She falls to her knees once more, struggling against her bindings while he undoes the strings of his trousers at an agonizing pace. At last, his thick cock fully extends just out of reach of her mouth.
“Does my slut want my cock?”
“Yes, please.” Avina whines.
“Beg for it. Who is your Master?”
“Please, please, I wish to pleasure you, Master.” Her words sound pathetic, searing her cheeks with sensual indignation. When he presses his shaft within reach of her mouth, she licks her lips and takes his tip onto her tongue. Sigvid grumbles low in approval as she licks up and down his shaft along his pronounced vein.
“There is nothing quite like your mouth,” Sigvid’s hand knots in her curls and forces her further down his shaft.
She savors his member as if pleasuring him is the single most vital task in her existence. Her tongue salivates, licking from his balls to his head. A primal grunt erupts from her chest as she takes half his length into her mouth with a gag.
Somehow, he hardens further down her throat. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks against his shaft, desperately trying to relax to take more of his length.
He clutches the back of her head and guides her further onto his cock. Her eyes burn with tears. When she chokes a second time, he brushes her hair from her face. “Breathe. Relax.”
She blinks up at him while focusing on her inhales. Sigvid’s snarl is feral as his grip on her hair tightens.
He fists her curls, angling her head away from his cock to shove a scrap of fabric from the gown into her mouth. “You are not finished. Suck my cock again, slut.” He pushes her head down to his rigid member and rubs her lips along his shaft.
With the gag filling her mouth and pressing her tongue down, she can only wiggle her lips along his thick length. She whimpers at her helplessness.
“Such a good little cock slut,” he lifts his member and twists her head until her lips ghost across his balls. “Pleasure these, whore.”
She shakes her head, allowing her lips to caress the sensitive skin. The lack of being able to touch him fully drives her toward insanity. Her arms shake against the belt, and she mumbles through the fabric stuffed in her mouth.
“Stand, I need your tight pussy gripping my cock.”
She struggles to her feet. Already, her mind is cloudy by Sigvid’sdominance. The collar presses against her skin, an ever-constant reminder of who owns her body.
“Sit on my lap. Let me check to see if you are ready for me.” He pats his thigh.
Avina collapses onto his knee. Lazily, he roams his hand between her legs, feeling her arousal with his fingers. He grunts when he slides between her lips.
Her needy moan echoes through the longhouse. He traces streaks of her wetness onto her leg until she is a sticky mess of apprehension. Her head lolls onto his stiff shoulder.
When his light touches hold her prisoner at the precipice of a release, the leather belt slips from her wrists. Sigvid shifts her so she sits naked, save the boots, on his familial throne while he stares down at her trembling form.
“You are going to kneel on my ancestors’ throne.” His thumb strokes her bottom lip. “Who owns you, Avina?”
“Sigvid.” She mumbles through the cloth.
“Rise.”
She complies, only for him to roughly seize her wrists and bind them with his belt behind her back.
“Kneel on the throne.”
It is a struggle, but she manages to face the back of the throne with her cheek pressed against the carved designs of the worn wood. Sigvid’s footsteps fade away into the longhouse. At first, she fears he has abandoned her until his returning steps echo closer.
“Did you fear I left you?” He barks.
She nods. There is no use hiding her feelings from Sigvid anymore.
He curses, and the next thing she feels is his fingers spearing her core. “Did my confession of love mean anything to you?” He growls in her ear. “You will die at my side. Does that frighten you?”
She doesn’t hesitate and nods emphatically.
