The flesh is consumed by the slow boil of craving, emotions, suppression, teasing and authenticity. Simmering, stirred, bubbling. The conqueror is the chef, sprinkling in spices, turning the heat up or down, bringing out all the flavor of the meat ... Verbal goading, impact play, making the meat tender, bringing out its flavor, basting it, preparing it. The meat twists and writhes ... needing, aching ... if the need is taboo, then shame mixes into the potent batch of spices, and so that the final taste will be thickly flavored with redemption... redemption at the acceptance and validation of the conqueror. To have the need, the aching, to be conquered is beautiful of itself. But he is only a roast at the butcher's until the conqueror prepares and consumes him ... marinating in the seduction, thoughts saturating his mind, as he craves to yield his power and direction, to feel the have the conqueror drink fill him, and drain him and soak of his flavor
each ritual of the engagement is like skirmishes in some colonial era battle. the body tied and whipped, balls squeezed, cock clothespinned ... games of endurance unfold, degradation, weakening the defenses, priming for the final assault... the feast is alive, and numbed by his weakness, taking in the glory of the conqueror's arousal, tasting the saltiness of his sweat, feeling feet pushed at his face, while a finger primes his hole for the taking... each move by the conqueror executed deftly with military precision, all leading inexorably to the pre-determined goal.
the conquest's battalions recede, seeking safety inside the city walls, if for no reason other than to prolong his defeat, to make his suffering sweeter.
The siege begins. The conqueror circles, teases, tries the defenses, planning the ending ... the soon to be conquered wonders how it will come, reduced to craving, begging, needing, embracing his hurt, tasting his own blood on the conqueror's kiss... imagining his own image ... quivering, bruised, "fuckmeat" scrawled on him, a pigtail plug protruding from his ass ... the conqueror is radiant, throbbing, grabbing the ears of his conquest, he begins to assault to the object's mouth ... grabbing at the soon to be conquered's cock, squeezing his balls "oh yes, suck me boy, I love how your cock throbs when you suck me..."
The object's mind becomes insane with need, drunk on his own vulnerability, mortified at how aroused he is and how much the conqueror enjoys his arousal. As cord laces his cock and balls, controrting them, he swells further, as though his cock might burst its own dimensions, or rip through the restraining cords ...
"I will finish you soon, love, your time is near, savor these moments" whispers the conqueror, withdrawing his phallus from the conquest's mouth and circling to the rear for assault. His hand traces his conquest's purple-ing cock, gathering pre-cum on his finger from it, he tastes, and then shoves the finger into the conquest's mouth "such a sweet flavor you are, love ..."
tasting his own fluid from the conqueror's hand, and lapping at the flesh on it, he feels the pig tail plug withdrawn. Lubed fingers roughly enter him and grease his hole. Moaning, he hears the conqueror's voice in his ear "here, I put my sword to rest," and with that his was filled with his lover's cock. Swollen and turgid, the conqueror filled his ass with cock and began a meticulous and relentless assault. He cherished each sensation, his head and body floating in the glory of this moment so long anticipated and so heartily awaited. His fucking converting from the precision of a cautious military advance to the abandon of a thorough rout, the conqueror claimed and marked his possession, vanquishing his conquest. Writhing, the conqueror felt his opponent's hand grip his tied cock, and as the conqueror's own cock raged within him, he felt the small death come over him. warmth cascaded across his body, followed by shivering, fluid shot forth from his cock, and his conqueror erupted in him ...
Wow, thank you both for sharing that
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