Page 65 of Veiled Flames
I’ll show her power. My thick cock can go in even deeper from behind.
Retrieving a bolster from the head of her bed, I raise her hips and stuff it under her belly, elevating her hips, fully exposing her glistening sex to me, already deep red from the friction. I pity those soft folds. Her tiny body has no idea the torrent of abuse it’s about to suffer.
“Women are too frail for camp.” My words will make her angry. “Time to demonstrate that, for your own good.”
She glares at me, anger building.
“Girls aren’t suited for dragon camp. Your sex is too weak, too feeble minded, too cowardly.” Grabbing her hips with both hands, I plow back into her, driving in all the way with one pass. My thighs and stones smack against her as I hit home.
She cries out. Her head is turned back toward me, but I dare not look into her eyes. I can’t. Not while giving her this lesson. I push down on the back of her neck and tuck my other arm under her belly to gain leverage. Once she’s secured, I slam into her, driving over and over, as hard and as fast as I can.
“I’ve gone far too easy on you, Princess. Tonight, you’ll experience true male power.”
My arms don’t allow her small body any space to move, any chance to breathe, and I relentlessly plow into her with no regard for her well-being or pleasure. I’m already regretting what I’m doing to her. I should stop. I can’t.
“I take no pleasure in this,” I say through gritted teeth. “But I need to teach you a lesson.”
My body’s on fire now. All my frustrations, all my fears and darkest desires flow out of me, and I drive every one of them into her. Tender feelings again wrestle to regain control of my actions, but I push them down.
This is for the best.
If I can’t convince her to quit, I need Rosomon to hate me. This punishing fuck is what I must do. For the sake of us both.
Her tight cunny convulses around my cock, she’s already reached a climax, and the bed covers stifle her screams as I continue to hold her head down against the mattress. My body wants to drive into her forever, but as I feel her release around my cock, I cry out. My stones explode without warning, shooting my hot seed inside her.
My cock continues to glide, moving through the added lubrication, both from her and from my own seed. Her insides continue to squeeze me in pulsing aftershocks, and her cries transform into moans of pleasure.
Instantly, I’m rock hard again. I haven’t maintained stiffness after a release, since I was very young. As young as she is now.
Remembering my goal, I vow to ignore the gap between our ages and experience. She’s enjoying this too much. I tug back on her body to renew my assault. Releasing her neck, I slide a finger atop her lady button and rub it in time with my hard drives.
One release for a woman brings ecstasy, two or three are typically welcome, but excessive rough pressure on her sensitive nub will soon turn to torture.
She cries out again, and her body squeezes around mine. She’s reached another peak already, but instead of slowing my strokesto let her fully experience her pleasure, I thrust even harder and faster through her convulsions. And I continue to abrade her hard nub, even as she raises her hips, as if struggling to distance it from my finger’s friction.
“Remember this well,” I say through gritted teeth. “When next you see me, remember who is in charge. Who holds all the power. Remember how rough I can be. How harsh. Just imagine how difficult I can make your training. You must well remember the torment I’m causing you now.”
“Why?” Her voice is muffled by the covers, but then she turns her head to the side. She’s confused. Her cheeks are as red as ripe crab apples, her eyes glassy with tears.
I can’t let up.
“Consider this your first trial at camp,” I tell her. “A veryhardlesson that’s for your own good.” I try to think of ways to prolong my ability to slam into her.
I can’t look at her again. If I do, I’ll stop. I can’t stop.
Instead, I keep my eyes on the wardrobe across the room, memorizing the shapes of the wyllow trees depicted there, and every line in the wood’s grain. The focus helps me stifle my desire to show her mercy and treat her body the way she deserves to be treated—the way Iwantto treat her.
With each of my drives, I count the narrow leaves on the carved trees, and my intense scrutiny of the furniture helps to maintain my stiffness. While I plan to bring her to completion many, many more times, I don’t want to spill my seed too soon. If I do, it will take too long to recover. If I’m not done with her when that happens, I’ll have to find some other thing to drive into her.
Her body reaches another explosive climax. I’m not even certain the last one ended. Her hands scrape along the bed cover, as if trying to gain purchase to escape me, but my arm holds her tightly, pulling her back against every hard drive.
Letting up on her button for a moment, I continue to plow, slamming so roughly I feel her channel’s end. And then flick her hard nub again.
The instant my finger contacts her button, her body shakes and twitches.
“Too much!” she cries out. “Don’t touch me there right now. It’s too much.”
“If you can’t withstand this, you can’t withstand the rigors of camp.” I give her nub a short break, as if I’ve listened to her pleas, but then I repeat my actions, knowing the short pause will only heighten the impact.
