For The Love of Athyr-Bast 4

“I’m going to fuck you, woman. I’ll fuck you until you’ll let me have your ass only so I won’t bruise your cunt anymore. And when you beg for mercy again, I’ll let you have it only if your mouth takes me next. I’ll teach you what it is to be properly fucked and you’ll learn I’m the only one who can make you feel that way. And when I’ve had my fill of you, then you can pretend to be my master. Maybe. Until I show you my cock again and you remember your true place.”

She had never known a man like this before. She’d seen men angered, seen them icy cold, but never a man who melded the two—who marshaled unbridled lust into pure, domineering control—and with such smug confidence that he outright told her of his debauched intent, knowing a word from her would summon guards to consign him to a lonely hole for the rest of his span.

But then Athyr-Bast would never know if he could do what he claimed.

She decided to go along with him, to just see if he could conquer her as he said he was going to. Already she suspected he might do the impossible—something Athyr-Bast had never conceived of happening before she met Conan. But until him, she’d never been so full, nor so thoroughly rutted by a cock of any size. She’d not even had her clit touched like he had, turning it into a weapon against her that he used with every thrust within her womanhood.

“Show me my place, Conan!” Athyr-Bast said, playing the slave in this reckless, invigorating little game. “Relieve me of my delusions! Teach me I’m nothing more than a sheath for you!”

Conan’s voice was tightly controlled, but his face was red, the veins in his neck bulging. “You’ll never find a better cock than mine. Feel it inside you, girl. Your whole life has led up to experiencing this pleasure. Be broken by it. Accept that it defines you. Know your softness is meant for how hard it is. That’s a man’s cock, your man, and you will give it pleasure until it’s done with you. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you, yes!” she gasped.

All the time his voice had been seeping into her ears, Conan was fucking her harder and harder, seeing what her limits were and then pushing them. His rigid cock now flew back and forth inside her, driving her into delirium with the demanding eroticism she was swept up in.

His fingers clutched her ass, jagged rocks dimpling her soft flesh, a grip that ensured he pulled all of her to his groin with every thrust of his hips. He made sure their bodies met with all the force he could push into her, a man obsessing with how much he could fill her cunt. An overpowering urge to fill her to capacity, whether it was with his pounding erection or the cum that bloated his balls.

Her cunt lips spread and he hilted in her again, going into her further than any man’s cock ever had or would again. Unless she allowed him to take this liberty once more.

“B’aalzah, Conan! How much more of this do you expect me to take?” she panted. “You’re making me come! Already! And I can see you’re nowhere close to finished! How much ecstasy will you force from me before we’re done?”

Her praise only seemed to madden him. “You can come when I give permission and not before!” he barked, his face contorted with rage. “Don’t dare to come without begging first, you slut!”

He was closer to coming than Athyr-Bast suspected and that weakness, the effect she had on him, irked Conan. He was determined to either make her beg or achieve completion without allowing her the same release. He would fill her sex with enough of his seed to swim in, and if she didn’t ask for his leave, she would be left with only the knowledge of how useful she had been in giving him his pinnacle.

Feeling the rippling tightness inside her that announced how near her finish was, Conan attacked her in earnest, savoring all time he had left with her supple body. He grabbed a luscious breast in one hand while his other crushed deeper into her plump ass.

His prick churned away, plunging into her sex with an irresistible fury that seemed designed to make Athyr-Bast climax. Conan was no less helpless to the pleasure it reaped. He felt swirling pressure electrifying his scrotum, the beginnings of orgasm, the sweet promise of relief for his overwrought erection.

Every muscle in him was clenched, stiffened to the breaking point, as he held back his deliverance to enjoy the rare delight of being inside this gorgeous vixen—no matter how agonizing it was to go without the climax he dearly needed.

“NNHHH! CONAN! Please give it to me, darling!” she gasped, clawing at the immovable pillars of his arms, squeezing her legs about his middle like she was trying to drive the life from him. Her urgent, pleading need was indistinguishable from an assault. “Let me have your cum! Flood me with it! Leave me dripping with your sweet, sweet seed! I need it!”

“Silence, woman!” Conan cried, furious that she seemed well on her way to enjoying completion despite his punishing strokes, which would have most women begging for mercy. “I’ll enjoy your pleas later. Right now you’re just a warm hole for my cum.”

And how Athyr-Bast enjoyed being that. Her body a ship cresting one rapturous, rolling wave after another. Plunging deep into pain, then lifted into heavenly bliss, all from the motion of Conan’s prick. Its motion charged through her loins, coursed up her belly, swelled in her tits as they jiggled up and down with the onslaught Conan expected her to take if she wanted to receive his seed.

Her sex burned, sensual fire, and her clit was a diamond that could only be shattered by more of this vulgar treatment, more and more and more, until she’d taken enough that torture somehow transformed into satisfaction.

Athyr-Bast sobbed: she was too hot, too full, too near to climax for her emotions to behave themselves. She wailed and her body trembled, her only control to hold tightly to Conan’s flesh, as if she might keep him close enough to get the cure a little faster for this feverish, terrible longing.

Then, in one final expression of frenzy, Conan forced her right through the chair. He bore her to the ground and hammered into her with his stiff cock, her body vined to his, and together they slammed into the floor—the only thing hard enough to hold her in place for his fast, desperate lunges. It felt like he was fucking her with its unyielding solidness.

“You will beg to service me like this whenever you see me,” Conan gritted out. Harsh, body-wrenching satiation filled his face. “You will wonder how you ever went a minute without the comfort of knowing you were my slave. And you’ll take my cum like the whore you’ve always been.”

He leaned back, spine arching as release loosened his physique from the knotted fever pitch it’d been at. The only hardness remaining in him was his death-grip on Athyr-Bast’s hips, ensuring he stayed sheathed in her while his balls were drained of their contents.

At the first launch within her, Athyr-Bast jolted into rapture which she’d never imagined could be hers. Her womanhood convulsed, her ecstasy mounting with first the feel of Conan’s seed rushing through his shaft, then the touch of liquid sex itself, catching her alight like a torch touched to dry kindling.

Athyr-Bast’s eyes widened, feeling every drop of cum as it entered her into fiery ropes, a deluge that coated her womb in warmth, flavored her soft pinkness like thick syrup. Rolling out around the phallus still staked inside her, to ooze down between her legs and into the canyon of her ass. Athyr-Bast had the wondrous sensation that she’d been put to the most rigorous of tests and met the need she’d been used for.

At some point it was too much for her. Too much cum assaulting her senses, too much anticipation suddenly met. Abruptly her rapture overflowed her body, wetness surging from her splayed womanhood to douse Conan’s loins as though she were still attempting to rival him, even in the white-hot flood with which he’d inundated her.

It was pure bliss, liquid and slippery, torrenting out of her beyond any of Athyr-Bast’s control. And with it went any semblance of restraint. She shook and twisted and whirled, writhing and gasping with the abandon of a madwoman.

“GGGGHHN! NNH! CONAN! CONAN!” she screamed, her unbridled rapture demanding expression from her lips as much as it had her cunt. She could not help but continue to cry out as the deluge continued, her body playing with this impossible experience as if it were a new toy.