Title: Into the Fray, Unflinching
Author: gldngr7
Rating: Explicit
Began: April 21, 2017
Chapters: ?
Feedback: Encouragement and constructive criticisms are always welcome. Flames are destroyed with my freeze breath.
Author's Notes:
Chapter 12/?
Kara's entire body shivers with alarm, her thighs quaking with exhaustion and her arms like boneless filet as they meet his demands with little resistance. Instinctively, the drawstring rim around her unyielding hole tightens further, prepared to repel the advance he clearly wishes to hasten.
The prince leans over her, placing his hand on the mattress besides, effectively blocking her comforting view of Lord Ral. "You don't think you're going to get away from this, do you?" he taunts. "You know there's only one way. Why don't you just say it?" he tempts once more.
"You w-wish, Master," she answers. Voice unsteady and muffled by the blanket, her breath coming in fast, nervous pants, her words are bolder than their delivery. Deciding to face this new experience head on as she does most frightening things, she licks her lips nervously and reaches back to hold her ass cheeks open as instructed, determined to relax the muscles that only clench in response.
Gently, he brushes damp strands of hair from her face, placing them behind her ear, the touch of his fingertips sending her into a daze. "Look," he says, to observers, though his eyes never leave her face. "Look how she awaits my pleasure. Are you ready, Pet?" he inquires. "Ready for something new?"
Claiming her own readiness for this would be a lie, Kara decides. But she knows she will survive it, because no matter how callous this Mon-El can be, there's still a soft heart in there, buried under the layers of hard shells he's built to protect it. The man she knew in the outside world, wasn't just born because they met, and he wasn't just created because she inspired him to goodness. That goodness was always in there, all she did was let him know it was safe to be himself.
"I'm ready," she breathes, sucking her lower lip into her mouth and squeezing her eyes shut.
It makes her look so child-like when she sucks on her lower lip, the way babies suck on thumbs to self-soothe. Ass presented, he presses the lubricated ball of the hook against the tight rim of her sphincter and pushes. When it doesn't give right away, he's forced to apply more pressure until the rim relents beneath the pressure.
"Aaaaggggmmhhhmmm," she cries out and then forces her mouth tightly closed, her body stiffening against the invasion. Even if her mind says she's ready for this, her body has other ideas and so requires some brute force to comply. Not strictly designed for entrance, her rectum expectedly fights against the intrusion, panting heavily and grimacing at the tearing pain – until the lubricated silver ball pops its way in, the drawstring closing in around the implement once it's fully lodged inside of her.
"You made that harder than it needed to be," he grumbles, displaying open disappointment in her, and the way her body fought him.
"I'm sorry, Master. I didn't mean to," she apologizes, her heart sinking at the tone in his voice.
Deftly, his fingers tightly tie the cables from the circlet at the top of the hook to the leash anchor on the back of her collar, to hold the contraption in place from the top. "Stand up," he orders, stepping away from her. "Climb on to the bed. Face the room. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master," Kara nods, surprised when the movement of her head sends tendrils of sensation from her anus to other parts of her body. She gasps as she places her hands on the bed and lifts her knee to crawl upon it, and then with each subsequent move. Cool silver metal of the hook slips between the cheeks of her ass and she arches her back at the shock of it, which drives it, ever so slightly, deeper inside.
"Wait until you feel my cock in there with it," the prince grins, easily reading the expressions on her face as she tries to determine the difference between pain and pleasure. Sensations which, for her, are harder to discern than for others. "Hands and knees," he instructs. "I want everyone to see the look on your face when I'm driving into you. And because I have a surprise for you, if you're a good girl. Would you like that?"
With that incentive, she's determined now more than ever to be a good girl. "Yes, Master," she nods, streaks of sensations from her anus making her cunt wet for him. "I can be good." Her lips tremble, arms and legs shaking with exhaustion as she near her breaking point. She won't speak the word he wants to hear from her, but Kara knows the next time she loses consciousness, she won't be so easy to rouse.
Mon-El climbs onto the bed behind her, crawling between her knees and, without even teasing her wet entrance with the head of his cock, drives his aching steel into her fiery core. It steals her breath when he fills her, so tight he's touching every part of her. The sensation of the ball against the top of his member drives him nearly to madness as he shoves inside of her tight heat. In a seemingly uncharacteristic show of gentleness, the prince gives them both a few moments to adjust to these new sensations. Grabbing her hips, he gently pulses his cock in and out of her in short increments, withdrawing no more than an inch before sliding back in with an excruciating slowness.
After a few moments, Mon-El's tiny pulses become wholly unsatisfying, so Kara attempts to lean forward when he pulls back, increasing the distance between them. Pushing back with her arms, she then manages to meet his penetration with greater force, stealing a small measure of satisfaction for herself. Fully aware of what she's doing, Mon-El generously gives Kara her lead, rewarding her with a few well-timed smacks on her bottom. Keeping her head and neck straight, Kara prevents the hook from jostling, which causes her hair to drape in front of her, thereby spoiling the view for the audience, so Mon-El reaches for that lustrous mane and roughly yanks her head back.
