He let her nipple slip from his mouth and murmured in her ear.
“Not going to stop until you come for me, Jillian—come all over my fingers while I pet your soft little pussy. Just let it all go and give it up for me.”
Those hot words spoken in his deep, growling voice as much as the way he was touching her finally pushed Jillian over the edge. She cried out breathlessly as her pleasure peaked and the wire that had been tightening in her belly finally snapped.
Oh God, coming…coming just like he told me to!
And then she felt Kalis enter her pussy with two long, thick fingers and slide deep inside her, to the very end of her channel. As he fucked deeply into her, Jillian felt another, deeper orgasm washing over her like a wave. She moaned and bucked her hips up, feeling her inner muscles clench around the big Kindred’s fingers.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” Kalis rumbled in her ear. “Come for me—Gods, I can feel your soft little pussy clenching so hard. You’re so fucking gorgeous when you come!”
Jillian moaned breathlessly in response. To be honest, she was beginning to feel a little lightheaded—almost overloaded with the intense pleasure. The rainbows she’d seen outlining everything earlier were back. When she looked up, the big Kindred seemed to be wearing a multicolored halo and the dim golden light in the relaxation grotto was flickering alarmingly.
“Too…too much,” she gasped. “I…I can’t…”
But then words failed her and the flickering lights went out completely.
12
Gods, was she all right? Had the intense orgasms put too much strain on her body?
“Mistress? Jillian?” Kalis withdrew his fingers and looked down at the little female with deep concern. She had seemed fine up until her second orgasm and then she had suddenly fainted. Though to be honest, he didn’t feel so good himself, he suddenly realized.
Looking around the room, he saw that everything had an odd rainbow tinge to it. The taste of the massage oil—which was slightly floral—was heavy on his tongue and he felt strangely lightheaded. It was as though he was back in the ring at the Blood Circuit and an opponent had struck him in the head.
Kalis frowned. What in the Seven Hells was going on? Why was he suddenly so dizzy? Had there been something in that lapsong oil? Had it been lapsong oil at all?
From the corner of his eye, he noticed that his old Mistress had lifted her head and was watching him closely. But she didn’t look upset or concerned. Instead, her lavender eyes were narrowed in a calculating way, as though she was waiting for something.
“Mistress…Douchenbag?” he mumbled and then fell heavily to his knees. “What…?”
“Almost,” he heard her say, but she wasn’t talking to him. “In just another moment it will finally have taken effect.”
“I thought it would take much sooner.” The voice that answered her was that of Torris, the head bodyslave who ran the Yonnite spa for his Mistress, who owned the establishment. He was the same one who had let them in and assigned them to the rose-gold relaxation grotto in the first place. And apparently he had been plotting something with Mistress Douchenbag.
Kalis tried to focus on the other male, who was standing beside Mistress Douchenbag’s massage table, but the rainbows were too bright. His vision was filled with them and every image he saw was doubled and then trebled. What in the Seven Hells was happening to him?
As he wondered this, he lost the last of his balance and fell heavily to the floor.
Never, he thought groggily. Never been knocked out by an opponent in the ring! I’m undefeated—how can this be?
Yet somehow, it was happening. He felt his eyes closing, but he could still hear. He tried to get up but his limbs were too heavy to move—he couldn’t even twitch a finger.
“Finally!” he heard Mistress Douchenbag exclaim. “Why did it take so long?”
“The molock oil is a topical agent,” Torris answered. “It takes time to soak into the skin and take effect and it’s more effective once it comes in contact with mucus membranes. Though I did put twice as much as I thought was necessary into the massage oil,” he added. “But Kindred are tough—it takes a lot to knock them out.”
“Well, now that they’re both finally completely out, we need to dispose of them,” Mistress Douchenbag said.
“Are you certain about that, Mistress?” Torris asked, sounding worried. “You know the penalty for harming another Mistress.”
“Oh, that little bitch isn’t really a Yonnite Mistress,” Douchenbag hissed spitefully. “She’s some little humanoid from a backwards planet where they don’t see fit to subjugate males. Everything would have been fine if she would just have agreed to take that stupid Kindred off my hands. But, nooo— she got up on her high horse and started lecturing me about how owning males as bodyslaves is ‘wrong’ and ‘reprehensible’. Imagine!” She snorted in derision.