Masturbation Monday: The Ojastara Tales: Tale the Second, Part 3

Ojastara’s knees pressed into the grass, and she felt his hand shaking with passion and need as he placed it on the back of her head and pulled her in closer. 

She took her captor’s cock deeper into her mouth, so he was filling her, his glans close to but not quite touching the back of her throat. He was a pretty man, and his cock felt good into her mouth, hard though the skin was so soft and delicate. She loved the feel of that sensitive invader in her mouth, so responsive to her tongue and the suction she applied.

It was a pity the man attached to the cock was, she had to admit, a scumbag. But she licked that hard shaft, along the underside, making him moan.

His cock began to urge deeper into her, fucking her mouth and throat, and she reached behind him and pushed a finger into his asshole. He growled. “Bitch!” And she felt his hand slap her face. But, as she knew would happen, he accepted the penetration. She inserted a second finger, and began to suck him harder and faster. He began to make throaty noises, some guttural and some little more than squeaks. 

At last she knew from his gasping and hard breathing, and the way his cock had expanded in her mouth that he was ready. She placed her hands on his knees and pushed them wider apart.

He growled again: “Fucking little bitch!” He was not a nice man and he was not her friend.

But she let his cock reach the back of her throat, suppressing her own gag reflex, and bit him very lightly. It served as his signal. He gasped in a great breath, and his cock spurted into her, thickly, and she swallowed as he came into her.

His hands slackened on her shoulders, and she gave him fifteen seconds, as a kindness, before she dropped her head.

And then raised it, ramming his bollocks hard and ruthless with solid occipital bone. He made a strange gurgling sound, almost as if he’d swallowed his own tongue, and then said, “ooooh”, as if he were speaking clearly.

He fell to the earth, writhing in pain. Ojastara reached for an artery in his throat, and stopped the flow of blood. In a few seconds he stopped moving. She wasn’t sure whether she had killed him. She said, “If you recover, it would be nice to think that you’ve learned to be less of a jerk.”

But the foxes were approaching, growling. Their mistress had surely been bringing them food. She remembered that she had greater responsibilities than to the man on the ground, and nodded at them. The foxes came forward cautiously to smell their prey. One took an experimental bite of his arm. The teeth were sharp, and skin and muscle ripped. He rolled over, still dazed, and the foxes were on him. 

Ojastara bit the cord from her wrists and then removed the cord from her throat. It was probably wise to leave this place, but her captor and then victim had mentioned a landgrave, a man of stranger tastes and greater power than him. 

She could leave the foxes for now, as they were occupied, but they would join her soon enough. In the meantime she would find this landgrave.

 

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