You adore the feeling of the 'O' her lips make as your flat-tipped horse-member surges with cum again. Those lips are so fucking beautiful. Immaculate. Even as she grinds them over something as obscene and lewd as your flared stallion-cock they’re almost impossibly beautiful. Occasionally your thighs spasm into the hands holding them down, the raw sensation of that constant dripping wet presence around your prick overwhelming and dominating your mind, losing control of your muscles. The cabalist pulls at your beast cock with every inch of her throat. Her lips, tongue, throat, teeth, cheeks all take your prick with singleminded intensity, expressing no concerns other than facilitating the emptying of the cum flooding through it.
The entirety of your body feels the shudder that passes through it when you finish. It takes a moment for you to figure out why the back of your head is sore, until you realize you let it drop down against the ground. Or perhaps you’re dehydrated? Your vision spins a little, and it’s not clear what caused it.
“Again.”
Her mouth descends.
“Again.”
Your flared horse-cock surges with artificial desire.
“Again.”
Matching the fall of your flat-tipped horse-member your head falls to the side, staring into space. Drool trickles over the side of your mouth, sheer exhaustion making you slow to swallow. Sweat drenches your body. Dominika lets your limp prick fall to the ground, dripping her spit into a puddle for it to lay in. You don’t even want to think about using it. You’re not sure you can think about using it. You’re spent. Empty. Absolutely finished. Not a drop of cum is in your body. Dominika has completely drained you. Your thighs ache. Your stomach feels as though you’ve run a marathon while doing situps. Are the restraints still there? You don’t know. Moving to check seems impossible.