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"By the Gods, yes," she breathed, her voice raw, her chest still heaving from our shared climax. The fire in her eyes had only intensified, stoked by our recent union.
And with that, I claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, my tongue battling hers for dominance as I rammed back into her heat. Her answering moan was a melody of pure desire, a symphony of need that resonated deep within my soul.
Gone was the playful teasing, the languid exploration of earlier. This was raw, primal lust taking hold, a hunger that demanded to be fed.
I slammed into her, again and again, the force of my thrusts making the silken cushions rustle beneath us. She met each thrust with a fervent urgency, her hips bucking against mine, her nails digging into my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
"Fuck, Anya," she gasped, her voice a strangled cry. "You're... you're amazing..."
Her words were fuel to the fire raging within me. I growled, a sound ripped from my throat by the intensity of our coupling, and grabbed her hips, lifting them off the bed so that our bodies met in one, perfect, brutal rhythm.
The air filled with the sounds of our pleasure, a symphony of gasps, moans, and the rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh. I lost myself in the feel of her, the taste of her, the intoxicating scent of her arousal filling my senses, driving me further and further into the throes of a bliss I knew could only end in oblivion.
Her body was a furnace beneath me, her heat a brand against my own. Every thrust, every movement, every gasp and groan was a prayer to the gods of lust, a testament to the raw, primal power of our desire.
I held her gaze, our eyes locked in a silent battle of wills as I pounded into her depths, claiming her again and again. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from my kisses, her eyes glazed with a lust that mirrored my own.
"Look at you," I growled, my voice hoarse with desire. "A mess for me. All mine."
The words, rough and possessive, ripped a primal moan from her throat. Her fingers dug deeper into my back, drawing blood, but I barely registered the pain. All I could feel was her, the heat of her, the tightness of her around me, driving me further and further into madness.
I pushed her harder, faster, the rhythm of our bodies a primal drumbeat that echoed through the chamber. She matched my intensity, her cries growing louder, more frantic, as we raced together towards the precipice.
The need to see her, to witness every exquisite detail of her surrender, overwhelmed me. With a growl, I flipped her onto her stomach, her gasp of surprise quickly turning into a moan as our bodies met again in this new configuration. Her ass, round and firm, was a perfect target, begging for my touch.
"You like it rough, don't you, dragon?" I growled, my voice husky with a dark amusement as I positioned myself behind her. Her only response was a whimper, her hips grinding against the evidence of our previous encounter.
Her vulnerability, her eagerness to please, ignited something feral within me. I grasped her hips, pulling her back against me, and with a single, powerful thrust, I buried myself inside her heat.
"Gods," she gasped, her voice a mix of pain and pleasure. "Yes... right there…"
Her words were all the encouragement I needed. I began to move, pulling back on her hips as I slammed into her again and again, the force of my thrusts making her cry out. Her cries were music to my ears, a symphony of need and desire that fueled the fire raging within my core.
Her body, slick with sweat and our combined fluids, was a symphony of sensation beneath my hands. I grasped her hips, guiding her movements as I pounded into her depths, claiming her with a ferocity that bordered on savage.
She moaned, her voice a strangled cry lost in the depths of the cushions, as I hit a particularly sensitive spot. Her back arched, her muscles clenching around me, and the friction, the raw, primal feel of her, sent a jolt of pleasure through me that had me seeing stars.
"That's it, dragon," I growled, my voice thick with lust. "Take it all. Be my good little whore."
Her answering whimper was almost lost beneath the sound of our bodies slapping together, but there was no mistaking the note of surrender in her voice, the raw need that echoed my own. We were both teetering on the edge of oblivion, our bodies and minds consumed by a lust that knew no bounds.
The air thrummed with our shared need, the space between us crackling with a potent energy that bordered on electric. I could feel her orgasm building, a storm gathering force within her core, and the knowledge of it, the feeling of her teetering on the edge, sent my own desire spiraling.
I drove into her with renewed intensity, the sound of our bodies meeting a primal rhythm that echoed through the chamber. Her moans grew louder, more frantic, her fingers digging into the silken sheets beneath her as she braced against the onslaught.
"Anya," she gasped, her voice a desperate plea. "I… I can't…"
Her words were my undoing. My own climax, building for what felt like an eternity, shattered, sending wave after wave of white-hot pleasure crashing through my body. I roared, a sound ripped from the depths of my being, as I buried myself deep inside her heat, my release a torrent of pure, unadulterated bliss.
"Take it," I growled, my voice rough with exertion, as I pumped my seed into her, wave after wave of it spilling into her depths, claiming her as mine.
