Page 42 of A Kiss of Deception

The world tilts on its axis as she guides me to her entrance, the heat of her nearly scorching my flesh. I thrust forward, burying myself deep inside her, and the sensation of her tight walls gripping me is almost too much to bear.

The sight of Meetha pleasuring the daughter while I move within her is a vision of debauchery that drives me to the brink of madness. I am lost in a sea of sensation, each thrust driving us closer to the abyss, the ecstasy building to a crescendo that threatens to consume us all.

Meetha's moans vibrate against the daughter's core, the sound muffled yet somehow more erotic for the barrier between them. I can feel the daughter's orgasm building, her body tense and shuddering as Meetha's relentless tongue brings her to the edge.

With a final, strangled cry, the daughter shatters, her body convulsing with the force of her release.

The daughter's cries of ecstasy reverberate through the room, a siren's call that sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine. Meetha's tongue works tirelessly, drawing out the girl's release until her body can take no more. The girl's knees buckle, and she rolls off Meetha's face, her body still shuddering with the aftershocks of her climax.

Meetha turns to me, her lips glistening, a look of predatory satisfaction in her eyes. I am captivated by the sight of her, flushed with the thrill of her conquest, her dark eyes gleaming with a primal hunger that mirrors my own. She reaches for me, her fingers tracing the lines of my chest, her touch igniting a fire that rages within me.

I resume my rhythm, each thrust deeper and more fervent than the last. Meetha's moans grow louder, her nails digging into my flesh as she matches my tempo. The world around us fades into insignificance, our bodies moving in sync, our breaths mingling in a dance as old as time.

The pressure within me builds, a tempest of desire that threatens to tear me apart. Meetha's walls tighten around me, her body trembling on the edge of release. I can feel her climax approaching, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep us both away.

With a final, powerful thrust, Meetha howls a cry of release that is music to my ears. Her body convulses around mine as her orgasm crashes over her.

My body is a taut bowstring, vibrating with the tension of impending release. Meetha's mouth, her hands, the very essence of her being conspires to drive me to the edge of sanity. "I'm going to come!" I bellow, the sound echoing off the walls of the room, a primal declaration of my impending climax.

Meetha's eyes lock onto mine, a wicked gleam shining in their depths. "I want you sliding down my throat," she commands, her voice firm yet sultry. It's all the invitation I need.

I pull out from her slick heat, the sensation of withdrawal almost unbearable. My cock, swollen and aching, is presented to her waiting lips. She opens her mouth, welcoming me in, and I thrust forward, driven by instinct and need.

The moment her lips close around me, the world explodes. My climax rips through me, a tempest of pleasure so intense itborders on pain. I roar, the sound muffled by the wet heat of Meetha's mouth as I spill myself into her. Pulse after pulse of hot, liquid ecstasy pours from me, and she takes it all, her throat working as she swallows my essence.

Spent, I collapse onto the cushions, gasping for breath, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. My vision swims, spots of light dancing before my eyes as I struggle to regain my senses.

Through the haze of my post-orgasmic bliss, I watch as Meetha, still glowing with the flush of her own release, reaches for the daughter. The young woman, her eyes wide and dazed, allows herself to be pulled into Meetha's embrace.

Meetha's lips claim the daughter's in a searing kiss, the sight of it sending a fresh jolt of arousal coursing through me. I watch, transfixed, as some of my come is shared between them, their tongues mingling in a sensual dance that is both erotic and surreal.

For a moment, I see double. Two Meethas, identical in every way, locked in a passionate embrace, their mouths slick with my seed. It's a sight that is both bewildering and arousing, a testament to Meetha's power and her unquenchable thirst for pleasure.

My heart thunders in my chest as I watch Meetha rise from the tangled mass of cushions and limbs, her eyes alight with a mischievous fire that promises more chaos to come. The club around us, once a cacophony of debauchery, has fallen into a stunned silence, the patrons and performers alike gawking at the spectacle we've created.

Meetha saunters over to the club owner, her hips swaying with a predator's grace, her every step a declaration of her power. The man who once held sway over this den of vice now stands before her, his face pale, his hands trembling. He has seen what she is capable of, and the fear in his eyes is as intoxicating as the finest elven wine.

"You've been a very bad boy," Meetha purrs, her voice carrying across the silent room. "Stealing from your girls, forcing them to do unspeakable things for your own gain... it's time you learned what it's like to be on the other side."

With a flick of her wrist, a swirl of arcane energy dances around her fingertips. The air crackles with electricity, a tangible force that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Meetha's magic is a wild thing, untamed and beautiful, a reflection of her own untamed spirit.

The club owner's eyes widen in horror as Meetha places her hand on his chest, the energy pulsing brighter with each passing second. "From this day forward," she intones, her voice echoing with power, "you will walk in the shoes of those you've wronged. You will live as a woman, and perhaps then, you'll learn some goddamn empathy."

The transformation is swift and brutal. The man's body contorts, his muscles and bones shifting and reshaping beneath his skin. His clothes tear and rip as his frame shrinks, his broad shoulders narrowing, his rough features softening into a delicate beauty that mirrors Meetha's own.

21

MEETHA

Ipush Milkor through the shimmering portal, back to my sanctuary. The familiar scent of incense and magic envelops us as we materialize in the heart of my domain.

My sanctuary is a testament to both power and comfort, carved into the living rock of a hidden mountain. The main chamber is a vast, circular room with a high, domed ceiling. Intricate runes and sigils are etched into every surface, glowing faintly with barely contained magical energy.

Plush rugs in deep, rich colors cover the polished stone floor, muffling our footsteps. Ornate tapestries depicting scenes of magic and conquest adorn the walls, interspersed with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and magical artifacts.

A large fireplace dominates one wall, its flames dancing merrily, casting flickering shadows across the room. The mantle above it is adorned with crystals and small statues, each humming with its own magical frequency.

Scattered throughout the room are various pieces of furniture - the velvet chaise I favor, overstuffed armchairs, and low tables perfect for studying grimoires or mixing potions. Eachpiece is a work of art, crafted from the finest materials and imbued with protective enchantments.

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