For The Love of Athyr-Bast 3

She shoved him to his knees, and he would have objected to that, only it brought him to her soft, wet sex. He attacked it with his tongue, licking all its folds with a ravenous fury. His tongue was all over it—heat flashing through her from the very first lick.

“Oh, Conan!” she gasped. Her hands stroked his head, keeping it at her feverish sex. “You are skilled in ways I had never dreamed! Perhaps you’d be even better as a body slave than as a gladiator!”

His tongue attacked with still greater frenzy, making itself felt all over her cuntlips. Next parting them, entering her womanhood.

“UNNHHH! Yes! That’s so good!” Athyr-Bast cried, feeling the delight of his tongue travel far deeper than it could reach.

She was shocked but far from displeased with how Conan was proving as a lover. She’d thought she would just be manipulating him, getting her pleasure only from the shameless audacity of bedding with a slave. She was wrong. He was a stud horse. She was the luckiest of mares.

“I want your cunt now,” Conan said simply, flinging her down onto the arm of a nearby chair. It put her ass up in the air, legs hanging over the side, while her arms pillowed her head on the other armrest. Keeping her face at the exact height of his cock with him standing next to the throne-like seat.

Athyr-Bast spread her legs wide for him. The breath puffed out of Conan, in and out, each deep drag a tick of the clock counting down when he would have that throbbing cock inside her eager hole. But he didn’t rush. He took time to run his fingers over her labia, entering her with his middle finger and feeling the readiness of her cunt as he’d wanted to earlier in their negotiations.

He found her most ready. And when he ran his finger to her clit, letting her feel sharp ripples of delirious pleasure roll through her body, Athyr-Bast became even more willing.

“Ohh, Conan! That’s exquisite!” she sighed. “Keep rubbing my clit! You know just how to do it!”

“I know how to do much more than that,” Conan rasped, a fine sheen of sweat across his red face. “Let’s see if you know how to take it.”

“Yes, Conan, yes, but don’t make me wait anymore!” Athyr-Bast begged. “I want to know what my cunt feels like when it has all that hot prick inside it! Let me have it, lover, let me know!”

She twisted around, now perched from end to end on the armrests like she was in a hammock, her dangling body supported at hips and shoulder blades. She had to watch as Conan took his cock in one big hand and held it to her hot pussy. Moving the head in a tight little circle, he tantalized her before pressing to the core of her opening. She felt herself parting with him slipping inside her, already too big for her cunt, already making her stretch.

“I’ve known women to beg for a cock like mine,” Conan said hoarsely. “But when they get it, they don’t know how to take it. Highborn ladies don’t know what common whores do: that their cunts are meant for this.”

“Give it to me, give it to me—” Athyr-Bast babbled excitedly.

“Your cunt was meant for this,” Conan announced, then shoved with his hips and sent himself deep into her hot womanhood. She was so wet already that her pussy gurgled as it parted for his hard prick.

Athyr-Bast howled uninhibitedly, then whimpered with delight when he drew away from her. When he pumped back in, she cried out, in pain but not asking for mercy. The more he rutted away at her, the more she screamed. Conan bent to loom over her, his hands on the armrest under her back, and Athyr-Bast grabbed onto his thick arms, digging her nails into the muscle while trying to stand having his fat cock so deep inside her.

Conan was forceful, ravenous, demanding all the space that her sheath could provide for him. Jamming himself into her like a madman bent on making sure her soft, sweet cunt never forgot it was his.

Conan smiled wanly at Athyr-Bast enjoying herself below him, pain clearly no impediment to her satisfaction. She really had a beautiful pussy, there was no doubting that. And her long, shapely legs… her full, soft breasts… and a lust that was almost that of a bitch in heat, welcoming his passion, wanting to be fucked as much as he wanted to fuck her.

It was no secret that Conan had wanted to ram his hard member inside her from his first glimpse of her body. But he’d thought he’d have no chance at making her his sheath short of rape, which Conan disdained.

Now he had his chance and he was using it to show that lavish cunt of hers why highborn women always fantasized about barbarians so. He would take all she could offer, do whatever he could imagine to sate the almighty sexual appetite she’d imbued him with.

And if she managed to enjoy the use he put her to, Conan would allow that he was wrong about her. Perhaps even a noblewoman was capable of enriching his harem—or at least being bred.

It took all of her long legs, but Athyr-Bast managed to wrap up Conan’s back in her grip. Keeping him where he was: boring his swollen cock deeper into her soft, warm acceptance. She was responding more passionately than she had ever allowed herself to—waves of ecstasy rolling over her body, growing higher and higher. It was like the more aroused he was, the more her own emotion rose to match him.

“Oh, Conan! You’re delicious!” Athyr-Bast laughed, amused by how her ass flew with the impacts of his strenuous thrusts.

His hardened dick rammed into her so hard that she could feel his strokes send her hair flying about her like snow in a blizzard. She loved it. Her sex burned with a fire that only orgasm could quench. Athyr-Bast was going to get that from Conan—that he would then be enthralled to her marvelous femininity was almost irrelevant.

“Ram me, my steed!” she cooed, keening and flashing her clenched teeth, her reddened expression one more goad to make Conan fuck her harder. “I want to feel you all the way in my womb, dear Conan! I want to feel you in my throat!”

There were easier ways of accomplishing that, Conan mused, but pleasurable as the prospect was, he would not empty her sex of his stiff prick for all the gold in a dwarven mine. His body tensed, almost trembling with erotic drive. His hips endlessly hammered. He made sure, again and again, that her womanhood was his to use.

The throne reeled from one set of legs to another, always on the verge of tipping over from how Conan pounded the woman atop it. Athyr-Bast could not hold still herself, bouncing and twisting with wanton abandon. His cock was touching every sensitive corner of her sex—turning all of it into hungry, eager flesh that only his manhood could satisfy.

Athyr-Bast didn’t know if she could afford to risk a cocksman like this in the arena; yet imagine his ferocity were he not wearied by combat!