His face was burning.Their breaths were hot.There was atight, screaming furnace at his waist.
She lifted her rear off his groin, letting his erectionspring back to position.With a slight shifting of legs, her hand managed toreach down between them, probing and shifting.“Here’s the deal, love.”She looked him right in the eye.“You can stop this anytime.Saythe word and it’s over.Pirate’s honor.”
Her hand wrapped around the hem of his lower robes, cockedand waiting.
“If you don’t want this, say so.Right now.”
Her breasts pressed into his chest.Her thighs wrappedaround his waist.His cock strained like a bolt notched in a crossbow.
She was waiting, watching him with gleaming eyes.It wasn’ta ploy.He could tell, right then, that she really would stop if he said so.Nothing further would happen.He had the choice, andthat was the point.That was the humiliation she was inflicting.That was what made it so muchworse.
There would be no violation.There would be no shame.All hehad to do was speak.Say the word.
Stop.
She had left a faint dampness on his robe.A residual heat.It was all he could focus on.There was so much warmth and wetness and pressureand guilt and fear.The smell of her musk seemed to bury him alive.
“Speak up,” Zaria said.
Isaac gazed past her, towards the high-vaulted ceiling,where giant vertebrae stitched themselves across thesky.He gave one last bit of defiance against himself.
“Come on.Prove me wrong.”
He tilted his head back across the tiled floor, looking upat the ornate carvings of the ceremonial altar.Slowly, he nodded.
“Yes?”she asked.
“Y-yes.”
“You want it?”
He nodded again.He did not see the expression she made, buthe still felt it, all the same.
“That’s a good boy.”
She pulled down his robes, and his erection was freed.Her fingerswrapped around his shaft, stroking up and down, making him twist and clench.Her hands were a combination of rough, leather pads and tufts of golden fur,all of which quickly grew lubricated with his leaking arousal.The sensationwas a chaos of friction.She kept pistoning at a measured pace, and Isaac kepthis face turned up and away, knowing she was waiting for a reaction.
Slowly, never slowing her strokes, she raised herself abovehis chest, taking her other hand away from his wrists, as if testing hisresistance.When he did not struggle, she lifted herself higher, her strokesslightly changing angle, and the gentle motion of her thighs made him realizethat she was undoing her own clothes.
Lowering, letting free.
He had seen the way her breasts—
Think of the altar.Think of the statue above their heads,the man with the necromancer symbol kneeling before a god.This god was made inthe likeness of an animal.
Think of the history that could be—
A drop of liquid fell on the head of his cock.It was warm,viscous, almost like saliva.Before he could stop himself, he opened his eyesand saw her loins glistening openly in the green firelight, drooling strands ofher excitement down the length of her inner thighs.Around the wet fur, therelay a subtle play of creases and folds, a pinkness that seemed to emit almost ahot breath of fog against his skin.
“Ready to ride, squire?”
She was grinning down at him with a mixture of amusement andcruelty.He turned his head away, embarrassed at being caught, but the hand notcurrently gripping his cock came to his face, forcing his gaze back on her.
“No,” she said.“Look at me while I fuck you.”
She tilted his cock until his head ran over her lips, slowlysliding through until he was poised at her opening.He felt heat and wetnessand desperately sensitive skin.
He could stop this.He just had to say the word.
