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“How are you doing, love?”
Saladin shudders and buries his face into the warm furs of their bedding. Jolder laughs, not unkindly but with the same bold joy as she might laugh about besting Silimar in a contest of strength or if Skorri had shared a particularly bawdy limerick. She runs her nails through his short hair, scratching like she would to placate one of the many wolves that roam the mountain and Saladin finds it has the same calming effect on men. He forces himself to relax, to open up against the unfamiliar. Jolder kisses his back and rubs soothingly up and down his thighs.
“There. Not so bad is it?”
Saladin squeezes to feel the intrusion, to test its girth and give.
No, he decides, it could be much worse. He has seen Lady Jolder's collection of toys and knows the sleek shape of this cock is far less imposing than some others. But what surprises and arouses him much more than the ghosting pressure against his sensitive channel is the knowledge that Jolder is behind the cock. The straps around her thighs are thick and distinct from her smooth skin each time they meet in slow thrusts meant to acclimate and open him. The gentle clink of buckles sings in harmony with her praise. Above it all, Saladin senses Jolder's Light, warm and possessive as she slides into him at a rising pace.
“It's good,” Saladin finally admits and cants his hips to offer himself fully to her whim. "Because it's you."
He can't see but he feels it, bright red lipstick- special for the occasion- splitting in a dazzling smile somewhere above his back. She startles him with the next thrust, hard and deep with a grind at the end like she's trying to somehow get deeper and his gasp turns into something hungrier when she parts his cheeks and does it again.
“Jolder,” it slips from his lips in hushed awe and she bucks again, this time forgetting to check her strength and sending his hands scrambling to keep himself from being fucked further away from her snapping hips. “Jolder!”
She plunges into him, Saladin's ass bouncing and clapping against her gear and Saladin is swept along with the same river of burning urgency. It doesn't just feel good, it feels amazing to have his insides pummeled just shy of raw and to feel the burn of his ass each time the leather of Jolder's harness smacks against him.
“Jolder!”
“Whenever you're ready, love,” she whispers hearing the desperate, unspoken question. Her own voice betrays none of her effort.
Saladin cranes his neck, careful to brace himself, so he can finally look upon his Lady's face while she pistons into him. Her eyes are twin flames still framed by immaculate winged eyeliner as she watches her false cock split his ass. Her mouth gapes only slightly as she breathes through a sprinting finish. And when she meets Saladin's eyes, perfect red lips slide in that perfect smile and Saladin comes undone with a shout that can be heard all over the mountain.