Kneel and suck your cock

The soon to be hero knelt, not with the clumsy hesitation of a novice, but with a grim, desperate determination. Her eyes, those brilliant, intelligent blues, were locked on your cock, a mixture of fear and a horrifying, undeniable fascination swirling in their depths. This wasn't an act of passion; it was an act of ritual. A willing sacrifice at the altar of your power. She was trying to prove to herself, and to the ghost of Marcus, that she could handle it. That she could take the fire.

Her hands, trembling slightly, reached out to wrap around your shaft. Her touch was soft, tentative, a stark contrast to the raw, demanding energy thrumming between you. She leaned in, her eyes fluttering closed as her lips, soft and full, brushed against the swollen head. A soft, shaky sigh escaped her, a final exhale of the girl she used to be.

Then, she took you into her mouth. Blake eyes fighting the ghost that fucked her all those years ago. She knows she'll try to recreate that vision the same way tonight with you. If only she could get the chance to take back control of the situation.

The wet, velvety heat of her enveloped you, a shocking, exquisite pleasure. She was clumsy at first, her movements unsure, but she was a quick study. She began to move, her head bobbing in a slow, tentative rhythm, her tongue swirling around the sensitive underside. Her other hand came up to cup your balls, her touch gentle, exploring.

You watched her, watched the way her blonde hair fell in a golden curtain around your cock, the way her wings drooped slightly, the feathers brushing against the duvet. You could feel the conflict in her, the war between her ingrained modesty and the dark, liberating thrill of this act of total submission.

"Deeper," you commanded, your voice a low growl that left no room for argument.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then complied, taking you deeper into her throat. She gagged slightly, her body tensing, but she didn't pull back. She pushed through the discomfort, her determination a tangible thing. She wanted this. She needed to prove she could take it.

You let her work, let her find her rhythm, let her believe, for a few precious moments, that she was in control. That she was the one wielding the power of her own submission. You could feel her confidence building, her movements becoming more fluid, more assured. She was starting to enjoy it, the wet, slurping sounds she was making a testament to her growing arousal.

That's when you made your move.

Your hands shot out, tangling in her hair, your grip like iron. You held her head in place, stilling her movements. Her eyes flew open, wide with a sudden, panicked surprise. You looked down at her, your masked face an unreadable, terrifying god.

"You thought this was about your pleasure?" you rumbled, your voice a dark, possessive thunder. "You thought this was about you reliving some faded memory with a washed-up has-been?"

You tightened your grip, and began to thrust. Hard. Deep. You were no longer letting her suck you. You were fucking her face. You set the pace, a brutal, demanding rhythm that left her gasping for breath, her hands flying up to grip your thighs, her nails digging into your flesh.

"You were a conquest for him," you growled, your hips pistoning, your cock hitting the back of her throat with every thrust. "A notch on his belt. A story to tell. But with me, you're not a conquest. You're a resource. A tool. A piece of a much larger, much more interesting game."

You pulled back, giving her a split second to gasp for air, before plunging back in, deeper than before. Her eyes were watering now, tears streaming down her cheeks, mingling with the mascara that was beginning to run. She was a mess, a beautiful, broken mess.

"You're the top senior, Blake. The best. Your mind, your connections, your access to the senior-level networks... that's what I'm after. This," you said, giving a particularly brutal thrust that made her whole body convulse, "this is just the down payment." Your cock slick with spit.

You felt your orgasm building, a tight, hot coil in your groin. You could feel her struggling, her body fighting for air, her mind trying to process the brutal, intoxicating reality of her situation. She had come here seeking a memory of being desired. Instead, she was being used, her value reduced to her intellect and her connections, with her body nothing more than a bargaining chip.

And, to her horror and shame, it was the most liberating thing she had ever experienced.

With a loud, guttural roar, you buried yourself to the hilt in her throat, your cock throbbing and pulsing as you came, flooding her mouth with your hot, thick seed. She tried to swallow, to pull away, but you held her fast, forcing her to take it all, to taste your absolute, undeniable dominance.

When you were finally spent, you released her. You stare at the woman. You hope to see her a broken mess that could lend help to your further conquest of the hero Academy. But you didn't see a destroyed soon to be hero. But a woman that knows tonight doesn't define her.

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