Warnings: This title contains anal and group sex.
Word Count: 11,202
Dawnie, Fallen Angel Reviews 5/5 Angels
"If you want a scorching & naughty short romp, this story is for you. Fast paced & downright mind-blowing…packs a big punch in a short amount of space. The sexual delights were enough to raise my temperature… Ms. Krylov’s characters are interesting and well written. I look forward to reading more."
At a small gesture from Lord Melchior the guards gently set Rasha on her feet. The master stared possessively into her eyes, capturing and holding her gaze, and began undoing his breeches. When he unfastened them his prick sprang up, tall and hard. Poor Rasha looked suddenly terrified, and tried to back away but the guards still flanking her caught her arms and held her still. No doubt she had never seen the sex of a man before, and now that I know how soft and small a thing women have between their legs I cannot imagine what she could have thought, seeing that pole of flesh rising high above the master’s groin. Once more he was enjoying her terror and embarrassment, and his hand went to the root of his shaft, gripping it like a weapon, seeming to enjoy the heavy girth of it in his fist. Then, as she looked on, he drew his hand slowly up his cock, letting the hard cylinder of flesh glide through his grip, until he reached the underside of the flared tip. He cuffed himself there, squeezing, making the head flare and darken above his fist, then brought his grip down to the root once more.
“Now, Rasha, on your knees.”
The flush of her ecstasy had faded and Rasha was ghostly white once more as she tread reluctantly forward and dropped to her knees. The master cradled her pale face in his large hands, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs.
“Poor Rasha. How fierce and monstrous my manhood must look to your eyes. But you’ll see, the skin is soft and delicate, and once it is in your mouth, sweet, you’ll find it’s warm and full of life. And there is pleasure to be had, Rasha, in giving pleasure. Now, take the root of it in your hand. Gently.”
Tentatively she curved her delicate fingers around the thick base.
“Now, sweet Rasha, open that pretty mouth and taste me.”
Her lips parted and she bent her head, taking the plump crown into her mouth. The master’s body shuddered and he sighed, seeming to love the heat and the wet of her mouth on him. He stroked and petted her beautiful auburn hair as her lips closed around his shaft, and she drew back, pulling the fleshy dome from her mouth with a little slurp that made the master moan. He watched her as she took him in her mouth once more, and with words taught her how to please him, telling her to use her tongue to caress the sensitive head, to tease the little joint of flesh just under the ridge, to slide the length of him into her and draw it out against the sucking of her hungry mouth. She seemed to have lost her fear and was learning her task with endearing enthusiasm.
“Neron,” the master said softly with a slight quaver in his voice.
Neron dropped to his knees behind Rasha, and taking gentle hold of her ankles, guided her knees back on the pillow until her torso was a horizontal bridge over the floor and her thighs were vertical columns a foot or so apart.
Startled Rasha raised her head from her task.
“Shhh, Rasha,” the master soothed her, “You know that Neron knows how to please you. Trust him to touch you gently now.”