Kara cries out, the pain from having her hair pulled sending messages to her brain telling her lungs to stop breathing and her heart to race in her chest. "Yes!" she croaks, biting down on her lower lip, unable to force her words to speak louder. "Please!"
"Don't you want them to see your face when I'm fucking you," he growls, his pelvis spanking her ass, balls colliding with her clit.
"Yes, Master," she slurs, in between thrusts.
Slowing his thrusts, he uses her hair as leverage, the other hand gripping her hip hard enough to bruise, he pulls out of her and then pushes back in, never slipping out. He watches his dick with each withdrawal and then plunge, enjoying the way her bottom jiggles when it collides with his abdomen, and the way it blushes when he smacks it.
Abruptly, Mon-El sits back on his haunches bringing her with him, and the change in angle shifts the ball of the anal hook, putting her in a state of near nirvana, egged on by both of his hands cupping her sore breasts. "Aaannnggghhh," she moans, her head falling back on his shoulder, her back arching as he bounces her on his cock. Unable to do anything more but feel, Kara lets go, simply allowing him to fuck her senseless, turning her head into his neck as his cock claims her. "Uunngghh…uunngghh…uunngghh…" she grunts with each thrust, praying that his own energy levels are dwindling to the point of exhaustion. By all appearances, he seems to have found his second wind, and if that's the case, she may be in deep trouble.
This can't go on much longer, he realizes. Feeling her go slack against him, "Still with me?" he asks. The prince slaps her face to bring her back around. Can't have her passing out again too soon.
Incomprehensible words slur from her mouth and Kara's barely able to hold her eyes open against the onslaught of sensation, despite the sharp sting his hand left on her cheek. Her inner muscles clamp down around his cock, as if to let him know she's still in the driver's seat, though on sensory overload. "Don't stop."
"Your pussy's so wet," he tells her, his dirty words a seduction. "You're dripping all over the bed," he whispers in to her ear, still fucking her, his pace reducing to an excruciatingly slow wave of shallow thrusts. He widens his knees, spreading hers in the process, opening her more fully to his thrusts. "I knew you were a dirty girl the first moment I laid eyes on you." Only the flash of her kneeling before him in a servant's dress, her lustrous hair wound in a messy turban, comes to his mind. "Knew you'd get my cock so wet."
He knows there's more, knows there's history between them, but it's like a dream that slips away moments after waking. He knows there were emotions, softness, but all that remains is the primal translation to the physical – the need to put his stamp on her. To give in to those emotions, the ones that Ral claims are what life is all about – but that's just too hard and promises only pain. This is so much easier. Just fuck. No messy complications.
Except that he knows now – concedes – that this is a challenge he won't win. He could push her further, but he no longer has the stamina, his overconfidence driving him to spend his energies too quickly and too…ardently. His concubine's will, it appears, is unbreakable like Nth metal, though he can hardly hazard a guess as to why he might be so important to her that she would choose this over an easy exit from this hellish place. She said she wanted to see what he had been hiding and that is what he's giving her now, in all of his worthlessness. He is Fool's Gold, shiny enough to catch the eye, but scratch the surface and…nothing but iron.
Determined to finish this, for both of their sakes, he plucks her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. "Open your eyes," he instructs, "and look at your admirers."
Opening her eyes, forced out of a place where it is just the two of them, Kara casts her eyes about the room. With a few notable suggestions, their audience appears to have exhausted itself with their salacious activities, most draped naked over their lounge chairs, sipping on goblets of restorative, while feeding each other grapes as though it's the Daxam equivalent of popcorn. Lady Max, apparently not one to miss an opportunity (and clearly desperate to stay young and desirable), rides the cock of a thin man lying the on the floor while in reverse cowgirl position, facing away from him, her hands on his knees. Lord Ral sits in his lounge chair, no less aroused than before, if the tent in the crotch of his pants is any indication. Kara's eyes meet his, and her cunt involuntarily clamps down on her master's toiling cock. "Mmmmm," she moans, her tongue snaking out to moisten dry lips.
Her gaze holds Ral's for a long time, and her physical reaction does not go unnoticed. Sliding one hand up her to her neck, the prince's thumb finds her carotid artery and presses down, effectively decreasing the blood flow to her brain. His other hand slides downwards, middle finger dipping into the wide seam of her clutch to flick the swollen bundle of nerves at it apex. "I promised you a surprise if you were good," he teases. "Have you been good?"
His finger flicking her clit nearly causes her to hit the ceiling. "Master!" she shrieks as the shock spreads throughout her body, stiffening her joints like an electrical discharge. With each jarring of her body, especially her head and neck, the metal hook inserted to her anus and tied to the back of her collar, seems to wedge tighter between the cheeks of her ass, causing the ball to slip deeper inside. "I won't come. I won't come. I promise!" she pants. "Mmmmm…I've been good! I've been so good."
"I'm going to let you come, Pet," he informs her, taking a moment to bite down on her ear lobe. "But when you do…you won't cry out for that Kryptonian god of yours, do you hear me? You'll cry out the only name that matters…you have my permission. You'll tell everyone in the room—everyone in the palace—who…and what you are."
"Yes, Master," she moans, knowing exactly what she will say. A thrill passes through her as she imagines saying the words out loud.
