Page 72 of The Kingdom of Flames

“Come back to me.” Tristien held her chin and locked eyes with her.

They stared at one another. Celestine felt only fog. Her mind was mist. But his blue eyes, bright like the Summer sky, seared the vapor away.

“Tristien,” Celestine whispered.

“Yes,” he said with a soft smile. “You’ve done so well. Now serve me. Suck the seed from my body.”

“May I…” Celestine began to ask, then stopped herself.

“May you what?”

“May I taste some when it comes? I need it in me. Please.”

Tristien stared at her, then, finally, he nodded.

Celestine’s hands became eager. It was strange to see her wrists without rope or shackles. She was a freed animal, finally allowed at the trough.

His trousers parted like wheat in the field. A long pale, thick cock was her bounty. She lifted and sucked on him eagerly as if she were dying of thirst. Though her quim cried out for her attention, she couldn’t help but feast on his size with both hands.

As in all things, Tristien told her exactly what to do.

“That’s it, Celestine. More. Take more.” He watched her patiently as she struggled. “You’re such a good bride for me. Now breathe.”

Celestine gagged on the cock of a demigod. Semi-hard in her mouth, she sucked and slurped, breathing in and out. This was paradise. It was a harvest of summer. She withdrew from his length, coughing.

“Do not cease your ministrations,” Tristien ordered. “Stroke with your hands, both of them.”

“Yes, Tristien.”

“Worship me.”

What else is there to worship, but you?

Celestine moaned and fell back upon him, bobbing her head, slamming the cock into her throat over and over, battering the pain and swelling away with raw needful lust.

“Good girl.”

His cock was a mess, growing. Covered in her saliva, it glistened in the candlelight.

“You want to see it?”

“Yes,” Celestine gurgled, taking the cock from her filthy mouth. “Please, come for me, Tristien. Let me taste it.”

“Kneel on the floor,” he commanded and stood from the bed.

His control was absolute, even here, as she saw his lust freeing itself.

Usually, Tristien watched her every move, like an alchemist staring at a measurement of ingredients. It had been Celestine’s secret hope that his desire would have finally eroded the tight grip he held over himself and her, and he would take her.

I feel nothing except his strike and his praise. If that cock entered me, maybe it would be a third sensation.

Though her memory now abandoned her, she did remember bits and pieces of time with another Lord. She remembered the color red. It seemed so out of place. There was haze, or mist, and the sound of metal on metal and horses screaming.

Here and now, as she knelt on the floor, her mouth-watering to be used, ridden, worn…there was no promise of release. This torment and binding could go on forever for all she knew. She didn’t love it. Celestine knew this as she knelt upon the cold stone floor. Love was nothing compared to craving. Compared to the thirst she felt.

Tristien stood over her, the length of his manhood so formidable. It would stretch her, break her, she knew. She hoped.

But not today.

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