She cried out, her body wracked with tremors as her own orgasm crashed over her, a symphony of broken gasps and whimpers that echoed my own release. We were a tangle of limbs and sweat, our breaths coming in ragged gasps, our bodies still intertwined as the aftershocks of our shared pleasure slowly ebbed away.
I collapsed against her, spent but still riding the aftershocks of our shared climax. Her skin, damp with sweat and slick with our combined fluids, was intoxicating against mine. We lay tangled together for a heartbeat, catching our breath, the only sound the rhythmic thump of our hearts beating in unison.
Then, slowly, she shifted beneath me, her hand trailing across my chest, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through my still-sensitive flesh. I looked down to find her gazing up at me, her eyes, molten gold in the dim light, filled with a heat that had nothing to do with our recent exertion.
"Anya," she breathed, her voice husky, her hand coming to rest on my thigh, her fingers toying with the edge of my still-damp sex. "One more taste? Please?"
Her words, the blatant need in her voice, sparked a flicker of desire in my gut, a familiar warmth that quickly blossomed into a full-fledged ache. I chuckled, a low rumble in my chest, and pushed myself up onto my elbows, enjoying the way her gaze followed my every move.
"Always eager to please, aren't you, dragon?" I teased, my voice thick with amusement. I shifted, settling back against the cushions, and gestured towards my still-hard cock. "Be my guest."
A mischievous grin spread across her lips, and with a lithe grace that belied her size, she moved to kneel between my thighs. Her hands, calloused yet surprisingly gentle, skimmed over my abdomen, sending shivers dancing across my skin, before coming to rest on my cock.
Her eyes met mine, a question in their molten depths, and I nodded, granting her silent permission. She lowered her head, her warm breath ghosting across the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, and then, with a reverence that bordered on worship, she took me into her mouth.
Her touch was electric, her tongue a whirlwind of heat and sensation. I gasped, my back arching instinctively as a wave of pure pleasure washed over me. She worked me with a practiced expertise, her tongue and lips moving in perfect synchronization, coaxing every last drop of pleasure from my aching cock.
The feel of her mouth, hot and wet, around me was intoxicating. Her eagerness to please, to worship at the altar of my desire, stoked the flames within me, driving me towards the edge of another, much-needed release.
I groaned, my fingers tangling in her fiery hair, urging her closer. Her eagerness was a heady elixir, and I found myself wanting more, needing more, than her skilled mouth could offer. A primal urge to dominate, to possess, surged through me, fueled by the lingering aftershocks of our previous encounters and the intoxicating taste of her desire.
"Look at you," I growled, my voice rough with need. "My good little cocksucker."
Her eyes met mine, wide and glazed with lust, and the sight of her complete surrender, the way her body trembled with barely suppressed need, shattered the last vestiges of my control.
I grasped her head, my fingers digging into her fiery mane, and with a growl that ripped from the depths of my chest, I started to move. My hips snapped upward, burying my cock deep in her throat, and she choked, a muffled sound of protest that only fueled my desire.
This was no longer about tenderness, about gentle exploration. This was about raw power, about claiming what was rightfully mine. And she, my fiery dragon, would learn her place.
I set a punishing pace, my movements rough and unrelenting as I slammed into her throat again and again. Her body, pliant and yielding beneath me, was a source of endless fascination, a testament to my own primal power.
She gagged on my length, her eyes watering, but never once did she try to pull away. Her hands, fisted in the silken sheets, were a testament to her restraint, her desperate need to please even as I pushed her to her limit.
And oh, how I relished in her surrender.
"Good girl," I growled, my voice a low rumble against her skin. "Take it all. Every last inch."
Her only response was a muffled moan, a sound of pure, unadulterated need that echoed my own. The air thrummed with our combined energy, the space between us crackling with a potent mix of lust and something darker, something wilder that threatened to consume us both.
Her breath hitched with every thrust, her body trembling beneath mine as I pushed her further and further towards the edge. The sounds she made, a symphony of choked gasps and muffled whimpers, were a potent aphrodisiac, fueling my desire, driving me closer to the brink.
I could feel her small hands, still fisted in the silken sheets, clenching and unclenching rhythmically as she fought to contain the storm brewing within her. The sight of her struggling, her body pushed to the very limits of its endurance, only intensified my own pleasure, adding a sharp, almost predatory edge to the lust coursing through my veins.
"Can't take it anymore, dragon?" I growled, my voice a low rumble against her ear. "Ready to admit defeat?"
Her only response was a desperate whimper, a sound that spoke volumes of her surrender. And with that, I knew I couldn't hold back any longer.
