and fully kissed me as I gyrated and contracted my walls around him. The kisses were different. Like we were something to one another, something more than master and slave. He didn’t know that when he kissed me, it strengthened my magic. It solidified and hardened instead of weakening me. He didn’t need to know this. A part of me is afraid he would use it against me, and I am saddened by the notion that we cannot discuss such things.
The men I bedded during my tutelage felt very methodical. Tannor was the first I’ve really wanted. The first I’ve waited for. His body surrounded me as he gripped me. The feeling enveloped me in a manner I could not have prepared for.
He pulled back and stares at me.
“Tell me how I feel, Tannor,” I whispered, caressing his back and shoulders.
He pressed his forehead against mine, and I cradled his head. He was so soft right now, like he wanted me to hold him and protect him from everything and anything.
“Like heaven, like the place we go after,” he admitted.
I kissed his temple as my stomach erupted in fluttering butterflies.
“Do you like what I do to you?” I lifted myself off him, making his cock slide back into me. I moaned as it rubbed against my clit.
His eyes were closed, and he clutched me tightly.
“Do you like the pain?” I whispered in his ear as I bit it and tug it.
He shivered, lips trembling, holding himself from coming as I rode him. He looked so defeated.
“Yes,” he said in such a low voice that could scarcely hear him. “Why? Why do I like it?”
I reached down until I felt his red ass. It was warm to the touch. He moaned into me. I rode him again, lifting myself off and sliding in. He gurgled.
“Because pleasure and pain are the same.” I kissed and nuzzled his face.
I rode him over and over, loving the feel of his balls pressing against my ass each time I slammed down.
His hands caressed my back as he kissed my shoulders, up my neck.
“Do it again,” he said against my hair. I thought he meant to ride him, but his next words stunned me. “The heated pain you did when you caned me.”
I realized he meant the pain-memory. My pussy contracted around his cock at the thought of it. Of watching his face somersault between agony and ecstasy. Of knowing that I caused it. That all the pleasure and pain he’d experienced came from my actions. I panted, feeling the buildup of my pleasure as I rode him again. He laid back down and I placed my hands on his chest. Now I could bounce up and down and have a spectacular view of his face. I wanted to see his face so badly.
His fingers bruised into my hips as he desperately clutched me. His throat was a work of art, veined and taunt.
“Please, I’m so close -” Serrated words come from him. “Do it now, please–”
I took his hand and press it against my clit, making his eyes widen.
“Here, right there–Oh gods!” I threw my head back and his finger circled and rubbed at my clit. His eyes were glassy with need and wonder.
I scratched his arms, trying to take a piece of him under my nails as I fell over the edge. His fingers were relentless, and I was barely moving, just thrusting into his hand.
I felt the heat enter my belly as I called forth the magic. I told the magic to make him remember, intensify it, make him recall each delicious slap of his ass, make him remember my finger inside of him, opening him up. I told the magic to sharpen the pain and the pleasure.
I placed my hands on his thighs, and the heat seeped from my fingers.
“Ahhh!” He yelled, eyes closed, mouth opened, sharp grimace.
The magic worked its wonder. At the sight of him being wrenched from each stimulating memory, my cunt contracted tightly as I came with a scream. He spurted into me in sharp, hard upward thrusts of his powerful hips.
I screamed his name as we both spent ourselves and I landed on his chest. The magic and him have spent me and I could hardly move. He was shivering but still held me, pulling me over him as he slid out of me with a wet pop. I felt so empty that I had to wrap myself around him. I felt his lips against my hair as he smelled me without shame.
“You fucking witch,” he said with little malice, and I curled my fingers into his chest.