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her weight from one foot to the other, making her tits jiggle, her ass pop, her dress ride just a little higher.
His jaw clenched. She could see how much he wanted to rip that dress off her right now.
Her mother, meanwhile, was too busy gushing over the lush mountains in the distance to notice any of this.
"Oh, it's so beautiful here! Look at that view," she sighed dreamily.
Gerald, however, wasn't looking at the fucking mountains. His eyes were locked on Anya's ass as she leaned into the backseat, her dress riding up just enough to show him the delicious curve of her cheeks, the thin line of her thong disappearing between them.
Holy fuck.
He gritted his teeth, gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. His cock throbbed painfully as he imagined her sprawled out in his backseat, those legs spread wide, her pretty pink pussy dripping, begging for his thick cock to stretch her for the first time.
The way she wiggled her ass just before she sat down?
Yeah. She fucking knew.
As they set off, Gerald adjusted the rearview mirror, pretending to check traffic, but really? He was watching her.
Anya sat with her legs crossed, her dress sliding higher, teasing the tops of her bare, creamy thighs. Every time she shifted, her tits bounced slightly, her nipples pressing against the fabric, practically begging to be sucked.
"So," her mother mused, breaking the silence, "this island has such a powerful energy. I can feel it."
Gerald smirked, his eyes flicking back to Anya.
"Ah, madam," he murmured, his voice smooth and deep, "you are very perceptive. This island... has a deep energy. One that can touch you in ways you never imagined... if you are open to it."
His gaze flicked to Anya in the mirror as he emphasized the word open.
She caught his stare, holding it for a moment before slowly uncrossing her legs, spreading them just a little wider. Just enough for him to see more.
Gerald's cock twitched violently.
The mother, oblivious, leaned forward eagerly. "Tell me more about it!"
Gerald grinned. "There is a temple near your new home in the Village of Chamarel. Lakaz Nwar. It is a place of great power. A place where people come to... awaken."
Anya's eyes lit up.
"Oh, I love learning about spiritual places!" she purred, leaning forward in her seat. The motion made her tits push up, her nipples pressing harder against the dress. "What kind of temple is it?"
"It is a place for transformation," he said, his voice dark, heavy with unspoken meaning. "It awakens... sensations inside you that you never even knew existed."
Anya's breath hitched.
"Oh," she murmured, fingers absently playing with the hem of her dress. "That sounds... fascinating."
Gerald grinned. She was perfect.
As they reached the villa, he stepped out to help with the bags—but really, he just wanted one last look.
And fuck, she gave it to him.
She bent over, slowly, pretending to reach for her suitcase, knowing damn well that the hem of her dress lifted just enough for him to see the bare curve of her ass, the thin strip of her thong disappearing between her cheeks. Gerald's cock throbbed painfully, his breath catching as he imagined ripping that flimsy scrap of fabric away, spreading her round, perfect ass apart, and slamming his fat cock deep into her tight, asshole. He could already see it—her back arching, her mouth gasping, the way her body would tremble as she felt a real man inside her for the first time. He wanted to pin her down, shove his cock into that tight little asshole, bare and raw, make her scream into the mattress as he buried himself balls-deep, claiming her where no man had ever dared to take her before. He wanted to see her juices dripping down her thighs, to hear her moaning, begging, to watch her break beneath him, surrendering completely to his thick, throbbing cock. Fuck, he could almost feel her around him, clenching, stretching, struggling to take him all the way. His fingers twitched with the urge to grab her right there, to bend her over the luggage, to spit on her puckered little hole and force his way in, making her truly his. Soon. She had no idea what was coming. But she would.
Gerald nearly groaned out loud.
"The temple is not far," he said, his voice thick. "And remember—it is for those who are ready to... open themselves."
Anya looked over her shoulder, smirked, and then? She winked.
As he drove away, his cock still painfully hard, one thing was certain. He will get a taste of her, soon.
Chapter 2: Settling In The villa was everything the family had hoped for—and more. Perched high on a lush hillside, it offered a breathtaking, unobstructed view of the endless turquoise lagoon below, its surface shimmering under the golden embrace of the setting sun. The house itself was an architectural dream, tall French windows allowing the tropical breeze to drift through its luxurious, open spaces. A private infinity pool seemed to merge with the horizon, its waters still and inviting.
Anya stretched lazily, stepping onto the terrace, letting the warm air kiss her skin. The island felt alive—the scent of salt and flowers, the distant crash of waves, the deep hum of nature surrounding them. It was paradise.
Inside, her mother floated through the rooms, her flowing bohemian dress swishing as she admired every detail.
"It's absolutely perfect!" she beamed, twirling in the open living area.
Her father, ever the joker, smirked. "Don't get too used to it—we'll probably have to sell a kidney to keep up with the electricity bill in this place."
