Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions-Chapter 359: Mudshark II—Whos pussy is this? [18+]

[#adult-themes #maturewoman #blonde #fingering #hairy #faceslap #domination #nasty]

"YOU INCARNATE! You son of Satan! Child of Perdition! Flaming bastard!" Thyra cursed him like a wild hyena.

She behaved as one too—reaching with snapping teeth for his body.

The force of her headbutting him had already brought him down to the old, creaking floors with her. And Eotigan was a big male. This woman was not afraid. No. He could not believe she had speared him in the dick...right between his nuts; the fucking crazy-arse bitch.

Eotigan could never fathom a woman—born of the mortal plane or the Underworld—that would dare spit in his face. Or head his balls!

Thyra gave new meaning to the term, blowjob.

"—quit it, you mad cunt!" Inaia screeched, lain on the old floors too, trapped in the tussle of hot, annoyed bodies, trying to wrestle Thyra off her handsome [Host]. She was struggling to pry the crazy woman’s admittedly deliciously curvy, warm body away from Eotigan. But despite being bound at ankles and wrists with intricate ropes, Thyra wouldn’t leave her larger, stronger, harder opponent alone. She snapped and yapped with her teeth, wanting to bite the Adamic beauty off of his face.

Eotigan himself was boiling in wrath. But his balls demanded amnesty.

He grabbed the golden fullness of Thyra’s hair, cutting out her bites. As he raised up her head, his rich demonic eyes gazed deeply into hers, and he was unsmiling when he said, "you better thank whatever gods you worship that you’re just as crazy as you are hot. Unless you’d be a smouldering heap for Inaia to mop up by now."

His look was dark and wicked. Eotigan could tolerate no bitch that was both ugly, and crazy.

To his deathly eyes and open threat, Thyra merely replied. "I desire no compliments from the likes of you."

"The likes of me?"

Eotigan exchanged looks with Inaia—whom was clutching desperately to Thyra’s thick waist at this brief pause to the madness.

"Yes!" Thyra snarled. "A murdering, pervert fiend!"

And she fell atop him heavily again, heaving in muffled grunts as she tried to pin Eotigan down, with all her limbs tied up. Inaia rolled her eyes, grabbing for her harder: "is this bitch stupid too?"

The three of them rolled around in that tiny, musty attic, rasping, breathing hard, groping one to best the other, cursing out in groans, and Eotigan seriously set on just how much of a real bitch Thyra was. A real no-nonsense woman. Here she was, a mere [Rank B] Mooner holding her own against him, a [Rank S] infernal battle-lord.

Granted, he was holding back. But damn! He’d be lying if he said her soft body mushing around on him didn’t feel good.

Thyra’s crazy was...good crazy.

If he could manage turning her, she’d be loyal as fuck.

To the death.

He just had to have her now. With a sly smirk, Eotigan put a hand to her throat and lifted her up easily, "how can you call me the pervert when you’re the one rubbing all over me? Huh?"

Thyra’s opal eyes inflamed. "That is not what is going on, and you know th—"

She was already forming a retort but his choking hand closed her out. She gulped, feeling his large manhood press up, against her belly.

Thyra sat up straight, immediately.

However this wasn’t a better option because she was now straddling him, sitting wide-legged on his thighs, his cock shooting up straight before her. Thyra tried, really tried not to look. But she’d never seen a man spot an erection like her devil. His had a curve to it. Bulbous. Fat. Robust, like some fucking banana she would eat. ’Shit!’ Thyra cursed at her inward weakness, ’and just when did her traitorous mind claim this demon as her own. He wasn’t HER DEVIL. Or her anything for that matter.’

While she sat on him, trying to scrub her brain clean off its betraying path, Eotigan lay under her and studied her.

Thyra had finally stopped fighting.

In her battle with her subconscious, she didn’t even know he was watching her. And what a sight she was. A really beautiful [Silversaint]. His system had picked good.

Eotigan sat up with her still in his lap, with a smile. Inaia was seated on the old attic floors with them too, a hand-stretch away. She was watching softly the couple—a primordial, agile hunger growing steadily in her own brown eyes. Eotigan decided to be bold. He snaked his free arm at Thyra’s waist, fingers dancing on her hip, his touch whisper-soft through her denim. Meeting her silver eyes, he told her,

"You can touch it, you know."

Thyra did a doubletake. "Excuse you!" She wasn’t even bothered by the reality that her hands were cuffed in front of her. She was wrist-bound upon him and he could make her do anything he wanted.

Eotigan didn’t mince words. "I said you can touch it."

Thyra threw her eyes. "I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about."

"I’m talking about my hard penis and how you’ve been staring at it for the last forty seconds."

"I was not...I am not staring at your—"

"Yes, you are, woman."

"Okay, fine!" Thyra grinded her teeth, "let’s say I was looking in that general direction—which I do not admit to—what makes you think I want to touch that thing...in this dusty-ass attic?"

Eotigan shifted on the floors, lifting her with him, and drawing close, almost until his face was by her chest. He just about stopped himself from smelling her breasts. His answer to came in ease and truth. He said, "because you haven’t slapped my hand away from your neck. Because you’re still sitting on me. Because your eyes brighten every time you look down. BECAUSE, woman, this is quite frankly the thickest fucking cock you’ve ever seen—and that’s counting your Captain’s.

You want to touch it because YOU WANT TO TOUCH IT. Your teeth have been snapping at me in fury for the better part of the evening. Why don’t we figure out something more interesting to do with your mouth, yeah?"