"And if I think you do a good job, I'll let you have your surprise," he promises. Applying pressure to her throat, his thrusts deepen as his fingers speed their attention to her clit.
"Mmmmmm," she hums long and low, her muscles contracting in anticipation of implosion. Beyond the innate desire for orgasm, Kara longs to stay in this moment forever, to freeze it for all time; the sensation of being filled – completed – by him, his powerful abs pressing into her ass, while her back planes against his chest. Tight straps of her harness press into her skin with each breath, reminding her that she belongs to him, while his hand on her throat drives the point home. Skillful fingers, flicking at her clit, slow and then faster, bringing her to the brink and then drawing back, letting her know that her climax is at his discretion.
Kara's breasts, bloated by battery and the compression of the harness, bounce up and down in time to his thrusts. Well aware of the twenty-eight pairs of eyes trained to her bouncing breasts, her cunt pummeled into complete submission, and wearing the wrecked look of someone used far beyond the point of mere pleasure, Kara has never felt this vulnerable in her entire life. She has never allowed herself to feel this vulnerable. In the outside, she has lived an entire life in fear of being seen – but now she hides nothing, she has no secrets and it is liberating.
He owns every part of her, yet it sets her free; an incongruity that can only make sense to those who experience it. He owns her clutch and the wetness of it, he owns her breasts that rise to his attention, he owns her mouth that speaks the words of his desire, and he owns her climax, which waits upon his command. He owns all of her, except the one thing that truly matters.
The choice to surrender is hers, and always has been. No matter how rough or how unhinged, or how unlike her Mon-El this man seems, he never impinges upon her choice or questions her ability to make it. Assuring Kara that, deep down, he is still the man she fell in love with.
No sooner does Mon-El whisper the word into her ears, his fingers pinching her clit, then she explodes, her vision going black around the edges.
"Mon-El! Mon-El…." Kara's neck bows back against his shoulder, taut cords of tendons showing beneath the skin as every part of her feels the excruciating pleasure of release. Mouth opening to scream, her breath is stolen as her greedy pussy clamps down on his cock like a vise, her rectum tightening around the ball of the anal hook, exponentially increasing her pleasure. Wishing to hold him inside, her pussy prepares to suck him dry of the endless amounts of seed his body produces. Even if only on a subconscious level, her body yearns for it…craves it.
By relentlessly continuing to hammer the searing heat of her clenching core, he extends her climax, renewing it with each thrust of his cock deep into her rippling passage. Pushing her forward with a bump of his chest, he changes the angle of entry, holding her body out in front him, his hands roughly cupping her breasts to hold her aloft, and adding the sting of his hips slapping against her ass to the myriad sensations that flow through them both. With her head thrown back, through the slits of her eyes, Kara catches sight of them in the mirror; she is both the ship he captains, and the figurehead carved on its prow.
"Tell them who you are," he reminds her finally, his teeth gritted with the pleasure of pounding her needy heat.
Thanks to the ball stretching and tugging at her rectum, as well as the monster cock that dominates her other hole, it's the orgasm that never ends. Just when she expects it to taper off her master changes the angle or adds a hip twist or changes the speed of his thrust and sparks another wave of pleasure. When at last her lungs can hold air again, her ability to speak returns, words rushing forth like the water of a broken dam.
"I mmmmmmm K-Kara…Zor-El," she moans, her voice stilted from the continual thrusts of his cock. To make it easier on her, her master changes his pace, retreating from her heat in a leisurely withdrawal, her pussy clasping at his dick, begging him to stay, but gaining no purchase on the steel, slick with both their juices. Answering her body's pleas, the prince pushes back into her with exquisitely staggering force, and then begins his slow recession again. "Mon-El of…Daxam…is my….mmmmmmaster," she pants. Kara gasps as he proves her words, administering an extra sharp entry as punctuation. For good measure, she adds, "I am his Kryptonian whore."
"Kryptonian whore," she hears several voices echo in agreement amongst the crowd. Their tone suggests that her surrender to sexual freedom proves there might be hope for Kryptonians everywhere. Not spoken with derision or judgement as she might hear in the outside world, the word carries the note of congratulations, of reverence even, as though she is a lucky one. And in many ways, she feels as though she is. Lady Breck licks her lips, the heated embers of envy flaring to life in her amber eyes.
Kara imagines the thrust immediately following, the head of cock bucking her cervix, is one of possessive pride. "Fuck me, Master!" she urges in response to another satisfying thrust, tossing a smug smile at the jealous woman in front of her. Hearing her master's growls of effort behind her, she sees his determination in the mirrors, the diamond-hard glint of ownership in his eyes. Pride fills her chest, a shiver running down her spine. "He can use my body as he pleases," she announces. He squeezes her bruised tits, and she tilts her head to gaze at Lord Ral, torn between feeling the joy of being owned by her master, and feeling sad that a man who clearly cares for her must watch another man take ownership of her. Wishing to send him a message warning him not to let his heart get too deeply involved, she claims, "My pleasure is his to command."
