Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
I look at Irena. Her pretty face is pink with shame but when I breathe deeply I’m surprised to smell something unexpected—the scent of female desire. Does she like this idea? Does she want to do it?
“Irena?” I ask, because this has to be her decision. I’ve never forced a female in my life and I’m not going to start now.
“I…I’ve never done anything like this before.” She looks up at the witch, pleading for compassion, but I see none in the witch’s narrowed eyes.
“So much the better,” she cackles. “You’re lucky I’m not making you ride him, dearie. Now wouldn’t that be a sight to see—you taking your Drake’s big, thick cock in your tight virgin pussy!”
Truly she’s sick—or else just an opportunistic voyeur. I keep expecting Irena to refuse to do this…but so far she hasn’t said “no.”
“You’ll have to let me go if you want me to do this,” she says in a low voice.
“So I will. And your man is rather tall. Let’s even things out—shall we?” the witch says.
The chair which has been holding Irena in its grip abruptly releases her. When she rises on shaky legs, it slides across the floor to me. It gets behind me and shoves into the backs of my legs.
With a muffled curse, I find myself falling backwards until I land on the seat. I struggle, trying to get up, but the invisible bands are still holding me tight. I can’t even Shift when I try to—she’s definitely impeding me and holding back my Drake somehow. Fuck! This witch is strong.
Irena comes towards me, her eyes downcast. I can smell her fear but I still smell the scent of her desire too. Some people like to be ordered around in the bedroom—is she one of those? Or does she just like the idea of doing something so forbidden and dirty?
I can’t answer any of that.
“Irena,” I say, and her eyes flick upwards to meet mine. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” I state clearly. Though fuck if I know what we’re going to do if she doesn’t.
She gives a slight shake of her head.
“How else are we going to get out of here?” She shoots a glance at the witch, who’s watching avidly from the corner of the room. “You have to swear you’ll let us go if I do this. If I…suck him.”
The witch cackles with laughter.
“Yes, indeed, dearie. If you put on a good enough show, the two of you can walk out of here free and clear.”
That seems to decide Irena. She nods slightly and sinks to her knees before me. For the first time, I can really study her and what I see is that she’s all cut up, as though someone dragged her through a thorn bush. I can help her with that—I can heal her with the power of my Drake. But right now I’m frozen in place, helpless to do anything but watch.
Her knees hit the rough wooden floorboards with a soft thud, putting her at eye level with my crotch. The scent of her—fear, yes, but also that undeniable, salty-sweet perfume of arousal—wreathes around me, thick and intoxicating. My own body, traitorously, responds. Despite the danger, the humiliation, the sheer absurdity of our situation, I feel a heavy, insistent stirring in my groin. The fabric of my too-tight trousers tents obscenely, and I see her silver-green eyes widen further as she takes in the sight.
“Go on, girl,” the witch croons from the shadows, her voice like dry leaves rustling. “Don’t be shy. He won’t bite. Not unless you want him to.”
Irena’s hands come up, trembling slightly. They hover in the air for a moment before she reaches for the laces of my trousers. Her fingers, elegant and long despite the scratches marring them, fumble with the knots. Each brush of her knuckles against the rigid length beneath the leather is an electric shock. I grit my teeth, fighting the stillness spell with every ounce of my will, but it’s useless. I am a spectator in my own body—a captive audience to my own unraveling.
Finally, the laces give way. She peels back the leather, and my cock springs free. It is fully erect—thick and flushed a dark, angry red with need. A soft gasp escapes her soft lips. I see her throat work as she swallows. She’s seen me before—but not this close. I think the sight might have shocked her primly bred princess senses.
“He’s…so big,” she whispers, almost to herself.
“All the better to fill a mouth with, dearie,” the witch cackles.
Irena looks up at me, her eyes seeking… something. Permission? Reassurance? I can give her nothing but my gaze, which I try to keep steady, neutral, though the fire in my blood is anything but.
“Just… do what you have to, sweetheart,” I manage to grind out.