Though Eotigan didn’t outrightly say, suck my dick, Thyra had never in her life wanted more to do so.

She was pretty sure his cock would have her mouth—and throat full.

Thyra was quiet for a long minute and Eotigan knew he was getting closer to [Mission Success].

He took initiative and leaning in, he closed the gap between his face and Thyra’s peaked breasts.

She made a moan of protest at first when he kissed inside her cleavage. But gently, his used his lips to feather her, in the portions of her exposed mounds. Thyra’s breasts were large, and warm, and soft, and tasted of real woman. A tang of salt from her earlier exertion. She inched closer on his lap to his beating boner, already innately aware of the surging in his mighty rod of flesh.

The thumping of a virile demon man.

Hers, this sunset, in this tiny fucking attic.

Eotigan dipped his tongue into the slightly humid valley of her closely pressed tits and licked her up, and she exhaled over her bound wrists. "That...feels good." she whispered. And Thyra didn’t care that Inaia was in the room. "Let me make you feel more," Eotigan clasped both her robust, succulent titties and began softly biting on the mature nipples through her uniformed shirt, "let me get this, moon girl," he ripped through her buttons as she dropped her head back in sweet silence, her lips parted in quiet moans: "Yes...yes...ohh...yeah. Just like that. Mhmm."

Thyra’s white eyes rolled back in abandon when he pulled out her titties and began to suck. He slapped the lapels of her first-mate uniform to the side and slurped her up greedily.

Her nipples were warm and tender, and big and toned. Her bosom was a great sin.

"Good gods of Hel." Eotigan gasped as his one hand found the space atwixt her thighs.

"—ahh yes, please, yes," Thyra cried out, seeking to touch him, but the ropes binding her wrists kept her. His left hand was choking her. His right palm was slowly rubbing her senseless under her pants. Eotigan felt no shame. Only victory. Thyra had some pussy. Her sex, even through her fucking tights—was a warm cocoon. A heat of adulterous proportions. That place called to him. Her scent, rising up to him, damn near choking the little oxygen in the attic. Right there and then, he knew he’d be a happy devil to die of her poon.

He could cease no longer and began growling his delight at her healthy femininity, "fuck, woman, have you been this wet, all this time? I’d have been balls-deep in that mouth already. Fuck! I need to see this..."

Eotigan easily hefted her, bound as she was, in his arms. He turned and set her down to the attic floors instead.

"Lay back," he placed a hand on her belly till her back touched the eldwood; his voice was timber, "let me see this shit."

Inaia drew in closer in that moment and watched her [Host] tear away Thyra’s hard jeans. He let her boots remain but grabbed her panties and pushed in to the side. "Hold it," he instructed in a wicked accent; already he was licking the flat of his palm. He slapped her inner thighs open.

"Wider. Open wider, woman!"

On her back, Thyra was already half-shaking in anticipation of what he was going to do next. Her need showed in the sheen of her moon-white, glistening skin. Her legs fell open and Eotigan’s luminous eyes appraised her fully. "Good gods! Would you look at that?" His palm petted her slit, checking the moistness. "Such a ripe one you are, moon girl." Eotigan committed his gaze to the thick curls of damp, golden pubic hair. A triangle of dewy goodness.

"—ahhn, ahh." Thyra buckled under his little slaps to her pussy. Her mouth was open and she was convulsing. He was quickly learning she didn’t moan out loud. He didn’t mind.

But he had to have something.

So he spread her rosy labia, spat on it dirty, and pushed two long fingers in, resting the nub of his thumb on her clit. His fingers began driving in—not in tame strokes. But hard, gratuitous fingering, intended to satisfy and draw the deepest pleasures out of her. Thyra’s lips had formed an ’O’ and she had being cumming for the last thirty seconds. Spasming. Wetting his fingers all the more. His eyes were rivers of fire that never left hers.

With his fingers fucking her hard, he asked, "whose pussy is this?"

Whenever she would try to shut her legs, he’d smack her thick thighs, have her gasping as she struggled to form words above her clenching orgasm. She managed in a tight, strangled groan, "your pussy. . ."

He drove his fingers in one very hard, last time, curling the naughty digits in her—

"My what?"

"Your...pussy. It’s your pussy." she begged.

"Good girl."

PAH!

He smacked her narrow slit one final time. The fingers he pulled out from inside her sex went straight to his lips. He tasted the rich, tangy love her pussy provided—much more saturated in her pubes scent. He rose from the attic floors. And though he commanded it not of her, Thyra also pushed up the wood.

In a second, he was standing on his feet. She was kneeling before him.

Eotigan and Inaia both had the same look, as to why this former hyena of a woman was now suddenly docile. Inaia almost didn’t trust it. Thyra was not a submissive bitch. But her [Host] now; his dick be good. Speaking of, that fleshy parabola that had first tamed Thyra was still balanced in perfect humongous curve in Eotigan’s pants. It stretched his fly.

And the way Thyra knelt before and under him, her face came right up to his buckle. Inaia dared to harbor a smile under Eotigan’s eye. She knew what was coming.

Thyra finally opened her mouth, and this time she finally got past a moan.

"I’m ready. I want to touch it now, please."

Eotigan gazed upon the luminous blonde, moon-eyed Thyra: his new bitch. "You’re ready now, huh?" He lightly slapped the sides of her face, loving her agreeable yelp. Her mouth was finally primed to accept his cock. Her bound hands too. And she was begging for it.

He heard the notification hit not one second later.

[DING!]

[MISSION I successfully completed!]

[• Make a pirate MILF beg to steer your rudder •]

[5th Intra-volution Achieved!]