Slavemaster's Woman, The

by Angelia Whiting

  Wrapping her hand around it, Cushla stroked.

  He groaned and then sucked in a breath when she wrapped her lips around the head, her tongue swirling around it. He continued to suck and licked her clit while pumping her opening with his finger. His cock stiffened further in her mouth.

  Cushla licked the moisture seeping from the tip. It tasted good. She felt her own moisture flooding his fingers, and her hips rose from the bed. She released a screeching cry.

  With his lapping tongue, he pushed her to the brink, stopped and then panted heavily

  against her pussy. He then sucked on her juices. “You taste so sweet, my heart.”

  The spirit within her released.

  Cushla floated on a quick sprouting of ethereal wings, taking Tarken with her. She cried out with a melodic song of ecstasy.

  The mystical sound reverberated through Tarken’s body and shot straight to his groin. His head spun with delirious carnal excitement as she sank back onto the bed. He pivoted and was on top of her in a flash, his breath coming out in a low rumbling groan when his cock rapidly penetrated her.

  Cushla grabbed his ass, her legs wrapping his hips, and her pussy, still throbbing wildly from her climax, clamped down on his hardness. Tipping her head upward, she kissed him wildly, forcing her tongue between his lips, and he released an erratic breath that wisped across her face before responding in like.

  Fitting their mouths together his tongue entwined with hers and he began slowly pumping into her while his mouth took hers in a passionate onslaught.

  “More Tarken,” Cushla whimpered. “Give me more.”

  He pressed against her, buried deep and then withdrew slowly until the head of his cock rubbed the crease of her pussy, teasing her clit and then he rubbed the length of his shaft along her crease while his balls hotly smacked her a bit lower. “Yes, my woman.” Tarken lifted his hips, his voice hoarse with his arousal. The tip of his shaft was poised at her entrance ready to drive. “Let me give you more.”

  Cushla moaned and nodded, her arms and legs tensing and clutching him more tightly.

  He thrust into her and froze, his body shuddering as shockwaves shot through him, rippling along his flesh. Cushla fit him so well as her channel clenched around his shaft and his passion for her became unrestrained. His strokes were long and lingering at first as he moved in and out of her.

  His tempo hastened.

  Cushla met his every stroke.

  They clung to each other, their movements becoming wild but rhythmic, both of them groaning and panting heavily, climbing, flying, reaching for the apex.

  Cushla arched her body and screamed.

  Tarken growled and slammed into her while their breaths caught, their hearts thumping powerfully. Their bodies locked together, convulsing. They lifted—floated as a rapturous explosion shattered through them as one.

  They crashed into the bed, both gasping for air, still clinging to each other fiercely, until their breathing finally slowed and their muscles began to relax. They were still for some time, caressing and kissing and cradling each other, taking time to gaze into each other’s eyes, cherishing the moment.

  “My slavemaster,” Cushla sighed. She closed her eyes and smiled.

  “I am no longer your slavemaster, my beautiful woman.” Tarken kissed her forehead. “Or anyone’s for that matter.”

  “Then, who are you?” Cushla murmured. She moaned a sound of satisfaction as she nestled further into his arms.

  Pulling back slightly, Tarken gazed at her.

  She was truly goddess-like in appearance, her pallid, silky skin emitting a radiant glow in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

  He smiled warmly. “I am just yours, Cushla, plain and simply yours.”

  “Are you?” she whispered.

  Tarken nodded slowly. “From the moment I laid my eyes upon you, now and for always. You possess me. You hold my power. You are my woman, my Cushla. You are the beat of my heart.”

  The End