Season of Ashes Ch. 03-05

"Don't let me go," she said, reminding him of his threat. The soft cadence of her whisper hummed perceptibly against his dick. She opened her mouth wide, wrapped her lips around the entirety of the tip, and edged her tongue forward to slobber all over his piss-slit, absorbing any dewdrops of precum lingering there.

Dominik

Dominik had to chuckle as Milicent actually pouted at his treatment of her. The girlish behaviour was so unlike the calm composure he'd seen previously, but he was certain that it was for effect: she knew he wanted a reaction, and was determined to give him one. She proved that hypothesis moments later with the smirk crawling across her lips, followed by her tongue flickering over the wound he'd left. The way she teased him was retribution for the pain he caused; she did not go directly for her prize but instead let the towel fall to her hips, puddling in her lap to reveal her breasts to his ravenous gaze.

Her figure was as timelessly beautiful as any he'd seen; she could have been a film star from the Golden Age of Hollywood or a sculpture straight out of the Louvre. The act of creating her would have spurred an artist to forsake their tools forevermore. For all the appreciation she'd lavished over him, Dominik knew that Milicent was just as deserving of it -- if not more. He stared, spellbound at the sight of her, lost in appreciation. Her breasts sat high and proud on her chest, nipples budding into hardened proof of her own arousal, practically begging to be cupped in his hands. Stray blonde locks fell in a curtain over her face, veiling her wide eyes as she looked up at him, her fingers hooking into the waistband of the only thing that now separated them. Her hips were cloaked by the towel, draping over her lap in reminiscence of a classical portrait, hiding her womanhood but little else. It did nothing to disguise the perfection of her figure, the swell of her hips that invited a hand to caress or grip.

He could see the marks that the day's hardship had left on her, too. Bruises from where she'd been jostled on her way into the car, a scrape on her face, the dark imprint of fingers around her throat. A twinge of jealousy flashed through Fujiwara at the last observation, born not of indignation that someone would do that to Milicent, but because he wanted to be the one to leave marks on her perfect flesh. That only made his palms itch to prove to her that she belonged here, on her knees between his legs, panting out her need into warm caresses on his skin.

She was having difficulty waiting, too. She tugged at his briefs, freeing him from the infuriating confines of his clothing at last -- and finally, Fujiwara saw a raw expression of surprise in her eyes. There was no pretense as she took him in, none of her coy self-confidence. Her blue eyes were wide with a heady mixture of fear and awe, so intricately entangled in her expression. It was soon replaced with arousal, a smile replacing her surprise. She may have been shocked by what she found, but he was certain that if anyone was up to the task, it was she.

This was a performance just like the others she'd put on that night, and Milicent was the star. She knew it as well as Dominik, and she played her role to perfection, providing a feast for the eyes as she teased him, drooling onto the heavy length of his cock. It pulsed and twitched with a life of its own; it was all he could do not to force her onto his length. Instead, he watched as she laid her cheek on the firm solidity of his thigh. She was close enough that every slow breath tickled at his sensitive skin, and he couldn't help himself; his breath caught as she closed the distance to plant a gentle kiss on him. Her moan hummed against his balls, her tongue slipping out to lavish him with slow, warm strokes that left him aching for more.

He growled wordlessly, his eyes fixed on her as she slid along his length, tracing kisses as she went. Her tongue left moist heat along with her kisses, flickering over the pulsating veins as he twitched with arousal. He gave a deep sigh of pleasure, his fingers tightening in her hair unconsciously. She caressed his entire length with her lips, stoking his arousal further and making it even more difficult for him to hold back his lust. He'd never been as hard as he was now, watching this dangerous, intoxicating woman lavishing him with affection.

"Never." He meant it. How could he let her slip through his fingers now that he'd felt her lips against his? Perhaps it was a vain hope, but this felt different than a mere sexual outlet between two rivals. Whatever the morning would bring, Dominik knew that he wasn't going to give this up easily. He'd found a better prize than the cash.