Anya barely registered their conversation. Her mind was somewhere else. Someone else.
Gerald.
The way he looked at her. The way his dark eyes lingered on her tits, her ass, the way he adjusted his pants when he thought she wouldn't notice. But she had noticed. And she had loved it.
Then there was the temple. Lakaz Nwar.
"The temple is meant for those who are truly special... It can awaken things inside you."
The way he had said it, the way his voice had dropped, his eyes devouring her through the rearview mirror—it had sent a thrill straight through her. He hadn't just been talking about spiritual enlightenment.
She bit her lip, heat pooling low in her belly.
Had she gone too far teasing him? ...Or not far enough?
She sighed, shaking the thought away. "He was just being overly dramatic," she muttered, but the flicker of curiosity inside her wouldn't fade.
The family gathered on the terrace for dinner, their table laden with local dishes, exotic spices filling the air. The warm night wrapped around them like a heavy, intoxicating blanket, the moon rising over the ocean, casting a silver glow over the water.
"This is amazing," her mother sighed, eyes bright with excitement. "Tomorrow, we're going to the temple first thing. It's the perfect way to immerse ourselves in the spirit of this island."
Anya perked up, her earlier curiosity returning in full force.
"I've read about places like this—ancient temples with energy that's supposed to change you." Her voice was soft, but there was something eager in her tone. "Gerald said it was for people who are special."
Her father snorted, leaning back in his chair. "Special, huh? Sounds like a load of nonsense to me. But you two go ahead and have your awakening or whatever." He chuckled, picking at his food.
Her mother rolled her eyes. "You don't understand. This isn't just a place—it's a gateway to something deeper. You'll see, Anya."
"I can't wait." She meant it.
The house fell silent as the night stretched on.
Anya stood by her bedroom window, her bare thighs pressed against the cool glass, gazing out at the moonlit lagoon. The night was alive with sounds—the whisper of palm trees, the distant murmur of the waves.
But her mind was elsewhere. Lakaz Nwar.
Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.
Chapter 3: The Temple's Allure The morning air was thick with the scent of damp earth, burnt wood, and something older, something primal. The family walked along the narrow forest path, winding their way through dense jungle, vines hanging low from towering trees, the golden morning sun breaking through the leaves in patches. The tropical humidity wrapped around them, making the thin fabric of Anya's dress cling to her body, outlining her perky tits, her tight little waist, and the round swell of her perfect ass.
Her hips swayed, the string of her thong pressed deep between her cheeks, teasing with each step. The material of her dress was so light, so thin, that in the right lighting, it was practically see-through. Anya knew it. And she didn't mind. She loved knowing she was being watched. She had spent the last week teasing men, making them ache for what they could never have. It was a game she started playing well—a flash of skin here, a sultry smirk there, just enough to leave them throbbing in frustration.
As they walked, her mother rambled on about the spiritual energy of the forest, her voice filled with wonder, while her father, ever the skeptic, chuckled and cracked a joke about getting lost. But Anya wasn't listening. Her mind was elsewhere. She was thinking about Gerald—the way he had stared at her tits, her ass, the way he had adjusted his cock in his pants when he thought she wasn't looking.
Except she had been looking.
She had felt her pussy clench when she saw how much she had affected him. She had loved the way his breath caught when she bent over, when she let her dress ride up just enough to give him a peek of her thong.
Would there be men at the temple? And would they look at her that way too?
As they approached the clearing, the air changed. The forest grew silent, the usual buzz of insects and birds disappearing as if the trees themselves were holding their breath. The temple loomed ahead, ancient and imposing, its stone walls covered in intricate carvings, each one whispering of secrets long forgotten.
At first, the carvings were innocent enough—depictions of gods, spirits, and nature, hands raised in reverence. But as they moved further along the stone path, the images shifted. The lines deepened, the scenes grew darker.
A woman kneeling, her mouth open in worship, a thick cock pressed against her lips.
A demon-like figure, his tongue buried between a woman's trembling thighs, her back arched in ecstasy.
Further down, a group of men, their hands gripping a woman's hair, her tits, her hips, as they pounded into her from all angles, her face carved into an expression of sheer, uncontrollable pleasure.
Anya's breath hitched.
Her pussy throbbed.
Heat pooled between her thighs, her skin tingling as she dragged her fingers over the deeply carved figures, tracing the outline of a woman's breasts, the curve of her ass, the way she was being spread open by the men surrounding her.
Fuck.
Her mother, oblivious, ran her fingers over another carving and sighed, completely missing the filthy debauchery depicted before her. "Such rich culture," she said, admiration in her voice.
Anya barely managed to choke back a laugh.
Yeah. Rich.
