Aria leaned back on the oiled leather of her sofa. She was bored. Bored and horny. The drink in her hand had little bite to it and the strippers sliding across her lap had already tasted the cloth of her pillows between their teeth, at least once. She waved her hand and dismissed them all with a roll of her eyes and then handed her drink off to the last maiden who covered her pert tits and exited with an exaggerated sigh. "That one will need a lesson in manners," she thought to herself. But it was a lesson that could wait until another time. She sank down further along the cushions and toyed with the leather band of her pants. "Nobody loves me like I love me"… her lips curled at her own arrogant attempt at humor. She almost wished someone was still in the room to hear her. She loved to watch her entourage stumble and try to force themselves to laugh in a feeble attempt to placate her. It made her feel powerful; and she was, of course.
Nothing, however, made her feel more raw, more predatory, and more formidable than that night only a few short months ago... Since then, the thought of him made her insatiable with lust, made her insides quake, and her clit throb in a way that might only be akin to the urgent need of an animal that tastes the blood of its kill after a week of struggle and hunger. She slid her hand beneath the near unyielding leather. It made her hand ache with the effort of moving, but she enjoyed the subtle pain. Her fingers slid through moisture, wet like the open mouth of a varren. She stroked roughly at her nub, pulling back the hood and exposing it to the full brunt of her aggression. Her body quivered at the intensity until the friction made it swell with blood and heat, welcoming the intrusion of her nimble assault. She closed her eyes and thought back…
His skin was pale, unearthly so. Hands clenched and grasping at her as she came at him with force and determination. She rode his body into submission, weighing down on him with the full length of her own body, owning him. His eyes were wide, mouth open, head back… The noises he was making were like no other she had ever heard. She worked her hands over the thickness of his flesh, kneading. The skin was taunt and hot in her hands as his muscles flexed. She could feel the pulse of his heart beating. She worked her hands, until she found just the right spot. Eyes turning black, she was on him, inside him, she was him. She could see him and see through him. His only thoughts were of her, but what she remembers most was his eyes. "I am your Queen, your Goddess, your everything. I own you. I am you. I am your beginning and your end. I am the Alpha of Omega." He stared back at her in silent acknowledgement, awe, and fear.
Her hand was covered in the slickness of her sex as she rubbed fiercely against her clit, taming it into submission, just as she had tamed this man. It was hers to use and to control. Her hips rocked as she fucked her slit before curving her fingers and plunging them deep inside her cunt. She fucked her opening three fingers in and knuckle deep before drawing the viscous fluid back and stroking her sore nub. It was so swollen and full, overstimulated and aching to come. All she needed was a few moments more and the final recollections of her reverie to send her body crashing into an explosive orgasm.
Her mind drifted back… She could feel him in her hands, begging to be released. She just had to find the right spot, just the right spot. Between the meld and the look on his face she knew she was close. She adjusted herself and pushed deep. Right there… yes… oh goddess… yes… right there… Her thumbs pressed in and as she tightened her grip. She felt the skin beneath her fingers give way ever so slightly and the tell-tale sound of the thin bone protecting his trachea crack as her thumbs cut off his airway, this time for good. She felt him, felt his spirit leave his body, felt the power of controlling life and death in her hands. Petrovsky was dead and she was not… had experienced death and yet, was not.
Her body shuddered riding out wave after wave of her orgasm. She stroked the tender flesh back and forth just below the tip, bringing her back up to her peak again and again. Her juices pooled in a warm sticky mess inside the seat of her leather pants. She breathed in deeply, trying to slow her panting and pressed her palm against her center, eliciting another wave of pleasure. Her body slowed and muscles relaxed into a sleepy and satisfied splendor.
It was then that Aria realized that the entitled little whore from earlier might benefit from a lesson in power to help her remember her manners. "She can lick the cum off of my pants while I tell her about how it got there and maybe, just maybe she can finish me off"…