With one hand, her master releases her breast and wraps his fingers under the collar, leaning back to offset her forward weight shift, he rides her briefly like a bucking bronco. Less supported by his hands on her breasts, the dropping of her own body weight tightens the collar around her neck, restricting her airflow. Gasping for air, blood rushing to her face, her instinct to save herself clamors to kick in, but she must trust her master. Prove to him that she trusts him to take care of her. Before her hands can reach down for the mattress to relieve the pressure from her neck, she forces her hands in the other direction, clasping them behind her back.
Rewarding his Kryptonian for her show of trust, Mon-El heaves her back until she's upright again, her shoulder blades against his chest, releasing the collar. Settling her on his cock, pausing his thrusts, he watches as she drags air into her lungs until it seems they might burst. When her body melts against his, her cells infused once more with oxygen, he grabs her chin and turns her face. Taking her mouth with his, their tongues tangle with each other in a filthy, open-mouthed kiss that leaves no questions regarding his whore's willingness to be right where she is.
When the kiss ends, her breath still heaving, she asks, "Did I please you, Master?" Her eyes closed, her body replete with mind-bending satisfaction, she's ready to sleep for days.
"You did very well, Pet," he answers, the compliment in his voice genuine. "Are you ready for your surprise?"
"But you didn't come, Master," she points out, selflessly wishing for his pleasure before she takes more for herself.
Something twinges in his chest – in the vicinity of his heart, but he shuts it down before it can blossom into something larger. His cock and balls have been clamoring for release, but he holds it at bay, hoping that one massive orgasm will be enough to deplete what remains of his energies at this point, and that would be the ultimate relief. Though he suspects this orgiastic challenge has served to do nothing more than whet his appetite for her, rather than stem it. "I know," he says, running his mouth across the slope of her shoulder. Without instruction, she tilts her head, offering him better access as he places his lips on her and sucks the tender flesh into his mouth.
He's going to leave his master's mark on her, drawing on her flesh as though he plans to devour her. At first, the warm sensation of his tongue and lips on her is soothing, but when he begins to suck, harder and harder, as though trying to draw her blood through the skin, the sharp pain of it sending electricity shooting to her core, jolting her pussy into fisting around him. Those muscles are tired, so tired, and used far beyond the average experience, but they still dance to his tune.
"I'm saving up a big one for you, Pet," he vows, after pulling away and admiring the brand on her neck. "Are you ready for your surprise?"
"Yes, Master."
"On your hands and knees," he instructs, setting her off his dick and pushing her forward with a more playful slap on her ass. She huffs in disappointment, as though losing access to his dick was not part of any scenario she considered. "Edge of the bed."
Crawling to the edge of the humongous bed, she turns back to look at him, the hook wedging into her cheeks, the powerful muscles of her rectum quivering around the ball until she gasps. Quickly, Kara grows accustomed to the sensation of the drawstring rim of her anus tightening delectably around the cool, slim rod of the hook. In no time, her body craves the feeling of the metal ball shifting in her depths with each twitch of her privates. "Fuck!" she squeaks and turns her head forward to ease the tension on the line.
"Close your eyes and open your mouth," he commands, the undeniable authority in his voice sending a shiver down her spine.
When she complies, she feels the dip release from the bed as her master climbs off. Following his instructions to the letter, she waits and wonders what will happen next. Perhaps he will feed her more delicious berries, command her to eat from his hand like a well-trained beast, but first she feels the soft silk of a blindfold covering her eyes, as nimble hands tie it at the back of her head.
"Stick out your tongue."
She hears a rustling she can't identify, and the mystery of it merely serves to heighten her anticipation. Convinced that she is about to feel the cool, tart burst of a berry on her tongue, she's confused when she feels the warm, salty taste of a thumb. His thumb pets her tongue, as though stirring her taste buds to awaken and she's so aroused by the promise of it she tilts her head up to ask for more. The resulting movement of the anal hook urges her to spread her knees further apart to give the implement more space to maneuver, allowing it to slip provocatively deeper into her dark recesses.
"Mmmmmmm," she moans, her lips inadvertently clamping around the thumb in her mouth. And in the next breath, she's sucking on the thumb as he draws it in and out of her mouth, a soft imitation of fellatio. "Mmmmmm," she moans again. When the thumb suddenly disappears, she opens her mouth again, "Give me, Master," she pleads, like a baby bird looking for its worm. She's desperate to taste his cum on her tongue, to feel how it gathers in the back of her throat right before it glides down like a salty oyster.
"Mouth open," he reminds her, as the bed dips again behind her.
Kara fights the disappointment that flares inside of her, as she senses him perch between her spread knees. Reminding herself that she will be happy for Master's cock any way he is willing to bestow it, she wriggles her ass a little, welcoming him with her wet pussy, cum from earlier encounters sticky on her thighs.
"Can't get enough, huh?" he asks, the tinge of exhaustion mixed with mischief in his voice.
"Whores can't get enough," she reminds him with a whisper of impending victory. Though, the truth is, she won a long time ago.
"Mouth open," he corrects, with a hard slap to her flank. With a smug smile, she complies, turning her head away from him.
Her verbal victory dance is cut short when something hot and hard lands on her tongue, just as her master's cock pushes its way into her hungry core. A hand, not her master's, fists in her hair, tilting her head back to open her mouth further as a thick cock pushes its way past her lips.