Her father, noticing the raw sexuality of the carvings, scratched his head, his voice awkward. "Looks like they were busy back then, huh?" He chuckled at his own joke, but Anya barely registered it.
She was too lost in the images.
She was too lost in the way her body ached as she imagined herself in those carvings.
She imagined herself kneeling, her lips parting for a fat cock, her thighs spread wide, her pussy slick as men filled every hole.
Her nipples hardened beneath the thin fabric of her dress.
And she wasn't the only one watching.
From the darkness of the temple, Gran Sef watched.
His lean, sinewy body, though aged, still held the remnants of strength, his dark skin weathered, marked with deep creases that told of years of experience and dominance. His long white dreadlocks, thick and coarse with age, fell over his shoulders, their once-black strands now fully white, a testament to the many years he had ruled this temple. His receding hairline left the front of his head nearly bald, the smooth, dark skin glistening under the sunlight, giving him an aura of ancient wisdom—of power that had endured through generations. His thin, grizzled beard framed his sharp jawline, his hollowed cheeks and piercing eyes making him look both aged and dangerous, a relic of the past still holding dominion over the present.
His dark, piercing eyes moved over Anya's young, supple body, devouring every inch of her with a hunger that had only grown stronger with age. He stood still, silent, completely hidden, letting his gaze drink her in, letting his mind roam freely over all the ways he would claim her, ruin her, make her his.
She had no idea she was being eye-fucked, no idea that every move she made only fed his hunger. The way she ran her fingers over the carvings, the way her hips swayed as she shifted her weight, the way her bare thighs pressed together, as if some unknown need was already stirring deep inside her. She was so ripe, so fresh, yet so completely unaware of what it meant to be truly taken.
His cock throbbed beneath his loincloth, swelling, thick and veiny, the sheer thought of her tight little body spread out before him making his breath come heavier. He imagined gripping her hair, dragging her to her knees before the altar, watching her soft, pink lips stretch around his fat, black cock. He imagined bending her over one of the ancient stone slabs, her dress pushed up, her bare pussy dripping, the thin strip of her thong soaked with arousal.
He licked his lips slowly, his fingers twitching, aching to grab her ass, to yank that flimsy dress up, to see her blush as she realized what he was about to do. He wanted to hold her down, to spread her legs, to watch her hole stretch open, taking him deeper than she ever thought possible. He wanted to hear her whimper, to feel her tremble, to own her completely.
And soon... he would.
A slow, wicked grin spread across his face, his cock pulsing, his muscles tensing. The hunt was over. She had come to him—her fate already sealed.
With a deep breath, he stepped forward, emerging from the shadows, his low, rough voice cutting through the still air.
"Welcome... to Lakaz Nwar."
The sudden voice shattered the stillness, cutting through the thick, humid air like a blade. Anya jumped, her heart slamming against her ribs as she spun around, her blonde hair flicking over her shoulder. Her mother let out a startled gasp, clutching at her chest in surprise, while her father, always the skeptic, muttered a nervous chuckle, trying to mask his unease.
From the darkened temple entrance, Gran Sef emerged.
His movements were slow, deliberate, each step heavy with authority, his aged but powerful body adorned with tribal markings, his loincloth swaying as he approached. His piercing eyes scanned them all with an intensity that sent a shiver down Anya's spine. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the quiet dominance in the way he held himself, as if the temple itself bowed to him.
Her father cleared his throat, forcing a smile. "Oh! You gave us quite the scare there, my friend!" He extended a hand, still slightly rattled. "We didn't see you."
Gran Sef gripped the man's hand firmly, his rough, calloused fingers swallowing the other man's palm, his grip strong despite his age. His deep, accented voice rumbled again, thick with Creole-inflected English, the words coming slow and deliberate, each syllable heavy with presence.
"Ah... I see... New people. I welcome you... to Lakaz Nwar."
His lips curled into what could almost be called a smile, though there was something dark underneath it, something unspoken. His gaze drifted from the father to the mother, his eyes lingering on her flowing bohemian dress, the way it hugged her curves.
"Ahh... a very... beautiful wife you have, monsieur."
The mother blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her voice flustered but pleased. "Oh... why thank you!"
Gran Sef's smile widened, his dark eyes glinting. "I see now... where daughter get her beauty."
The compliment made the mother giggle softly, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. The father, however, simply laughed awkwardly, too caught up in the cultural novelty of the moment to notice the undertone.
And then—Gran Sef turned to Anya.
The air shifted.
His gaze dropped to her, sweeping over her petite, curvy frame, taking his time, drinking her in without shame. He let his eyes trace her exposed shoulders, the way her nipples pressed against the thin material of her dress, the bare curve of her thighs beneath the hem, before settling on her face.
A slow, almost knowing smirk tugged at his lips.
