“... prepare...”

Calob felt the full confidence of an Acteon knight coursing through him as he took her. He didn't think of her as an equal despite her former status as a noblewoman. No she was a ****, property... His property. This was her purpose. On Acteon this was how it was. How it should be.

It was right for her to moan with need, to beg to be taken. Her body was perfection, supple, soft, curved in all the right places. And she was lost to her need, all reason stripped from her, all restraint gone, unable to think beyond pleasing him. He grinned as he took her, teasing her slowly, making her want him all the more as he held her, controlled her, dictated the terms of their coupling.

He nestled his head at her lips, pushing forward with a slow sureness. Then he moved back, watching her face grow even more frantic with need. Forward, pause, back. His borrowed body was so well endowed and he found his own need growing, but the satisfaction he received by tauntingly playing with her made him even more aroused. The power he held over her was intoxicating.

"Beg my ****... Tell me how much you want it..." He said. He frowned feeling the link to his ship grow less strong. His vision blurred. He should see to that... After.

When he pulled back to speak, Roselle let out a moan so sad it was almost heartbreaking. Almost.

"Please! Please give it to me!" She gasped, almost frothing at the mouth. She rubbed herself against him and his member, clamping her slick, warm thighs around him in supplication. "Master. Master! Please, Master Knight, fuck me, fuck your ****!!"

Calob felt his dominance of Roselle was complete. He decided to give her what she wanted as she had capitulated to her new **** urges and, well, he wanted to. He thrust into her. She was incredible. "Good girl," he said as he held himself within her. The **** was a success. He had no doubts Roselle would never have given in so utterly without its mind controlling effects. To take such a strong and independant free woman and reduce her to this... He pumped into her, watching her breasts bounce, her face lost in pleasure. "You like that don't you pet?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" His pumps seemed to bring her over the edge, her back arching, hands flailing as she crested the edge of her orgasm. Of her first orgasm; she seemed simply to lose herself in the joy and pleasure of copulation.

Independent of their twinning (as he felt his body exult in the power and dominance, and approach his own satisfaction), he began to detect, vaguely, the smell of coffee. The bean was rare and unknown to Acteon, and served as a signal indicator of the atrophying link to his ship. He should see to it...after.

Meanwhile, his sex kitten mrowled and thrashed, exulting in him.

He felt himself losing himself in her wonton moans. She had been so prim and proper, so virginal and restrained and now she was anything but. The smell was distracting but his better judgement was put on hold for this experience... he felt himself cross the line. He thrust home hard. Cumming.

She bucked and thrashed under him, sharing his exultation, and they came, him finally, her yet again, together.

The pleasure roared through his body and everything faded to blackness.

SIGNAL LOST...

SIGNAL LOST...

SIGNAL L...

SIGNAL FOUND.

POOR SIGNAL. SIGNALS MAY BE CROSSED OR INTERFERRED WITH.

PLEASE RESET CONNECTION.

There was a storm outside. Rain was blowing in through the windows. Lightning flashed, and the rumble of thunder was so loud, it sounded as if it had struck the building.

Sir Willifred -- no, Calob -- felt strange. Odd. His hands were constricted, wrists moving as one, held above his head, and a heavy weight pressed down on him. It was a heavy arm in a leather sleeve across his chest. Everything felt numb and distant, but his body was warm, definitely, and there was somebody in bed with him. Somebody larger and heavier and warmer, holding him close. Somebody whose slumbering arm was gently brushing against the tips of his nipples, weighing across his...