At first, Kara's ingrained instinct is to back away, but she can't because her master's broad bulk is behind her. As he withdraws from her heat and slams back in, his penetration pushes her forward onto the silk steel taking her mouth. Despite the fear of unanswered questions, her cunt already grips involuntarily around Master, and she doesn't know if it's because of the way he owns her, or because the of taste of salty pre-cum on her tongue.
"Cry Mercy?" he taunts, spanking her ass with the next plunge of his cock.
"Mmmm-nnnnn," she refuses the offer, shaking her head around the intruding member. This close to victory…there's no way she'll quit. If anyone knows how to dig their heels in, it's Kara Zor-El Danvers, or at least that's what Alex says.
"You're so wet," the prince points out, only marginally disappointed, but mostly unsurprised by her stubbornness. "I know you like it. On Daxam, most senyas would rejoice in a cock or cunt freely offered by their master. "You don't want to be rude…do you, Kryptonian?"
"Mmmmm-nnnn," she shakes her head again, as the cock slips another inch into her mouth, her jaw opening wider to accommodate it. It's no small cock. Thankfully, not as large as her master's artificially augmented phallus, but at least as well-endowed as the original recipe. Kara's torn between wanting to know whose cock is in her mouth, her own personal hope, and fear of the answer revealed. Nervously embracing her new Daxamite outlook, she closes her lips tightly around the cock, sealing her tongue with the underside and allowing her salivary glands to kick in, she sets to work.
With her master pummeling her from behind it isn't easy, but Kara catalogues everything she can with her tongue, careful to avoid hitting him with her teeth. Something seems odd about it, but she can't quite put the pieces together with her master pounding into her hard enough to hit all the right spots. Reaching up with her hand, Kara fumbles for his sack, rolling the testicles between her fingers, earning a panting breath from him. That's all she hears, heavy breathing; not a moan and not a groan, nothing that might serve as clue to his identity. And most of those sounds are drowned out by the soundtrack provided by her master's pelvis smacking into her ass, his hand slapping her flank periodically, and his growls of satisfaction. Moving up, she circles her fingers around the thick base of his shaft, and then pulls him from her mouth.
"Guess," her master commands. "Guess on the first try, and he'll remove the blindfold."
Taking him in hand, she pumps the shaft a few times, attempting to get a good feel for the thing, picturing the many dicks she's seen throughout the evening. Right away she can rule out the portly man in the back, thank Rao! Far too long. And too thick to be the Viceroy Bak'rum who likes to be dangled from ceilings. Then there's the hands in her hair, Kara realizes as she eliminates another option – too gentle to be Commander-Lord Raines. There was something about the cock when he first put it into her mouth that struck her as odd and now she comprehends what it means. She knows who the mystery guest is.
Opening her mouth, Kara takes him back in, now certain that her choice is the correct one and enjoying the blindfold since it no longer serves as a threat to her. Her master plunges and plunges, and now that she knows to whom the cock in her mouth belongs, Kara is freer to revel in the sensations of having two cocks inside of her. "Mmmmmmm," she hums, hollowing her cheeks as she works his dick in and out, sucking the shaft to draw forth the 'Milk of Val-Or'. "Mmmmmmmm."
"Vartine," her master accuses, spanking her ass hard, causing her to jolt at the sting of it. "Have you a guess, or not?" he demands.
Kara circles the shaft with her hand again and pulls it free. "My Lord Ral," she announces, a confident smile spreading on her face.
He whips the blindfold from her head, and she tilts her head up to find him smiling down at her. "How long have you known?"
Kara happily pumps his cock by hand, sly smile on her face, alternately squeezing it as she looks up in his face. Master alters his tempo, slowing down to hear her answer. "I've seen every man in this room get his cock wet this evening. Except for two. You and the servant. The cock put in my mouth was bone dry except for the beads of cum on the head. Fifty-fifty shot," she says. "I liked my odds. Besides weren't you the one that said, 'what's his is his and what's his is sometimes mine?'"
"Yes," he chuckles, eyes drifting partially closed at the pleasure of being handled by her. "I knew you were smart the first moment I laid eyes on you. And that you would own me, my darling Kara."
"My Lord?" she asks.
"Yes?" he answers, stroking the silky strands of her hair.
"Will you come in my mouth?"
Her eyes are so blue and wide and open, he knows he cannot deny her, even if it were in him do so. "As my lady commands," he croaks, sighing with pleasure when she replaces her hand with the warm cavern of her mouth, and sucks deeply on the shaft, as though trying to draw his seed to the surface.
She works her mouth diligently over the shaft, bobbing her head in time to offset Master increasingly rough thrusts. Her pussy clenches as she pictures the memory of Ral – sitting, watching, and waiting. As if he knew he would get his turn.
Ral usually gets his turn, at least once. That's how it's always been with them. There's never been an ounce of jealously between them when it came to sex or anything else important. Since they were small children, out of necessity, it's been them against the world. But now he watches the Kryptonian whore give his bond-brother a blow job he could almost imagine being envious of, were he not busy fucking the daylights out of her pussy. Why can't he get enough of her? It would be so easy to blame this frenzy on the Callus Band, and a huge part of him wants to just get it off, get it off, get it off, so he can just have a few moments to think clearly. But he senses that, deep down, it's more than that.
