Page 160 of Knot Their Fated M.U.S.E

Not crude domination but careful consideration for comfort and connection despite the inherent vulnerability of the proposed arrangement. Thoughtfulness that speaks to genuine care beneath judicial authority and instruction.

"Okay," I agree with enthusiasm that surprises even me.

The eagerness in my response reveals just how thoroughly he's managed to transform potential embarrassment into genuine anticipation.

I shift with fluid grace despite lingering tremors from recent climax, moving to the center of the institutional bed with movements that feel deliberately sensual rather than simply functional. My hands find purchase against cool sheets while knees settle into comfortable positioning that provides stability without strain.

The position creates exquisite awareness of my own body—back arched to display the curves that maturity has enhanced, ass raised in obvious invitation despite the clinical nature of our arrangement.

Cool air makes contact with heated flesh still slick from recent release, creating temperature contrast that sends shivers racing through nerve endings already hypersensitive from unprecedented stimulation and mounting arousal.

Sable moves with judicial precision, joining me on the bed with movements that speak to careful control despite obvious desire.

When he kneels before me with deliberate positioning that brings us to perfect height alignment, the arrangement transforms our interaction into something approaching intimate collaboration rather than simple dominance display.

But it's when he pushes his boxers down completely that my breath catches in my throat with audible force.

His cock springs free with visible relief that speaks to constraint and mounting pressure, the impressive length nowfully revealed in all its intimidating glory. Thick enough to challenge normal anatomy, veined with vascular complexity that promises comprehensive sensation, crowned with a swollen head that glistens with generous pre-cum announcing readiness and biological preparation.

The sight triggers immediate salivation—mouth watering with biological recognition and designation response that transcends conscious thought.

Omega instincts recognizing superior Alpha anatomy, biological imperative demanding taste and exploration that operates beyond rational consideration or tactical assessment. The distinctive scent of masculine arousal adds another layer to our atmospheric cocktail, salt and musk that speaks to pheromone concentration and systematic desire.

Without waiting for permission or instruction, I lean forward to drag my tongue across the swollen head with deliberate precision.

The taste explodes across my palate with intensity that defies expectation—salt and something uniquely him that makes my pussy clench with renewed emptiness despite recent satisfaction. His pre-cum carries complexity that speaks to biological compatibility and designation harmony, flavor that creates immediate craving for more comprehensive exploration.

His grunt of surprise and pleasure vibrates through the air between us with almost physical presence.

The sound emerges rough and uncontrolled, judicial composure momentarily shattered by unexpected initiative and direct stimulation. Yet he doesn't scold or redirect—just watches with silver eyes that burn with appreciation for my boldness and tactical anticipation.

I lift my gaze to meet his across the minimal distance separating us, allowing submission to flow across my features with deliberate transparency.

Eyes wide with manufactured innocence despite obvious experience, lips parted in invitation that transcends verbal communication. The expression carries calculation beneath apparent vulnerability—recognition of what drives his desires and deployment of visual stimulation designed to enhance his experience.

His answering growl carries impatience that speaks to barely controlled restraint finally approaching sustainable limits.

"You better take every inch of my cock as punishment for losing," he states with authority that transforms consensual exploration into consequence and educational demonstration.

The command sends electricity racing through nerve endings already singing with anticipation.

Not simple threat but promise of comprehensive experience that would challenge physical limits while providing the submission his judicial nature demands. Punishment disguised as pleasure, consequence that serves mutual satisfaction despite its disciplinary framework.

"Yes," I agree with breathless acceptance, the word emerging as barely audible whisper that carries absolute commitment despite obvious challenge ahead.

A small bob of my head provides additional confirmation—gesture of acquiescence that acknowledges his authority while expressing willingness to meet whatever expectations he establishes.

Taking him proves natural rather than rushed, each inch requiring careful adjustment and deliberate progression.

My lips stretch around his considerable girth with sensation that borders on overwhelming yet somehow remains manageable through controlled breathing and technique. His taste intensifies with deeper penetration, salt and muskcreating complexity that makes my mouth water with biological appreciation and designation recognition.

Halfway down his considerable length, the position becomes challenging enough to require tactical adjustment.

My throat relaxes through conscious effort while breathing shifts to accommodate intrusion that exceeds normal parameters. My weighted omega instincts proves advantageous—flexibility and control that allows progression beyond typical limitations despite obvious physical challenge.

His groan of relief emerges with rough satisfaction that vibrates through contact points.

"Fuck," he breathes as my lips finally reach the base of his shaft, nose pressed against coarse hair that carries his concentrated scent with devastating clarity. "Perfect."

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