Some

She was furious moments before, but he had helped alleviate that some. She was still upset that he hadn’t given in to her voice, but when push came to shove, and after being shown he wasn’t the top of the food chain, he’d given in. Not just that, he’d gone above and beyond. He hadn’t just knelt, he was prepared to worship.

“Mmm, good ****. I’m glad to see you’re ready to become mine. On your back. Now!”

The last word whips out and he quickly rolls, throwing himself onto his back as quickly as he can. Despite the blood running down his chest, he couldn’t help his throbbing cock. It stood proud before him, a tower of defiance he wanted this vixen to claim, to **** into submission, to absolutely DRAIN.

But we don’t always get what we want. She sits on his chest, weight holding him down. She pins her arms beneath her knees, and then flips around so she’s facing his cock. Her tail, moving deliberately, curls around the aching monster, with soft deft touches teasing it lightly. A long groan escapes his mouth at the gentle touch, but that’s just the beginning of his troubles.

“You will call me Goddess Levina. You will not squirm. You will not speak. And you will not moan. No matter how long this goes, until I tell you, I except you to be as a statue.”

“And if I can’t, Goddess?”

“I’m sure you will find out soon.”

The feline grin on her face would strike fear into Marcus if he could but see it. For now, however, he merely must remain still.

As anyone might expect, it immediately became much more difficult that that. Through soft plump lips comes an a stream of spit down onto his cock, and her hand follows. It touched down gently, slowly gripping him and pushing down his length, and then just squeezing gently. The pace speeds up as she strokes harder and faster. Marcus holds it all in well, right until she leans in and kisses his head. He can’t help himself. He moans, and his hips thrust. And in a mere moment Levinas second hand slashed a shallow cut through his chest. One single claw of hers, slicing through his skin as punishment. He gasps, but pulls it in, trying to avoid more noise, but she hasn’t even stopped. Her soft lips press down again, slightly harder, and while he stops his body from moving he still can’t help the gasp that escapes, and another claw slices through. Small, shallow cuts, that make the experience both agony, and somehow multiply the pleasure. At least this won’t last long. Even if it’s just her hand, his throbbing cock clearly can’t hold up much longer.

But that’s not her plan. She wanted to **** him a bit. He got closer and closer as she stroked, gasps escaping every so often, tortured groans at the claws cutting through his soft body. He’s getting closer and closer… and then he feels it. She’s slowing down. Her hand is getting slower, her kisses less frequent. And slowly, oh so slowly, the pressure subsides, but not the pleasure.

And now it was clear what would happen.

She edges him. Over. And over. And over and over. He twitches. He moans. His chest is a bloody mess before long, even from the short shallow slices. He’s panting and thrusting, even begging as he’s getting punished. Begging for her to just finish him. To let him get over the brink. To cum.