Wicked Wednesday: Crown, F/m, NSFW, Part 3, the end
Segueing from Wanton Wednesday in Wicked Wednesday with the conclusion of Crown. Very not safe for work, folks! You know the drill. 😉
Larissa’s kiss was soft and brief, belying the strength with which she gripped his cock. K. couldn’t stop for surging forward to try keep them, only to find he was hindered by the cord at his wrists. His breath hitched in frustration, and he rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the constriction, trying to find a way to slide his wrists out. Larissa caught him under the chin, and shook her head. Not going to happen, her eyes said.
The triple crown, now on him, was oddly comfortable. Encircling the base of his shaft and testes, before one ring took in his cock and the other his balls, it was like they were being separated gently from his body. A pleasant drawing back of the skin. It wasn’t sharp, or harsh, as he first thought it would be.
K. wondered if she’d had it custom made, if during her explorations and many victories over him, she was able to ascertain his girth. He wouldn’t put it passed her. He’d put nothing passed it if it meant another way she could beat him.
His cock jerked in her hand at thought, and she sniggered. If only she knew.
“What are you going to do?”
Her mouth murmured at his jaw line, and he was aware, not for the first time, of the fragility of his face under her touch. She didn’t respond. Instead, she sought out one nipple, and flicked it harder than it already was. K. bit his lip, and made a sound like ‘unf’ when she began drawing his foreskin over the head of his cock as well. The co-ordination between her mouth and hands, so practised, so skilled, soon had him panting. His cock grew harder, expanded against the rings, his balls growing heavier, and God, he tried to buck into her hand, but his body threatened to topple He tried to keep his throat open and not make those puppy-dog cries he knew was liable to, but he expelled a whimper when she stopped, and settled back on her own knees, her white teeth sinking onto her red lips, smug and teasing.
“Larissa, don’t – ” he begged.
She blinked at him innocently. “Don’t what? Do this?”
One hand shot forward like a snake strike, hold his chest in place, while the other snatched his cock up again and began pumping, with none of the craftiness from before. This was the purest, most furious hand job she could manage. K. moaned, jerking his head back, eyes rolling to the ceiling, body rocking from side to side. Larissa braced him with the single hold of her palm, and the grip on his cock.
It was when he started repeating ‘yes, yes, yes’, that she change tactics once more.
“Oh fuck!” His neck jerked forward, and his eyes met hers, glaring through his arousal, hating and loving her cunning mouth.
Her hand snaked and squeezed the length of his shaft, cupped the head so her the centre of her palm met the slit of his urethra, rubbing like she was polishing him. Worse was when she left his cock and took his scrotum between thumb and forefinger, rolling over his balls back and forth. His balls in particular felt like they were leaving his body, being drawn away while being desperate to want to lock to him. The metal of the triple crown was now warm against him, as it wanting to blend into his body, to leave his genitals like that – presented and at a distance from him, and forever hard.
K. wasn’t sure how long she jerked him off, how long her hand tortured him with the extensive pleasure. His arms and knees were getting sore, but he wouldn’t complain, and that soon passed when his body began to flush with the realisation he’d come soon. It was so much longer than before, so much more than he’d been able to keep it up before.
As if reading his mind, Larissa said, “You look so tasty like that.” And mid movement up his cock, her hand left him, and K. mewled, trying to wrench his body forward, but Larissa calmly opened the jar of honey, as if his pulsing body and straining cock weren’t there.
When she dipped the spoon into the honey, her eyes met his.
“I think this will be the best honey I’ve tasted in a long time.”
All he could do was nod, and hope she did want he wanted.
K. started to tremble when she let the honey spill down his chest, allowing it to trail down to his cock. The honey was cool, and clung to his skin like come. He was chewing on his lower lip when she pressed the end of the spoon against the head, and pushed his foreskin back just a little. L. grinned, lifted the spoon away, and bent her head to take his cock in her mouth.
It was exactly what he wanted, and it made him scream.
A woman on her knees, before he’d met Larissa, always seemed in submission, meek and compliant. With her hands on his knees, her denim-clad arse in the air, her blonde head rising and falling, it could have been the perfect porn image. But the ferocious clamp and suck of her lips, the way her tongue moved without ever seeming to leave the inside of her mouth, the curve of her back, all said that is was she who was in command, and with his bound body and ringed cock, he was utterly powerless.
He gave himself to her, and he came.
The contractions he expected from his groin turned into the sensation of being split apart, with a scorching delicacy, like his cock and balls were pinned down while exploding. K. made harsh, guttural sounds as Larissa continued to suck and suck. She could have drunk in everything he was. This was the ultimate conquest when the victor eats their defeated. Larissa could defeat him over and over again, and he’d lie spent and devoured, only to rise again the challenge each time, for another cataclysmic fall.
K. was still shuddering when Larissa drew her mouth away. His vision was hazy, but her saw her lash her tongue across her lips, grinning like a lioness. She reached around behind him, and untied the cord at his wrists, though not his ankles. K. stumbled forward, and she caught him, stoking his head, saying his name softly, telling him she loved him and he’d done really well.
When his breathing returned to a steady pace, Larissa nudge him back again, and positioned herself so she hovered above his knees. She unhooked her bra. Her breasts never seemed so pillowy as they did then.
“Now your reward.”
She picked up the spoon again, and dribbled the honey onto her bare breasts. K. knew what to do. He leaned forward to embrace her, and though his body was shaking and spent, paid special, careful attention to her breasts and nipples, licking the honey from her body as his hands clung to her back, and her hands rested above his shoulders. Always her on top, in charge. Beautiful in her victory.