He was already leaking precum, sticky strands of which coated her tongue as she ran it over his tip; her touch elicited another pulse into her mouth. The warmth of her lips surrounded him, enveloping him with lush pleasure, and his shaft flexed with the sensation as she drooled onto him. Fujiwara rolled his hips gently, eager to feel more of her mouth wrapped around him, but not wanting to ruin the languorous pleasure of the moment. He could tell that his size was a challenge for her, but if anyone was up to the task, it was Milicent. Her lips were stretched wide around his girth, moulding into a perfect fit for his cock.

His abs tightened visibly as he fought to hold back, ridged muscle standing out with tension as if etched into stone. He was awash with conflicting desires, torn between letting her worship him with slow attention or taking his pleasure from her as he yearned to do. He settled for guiding her further down with his grip on her hair, applying gentle pressure -- not forcing her, merely suggesting. The former would come later, or at least he hoped it would.

After the painful anticipation of this moment, it was almost too much to bear. His head fell back against the couch, and Fujiwara swallowed down another growl of pleasure, running his free hand through his hair as he savoured the feeling of Milicent's lips and tongue. Tired muscles and sore limbs did not matter any longer. How could they when this vision of beauty was satisfying what he'd wanted since the moment he laid eyes upon her? Thoughts of the Impérial were far from his mind now. They'd worry about that in the morning. For now, all that mattered was the sensual pleasure of the moment.

"If I knew you were so interested in me, I might have let you take the binder." He chuckled deeply, lifting his head to look down at her once more. "I know what I'd rather have between the cash and you. I just hope I don't have to choose."

Milicent

Dominik managed to provide a feast not only for Milicent's taste buds, but for her eyes as well. His body was a barometer: tensing and tightening, muscles growing taut to signal his approval of her devotion. The moisture on his torso hadn't completely dried, and its burnished glaze served only to accentuate the fine details of his marble-hewn musculature. He was a mansion with a view, a steaming-hot colossus she could easily see herself admiring for years -- if she could but survive this first encounter.

She revelled in the flavour of the exquisite sap that dribbled over the carpet of her tongue, awakening new heights of yearning in her delicate palate. Her lashes wavered, eyes narrowing and growing distant even as she continued looking at him; her mind was reeling, lost in the piquant jolt of his precum; her tongue wagged against the slit, demanding more from the source, and a low purr rumbled from her throat, making her lips vibrate around the tip of his cock while she delighted in the unique terroir of his natural lubricant.

Already she felt a shiver of fear threatening to overtake her spine, already she felt the rib-pounding hammer of her panicking heartbeat: her lips were stretched to the point of soreness, though she had barely begun making a meal out of him. This would be the trial of her life.

Despite the outward indications of difficulty, Milicent insisted on adhering to her usual proclivity for ignoring warning signs. No task was too hard for her -- though the way Dominik's proud spire throbbed iron-hard in her mouth supplied alarming evidence to the contrary. Nevertheless, his teasing half-concession about the binder reinforced her instincts: keep at it, and he'll be yours for good. The thought made her smile, contorting her expression as her lips twisted around the crown of his cock.

His unabating grip goaded her to continue. She responded with a breathy gasp, somewhat unnerved by the inevitability of hardship ahead, but she soldiered on and obeyed the pressure of his touch. Candied lips stretched around the circumference of his shaft; her tongue swirled in slow, clockwise circles around the tip; her mouth formed a tight seal around him, causing her cheeks to momentarily collapse inward. Her eyes widened, advertising the turmoil brewing in her thoughts as she came face-to-face with the impending prospect of ruination. The forked outline of the veins in her forehead projected outward, upsetting the tranquility of her smooth skin.

"Mmm..." Her high-pitched moan was curt enough to pass as a squeak, a distress signal.

The spongy head of his shaft massaged the roof of her mouth as it delved inside. Her tongue slobbered all over the underside of his length, unable to extend its reach due to the heavy obstruction he posed with his sheer volume. The tip of her tongue snaked forward, poking out above her lower lip and bringing with it a thick strand of drool that drooped from the corner of her mouth. This was it. She was doing it. She was taking him. His spearhead edged closer to the entrance of her throat; her mouth tightened helplessly around his cock, lips trembling around his girth as she stood her ground, lowering her head to take him in--

"--GuuuuUUULGH!" Her neck convulsed, her eyes flared wide, and a jet of froth ejected from the narrow openings on both sides of her mouth, spraying his cock with her spit. "Nngh!" She furrowed her brows, fingers instinctively clasping his knees and using them for leverage as she pulled back, tearing her lips away from his shaft.

