As delicately as can be imagined

Still on top of him, Brunhilde pulled Martin into a tight hug and sat up so that she was on her knees. She carried him with her. Now she was standing on her knees, and he was clinging to her almost like a baby, legs around her waist and arms around her neck. She turned and sat on the edge of the bed so that he was sitting on her lap, facing toward her, still impaled on the thick ivory cock. She kissed him and then lay one hand on his cheek, tilting his chin up to look her in the eye.

“Come on, baby,” she said, “Ride me.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. Even sitting in her lap like this, he still had to look up a little to look at her. He began grinding his hips back and forth, grunting. As he rocked his hips, he could feel the pressure against his spot. His cock was rock hard and the tip brushed her stomach when he pushed his hips forward.

“L-like this?” he asked, panting and looking for her approval. She smiled and placed her hands on his hips, gently guiding him.

“However feels best, honey. Just go at the pace you like,” she said. She kissed the tip of his nose. He began to exaggerate the motion of his hips, and little high-pitch whines came from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” he whispered. He felt her strong hands move from his hips to his bottom and grip it firmly. She began to guide him up and down. With her hands tightly gripping his butt, she raised him up and down, sliding his tight hole along the length of the ivory cock. He could feel the ring of his flesh gripping the oiled ivory and his little whines continued.

“Ohh,” she said, hanging onto her shoulders for dear life, feeling her hard collar bone under his thumbs, “Oh, gods, Brunhilde, that feels so good! It feels so good! Oh, oh gods, I, I…”

She planted her feet on the floor and began bouncing her hips a little. His sweaty bum made a stick slapping sound as it bounced on her lap repeatedly and he squealed, his head rolling back in pleasure. His grip on her shoulders failed and he fell backwards, but her strong fingers wrapped around the back of his neck and she caught him. He moaned and flailed his hands in front of him, panicking and trying to find a grip. His upper body was reclined back with her strapon still in his ass. Even with her hand behind his neck, he was terrified.

“Brunhilde!” he cried, “Don’t let me fall! Please!”

His hands flailed for a moment in front of him, searching for a grip on her shoulders, and then he felt her take his hand in her own. She gently squeezed his hand.

“You’re fine, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You won’t fall, I promise,” she said. She pulled him in again, carefully pressing his face into her shoulder. He clasped his hands in front of his chest, elbows pressed against his ribs. She wrapped her arms around him and lovingly stroked his hair.Her hips were bouncing and pumping his ass with the big strapon dick. His spasming prostate and squirming pelvis overcame him with sensations and he could only moan and writhe as fireworks went off in his brain. He tried to speak to her, tried to tell her how good it felt, but he only babbled incoherently, words coming from his mouth half-formed. She stroked his hair and shushed him like a child.

“It’s alright,” she cooed, “Just cum for me, little one.”

He reached for his cock and barely stroked it twice before he came, screaming in pleasure. The scream was cut short when she slipped her tongue into his mouth and he could only whimper into her lips, feeling himself penetrated front and back. She pumped the ivory cock in time with his contractions. Each time his asshole contracted, he felt the smooth, warm, oily surface slide into him again, pressing down his prostate and forcing out a jet of cum. He spent his jism on her belly and then collapsed against her, gasping for air.

“B-b-b-brunhilde,” he squeaked, his little shoulders quivering. She reached down and gripped his butt again, raised him up until the ivory cock popped out of his asshole. He made a high-pitched “Oooh!” sound as he felt it slide out of him. Awkwardly reaching around his legs, she undid the straps and let the cock fall to the floor, then wrapped her arms around him again.

She held him in silence for a long time, sitting on her lap. She knew what she’d done to him, and she’d seen those emotions nearly come to the surface several times. Soon enough, he’d have a release. The experience had been too intense. Brunhilde knew men well. They could control their emotions for a long time, but it was human nature to become attached to a person with whom one had an intense experience. And he’d been so **** during the act… He was hollowed out. His defenses were crushed. His willpower was totally broken. And now, in just a few moments, it would all come rushing out.

He lay in her arms for a while, thinking of his recent past. The monastery. The raid. The boat. The kraken. All the sex they’d had, and the fight with the dire wolf. Brunhilde felt his shoulders bunch up, felt his body shake. He sniffled once and then finally burst into tears, for the first time since he was eight. The thick dam that held back his feelings for so long burst and he sobbed uncontrollably into her shoulder, stuttering whenever he tried to talk.

“B-brunhilde, I’m so s-s-sorry,” he said, shaking. He tried to speak again but just continued crying. She squeezed him to her and began to rock him back and forth ever-so-gently, feeling his little body quivering in her arms.

“Sorry for what, love?” she said, one hand gently tickling his upper back.

“I d-d-don’t know!” he yelled, and began crying again. Of course he didn’t know. There was no rhyme or reason or shape to his emotions. Just a torrent. The torrent raged against a rock, and the rock was Brunhilde. She just rocked him, running her fingers through his hair and giving him little kisses.

"Don't cry, love," she said, "I'm right here."

She kissed his cheek, wiped his tears off, and then tenderly cuddled him against her and kissed the top of his head. She held his hand for a while. Whenever he shook too much, she gave it a gentle squeeze and he settled back down.

He continued crying for what felt like hours, although it was really only a few minutes. When his tears wound down to mild sniffles, she laid him down on the bed, setting him down as gently as if he were made of glass. She took a soft cloth and dried his eyes, wiping his face off.

“Feel better?” she asked. He was laying down and she was on her side, facing toward him. He turned his head and looked at her.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” he said.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I… I don’t know,” he said. His eyes appeared much more green after he cried, a little red and puffy. His face was still just a bit moist. Her hand roamed down his chest and began rubbing his stomach in slow, soft circles. His hips pressed upward for a moment and he sighed. She very softly tickled his belly for a moment, grazing the top of his shaved crotch.

“I fucked your brains out, and then you had a good cry,” she said, “You must feel great.”

He giggled softly and then sniffed.

“Brunhilde?”

“Yes, love?”

“Please kiss me.”

She smiled, leaned down, and brushed her lips against his. They rubbed their lips together, slowly shaking their heads left and right and feeling the hot tingling of their moist lips touching. She found his hand and took it in hers, passing her fingers between his and squeezing his hand sweetly. Then she went in for the tongue kiss, claiming his mouth for a while. He lay there and breathed deeply through his nose, enjoying how her tongue felt inside his mouth. Just then, there was a knock at the door.

“Enter!” said Brunhilde, using her more commanding voice. The door opened and a female **** was there, a cute little blonde thing that Brunhilde had bought a few weeks prior.

“Mistress,” said the ****, “Are you and your paramour ready for breakfast?”

Martin regarded her coolly, laying on his back with his hands behind his head propped on a pillow. She was cute, fair and freckled. If Brunhilde didn’t mind, perhaps he’d fuck her, too. The **** looked at him. He made no moves to cover himself, but spread his legs a little wider to draw attention to his crotch, smiled, and winked at her. She blushed.

“Yes. Make us something substantial,” said Brunhilde. The **** left and shut the door. Martin continued smiling, and then his brow furrowed suddenly. Wait, why wasn’t he embarrassed? Brunhilde noticed his confusion.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Brunhilde,” he said, “Yesterday, I would have tried to cover myself when that **** came in. Today, I just let her see my whole body and didn’t give a damn. She looked right at my cock and I just smiled at her.”

Brunhilde regarded him for a moment.

“Well,” she said finally, “Those walls have come down. Welcome to being comfortable with yourself. I think you’re going to enjoy it.”