She jerked her head up, away from his grasp, taking one long, stubborn breath, before surging forward. Her limit breached as the head of his cock sunk into her throat.
The shock set Tristan’s teeth to clench together on his tongue, blood filling his mouth as his eyes rolled up, then back. His fingers twitched, then stiffened, tangled tightly in her hair. The combined agony of his tongue, mixing with his swelling cock pulsating in her tightening throat, made every sparkle, then go white in his head. His lips parted, crimson and saliva gushing down his chin as he cried out his release.
Shocks climbed up each vertebrae, his chest and arms flexing as he lost feeling in his toes. This felt too good to be heavenly.
He was in Hell, and the Devil was gulping down his cum and choking on his dick.
His head lowered forward, the jolts coming in slower, lighter intervals. His hands loosened their grip and Ira’s head lifted, allowing her to take quick, hissing breaths through her nose. As his fingers unraveled from her hair, she pulled herself back until his length left her mouth with a pop.
Her jaw was so slack, she couldn’t close it all the way, and Tristan saw the webs of his thick, pearly essence between the two rows of her teeth. She shuddered like a cat and coughed hard before she could close her mouth and swallow.
Her deep bronze skin shimmered with the drops of sweat on her forehead and she gazed up at him, her voluptuous lips parting as a tiny stream of his seed escaped her mouth and dripped down her chin. Tristan blinked, his eyes on those lips, entranced by the white, viscous fluid painting her dark, hot flesh.
Did she get entranced by his lips? His porcelain skin coated with his own dark red blood? As they gazed into each other’s eyes, a heavy silence blanketing them. His lips, covered with drying red iron, opened.
Ira shivered and gasped softly, a gurgling purr in her throat as she leaned forward, her succulent and stained lips parted as well.
How would they taste? He tasted her saliva mixing with his blood before. So what flavor would his semen add to the mix? The way she gulped it down, not even hesitating, even after her lungs nearly exploded from the lack of air, made it seem like the taste of his cum was as sweet as cream.
He wanted to taste her mouth. To taste the bitterness coating her tongue, mixing with the metallic tang of his lips.
He knew that once their lips touched, once their tongues were intertwined, he would rip her clothes from her silk, hiding steel body. He would grab her hips and pin her down, shoving himself between her muscular thighs. Or maybe he would lay back and she would climb onto him, engulfing him with that welcoming, gushing valley while her tongue explored his mouth.
They would fuck like beasts, and he was not sure when it would end.
Once their lips touched…
He would be hers.
Tristan’s eyes widened and when her lips were mere millimeters from his, he jerked his head back, twisting his head to the side, away from her.
She froze, her bottom lip quivering as he rejected her.
Again.
After all that?
“Tristan…sweetie…I-”
He turned his head towards her, his eyes sharp, brow furrowed deeply with a twitching smirk. “You may have not bitten off my dick, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you ripped out my tongue. Wrath. Besides, whores don’t get kisses after they swallow.”
There it was…that look he was used to.
Her eyes flared, sadness replaced with unbridled rage. He winced, feeling intense pressure slam on his shoulders; the air getting heavy and hot. It was so hard to breathe, and rivers of sweat ran down his cheeks, wetting the dried rust covering his chin.
That’s right.
He was in Hell.
She was Satan.
As her fist lifted into the air, rearing back, he closed his eyes, her primal authority preventing him from even thinking of using his enhanced speed to escape. She would catch him anyway.
It was better to take the punch.
Even if it meant having his skull and brain matter paint the windows of this gilded cage.
A thunderous crash slammed into his eardrums.
Yet his face was intact.
He gasped, his heart pounding to escape his chest as he saw her forearm grazing the side of his head. He gulped, hyperventilating as he turned his head to see her steel fist embedded into the wall, then whimpered as she turned her wrist, pulling her fist free. A web of cracks was left, surrounding a deep hole in the stone wall.
Ira jerked her head towards her shoulder and made Tristan jump as a POP, more akin to a gun shot than a joint change, echoed. She stood up, her nostrils flaring as she stared down at him.
She had given him power.
She easily took it away, and the hole was a visceral reminder of his precarious position against her volatile moods.
He gulped again, looking down at his knees. The room was so humid, his legs were glued to the fur rug, along with his eyes, “I-Ira-”
Her feral snarl silenced him and he could feel the Monster gleefully waiting for him to fuck up. Waiting for any other excuse to beat him into a masochistic pulp of cum and gore.
After a few moments of suffocating silence, she sighed, her tongue swiping the roof of her mouth to release a click. “I’m going to send in my team to check on you. Also groom you. Maybe bathe you if you pissed yourself.” The pressure lifted slowly, but her voice was still low and demonic. “Once they are done, we are going to the gym. I won’t-” She paused, taking a deep breath, “We will have the same handicaps.” She tilted her head, watching him, “Nod.”
He shuddered and lifted his head, still not facing her as he slowly nodded.
“Say ‘Okay’.”
“O-okay.”
Her lips pressed tightly together, and she turned away from him, “Glad you understood.” With that, she stalked out of the room, the door closing behind her.
Three clicks.
A buzzer.
He was locked in again.
Tristan relaxed, his hands pressing against the rug to stop him from collapsing onto the floor. “Fuck…oh fuck…”
He was still alive.
“She was so angry…”
He had all his limbs.
“I thought she was going to kill me…”
None of his bones were broken.
“She could’ve ripped me apart…”
He didn’t have new bruises.
In fact, except for the already closed scratches on his thighs, he didn’t have any wounds at all.
‘I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.’
“…Holy shit…”
I keep my promises.
He gazed at his hands, licking his chapped lips. “You…didn’t hurt me.”
‘I’ll give you everything…’
Something changed. The lavish room, her gentle demeanor…
On her knees, sucking him off, even though it humiliated her. Even as he insulted her. When he was baiting her to lose control, even to neuter him, she didn’t.
His breathing slowed, and he leaned his head back, his lips curling into a slight smile. “You are so fucked up, Ira, but okay.” He turned his head as the door opened, scratching at his cheek, “Okay. I’ll take everything.”
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