Yes, her with his cock.

“Open your mouth.” Artur growled, unbuckling his pants, and pulling out his hard cock.

Though her mouth was already opened, the beautiful knight opened it further submitting to the powerful mercenary. With a growl he shoved himself deep down her throat, causing her to gag. Slowly working himself in and out of her mouth, he listened to the copious **** noises she made, with pleasure. Despite her sudden ****, the woman didn't fight back or complain but simply endured his desire.

Over and over again, he slammed himself deep into her mouth. With fury, and intensity, and a growing need to inflict pain, and receive pleasure, he plundered the depths of her throat. It wasn't about sex, it was about power, and the need to dominate. The sex was good, the tightness, the constriction, the ****. The dominance was better. The ****, the gasping, the struggle for air, as her life hung in the balance of every withdrawal.

As his rutting became more frenzied, she became **** to survive his onslaught. She began to pound at his skeletal plates, trying to **** him to release her. Abused, victimized, surrendering her vessel to his twisted desires, was acceptable. But she didn't want to die, not here, not in this way, not again.

With one final thrust, he cried out, burying his thick rod deep inside her throat, cutting off her air. Her eyes rolled back as he poured his hot sticky desire into her stomach. Load after load, a bliss like nothing he had ever felt before, flooded through him, out of him. Till finally he let go, and fell back, his pale bottom resting upon the lip of the fountain.

His lover, his victim, his hired hand, fell backward, eyes locked open, in ****. Strangled by his perverted desires. Having lost his paid help, he realized he should hire someone new, before venturing further in this place. Someone to watch his back, someone to ****. Though perhaps not to the extent of this one. People would start to notice, if one by one, his crew never returned.

Putting himself away, he smiled softly, emptying his canteen and filling it in the fountain. With one last glance at the fallen knight, he walked out of the room, through the other door. Heading upstairs, he used a false wall to enter a display room filled with guns and weapons his father had gathered. Unlike many nobles Artur had once known, every weapon was known to him, used and set aside. For while he preferred the bladeless sword, as his son did, he was a man of action and ****. Not one of flimsy words, and boasts.

Passing through another barren room, he entered the trophy room, whose walls were covered with the heads of beasts and animals alike. Each a kill performed by his father's own hand. Artur didn't linger, and the heads didn't interest him, so he pressed on. Passing beneath the stairwells into the main room, he left the manor, and headed back to the town.

When he reached town he realized that while he did intend to hire more help, Tara, might also be healed by now. At the very least he could check in on her. She did after all have a delicious frame.