My own climax, building for what felt like an eternity, slammed into me, a wave of white-hot pleasure so intense it stole my breath. I roared, my fingers tightening in her hair, as I emptied myself into her eager mouth, wave after wave of my release flooding her senses.
She choked, her body convulsing around me, but I didn't relent. I held her head in place, my movements becoming erratic, almost frantic, as I spilled every last drop, claiming her as mine in the most primal way I knew how.
Only when I felt the last tremors of my orgasm subside did I finally relinquish my hold. She collapsed back onto the bed, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed with a mixture of awe and something akin to fear.
I watched her for a moment, my own breathing slowly returning to normal, as a sense of deep satisfaction settled within me. The Dragonborn, once a fiery, untamed creature, was now thoroughly broken, her spirit as well as her body marked with my touch.
A soft sigh escaped my lips as I watched the Dragonborn slowly regain her composure, her breaths still coming in ragged gasps, her cheeks flushed with the afterglow of our encounter. She was undeniably beautiful, her fiery spirit tempered by a newfound vulnerability that both intrigued and aroused me.
But the Crimson Moon Brothel, my domain, my kingdom of pleasure, knew no rest for the weary. The night was young, and countless other desires awaited their turn to be indulged.
With a final, possessive glance at the Dragonborn, I rose from the bed, my muscles pleasantly sore, my senses still tingling with the echoes of our encounter. I retrieved my discarded clothes from the floor, taking a moment to admire the way the soft fabric clung to my damp skin, before heading back out into the dimly lit hallway.
The air thrummed with a familiar energy, a heady mix of anticipation, lust, and the promise of forbidden delights. I could hear the murmur of voices, the tinkling laughter, the clinking of coins – the symphony of the night in full swing.
My gaze swept over the throng of eager patrons, searching for my next conquest. A shiver of anticipation ran down my spine. The night was young, and I, Anya, was ready to play.
The soft strum of a lute drifted from the corner, drawing my attention to a figure I hadn't noticed before. A statuesque Pantherian, her sleek, ebony skin adorned with intricate silver jewelry, sat alone in a plush velvet booth. Her eyes, the color of molten amber, met mine across the room, and a slow, predatory smile spread across her lips.
I felt a familiar heat coil in my gut, a primal response to the raw hunger in her gaze. Pantherians were known for their intensity, their insatiable appetites, and their… unique tastes. This one promised a challenge, a delicious dance on the edge of a knife.
I sauntered over, my hips swaying with a confidence honed by countless nights like this, and leaned against the table, meeting her gaze with a playful smirk.
"You seem lonely, darling," I purred, my voice laced with amusement. "Care for some company?"
"Anya," she breathed, her voice a husky purr that sent shivers down my spine. "I've heard whispers. Legends. Tell me, are they true?"
"Depends on the legends," I chuckled, my fangs glinting in the dim light. "What tales have reached your ears?"
"They say," she leaned closer, her scent, a heady mix of musk and sandalwood, filling my senses, "that your touch can tame even the wildest of beasts." Her hand, cool and smooth, brushed against mine, lingering for a moment before trailing up my arm to trace the line of my jaw. "And that your mouth…" she leaned closer, her breath hot against my ear, "is a weapon like no other."
I felt my cock twitch in response, a surge of heat that had nothing to do with her touch and everything to do with the hunger blazing in her eyes. Oh, this one was going to be fun.
"Perhaps," I purred, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "you should find out for yourself." I gestured towards the bulge straining against her trousers. "500 silver, and I'll show you what this beast can do."
The Pantherian didn't even blink. "A small price to pay," she purred back, her gaze never leaving mine, "for a taste of such exquisite sin." She pulled a heavy pouch from her belt, the clink of silver coins music to my ears, and tossed it onto the table between us. "Don't disappoint me, Anya."
I chuckled, a low rumble in my chest. Disappointment was never on the menu at the Crimson Moon.
I led her to a secluded alcove, hidden from prying eyes by a cascade of shimmering beads. The air here was thick with anticipation, the scent of jasmine and musk, a potent reminder of past pleasures and the promise of more to come.
"Impatient, are we?" I murmured, my fingers trailing down her chest, toying with the intricate silver chain that adorned her neck. I could feel her heart hammering against my fingertips, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the desire thrumming through my own veins.
"Time is precious," she breathed, her voice husky with need. "And I intend to savor every moment." She pushed me back against the cushions, her eyes, dark and intense, holding me captive. "Now, show me what you can do, Anya. Show me your magic."
