He looked down at her, at his beautiful, powerful, utterly devoted Grayfia. Her helpless eyes and heavy breathing.
The languid peace that followed the moment was a balm to Sirzechs's soul, but the embers of his desire, banked but never extinguished, began to glow once more.
He shifted, his gaze falling upon Grayfia's serene, satisfied face. A slow, predatory smile touched his lips. He was not done with his queen. Not by a long shot.
He moved, his actions fluid and powerful, swinging a leg over her torso to straddle her. His weight settled comfortably on her stomach, his knees pinning her arms to her sides.
The new position was one of absolute dominance, and a shiver of anticipation ran through Grayfia's body. Her eyes, which had been soft with sleepiness, now fluttered open, darkening with a renewed, hungry light.
He looked down at her, at the perfect, creamy mounds of her breasts rising and falling with her quickening breath. His hard cock, resting against his thigh, began to stir, thickening and hardening with renewed purpose. He took himself in hand, the weight of him familiar and potent, and guided his shaft into the valley between her breasts.
"Push them together," he commanded, his voice a low, authoritative rumble.
Grayfia obeyed without hesitation, her hands coming up to press the soft flesh of her breasts around his hardened length.
The sensation was exquisite, a warm, silken cradle that she offered up to him. He began to move, his hips rocking slowly, sliding his cock through the tunnel she had created. The slick remnants of their previous union made the passage smooth, frictionless.
He watched her face as he used her body for his pleasure. He saw the flicker of something more than just submission in her eyes—a deep, thrilling need that craved this very treatment.
He leaned forward, his hands bracing on the headboard above her, his body a cage of muscle and might. The new angle caused the head of his cock to push up from between her breasts with every forward thrust, bobbing just inches from her lips.
She understood his unspoken command. She tilted her head forward, her tongue darting out to meet the tip of his shaft on every upstroke.
She licked him, her tongue swirling around the swollen crown, lapping at the bead of moisture that gathered there. The dual stimulation was maddening, the soft pressure of her breasts contrasted with the hot, wet heat of her mouth.
"You love this, don't you?" he growled, his voice rough with lust. "Being beneath me. Being my toy. My perfect, eager Maid."
A soft, guttural moan escaped her lips, the words a lit match to the gasoline of her arousal. "Yes, my Lord," she gasped, her voice thick with adoration and shameless need. "Use me. I beg You."
Her plea was all the encouragement he needed. He began to thrust harder, faster, fucking her breasts with a driving rhythm. Each thrust pushed his cock deeper into her waiting mouth.
She opened wide, her lips stretching around his girth, her tongue working feverishly against the sensitive underside of his head. He could feel the familiar tightening in his groin, the pressure building to an unbearable peak.
He looked down at the debauched, beautiful sight: his powerful queen, pinned and subservient, her breasts wrapped around his cock, her mouth eager to please him. The sight was his undoing.
With a loud, guttural groan, he thrust forward one final time. His cock jerked, and then he was erupting.
The first thick rope of his cum shot directly into her mouth, hot and potent. She swallowed instinctively, her throat working as she took his gift.
He pulled back slightly, and the next spurt landed across her lips and cheek, a pearly white stripe marking her as his. He continued to pump his hips, milking every last drop from himself, painting her lips, her chin, her the swell of her breasts with his essence.
When he was spent, he remained where he was for a moment, his chest heaving. Grayfia lay beneath him, a glorious mess. His seed glistened on her skin, and her tongue darted out to slowly, deliberately lick the cum from her lips, savoring the taste of him.
She looked up at him, her glowing crimson eyes filled with a blissful, worshipful contentment. She was marked, claimed, fed, and utterly, completely his.
He watched her for a long moment, admiring the evidence of his release painted across her pristine skin.
The sight was intoxicating, a final, possessive mark of his dominance. He slowly, deliberately, shifted his weight off her, moving to kneel beside her on the bed, his gaze never leaving hers.
His cock, now semi-hard but still formidable, rested against his thigh.
Grayfia remained perfectly still, her breathing shallow, her body humming with a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation.
She knew the command was coming before he even spoke. It was in his eyes, in the way he looked at the mess he had made of her.
"Clean it," he commanded, his voice low and firm, leaving no room for interpretation. "Every drop. Use only your mouth."
A thrill shot through her, sharp and electric. This was the ultimate submission, the ultimate act of devotion.
