* * *
The fire rabbit shifted forward again and at the same time, Marco pinned Freya against the padded rope, using the support to keep her in place. He held her there for a few seconds, savoring her tight pussy, the clenching of her buttocks, and her low gasp of surprise. He had to trust her, if it was too much, she would say her release words and he would with fortitude disengage, but until she relinquished, she was his.
Her arms were twisted slightly back. He glanced from side to side, checking they were held in a symmetrical alignment and that the thongs weren’t cutting her wrists. All seemed well. Relaxing, and confident of the arrangement, he left one hand to guide the movement of her hips and curled the fingers of the other around her long hair. He tipped her chin up, and she arched her back. Snatching a sharp intake of breath, she screwed her face up as he tugged on her hair.
Again, he paused. He’d told her that he loved her and this love was what guided him. Another jenjin, one trained to tolerate pain, especially the Vendu women who dedicated their lives in the arts of pleasuring men, would not quibble over his demands. Freya wasn’t like them. Not only was she an alien, she possessed a fragility he’d come to see as desirable. While he wished to encourage Freya to explore her sexual abilities, he wouldn’t dream of harming her. She’d often spoke of making love, demonstrating it to him in a sensual way with slow caresses and passionate kisses, and he’d come to enjoy those sublime moments together. However, his needs were different, more demanding, and if she was to appreciate his love, she would understand their necessity.
He slid out of her drenched pussy, then rammed back into it before she’d a chance to sense his absence. The rope strung between the poles worked as it should. Her weight stretched it, then as it bounced back, but her bottom met his balls just as he achieved maximum penetration. Feeling her yield was so good and he grunted with each thrust.
The rhythm of their conjoined movements gradually synchronized. She’d fought him a little at first, trying to dictate how far to push her forward, probably because she feared to test her limits of endurance and place her trust in the ropes and poles. Neither deviated from their purpose.
Freya panted—the familiar little sounds she made when excited and aroused. When the fire rabbit moved, he let go of her hair, allowing her head to flop down, and cupped one of her breasts instead. He squeezed her nipple as he fucked her faster, using the subtle elasticity of the rope to propel her shapely ass on and off his cock.
“Yes,” he growled, feeling the surge that came before his ejaculation.
“Please, sir,” she rasped. “Please…” Her voice petered out.
Marco paused. Was she struggling? “Freya?”
“Please, may I come,” she stuttered.
He chuckled and resumed his fearsome thrusts. The swing rig had worked its magic. “Not yet.”
She squealed in frustration and bucked her bottom in what seemed like a frantic gesture to avoid the teasing texture of the padded rope.
“Naughty,” he said breathlessly between more ardent pummels. “Wait.”
“It feels so good,” she murmured. As she spoke, she clenched around him and the rings of tautness heightened the sense of resistance.
Marco groaned. Both his palms were molded around the warm puddles of her breasts. She’d mastered the art of balancing on her own and no longer needed the support around her waist. He slowed and used the full length of his shaft to tease her. The switch of pace lessened his need to come. He wanted to enjoy her for longer, not rush to completion. Her helplessness fed his natural desire to control the erotic scene. The deeper her trust in him, the greater the connection he felt between them. Energy buzzed in every nerve of his body as he rocked against her bottom.
Her wrists went limp. He spied the way they hung in the noose. Time to end. She was waning; her outstretched arms had weakened.
He grunted before commanding her, “Come for me. Come on my cock.” He shifted the pace up a notch, using his shaft as a piston rod until she cried out.
She squeezed just as he sensed his balls tighten. He filled her as she contracted, producing waves of tremors throughout her body.
Marco eased back and inhaled deeply, calming his breathlessness. The swell of his cock had diminished and yet again, the intensity of his orgasm had thwarted his ability to stay erect. He acted quickly, releasing her arms from the loops and scooped her into his arms.
He laid her amongst the cushions and tended to her with a cool cloth. Her heavy eyelids drooped, unable to stay open. She smiled a few times as he bathed her. Her vulnerability was acute, but she trusted him. That was love, he reminded himself, unswerving faith in another.
What next? He fed her a few pieces of fruit and morsels of fresh meat, not the coarse kind the prisoners ate. She chewed slowly, fighting to stay awake for him.
“Sleep a little,” he suggested. “Then, we can talk. I’ve something to tell you.”
Her eyes briefly flickered open and her irises shone bright.
“Sleep, Freya.”
She curled up and he spooned himself around her.
* * *
Lying in his arms on the cushions, she dozed. When she woke, he’d moved and changed into different clothes. No longer in his dark uniform, he wore a sleeveless vest that barely covered his tattoos and white baggy pants that hung off his hips. She licked her lips, admiring his biceps and bulging thighs.
“Thirsty?” he asked.
“A little,” she murmured.