Her words, spoken with such raw need, were all the invitation I needed. I let my fingers linger on her chest for a heartbeat longer, savoring the way her breath hitched at my touch, before slowly sinking to my knees before her.
Her scent, a heady mix of musk and something uniquely her own, filled my senses as I reached for the fastenings of her trousers. I took my time, my fingers toying with the buttons, teasing the edge of the fabric, drawing out the anticipation until the air crackled with it.
"Patience, darling," I murmured, my gaze never leaving hers.
With a groan, she pushed my hand aside and finished the job herself, her movements almost frantic in their urgency. I smiled, a feral flash of teeth in the dim light, as her cock sprung free, already slick with anticipation. It was a thing of beauty, thick and throbbing, and the sight of it, the sheer primal power it represented, sent a jolt of pure lust through me.
"Magnificent," I breathed, my voice husky with genuine appreciation. I reached out, my hand wrapping around her shaft, feeling the heat and strength of it pulsing against my palm. "May I?" I asked, my voice a low purr, already knowing the answer.
Her eyes, molten gold in the flickering candlelight, held mine captive. "Please," she breathed, her voice rough with need. "Gods, Anya, please…"
Her plea, whispered with such raw desperation, was all the encouragement I needed. I leaned forward, my lips brushing against the sensitive skin just beneath the head of her cock, savoring the way she shuddered at my touch.
Her taste, when I finally took her into my mouth, was intoxicating - a heady mix of salt and musk and something uniquely her own. I swirled my tongue around the tip, savoring the way she groaned, her hips bucking instinctively against my face.
"Anya," she gasped, her voice a strangled plea, "Gods above, that feels..."
Her words were lost in a moan as I began to move, my lips sliding up and down her length, my tongue dancing across her sensitive flesh, drawing out a symphony of pleasure-filled sounds from her throat. I took my time, savoring every gasp, every whimper, every shudder of her body as I brought her closer and closer to the edge.
The night spun on around us, a tapestry of sights and sounds that faded into insignificance beside the heat and hunger that bound us together in our secluded alcove. The air grew thick with anticipation, the scent of arousal and expensive cologne a potent aphrodisiac. I could feel the Pantherian's need building, a storm gathering force within her, and the knowledge of it, the power I held over her in that moment, was a heady elixir.
I swirled my tongue around her sensitive tip, drawing a sharp gasp from her throat, her hips bucking instinctively against my face. Her hands, fisted in my hair, tightened their grip, her fingers digging into my scalp, urging me closer.
"Anya," she groaned, her voice rough with need, "Please… I'm… I'm close…"
Her words were music to my ears, a symphony of desire that mirrored my own. I increased the pressure, my tongue working its magic, drawing out wave after wave of pleasure that rippled through her body. I wanted to savor this, to stretch out her pleasure until she was begging for release.
Just as I felt her about to shatter, I felt a familiar hand on my shoulder. "Anya, darling," a smooth voice purred in my ear. It was Lyra, the Crimson Moon's proprietor and my mistress in all things pleasure.
I glanced up at Lyra, a silent question in my gaze. She smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Five minutes, pet," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the pounding of my own heart. "Then it's time to send our guests home… satisfied."
I nodded, a silent acknowledgment of her command, and turned my attention back to the task at hand. The Pantherian, her eyes glazed with need, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, was on the verge of oblivion. Five minutes. It was all the time I needed.
"Look at you," I purred, my voice thick with a dark amusement, watching as her chest heaved with each ragged breath. "So desperate... so close..."
Her only response was a whimper, a sound of pure, unadulterated need that sent a jolt of power through my veins.
"Let go," I whispered against her heated skin, my voice barely audible above the pounding of our hearts. "Give me everything, darling. Fill my mouth with your fire."
And with a final, shuddering gasp, she did.
Her release, when it came, was a torrent. I felt her body stiffen, her back arching as a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure ripped through her. I swallowed down her cries, the taste of her ecstasy a potent elixir on my tongue, as she came, again and again, her hands fisting in my hair, holding me close as she rode out her climax.
I held her there, my mouth still sealed around her sex, until the last tremors had subsided, until all that remained was the gentle thrum of our shared desire. When she finally pulled away, her chest heaving, her cheeks flushed with the afterglow of her release, she looked at me with something akin to awe in her eyes.
"Anya," she breathed, her voice husky, almost reverent. "Gods above… you're…"
But whatever words she might have spoken were lost as Lyra reappeared at the edge of the alcove, a knowing smile playing on her lips.
"Time's up, children," she purred, her voice a velvet caress. "The night is over. For now."
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Wow…3,800 words lol. Hope you enjoyed~