Not to be bathed or wiped clean, but to be forced to consume his very essence from her own body. Her lips curved into a small, obedient smile. "Yes, my Lord."
She began with her face. It was an awkward, undignified angle, and she loved it. She craned her neck, her tongue snaking out to lap at the cooling trail on her cheek.
She followed the path meticulously, her movements slow and worshipful, until she had gathered the taste of him from her skin. She then turned her attention to her lips, using her tongue to sweep the corners of her mouth, moaning softly as she savored the last remnants.
The main course awaited. She looked down at her own breasts, at the pearly drops pooling in the hollow of her throat and the smear glistening on the soft mounds. She propped herself up on one elbow, creating a better angle, and began her task.
Her movements were deliberate and sensual. She lowered her head, her long silver hair cascading over her shoulder to brush against her skin.
Her tongue, pink and nimble, dipped into the small puddle in the hollow of her throat, and she swallowed audibly. She then traced the larger smear on the swell of her breast, her tongue moving in slow, circular motions, as if polishing her own skin clean with his seed.
Sirzechs watched, his own breath catching in his throat. The sight was more erotic than anything he had ever witnessed.
His powerful, elegant queen, reduced to this beautiful, debauched act of self-cleaning, all for his pleasure and at his command. He felt his cock begin to stir once more, a testament to her unending, intoxicating power over him.
Grayfia took her time, making a show of it. She cleaned every inch of her chest, her tongue lapping and swirling until her skin was once again pristine, gleaming only with a faint sheen of saliva.
When she was finished, she looked up at him, her crimson eyes glowing with a dark, satisfied light. She opened her mouth to show him that it was empty, that she had obeyed his every command.
"Good girl," he praised, his voice a deep rumble of approval. He reached out, his thumb gently stroking her lower lip. "You were hot, Fia."
The praise washed over her, a warm balm that soothed the last remnants of her restraint.
His thumb on her lip was a gentle, possessive caress, but it was the look in his eyes—the deep, hungry approval—that truly set her soul ablaze. She had pleased him. She had been a good girl. And now, her work was not yet done.
Her gaze drifted downward, to the source of her delicious task. His cock, slick with a mixture of his seed and her saliva, lay thick and heavy against his thigh.
It was a magnificent sight, a testament to his power, and it was still marked with the last of his release.
Without needing to be told, she moved. It was a fluid, graceful motion, shifting from her reclined position to kneel on the bed before him.
She looked up at him from her lowered position, her expression one of pure, unadulterated worship. He was her king, her Master, and this was her sacrament.
She leaned in, her hands resting lightly on his powerful thighs. The scent of him—musky, primal, and uniquely her husband—filled her senses.
Her tongue darted out, tentatively at first, to taste the soft, sensitive skin of his inner thigh where a single drop had escaped. He let out a low sigh, his hand coming to rest on the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her silver hair.
The touch was not forceful, but it was an unspoken claim. He was guiding her, allowing her this service.
She turned her full attention to his cock. Starting at the base, she began to lick him with long, slow, deliberate strokes. Her tongue was soft and wet, tracing the thick vein that pulsed beneath his skin.
She was not just cleaning him; she was rediscovering him, memorizing his every contour with her mouth.
She could feel him twitch and harden under her ministrations, his body responding to her devotion even as he remained passively in control.
She worked her way up the shaft, her tongue swirling around the girth, cleaning away every last trace of their combined fluids.
The taste was intoxicating, a potent cocktail of their shared passion. When she reached the crown, she lingered.
Her tongue dipped into the small slit at the tip, coaxing out any final, lingering drop. He let out a soft groan, his fingers tightening in her hair.
Finally, she took him into her mouth. She didn't suck him with the intent of bringing him to another peak, but rather to cleanse him completely.
She enveloped his head with her lips, her tongue bathing him in a warm, wet caress, ensuring no part of him was left untouched by her attention.
She took him deeper, her mouth a warm, willing sheath, sliding down until he nudged the back of her throat. She held him there for a moment, her eyes watering slightly, a small, pleasant discomfort that she relished as another form of submission to his size.
She slowly pulled back, her lips tightening around him as she withdrew, leaving his cock glistening, immaculately clean, and fully, impressively erect.
She looked up at him, her mouth slightly open, her expression a silent question.
He looked down at her, a fierce, possessive heat in his eyes. His magnificent slutty Mais, on her knees, having just performed the most intimate of services. He was a man utterly and completely satisfied.
"Perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and renewed lust. "Absolutely perfect."