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“I am a virgin, Brock Terdini, and as the second-born daughter of The Highlands, my virginity is my only real asset to my father. Elven marriages demand a virgin bride, and kingdoms are forged and strengthened through marriage. My father is a loving man, but he will pay you nothing if you return me a defiled woman.” “He doesn’t sound like a loving man.” “He’s a pragmatist.” “You mean an asshole.” Brock barked, “And what a sad Hardcore future he has set up for you. Highborn blood, but not to be a queen. A life of feasts and pageantry, but not one of power. Sounds boring, Yavara. A warrior like you, resigned to sucking off some lord and pumping out little elflings. I don’t think you want that; highborn ladies don’t usually run through the forest shooting at orcs.” Brock’s demeanor changed rapidly, his calm eyes grew wide, and a greedy grin crept across his face. Before I could react, Brock’s hand shot out and grabbed my face, his sweaty palm pressed against my nose and mouth, filling my sinuses with his stench, killing my breath. Terror gripped me as assuredly as his hand did, and its paralysis betrayed me as Brock lifted me to my knees. “No, highborn ladies don’t do that at all, but I guess you aren’t like them, are you?” Brock’s voice was thick in my ear, cutting through the drumming in my temples, “No, you’re a wild one. You want to get bloody with the beasts and stare death in the eye. I like that. Now, I’ve had my share of lowborn elves, but I’ve never tasted royalty before.” I screamed against Brock’s muffling hand, and he chuckled. His other hand grabbed my bodice, and tore off my dress. My scream rose. The rags slipped down to my waist, exposing my breasts to the cold night, the nipples taut and prickled. I felt his breath against my chest, hot air caressing my vulnerable node. I went deathly still, prey instincts taking over. Brock’s lips wrapped around me, his teeth bit gently, and he sucked from my breast, pulling the porcelain globe from my chest in indian a greedy slurp. I tried to fight him then, squirming and thrashing like a fish in my binds, and Brock’s hand was the hook I dangled from, holding my head up, forcing me to arch my back and press my breasts to his consuming mouth. I could feel his tongue circling my nipple, his rough lips pulling at feet the dark flesh surrounding it. Brock’s other hand squeezed tightly upon my free breast, deforming it with his fingers until they were lost in my succulence. The he released me, and before I could find relief, I felt his callused hand slide down my stomach. No-no-no-no-no! Brock’s thick fingers forced their way between my legs, easily dividing the rigid press of my thighs. I gasped as two of his fingers found my outer lips, my body stilling with the shock of it. Such an intimate place, never before touched by another. The violation struck me to the core. “Yes… I’m your fuck toy, “ I say in defeat, tearing my eyes full of tears away from her. “A new kind of playing?” Sonja asked with her tail wagging. He then cut away her clothes, the knife slashing both fabric and flesh. “Kill us,” Aingeal said as she fluttered down and hugged me from behind. “No, no, no,” he said. feet I read comments, and reply where warranted, but I do read and appreciate them all. And then Michael was gone. Religion filled women with shame, and nothing begot kinkier sex than shame. Mark was a perfect fit and I thank the universe every day. I told her she was being overly sensitive, but she’s serious about making sure you’re happy with her,” John tells me. I'm willing to keep trying, but no pressure. Dad had indian stopped moving his dick about in my behind, though it was still parked there. That I had misunderstood his Hardcore looks.