Chained

Almus' brow lowered over his eyes as he outright snorted at her, male pride on full-display. "By human standards, your Highness, I am well-endowed. So please. Sample to your heart's content, my lady." And as if little else was needed – because what more could they really say to each other? – Maj leaned forward and pressed her wounded hand to the cut she'd just opened on his thigh.

And she was indeed correct. Whatever coursed into his blood, searing his veins, was powerful. But the feeling only lasted for a moment – as the sensation of bondage made his bones heavy. It was inexplicable. He'd never experienced magic before – at least, not the sort that was invisible and played tricks on the mind. Whatever magic Maj had called there wrapped around him like ivy on a post and somehow, he knew the tether to undo it all led to Maj. His eyes found hers, and she nodded, almost to herself, and closed her eyes. "The weight will lift once the bond is consummated, and not a moment before," she murmured. "The gravity of it – it is to beckon urgency, so that you might complete the ritual as soon as possible."

Almus possibly heard about forty percent of what she'd said – because his cock seemed to be pulsing with renewed stiffness. His breath was heavy beneath the weight of whatever ritual Queen Maj had just initiated, and he huffed out, "That's fine – but if we could get this over with so I can breathe, that would be great." A soft snort met his ears as he felt the pressure of her hands on his hips, balancing as she aligned his tip with her opening. Unable to resist, Almus' grey eyes found Maj's emerald greens already watching him; giving a sardonic smile as she pressed down a precious few centimeters, Almus taunted, "What is it, Maj? Worried riding my cock won't be the same as riding my face?" A few more centimeters, and Almus loosed a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. His voice was strained the next time he spoke. "Don't worry, babe. I promise – it's much better."

She sank onto him, taking him fully into her yawning pussy in one go.

They held eye contact as she slowly – so fucking slowly – rolled her hips, her fingers tangled in his tuft of pubic hair as she smoothed her hand over his belly. As she adjusted to him, he wondered, in a moment of clarity, how fucking insane he really was to be so fucking hot for a woman who'd kidnapped him and chained him naked in a dilapidated wine cellar. He never got an answer – because Maj moved, and that was the last coherent thought he had for a while.

At some point, he'd managed to get his feet under him. At the awkward, craning angle that his body was at, most of his weight on his bent neck so he could watch as Maj rode him, Almus decided that he was pretty fucking insane. Clenching his hips, neither of them caring as her black nails scored his skin, Maj's head was thrown back, her hair a wild mane with a life all its own behind her as that ruby adorning her forehead glinted in the dim light. The sound of skin on skin as she came down on him again and again and again was the only sound louder than their fevered breathing.

She leaned forward, and the awkward position was made even more so, as she leaned down to him – but not to capture his lips with her own. Her tongue found his nipple and caressed the erect tip as her nails dragged over his back. His soft moan seemed to prod her further, and as she caught his nipple between her teeth, rolling the small bud, he grunted his approval. He thrust up in time with her downward movements, and each motion, each and every time their cores met, his balls tightened a little more. She watched him as she moved from one nipple to the other, doling out much the same treatment as their eyes held contact.

Maj kissed her way from his chest, stopping to lavish his collar bones with her attention before leaving a trail of hickeys up to his neck. Her ministrations drove his own lust further – he knew they would both be reaching the end of their respective ropes soon enough. The way her slick, hungry folds clenched around his cock, the way his balls pulled tighter and closer to his body; they were both ready, and Queen Maj – her breath hot as it caressed his ear, her hands demanding as one slipped between their pounding bodies to fondle his sack as the other tweaked his nipple with just the right pressure – leaned over him, every bit the domineering, immovable conqueror that she'd proven to the world she could be, knew exactly what the fuck she was doing.

She kicked his legs out from underneath him, and as he crashed to the ground, the collision left him near breathless. But Maj leaned up, maintaining fevered eye contact as she rode him. One of her hands reached passed her own plumage as she stimulated that bundle of nerves at the crease of her thighs, and the other she used to balance herself on the hard planes of his stomach. So close – so fucking close – and as Maj drove down onto him, harder and harder with each passing second, that raspy voice made a reappearance as she demanded, "Fucking a Queen," she breathed out. "Was that high on your list of Things to Do, Almus?"

"Surprisingly not," some sane part of him replied.

"Then, I do think you should re-evaluate your goals, my little errand boy," she said with some hint of amusement.

"You ride your errand boys as hard as you're riding me, babe?" He didn't give her the chance to respond, though, as he drove up in time with her thrusts, his climax spilling over with powerful efficiency. He merely demanded, grey eyes gone steel as his muscles pulled taut with the building force of his orgasm, voice strained as some otherworldly force urged him to pump every bit of his seed into the waiting cunt wrapped around his cock, "Are you gonna cum for me, baby, or do I have to beg?"

Maj was a woman who set goals and met them with deadly efficiency – and as she climaxed on top of him, riding him like a messenger with a deadly sense of urgency as her fingers toyed with her clit and tweaked her own nipple, he was certain that her goal was to enthrall him to her. And as he watched her, head again thrown back as her onyx curls seemed to writhe in her state of sensuality, release, and lust, that sexy raspy moan pulling at his already expended cock, he knew that success would never taste more bitter.