"Grife!" he curses angrily, taking it out on her by leaning forward and tweaking her nipple.
"Mmmmmm," she moans in a most satisfying way.
It's not the Callus Band that makes him want to take, to fuck, to bite, to suck, to taste, to brand…to breed. It's something about her, and that's something he needs to be careful about. Especially if she's to be his concubine from now on, available at his beck and call. He will have to take care to be extra detached, to remind her often and with vigor that she's just a breathing pleasure toy. He will not allow feelings to play a role. Just the thought of the word, brings a bad taste to back of his throat.
"Not so gently, Ral," he demands, gripping her hips tight and yanking her back on his soaking dick. "Fuck her mouth. This Kryptonian likes it rough."
"Mmmm-hmmmm," she hums emphatically.
Assured that Kara is fully onboard, Ral reaches behind his neck and pulls his shirt off, tossing it to the side before fisting both hands in the mess of her hair and arranging her head in a position optimal for him. Globs of her spit lubricate them both as he takes control and begins fucking her mouth, the head of his dick hitting the back of her throat and knocking her tonsils. Ral's torn between throwing his head back and getting lost in the divine pleasure of it, and observing every tic, every expression on her face.
The size of her lord's cock is ample, so she gags around him when he invades her throat. Kara does what she can to push back against the reflex, meeting his thrusts with a gargle of saliva as though attempting to expel him, and opening her mouth wider to accommodate his girth. A sudden thrust from behind propels her forward, forcing her to deep throat her lord's cock and causing her eyes to sting and well with tears.
Spit-roasted between them, she relaxes into it, eyes drifting closed as she surrenders any remaining control, the men finding a rhythm that allows them to work together. Her master fucks her pussy in carefully measured strokes, and she can sense his exhaustion, feel his sweat raining down on her lower back. Clenching her inner muscles around his cock, she enjoys the deeps groan that results and does it again, clamping down on him as he retreats from her heat.
"Gods!" Lord Ral curses, hissing in the way that men do when their physical pleasure takes them by surprise. "You look so good taking my cock." Every inch of her flawless skin is incandescent with satisfaction. Unlike others of her kind who hide behind science and politics, this Kryptonian was made for pursuits of the carnal variety. Sex…wakes her up and her body, exhausted as it is, operates at peak condition.
"Arrrggghhh," she gargles, his dick forcing its way past her tonsils. With each thrust, her nose butts up against the nest of blonde short hairs in which his shaft is rooted.
"You like that?" he inquires, though it's not really a question. "You want more?"
His feelings for her…so clear in his eyes… are frightening and so unexpected they bowl her over every time she looks at him.
Unlike Mon-El, whose need for control in a world that gives him so little threatens to overwhelm him, Ral accepted long ago that attempting to control the uncontrollable is time wasted. But, soft emotions or not, Ral is a man and there's just something about dominating a lover who thrives on the power exchange of surrender and submission. It gets into one's bones; sets fire to the blood. Which is why the sight of her, submissive to their cocks, putty in their hands, tears streaming down a face that's already been sex-wrecked for hours, is enough to cause his balls to tighten. Streaks of electricity race up his spine to the base of his skull and then wrap around his face, clamping his jaw closed. "Fuck!" he grates outs.
"Arrrrggghhh!"
"I'm going to come in your mouth," he groans through gritted teeth while speeding his thrusts, a promise and a warning. He bites down on his lower lip as the need to burst swamps him. "Oh, gods!" he growls, hips pumping, "here it comes…get ready."
"Aarrrrggghh," she gargles, this time the pitch higher, more excited. Each wet glide of Mon-El's cock from behind forces a tiny sigh from her chest as she moves forward on Ral's cock.
It's the bright blue eyes silently begging for his climax, tears squeezing out of their corners as she looks up at him, that push him over the edge. His orgasm rises past the point of no return, every muscle in his body pulling taut, his hands holding her head in place as streams of cum burst forth, torrents of milky white fluid flooding the back of her throat. From the transcendent look on her face, Ral gathers that he has nothing to feel bad about.
Drowning in cum, Kara chokes on it at first, even though she is expecting it. She doesn't understand why, but the notion of taking a man's seed – no matter how – of being the reason he falls apart, fills her soul with something soft and warm. So, she swallows and swallows, gulping down his flood of salty cream, looking up into his angel-face contorted with sexual bliss, and tries to project gratitude and completion with her eyes. When another wave of cum hits, and then another, she gulps what she can, small streams of excess leaking from the sides of her mouth and dribbling down her chin.
When he finishes with her, and before she can wipe the dribbles of cum from her chin, her master reaches for her collar and pulls her back against him, the cock pounding her pussy hardly skipping a beat. "Did you like that, Pet? Did you like the taste of his cum?"
"Yes, Master," she smiles, the flavor of Lord Ral's emission still in her mouth. Her own orgasm closer and closer to fruition with each pump of his hips. Kara fears not being able to hold it at bay. "Will you take your pleasure now?" she offers, using the Daxamite term.
