Page 70 of To Tame An Angel

“And then fuck me.” He met my eyes, his lips were a parted sea, a desperation. “Dry.”

A moan erupted from my lips, and I instantly clutched his face, pulling him to me, eating his mouth. My other hand found his wings, brushing them like one brushed the nape of a cat’s tail. He arched, all the pleasure points igniting.

I pushed him back because it could end too quickly, and we didn’t want that. Not when the dogs have been fed and our bellies were sated. We wished the hours to last until we passed out in sweat.

I pointed to the bench he made with his own hands. The bench I requested. He’d taken his time to adhere to the measurements and my instructions. Little did he know the bench was for him. Or perhaps he knew and delighted in his work.

“Clothes off. First position, Tannor. And eyes closed,” I said in a stern voice.

He looked like he wished to argue. He loved to argue. He liked it when I wrestled him into submission. Loved to provide one last bit of sass for a final bite of my whip, even if he was already in tears. His toes curling, his thighs shaking, his mouth lacking all moisture. He wished to pretend to battle me for it kept his cock hard.

Tannor may want me to fuck him dry, but I wouldn’t fuck him tight. I didn’t wish him broken. I never wished him to be broken. I never wished to see him again like I saw him by the river that fateful day.

“Not dry,” I said.

“I don’t mind -” he said, his lower lip jutting out.

“Look at me,” I said, and he did. “Be a good boy and I’ll test the thick one.”

His eyes changed from slight challenge to apprehension as they flickered over to the chest where I stored my phalluses. We’d not used the largest one on him. I had polished it myself, a smooth flexible leather-bound curved thing that I’ve used on myself, opening my cunt before him as punishment when he’d not been allowed to touch me. That was the punishment for the wild boar. He had to watch me fuck myself while he kneeled bound with his cock dripping to the floor.

Tannor released the binding of his trousers and dropped them on the floor. He still carried scars all over his body. As did I. We were a map of the terrible past we’d escaped from. After he’d woken from our escape, he hated that I tended to him. Telling me it felt different. But I didn’t care. I had reminded him that he was my responsibility, and I would ensure that he was back to health.

He slowly lowered himself on the bench. It was three feet long, wide enough to be comfortable as he laid over it. Leather handles were nailed to the side, for him to grasp which he did. He set his head to the side and watched me. His wings protruded out into the air, ending in a point which we’d come to realize meant he was thick with desire. He couldn’t help it, not when he was lusting. That’s how I could tell I’ve gone too far, if they curled in protection, the pain was superseding his pleasure.

His eyes fluttered closed as I took hold of the plug I made to stretch him, to prepare him. I always run it between my own lower lip, moistening it with my juices. It wasn’t as slippery as oil but enough to allow for comfort. I stood behind him and caressed his wings. They fluttered and I could hear his breath hitching. He was bent at the waist, his cheeks taunt. I ran my fingers over his lower back down to his ass. He squirmed and I slapped his ass as a warning. I gently spread his ass, his small hole winking. It was always a mix of apprehension and delight. A feeling he enjoyed; the shiver of fear against the discomfort while loving it at the same time.

“Be a good boy and open for me,” I said, my voice thick with lust at the sight of him like this.

The hole shivered a little, he was convincing it, assuring it the pleasure would be worth it. I circled my thumb over it, petting my lovely little cavern. Until I felt the muscles untangle from their copious apprehension.

I kneeled and nuzzled his flesh with my nose.

“I could eat you,” I said against his skin, fluttering the small hair that peppered his body. And I did bite him, I opened my mouth and grasped the fleshy part of his ass, clenching it hard between my teeth. He rocked forward, his breath coming short.

“Don’t you dare cum, Tannor,” I said when I let go of his flesh.

I studied the imprint of my teeth, the roundness encircling his red flesh. Marked. I caressed my brand, the skin raised and welted permanently. He was making pitiful noises, rocking his hips slightly for the friction, and creating a desperate chorus.

Taking pity on my angel and his shivering wings, I parted his cheeks once more. The hole was relaxed and ready. I gently pressed the plug into it, rubbing his ass as I pressed forward, assuring him that I was pleased with his obedience.

“Wider, my love,” I said when I felt that inevitable resistance.

He grunted, his toes curling. I lifted my hand and grasped one of his shaking wings. The moment my fingers were buried into the snow-soft feathers the plug popped in with little effort. He was struggling, holding himself tight, desperately trying not to cum. I leaned back on my heels and studied him. Studied the artistic rendition of my lover. His large, muscled body, which protected me during our escape. How he ensured no part of me was harmed as we were pummeled by arrows. Recalling the sound of his desperate cries of pain as he blanketed my body with his, filled me with love. Because I knew when he saved me that he loved me.

Now that he was healed, we enjoyed testing boundaries. It’s led to the discovery of new pleasure cliffs.

The black plug sat neatly between his cheeks, his cock was hard and ignored. It would remain ignored until it was time. I caressed the underside of his sack. Instantly, he yanked at the leather binds he held to keep his hands in place.

“If you could see yourself, Tannor.”

I ran my hands up his thigh and back to his ass. I smacked his left cheek, watching it bounce, hearing his hiss.

“Bent for me, open for me, stuffed by me. Ready for me to redden your ass until a small wind will make you come.”

“Nalla—” his voice was strangled, his knees shifted, his wings seemed to wish for flight.

I smacked him again, three more times, drinking in the gasps and desperate breaths he took. I caressed his sack once more before I stood. My knees creaked with the weight of the child in my belly. I held it tightly, caressing myself. The babe was still small, only a lump.