He was begging her for release, his cock hard in the air between them. A small quantity of what the Germans called “yearning droplets” caught the light at the top of his penis. Ojastara leaned forward again, so her breasts touched his chect and his cock rutted against her stomach. She undid the leather round his wrist and thumbs, freeing his hands. Taking his left hand in hers, she held it to her mouth and spat copiously.

Then she sat back upright on his thighs, picking up the riding crop again and looking down at him fiercely. “If you want to come, little Landgrave, you can. Use your left hand. I’ll watch you.”

He stared up at her, desperation in his eyes. “Please…”

She flicked his cock warningly with the crop. “You know, I think you’d come if I just whipped this little cock. Would you like…”

He wouldn’t, it seemed. He reached for his penis, left-handed, and began to stroke. He gasped at the contact, and his stomach muscles tightened. He let out a great gust of breath, closed his eyes, and the circle of his thumb and forefinger stroked his cock at almost frantic speed.

Ojastara smacked his chest with the crop again. “Open your eyes! Don’t you dare close them again!” So he stared into her eyes as his body rose from the bed, his weight resting on his shoulder and ankles.

He said, “Mistress…” And he came, gasping as fluid spurted, in two streams, the first reaching nearly as high as her eyes, the second perhaps half that distance. None of it touched her. His head fell back.

Ojastara arose. The Landgrave looked up at her. His voice hardened, even as his cock softened. “An interesting moment of lust, to be sure. But you are staying with me.”

She looked at the riding crop in her hand, and then smiled at him. “No, Landgrave. I have taught you some things about yourself. I think you need to take the time to digest that knowledge. But I’ve done my part.”

And she walked away. The Landgrave scrambled to his feet, then stopped suddenly. Ojastara’s foxes had appeared at the pavilion’s door. All had drawn back their lips to expose sharp teeth. Foxes are smaller than wolves, but the Landgrave knew that a pack would have no trouble dispatching and then disposing of a human. He froze.

Ojastara left, but the foxes waited, still watching over the Landgrave. They were silent, teeth gleaming.