Sensing the approach of her climax, Mon-El stills his thrusts, only allowing a shallow penetration of his shaft into her heat. "My cock is being…difficult," he explains. "That means we're near the end now and I will need to use every last bit of energy to finish. I will become a brute in your eyes," he warns, unsure why the thought of her bad opinion bothers him so much all of the sudden. He forces the feelings down. "But you asked for it, remember? You who wanted to see the man I've been hiding," he reminds her, his breath hot against her ear, snapping her collar so that her neck bows backwards. "The time to cry mercy is now. Once I begin, I won't be able to stop. Try not to pass out before I'm done with you because I will finish inside of you whether you're conscious or not."
Not even the tiniest bit frightened and, frankly, elated by the idea of seeing the animal inside, she replies, "I serve for your pleasure, Master."
Mon-El growls, his insides raging as his resolve breaks, and in the next breath reforms into a new one. "You are mine now," he responds, his grip tightening on her collar as a reminder. "Mine to use as I please, when I please, and how I please. I will take pains to remind you of this every day, several times a day, so that you never forget." His next promise is one he knows he will regret making, even as the words spills out involuntarily. "I will never let you go."
Thrilled by her victory, Kara decides to play it cool, for once. "As you wish," she sighs, licking her dry lips. Her body quivers excitement, anticipation and…is this exhaustion she's experiencing? She's witnessed many humans collapse under the weight of exhaustion when their bodies are simply tapped of all energy. According to Alex, it's normal for humans to experience the kind of weariness that comes with uncontrollably quivering muscles after a trauma, when the adrenaline that saw them through it finally drains off.
Before she can spend another moment pondering upon it, she's cheek-side down on the bed, her ass on full and wide display. The cord attaching the anal hook to the back of her collar strains at its limit, stressing her puckered rim with a metal ball that threatens to barrel its way through. She never realized how many nerve endings the rectum had that seem designed to provide an intense mixture of both pleasure and pain. "Uuuunnnnngghh," Kara grunts, sucking her lower lip into her mouth. She finds herself squeezing that rim tightly, hoping to keep the ball tucked inside.
Ral observes from the end of the bed, his own legs still quaking from the power of his orgasm, uncertain quite how Mon-El has lasted this long, chalking it up to his genetically enhanced stamina, and what is clearly an unquenchable thirst for Kara. It's curious that Mon-El thinks he's the one that owns her, when it seems quite the other way around from Ral's perspective. Knowing his prince as he does, Ral knows that somewhere deep inside Mon-El can sense it, which is why he must punish her for it. Which means, of course, there are feelings he doesn't wish to face.
As Mon-El bends her over, ass high in the air, one hand pressing her head into the mattress while the other guides his cock into her willingly subjugated cunt, Ral wishes he could be the one slamming into her. Wishes he could go easy, draw out her pleasure, add the balance to Mon-El's brute force. Kneeling on the bed's platform, he bends the upper half of his body onto the bed, lining his head up with hers.
Sensing a presence there, Kara opens her eyes, her blue meeting the forest of his green eyes. When Master's thrust causes a curtain of hair to fall in front of her face, obstructing her view, her lord's hand reaches out to gently push it back. She smiles wearily at him amid the onslaught of the monster cock pounding into her.
Her left hand clutches the coverlet, pawing at it like a fascinated kitten, so his right hand covers it, their fingers fumbling until they intertwine. In him, she finds her anchor to this plane of existence as her body begins to tense and quake and quiver. So accustomed to fighting the release, she bites down hard on her lower lip in an effort to belay the inevitable force building in the very core of her.
He cups the back of her head, brushing against Mon-El's hand, Ral's gentleness in competition with the prince's force, as he leans in and covers her mouth with his. Upside down, he sucks her bruised and swollen lower lip into his mouth, tasting himself on her without care, sipping at that flavor as though it's an irresistible drug. When he releases her lower lip, his tongue dips into her mouth, meeting hers in a lazy introduction incongruous to the heated onslaught perpetrated upon the rest of her body. He gets to know her mouth and she lets him, his tongue examining the parts of her it can reach.
If Master is the Storm, then Lord Ral is the Eye, the center that brings stillness and tranquility, yet promises to leave unpredictable damage in its wake. It's tranquil in the bubble of their kiss, but on the outside, two bodies clash and thrust, smack, grunt and curse.
"Don't hold back," Lord Ral instructs her, his face close enough that she can feel his breath, his fingers toying with her hair. "When you come I want to taste your cries on my tongue."
When she comes apart, his mouth covers hers again, her cries vibrating through him. "Ohhhhhhrrrrrmmmmmm," she groans, her vision exploding into stars, her brain turning into a foggy mush as all her energies collect and explode between her legs.
Mon-El rides the convulsions of her inner walls, gripping her hips with bruising force as her passage becomes a closed fist, clasping at his cock when he tries to retreat. Her body wants him to stay deep inside while she ripples around him, but then mounts a defense, narrowing her passage when his cock slams back in. Ignoring her body's pleas, he becomes a battering ram, decimating her meager rebuffs with fierce and zealous thrusts.
