She rewards you

Good," she says, a smirk playing on her lips as she looks down at her obedient monarch.

Delilah positions herself directly over you, aligning her body with yours. With a slow, deliberate downward motion, she impales herself on your cock. The tightness of her body takes your breath away.

She begins to ride you, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "You're deep massaging me," she says, laughing softly at her own joke, "while I'm also massaging your cock."

She builds the tempo, her hips moving in a rhythmic, powerful cadence that utilizes every ounce of her strength. The friction of the oil, the heat of the underground room, and the intense friction of her body create an unbearable buildup. As the two of you move in perfect, chaotic sync, she looks down into your eyes. "Do you like it?"

"Yes... very much," you groan, your hands gripping her hips to keep up with her pace. The isolation of the underground room makes the entire encounter feel incredibly personal, forbidden, and magnifique. The two of you continue fucking, building upon the layers and layers of pleasure. Eventually, you feel your balls tighten, a sure sign that you are racing toward the absolute edge of control. You cannot hold back much longer.

Delilah notices the shift in your posture, the way your breath catches and your muscles lock up. She slows her pace just a fraction, leaning down until her face is inches from yours. "Be careful," she says, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "Or you may cause some swelling."

You blink, trying to clear the haze of pleasure from your mind. "Swelling?" you manage to ask.

She smiles, shifting her weight slightly so you can see down between your bodies. She places one of her oiled hands directly flat against her belly, right where your bodies are joined. "Right here," she says, pressing her stomach against yours, letting you feel the firm, tight fullness of her womb against your pelvis. "You spill inside me like that, and your seed might just make me swell right up."

The implication hit you hard. While that is a frightening conclusion, the idea is also making you even harder.

"A souvenir from a handsome noble. I don't mind it, honestly. You're handsome enough, and a bastard with noble blood usually grows up strong," she cooes.

She stares deeply into your eyes, her hips giving a agonizingly perfect squeeze. "Would you like that? To sow your wild seed in me?"