Gilded Serpent

Round two was a brutal lesson in anatomy. With her face pressed into the musky, sweat-dampened furs, Zyla felt the King's solar power coalesce into a single, searing point of light focused directly on her clit. It wasn't a touch; it was a star being born against her most sensitive flesh. The sudden, impossible heat made her entire body jolt, a choked cry swallowed by the dense fur.

He drove his massive, throbbing cock back into her drenched pussy with a force that stole the air from her lungs. This time, the rhythm was different. It was a slow, grinding possession. He pulled out until just the flared, mushroom head of his cock was stretching her entrance, then slammed back in, his heavy, cum-filled balls smacking against her clit with a wet, percussive slap that was amplified by his psychic heat. The combined stimulation was a torture so exquisite it bordered on insanity.

The sounds in the sanctum were raw and visceral: the wet, rhythmic squish-slap of his hips meeting her ass, the creak of the dais, and Zyla’s own ragged, desperate sobs. The air was thick with the carnal musk of their fucking—the salt of her sweat, the coppery tang of his power, and the sweet, slick scent of her own overflowing pussy. Her mind was a white void of pleasure. She couldn't think, couldn't plan, couldn't even remember her own name. There was only the feeling of being utterly, completely, and savagely owned.

He reached down, wrapping a handful of her honey-blonde locs around his fist, and pulled her head back. The arch in her spine was painful, pushing her ass higher, changing the angle of his thrusts so that his veiny cock scraped against a new, electrifying spot inside her. A fresh wave of slick fluid gushed from her, soaking his thighs and the furs beneath them. "This is what you came for, isn't it?" he growled, his mental voice dripping with dark satisfaction. "To be filled until you break."

For round three, he rolled them both over, until he was lying on his back on the dais and Zyla was impaled on his cock, her back to his chest. He locked an arm around her waist, holding her in place, while the other hand snaked down to her pussy. His fingers, impossibly hot, found her swollen, overstimulated clit. He didn't rub; he simply held it, letting the solar heat radiate from his skin directly into her.

Zyla screamed, a high, thin, animalistic sound of pure overload. Her entire body convulsed, a violent, full-body orgasm that ripped through her without warning. Her pussy clamped down on his cock like a vise, a series of frantic, milking spasms that made him groan, a raw, masculine sound of pleasure. "Look at yourself," he commanded, forcing her to face the vast, polished obsidian wall.

In the dark reflection, she saw a woman she didn't recognize. Her body was glistening with sweat, her neon-emerald eyes were wide and unfocused with pleasure, her thighs were slick with her own juices. And between her legs, the King's massive, bronze-skinned cock was visible, its thick, veiny shaft disappearing into her, its heavy balls resting against her ass. The sight was so raw, so pornographic, it sent another wave of pleasure crashing through her.

He began to fuck her again, this time with a slow, deep, grinding rhythm. Each upward thrust of his hips lifted her from the dais, and she could see the base of his cock stretching her entrance with every movement. He was a piston of flesh and fire, and she was the molten metal he was forging. He used her body, her pleasure, her very soul, as a canvas for his power, painting her in strokes of agonizing bliss.

The fourth round was a descent into pure, unadulterated madness. He pulled out, leaving her feeling achingly empty, her pussy gaping and throbbing. But the respite was brief. He flipped her onto her back, spreading her legs wide, exposing her to the golden light of the sanctum. Then, he lowered his head.

Zyla's mind buckled. She had expected another brutal fucking, but not this. The King's tongue, hot as a brand, lapped at her swollen, sensitive folds. He explored every inch of her drenched pussy, from her leaking entrance to the hard, throbbing bud of her clit. He sucked it into his mouth, his teeth scraping gently against the sensitive flesh, while his fingers, two of them, curved and calloused, plunged into her, finding that secret spot inside her once more.

The combination of his tongue and fingers was a symphony of sensation. He was devouring her, consuming her, and she was dissolving into a puddle of pure pleasure. Her hips bucked against his face, her hands fisting in the furs, her entire body convulsing in a continuous, rolling orgasm. She was screaming now, a stream of incoherent pleas and praises, a litany of submission.

He didn't stop. He kept licking, sucking, and fingering her, pushing her past the limits of what she thought was possible. He used his solar power to amplify her pleasure, to stretch each orgasm out into an eternity of bliss. She lost all sense of self, of time, of place. There was only the feeling of his mouth on her, his fingers inside her, and the overwhelming, all-consuming pleasure that was threatening to tear her apart.

Finally, when she was a quivering, sobbing wreck, a mindless vessel of pleasure, he rose over her. His face was glistening with her juices, his golden eyes burning with a primal fire. He positioned his massive, throbbing cock at her entrance, and with one final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt.

The sensation was too much. It was the final, devastating blow that shattered what was left of her mind and body. Zyla came with a silent scream, her entire body arching off the dais, her pussy convulsing around his cock in a series of frantic, desperate spasms. A gush of hot, clear fluid jetted from her, soaking the furs and the King's thighs.

It was in that moment of utter surrender, as her soul lay bare and her body convulsed with a pleasure so intense it was a kind of death, that the King finally reached his own peak. He threw his head back, a roar tearing from his throat that shook the very foundations of the tower. His cock throbbed, a massive, pulsing vein of flesh, and he began to cum.

He came in a torrent, a flood of hot, thick seed that filled her to overflowing. It was so much, so intense, that it squirted out around his cock, coating their thighs and the furs in a sticky, pearly mess. He kept cumming, pulse after pulse, marking her from the inside out, branding her as his own.