As a result of his determination, his unwillingness to kowtow to her body's demands, he sparks another series of rippling convulsions, her body stiffening beneath him as though attempting to curl in on itself. But he won't allow it. Mon-El holds her body in place, even as she tries to shy away from the excruciating, overwhelming pleasure she feels.
With Lord Ral's mouth on hers and a tsunami of orgasms bearing down upon her, Kara finds it impossible to breathe. So intense is the pleasure tearing through her, so primal, she would beg him to stop if she thought him capable. But her master is long past that, just as he warned. Very little man left in him, if any at all, he throws off the mantle of civilization and returns to the cave, embracing his own barbarity. Sensing her difficulty breathing, her lord pulls away from mouth, allowing her to suck in much needed air. But the sudden influx of oxygen has the opposite desired effect, causing her head to lighten and an already topsy-turvy world to spin. Squeezing Lord Ral's fingers hard between her own, she barely manages to anchor herself to consciousness.
"Such a good girl," she hears Lord Ral say. Kara manages to answer with the whisper of a lopsided smile.
So close to the end, Mon-El is beset upon once more with the breed-delirium – the primitive urge to plant one's seed and see it take root. Incapable of forming cohesive thoughts, or promising to fill her with his innumerable progeny, his mind can only make jumbled images of her swollen belly, fucking her hugely pregnant body, and of holding a squirming, squalling infant, its tiny arms and legs pumping. He grips at the leather straps of her harness for more leverage. Faster and harder, faster and harder, her pussy drawing him in, torturing his seed from him like an irresistible Vartine risen from The Crimson Sea. Fuck her…breed her…love her…breed her…fuck her…breed her….
Until finally, it happens almost without warning – or the warning passed so quickly as to go unnoticed amid the clamor of unending sensation. She comes once more, squirting her juices against his cock, and then his entire body seizes.
"Mmmmmaaaahhhhh," she sobs, as her inner muscles, defying their own exhaustion, are forced to entrap his cock in a hold so tight she fears it might never unclench.
"Fuckfuckfuckfuck!" he screams, finding his words, or at least one of them, as his cock tries to empty itself with torturous determination. Cock held deep inside, he spurts his cum, ensuring that his seed will water the deepest parts of her womb. Scraping wisps of strength from the very bottom of the barrel, he draws back no more than an inch, a wind-up, before slamming back in, his back arching, his neck bowing, another stream of cum staking its claim.
Kara sobs with the contentment of it. He tried to send her away, to put up walls, only to tear down hers. She faced fears, she took risks because of him, and she stood up to all of them, without powers. And now she's won, his control has snapped and she never cried mercy once. Never thought about using the portal.
His orgasm goes on and on, until her pussy goes slack and can no longer stand up to his final thrusts. Seven more times he pulls back and drives back in, each time he thinks it's the last, and each time he leaves a long and agonizingly pleasurable gush of viscous fluids. Fluid now so copious it spills out from her cunt each time his dick squeezes back in with a wet squelch. "Aaagggghhhhh," he groans, defeated, at what must be the longest and final burst.
Grayness closes in on his vision as he slides his cock out of her and collapses onto the bed without bothering to break his fall with his arms. Through drooping eyelids, he catches sight of his reflection on the ceiling, a wasted man so owned he can't look at himself in the mirror without turning away. With a hiss and pop, the Callus Band disengages and slithers down to rest in a tangle on the mattress between his legs. Instantly, Mon-El feels the sense of relief wash over him as his penis begins to contract and soften, the compulsion to fuck seeping away.
"Thank the gods," he manages, almost as if he believes in them, just as darkness overtakes him. If he were hydrated enough, he might even cry with relief.
Kara lasts marginally longer than he does, which she considers an additional victory. Collapsing to her side as soon as his grip loosened, she manages to roll onto her back. After a moment, her breath finally slowing, she feels the lovely, warm sensation of a washcloth between her thighs. Unable to lift her head, she opens her eyes enough to see Lord Ral in the ceiling mirror, wiping her body clean like a servant. She makes no protest as he dips the cloth in a bowl of sweet-smelling perfumed water of some kind, and wipes down her arms, her legs, her breasts, and finally her face. Careful to get every inch of her face, the warm, wet cloth wiping away the sweat and tears and cum as though it's an act of divinity.
A thin blanket descends over her body, settling lightly against her sensitized skin before strong arms slip beneath her. In one smooth move, as though she weighs no more than a bag of feathers, he picks her up and holds her to his chest, taking her away from the bed, away from the room full of observers, and away from her exhausted master. "Thank you, my lord," she murmurs, tucking her head comfortably in the crook between his shoulder and neck, hoping to get the words out before sleep gains its foothold.
"Shhh," Ral soothes, his breath against her skin. "Sleep now, my darling Kara." He brushes the crown of her head with his full lips. "You'll need your strength," he says cryptically, "and every ounce of patience. It appears we have our work cut out for us if we want to free Mon-El from this place."
In the fog of satiation his words make little sense, only the feeling of safety, warmth and sanctuary of his arms getting through to her. She'll think about it later, she promises herself, her eyelids getting harder and harder to hold aloft. As his arms tighten around her, the soundtrack of his heart beating strongly in his chest lulls her into a restful sleep.
