Cathleen's gaze lingered on the floor, her posture a silent testament to submission. The air crackled with tension, thick with the scent of longing and power. Xavier towered over her, his presence an oppressive force that kept her tethered to the spot.
"You're going to let me fuck your mouth," he commanded, voice like gravel. His eyes bored into her, capturing every flicker of emotion that danced across her features. Lust swirled there, betraying her inner turmoil. "And if you're lucky, I'll let you cum before I'm done with you for the night. But you've got to make it good for me if you want that to happen. Do you understand?"
Her silence hung heavy between them until he prodded, "I asked you a question."
She nodded, her voice a whisper lost in the void. "I understand."
"Good girl," Xavier praised, a crooked smile playing on his lips. He made a show of unbuckling his belt, the sound slicing through Cathleen's resolve. His cock sprang free, already half-hard-evidence of his own desire inflamed by her eagerness.
His touch is bold and possessive as he takes his cock in hand and starts to stroke it, each stroke slow and deliberate. Cathleen's eyes are fixed on him with an intensity that borders on obsession, like a predator sizing up its prey. Despite her attempts at indifference, the hunger in her gaze is palpable, unspoken desires screaming louder than any words could.
"Come on," he goaded, his moan vibrating through the charged atmosphere. "Make me feel good."
He'd laid out his demand: her mouth, his pleasure. Yet he craved the sight of her striving to please him, earning the reward he dangled just out of reach. Cathleen slid forward, her movements deliberate and calculated. Lips parted, breath hot against his flesh, she hovered-an inch from paradise, a world away from salvation.
Xavier shivered, anticipating a serpent coiling tight within his gut. His tongue grazed his lips, savoring the moment, the delicious precipice of control. He waited for her next move-a king overseeing his domain, a devil craving the fall of an angel.
Cathleen descended further, her tongue a brazen explorer, tracing the rugged terrain of his arousal. She drew the taste of him deep into her mouth, savoring the salt and musk that was unmistakably male. No hands to aid her-she was raw and unguided, her lips the sole navigators charting a course along his length.
Xavier reclined, a lord in his leather throne, fingers threading through her hair with a possessive ease. A silent assertion of control. She worked harder, her head bobbing, her tongue swirling in chaotic patterns over his flesh. The sound of her sucking filled the room, a lewd symphony matched only by the quickening pulse in his groin.
Spit pooled, escaped, and dribbled down him-a sheen of shameless desire. Cathleen slurped it back, determined not to falter. Yet he couldn't help but chuckle at the sight she made, laboring so earnestly, so messily beneath him.
"Good effort," Xavier murmured, but his eyes betrayed the hunger for more. He gathered her ponytail like reins and yanked her head back, severing their connection with a slick pop. "It's time you learn how I truly crave it."
"Open up," he commanded, his voice a velvety threat.
Cathleen's obedience was swift. Her lips parted, an invitation to invade. He didn't hesitate. Pulling her head towards him, guiding her with a firm grip on her hair, he watched as she enveloped him once more. Her gag was music-a testament to his dominance.
"Take it," he growled, relentless despite her struggle. She had to keep up, had to adapt. He was molding her, making her into the perfect vessel for his pleasure. As she choked around him, he saw it-the glint in her eye, the defiance turned to fervor. His Cathleen, always fighting but never broken. Not yet.
He granted her a moment's mercy, just enough to drag in air that scalded her lungs. She heaved, gasping, before his hand clamped on her head like a vice once more. His hips surged forward. The intrusion was sudden-insistent. She sputtered against the invasion but managed to steady herself, her throat yielding to the unyielding hardness.
"Good girl," Xavier rasped, heat coiling within him. Pleasure shot through him as she constricted around him. "Fucking good girl."
Cathleen's body fought for oxygen; her eyes watered from the strain. She gagged, bucking under his grip. With a grunt, he allowed her respite, watching her suck down breath like it was the finest wine. Her lips glistened, swollen, and red, smeared with the evidence of her effort.
His gaze lingered on the tears that began to streak her flushed cheeks. Perfect. Fucking perfect.
"You were made for this," he declared, voice laced with dark promise. Hands still tangled in her hair, he kept her tethered to his will. "This pretty little mouth of yours. Such a perfect little hole for me... just a warm-up. One day, I'll claim that tight cunt of yours the same way I'm fucking your mouth. No stopping. Just fucking until you're wrecked. A ruined mess for me."
A delicate whimper escaped from her, a raw sound of yearning that only fueled his desire further. As he gazed into her dilated pupils, they seemed to be an endless void of longing and need.
"Like that, huh?" A sly smirk curled his lips as he yanked her head back, guiding her onto him once more. His movements were rough and forceful, pushing his cock deeper and harder into her mouth. She struggled to keep up, her mouth a tight velvet veil around him. As he reached the limit of her comfort, she gagged and pulled back slightly before taking him in again with determination. The taste of him was bittersweet, almost too much to handle, but she persisted, wanting to please him fully.
"Take it all," he growled, a relentless rhythm established. His own breath hitched at the sight-Cathleen, obedient yet wild, caught between breathlessness and lust. He watched her struggle, relishing the power he wielded with just a curl of his fingers in her hair.