"Ahhhhhh..." She panted, cooling his meat with the evaporating caress of her breath. Thick strands of spit tethered her quivering lips to the top half of his girth. Only the top half. A lightning-bolt of rage struck Milicent as she noticed that she'd only managed to swallow a fraction of him before her body had rebelled and rung the warning gong. "Fucker." She didn't know if she was angry at him, his dick, or herself. But she did know that she had to save face, even if she needed a second to recover.

It wasn't just about winning. Dominik was a catalyst for primeval passions -- a set of deep-dyed instincts that were beginning to rise from Milicent's repressed graveyard of yearnings like scores of reanimated corpses. She hadn't felt a craving like this since...she couldn't even remember.

She lunged for his balls again, ignoring the pain when her swift descent countered his hold on her hair. This time, there was nothing demure in her approach. Her mouth swept open, eagerly scooping up a globule of pendent flesh; her jaw popped slightly as she welcomed the nut into her maw, cheeks bulging from the effort while her tongue feverishly lathered it with generous heaps of saliva. With a gurgling growl and a pop of pressurised release, she pulled back, gasping for air, her lips and chin utterly soaked with her own fluids.

It was time for a second attempt. She sighed over his length as her mouth swept up over his throbbing meat. She yawned, grimacing from the vestigial soreness that pulsed in her jaw from her first try. There was no room for error, no room for vacillation. Steeling herself with a preparatory swallow, Milicent stretched her mouth over the crown of his cock once more, flicking her eyes to look at him as she bounced down and up, down and up, gently taking in more and more of his cock with steady strokes of her lips.

The natural impulse for resistance mounted in her body; she struggled to fight it off, to ignore it and let it wither from inattention. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper. Wet schlucking sounds filled the air as she devoured him, bit by bit, until she managed to force her lips past their original stopping point. She whimpered, stifling the reaction that threatened to bubble over inside of her. The wetness in one eye brimmed and a single jewelled teardrop snaked down the corner of her cheek. A snarl overtook her lips as they crept farther, farther, swallowing up more of him, until she could feel the gorgeous fullness of his cock stretching the entrance of her throat.

"Mmmmph!" A lewd, wet spasm burst from her muffled mouth. Her upper body jerked, her eyes shut, and her lips wavered around his member, slowly withdrawing while thick globs of viscous wetness trickled out of her mouth.

"Hooooly fuck..." She wheezed, her lips still trembling as his cock slipped out of her mouth. A waterfall of pent-up spit followed, coursing over her lower lip, dripping past her chin, and glazing over the rondure of her exposed tits.

This was a treacherous enterprise. But it was far, far too late to turn back. Milicent had tasted him -- tasted enough of him to know that nothing else would ever sate her again. And despite the overtones of hauteur that seemed to govern every atom of her personality, she wasn't too proud to ask for support when her own desires were on the line.

"Please," she cooed, her voice breathy and hoarse from the recent effort. "Fuck my face."

Dominik

Her breath was hot on his flesh, bathing the length which had not yet felt her lips or tongue with a heated promise. It was a sight utterly primal in its satisfaction, appealing to something deeper than Dominik's conscious mind. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of Milicent struggling to take him down, and wouldn't have even if it were possible.

There was a delicious contrast in it, seeing a woman who had been so composed and refined -- so dangerous -- on her knees, struggling to swallow him. It should have been entirely wrong to defile a work of art like Milicent, a taboo act to do anything more than caress her with gentle sensuality. It was clear she never would have forgiven him for such a transgression, not in the heat of the moment. Her moans were a testament to that, buzzing around his cock as he pressed against her palate. Her tongue slid along his underside, coaxing another flood of precum to coat her taste buds.

He didn't have to force her down; she did that herself. His fingers in her hair were there to provide a stinging hint of his possessiveness and little more. She pressed forward, the strain clear in her eyes as she edged closer to taking him into her throat. Milicent trembled with the effort, but she was determined, pressing forward...

