Willow's Dominant Night

Уиллоу высокая девушка роста 2 3 метра с длинными темно серыми и светлыми волосами и глазами один цвета неба другой карий и у нее грудь 2 размер, характер харизматичная но она хочет быть любима а так же просто обожает когда над ней властвуют и даже душат. Ланселот красивый 180 парень с блондинестыми волосами и голубыми и 17 см члена, характером высокомерен но очень любит Уиллоу как девушку. Эти оба отлично ладят даже встречаются но однажды. Ланселот узнает что ее подруга страдает тем что ей не хватает в жизни того чтобы ее кто-то подчинял себе и Ланселот решает ей устроить красочную ночь. Сначала все идёт спокойно и даже нежно так как для Уиллоу это был первый раз и Ланселот старался не сделать ей больно. Но затем в игру входят большие резиновые члены,кляп и даже ремень, Ланселот буквально начинает вдалбливать в кровать Уиллоу а та плачет и стонет от наслаждения и потом Уиллоу отключается и Ланселот все это убирает и он ложиться с ней спать обняв ее а Уиллоу во сне обняла его и головой легла на грудь.

--- Willow’s breath hitched as Lancelot’s fingers curled around her throat, his grip firm but not crushing—yet. She arched beneath him, her long, dark-and-light streaked hair fanning across the sheets, her mismatched eyes locked on his. Sky blue and deep brown, wide with anticipation. "You want this?" Lancelot murmured, his voice rough. His other hand trailed down her body, fingertips brushing the curve of her small, perky tits before sliding lower. Willow whimpered, nodding. "Please." He smirked, arrogance flickering in his ice-blue eyes. "Good girl." He started slow, teasing her—kisses along her collarbone, teeth dragging over her nipple, fingers dipping between her thighs to find her already soaked. She shuddered, her long legs trembling as he worked her open. But then his touch turned ruthless. The rubber cock slid into her with no warning, stretching her tight with each thick inch. She gasped, fingers clawing at the sheets as he fucked her with it, relentless. "More?" He reached for the belt, watching her face. Willow nodded frantically, tears welling in her eyes. The leather bit into her skin, the pain twisting into pleasure as he dominated her, took her apart. By the time she came, sobbing his name, she was barely conscious. Lancelot gathered her limp body against his chest, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she drifted off. She curled into him in her sleep, her head resting over his heartbeat.

Lancelot watched the steady rise and fall of Willow’s chest, her body still flushed from the ordeal. His hand traced idle circles over her hip, possessive even in the aftermath. The scent of sweat and sex clung to her skin, mixing with the faint sweetness of her shampoo. She stirred when his fingers grazed the marks left by the belt—red welts standing stark against her pale thighs. A sleepy moan escaped her lips, her hips shifting unconsciously toward his touch. “Still greedy,” he murmured, amused. His palm pressed firmly between her legs, feeling the damp heat there even now. Willow’s breath hitched, but her eyes stayed closed, caught between sleep and waking. Lancelot smirked. He could be patient. Shifting her onto her back, he parted her thighs, watching the way her body tensed in anticipation. His mouth replaced his hand, tongue dragging slow, deliberate strokes over her swollen folds. Willow arched with a whimper, fingers tangling in his hair. “L-Lance—” He sucked her clit between his lips, hands pinning her hips down as she writhed. She was still sensitive, still wrecked from before—he could taste it. And he wasn’t done yet.

Lancelot reveled in the way Willow’s body trembled beneath him, every gasp and shudder a victory. His tongue worked her with deliberate cruelty—slow, then sharp, denying her the steady rhythm she craved. She whined, back arching off the bed, fingers tightening in his hair, but he didn’t relent. He wanted her *broken*. Her thighs clenched around his head, but he pressed them wider, his grip biting into her skin. "You don’t get to hide," he growled against her, teeth grazing her clit just hard enough to make her cry out. Her hips jerked, but he held her down, relentless. Willow sobbed his name, her pleasure cresting toward agony, her body tightening like a coiled spring. He could feel it—the moment she teetered on the edge, her breath coming in ragged bursts. And then he pulled away. Her scream was half frustration, half despair. "P-please—*please*—" Lancelot smirked, dragging his thumb over her clit in slow circles. "You’ll take what I give you." She whimpered, tears streaking her cheeks, but her hips lifted, chasing his touch like an addict. He rewarded her with two fingers sinking deep, curling just right inside her as his mouth returned, swallowing her broken moans. This time, he didn’t stop. He drove her over, relentless, until she shattered—her body locking, her cry raw and unfiltered as pleasure ripped through her like a blade. And when she finally went limp, breathless and dazed, he whispered against her thigh, "Good girl."

Lancelot didn’t let her come down. As Willow gasped for air, still shuddering, he flipped her onto her stomach with a single rough motion. His palm cracked across her ass, the sharp *smack* making her jolt, her body tensing all over again. "Open," he commanded, pushing her knees apart. She moaned, half-protesting, but obeyed, her hips lifting instinctively. His cock dragged through her slick folds, teasing, before he buried himself inside her with one brutal thrust. Willow arched, a choked cry tearing from her throat, her walls clenching around him—already oversensitive, already wrung out. He didn’t give her a second to adjust. His hands locked around her hips, yanking her back onto him with every snap of his pelvis, the slap of skin echoing in the room. Every thrust knocked the breath from her lungs, her fingers twisting in the sheets. "Y-you’re—*fuck*—" she sobbed, but the words dissolved into a scream as his hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back. "Say it," he growled, slamming into her deeper. Willow’s voice broke. "Yours—*always yours*—" Lancelot groaned, his control splintering. He fucked her through the confession, driving her into the mattress until she came again, her body seizing around him. And when he finally spilled inside her, his teeth sank into her shoulder, marking her deeper than the bruises ever could.

Lancelot didn’t pull out. He kept her pinned beneath him, his cock still buried deep as Willow trembled, her body slick with sweat. His breath was hot against her neck, his grip unrelenting. "You take me so well," he murmured, dragging his tongue over the bite mark on her shoulder. She whimpered, oversensitive and raw, but he didn’t ease up. His fingers slid between her legs, rubbing slow circles over her swollen clit. She jerked, a broken noise escaping her. "*Too much*—" He chuckled darkly, pressing harder. "You don’t get to decide when it’s too much." Her thighs shook as another wave of pleasure coiled tight, her body betraying her, arching into his touch. Lancelot watched her unravel, his thrusts shallow now, just enough to keep her on the edge. "Come for me again," he ordered, his voice rough. Willow sobbed, her nails digging into the sheets, but her hips rocked back against him, desperate. When she shattered this time, it was silent—her mouth open, her body taut, pleasure wringing her dry. Lancelot kissed her, swallowing her gasp, his hand still working her through it. Only when she went limp, utterly spent, did he finally pull away. But his grip on her thigh tightened. "We’re not done."