He obeys

He was obedient. Too obedient.

Maeva's fingers tangled in his hair, not guiding him—claiming him. His tongue worked with a fervor that betrayed desperation, devotion… lust. But this wasn’t about his need. Not yet. She rode the plush curve of his lips with slow, grinding pulses, letting each movement drown him in the taste of her arousal.

“You like this?” she whispered, rolling her hips more deliberately now. “Tasting the woman you thought you’d save?”

A muffled moan answered her, and the vibration sent a shiver up her spine. She clenched around nothing, aching still, still unsatisfied—because this was only the beginning. She wanted him undone, broken open, begging. Not from pain. From craving.

Maeva stepped back, letting his face trail wet and hungry with need. He looked up at her like a man lost at sea, gasping without air. His lips were slick, his pupils blown wide, chest rising fast beneath the open armor.

“Strip,” she said.

The command cut through him. He hesitated a breath—but only a breath—and then fumbled with the clasps, pulling off gauntlets, greaves, boots. Armor clanged to the floor in a metallic offering until he stood before her in only linen and skin.

He was lean. Strong. Beautiful in a way bred for war. And already hard—so very hard.

Maeva approached, the air between them charged like magic before a spell.

“You’ve been gallant, my knight,” she murmured, nails grazing his stomach, lower. “But let’s see how well you beg.”

She snapped her fingers, and the room responded—brass mechanisms unfolding like flowers. Velvet straps extended from the chaise. The silken rope from earlier curled back down, coiling like a serpent around her wrist.

“Lie down.”

He obeyed. That eager compliance thrilled her more than defiance ever could. Because he chose this. He wanted this.

He wanted her to take everything.

The moment he was down, enchanted cords coiled around his wrists and ankles, pulling him taut but not cruel. Just enough tension to keep him spread for her—displayed. Offered.

She climbed atop him, knees straddling his chest, her folds hovering just out of reach of his mouth again. She could feel his cock pressing up against her lower back, throbbing, leaking.

“You're not allowed to cum,” she said sweetly, stroking his cheek as her hips began to rock above him. “Not until I say.”

He whimpered—whimpered—and she ground her sex down onto his tongue once more, riding him this time like a throne, shivering as his lips and tongue worshiped her with renewed hunger.

His moans were muffled prayers against her slit.

Maeva smiled down at him like a goddess crowned in pleasure. “That’s it,” she gasped, hips starting to tremble. “Be a good boy. Drink me in. Every drop.”

Her thighs clamped tighter as she came, grinding and twitching against his face, flooding his mouth with her release while he lapped and moaned like a man possessed.

And still, she didn’t let him go.

She leaned down, brushing her lips to his ear.

“That was for me,” she whispered.

“Now… let’s see how long you can last.”