Her throat convulsed around his tip, and she sputtered a wet gag, spit lathering around the base of his shaft. She jerked away instinctively, responding to the biological imperative to breathe and reject the intrusion into her throat. His arousal didn't care about the way it made her struggle; he just wanted more. How could he not? He looked down at the beautiful woman, strands of spit connecting her lips to his thick shaft, her brow furrowed with frustration at not being able to swallow him down as easily as she wanted.

"Fuck." He breathed unconsciously, an unintentional echo of her frustration. There was always something special about watching a woman struggling to take him, but the abandon with which she threw herself into the task was special.

Even as she tried to catch her breath, she was intent on providing more pleasure. It could have been a mere demonstration that she would not be defeated so easily, or it might have been attempted proof that she could be better than the weakness of her body, still able to please him even so. Fujiwara would have put money on it being sheer stubbornness, rather than magnanimity. Whatever the case, she dove between his legs with relish, slathering him with spit, smearing her face in his balls. The aching spire of his cock towered over her still, glistening with her spit and a sticky bead of precum rolling down his shaft, bobbing with each beat of his heart.

Fujiwara smirked down at her as he watched her gaze flicker back to the challenge he posed. She steeled herself, and he growled with pleasure as her lips surrounded him yet again. Milicent's eyes met his, and she started to take him down with steady bobs of her head. Again and again, her lips slid over his shaft, sinking further down with each stroke. Spittle dripped down to his base, and her eyes brimmed with tears. This time, she refused to let her body control the pace. His tip pressed against the resistance of her throat once more, but this time she didn't let it stop her. The unconscious reactions of her body threatened to make her withdraw again, but it was clear that Milicent was forcing herself to ignore them, in the name of his pleasure. Each time she clenched down on his girth, it served only to provide more stimulation, a tight massage around the tip of his member.

Knowing what it cost her only stoked his arousal further. Her refined femininity was eroding as it gave way to a creature of lust and desire, as she shed the façade in the name of mutual satisfaction. It was a shame to violate a work of art like Milicent, but Fujiwara couldn't help but want more. The desire in her teary eyes was just as clear as the hunger in his face; he couldn't have held himself back if he wanted to.

Her panted request removed any doubt. Drool coated her chin, dripping onto the classic perfection of her breasts, rolling into the deep canyon of her cleavage. She was a mess of tears and spit, and that only made him want to ruin her, no matter what the cost. She wanted him to fuck her face? He wasn't about to refuse her.

His grip in her hair tightened, tugging at her roots as he growled with wordless need. He didn't wait for her to recuperate; as soon as she'd finished her sentence, Dominik tugged her back onto his length. This time, he wasn't gentle. He didn't let her explore at her own pace, or let her push her own limits. He sank into the warm embrace of her mouth, and he pushed past the resistance of her throat, his cock stretching her to her limits. She was warm and wet, her lips a strained seal around his girth, her tongue flicking over the underside of his shaft to tease at the pulsating veins. Her throat squeezed him, her choking gags only coaxing more precum from him.

The boiling heat of his arousal was growing ever more pressing. His breathing was becoming ragged now, coming in halting fits as he rolled his hips. Each time he pressed her further, his hips rocked upward to meet her. He was practically using her mouth as a toy, guiding her motions with his hand on the back of her head, tugging her away to allow the barest gasp of oxygen. It was an exquisitely unbearable experience; the sounds of her struggling with his size filled the small sitting room, the sensations threatened to overwhelm even his ironclad willpower. He wasn't sure how much longer he could withstand the pleasure -- but he also knew that he didn't need to. He had nothing to prove to her, not now.

She'd asked for this. She needed this as much as he did.

He pushed himself off the couch with his free hand, his legs braced on either side of her body. She was trapped between his unyielding muscle and the low coffee table, digging into her spine. The discomfort she faced didn't matter to him; only his pleasure was important in this moment. Now, he was able to thrust properly into the tight seal of her lips, fucking her face in truth. He could no longer help himself; the pace increased along with his need, his balls swinging pendulously and spattering strands of her spit against his thighs. Fujiwara gritted his teeth, veins standing out along his neck as his breath came in thick grunts of pleasure.