"Ah..." He exhaled, his voice low, rich, full of something that made her stomach tighten. "I feel... something here."
His fingers twitched at his sides as he let his gaze linger on her for a moment longer than necessary, as if measuring something unseen. He tilted his head, studying her, before his lips parted once more.
"You... mademoiselle... have very special energy."
Anya's breath hitched, her pulse skipping for reasons she couldn't quite place. There was something in the way he said it, something in the way his eyes never wavered from hers, something heavily unspoken.
And she felt it.
The air between them seemed to hum with something thick, heated, something pulling at her, something she wasn't sure she understood yet.
But Anya's eyes betrayed her.
They flickered down—to the thin strip of fabric barely hiding the thick, veiny bulge beneath his loincloth.
Fuck. It was huge.
Her thighs pressed together, her lips parting slightly as she tucked her hair behind her ear, pretending to focus on the carvings.
"Thank you," she murmured, her voice softer than intended, almost breathy. Her grey eyes lifted for a moment, meeting his, before dropping again—lower.
The massive bulge beneath his loincloth twitched, the thin fabric struggling to conceal the sheer size of what lay beneath.
Anya's breath hitched slightly, her pulse throbbing in her ears. She couldn't stop staring. It was so big, so thick, the outline of veins straining against the old, worn material, the sheer weight of it making the fabric hang low over his muscular thighs.
She swallowed hard, feeling something hot stir deep inside her, something tight, unfamiliar, making her thighs press even closer together.
"The temple is really breathtaking," she added quickly, trying to regain some composure, though her eyes betrayed her, flickering right back to his cock, unable to help herself.
But Gran Sef saw.
He saw the way she bit her lip.
He saw the way her breath hitched when she caught sight of his cock throbbing beneath the fabric.
He saw everything.
Gran Sef's voice was low, rough, filthy as it rumbled through the air, thick with his Creole accent. "You feel it, yes? The energy of this place... it call to you."
Anya's heart pounded.
Her pussy clenched.
She tried to play innocent, tried to act as though she wasn't already dripping, but the moment she opened her mouth to answer, her voice came out softer than intended. "I think I do..."
Gran Sef took a step forward, his low-hanging cloth swaying, making the bulge of his cock even more obvious.
Anya didn't look away this time.
She stared.
She wanted him to see her looking.
And she knew that he did.
A playful smirk curled her lips, her fingers idly toying with the hem of her dress, as if she had no idea that every tiny movement sent the fabric shifting higher over her soft, creamy thighs.
"I have so many questions," she purred, her voice slow, teasing, dripping with something unspoken. Her grey eyes flickered up, lashes batting as she let her gaze drag up the length of his body—his broad chest, his marked skin, and finally... his mouth.
And then, as if she couldn't help herself, her eyes flicked back down to the throbbing bulge beneath his loincloth, letting them linger just a moment too long.
Her lips parted slightly, as though she had just imagined what it would feel like.
"I'm so... intrigued by this temple," she added, her voice deliberately breathy, her teeth grazing her lower lip.
Gran Sef's smirk widened, his cock twitching beneath the fabric, the motion unmistakable.
Oh, she wants it.
The way she stared, the way her eyes kept dropping to his cock, the way her lips parted slightly, her breath coming quicker—this was no innocent curiosity. No, this little blonde slut wanted to be ruined.
She wanted to be turned into a whore.
He could see it in her body, the way her thighs pressed together, the way her nipples stood hard against the flimsy material of her dress, the way she played with the hem, teasing, taunting him. She might not realize it yet, but her body knew. Her body was already begging for him to take her, to break her, to fill her until she knew nothing else but the pleasure of being used.
She was ripe. Perfect.
And soon, she would belong to him.
His deep, rumbling voice dropped into something darker, filthier, as he stepped closer, letting the warmth of his body press into the space between them.
"Mmm... you always welcome here, Little Flower," he murmured, his rough voice like a promise, a warning.
He let his dark eyes drag over her, slow, thorough, owning her with his gaze.
"I teach you all... the pathway to enlightenment."
His lips curled wickedly.
"If you open yourself to it."
Anya shivered, the words sending a deep, sinful pulse between her thighs.
Her father cleared his throat. "We've got some boring paperwork tomorrow. Anya, you'd hate it. Why don't you stay here? This is more your thing."
Her lips parted.
She knew exactly what she was doing as she let her gaze drag down Gran Sef's body, her eyes lingering on his cock, watching it twitch beneath the fabric.
She let her tongue flick out to wet her lips.
And then—slowly, teasingly, deliberately—she turned to her father.
"Can I come back tomorrow?"
Her voice was soft, breathy, laced with something filthy, knowing.
Her father chuckled, unaware. "Of course, sweetheart. Just don't join any cults."
Gran Sef's smirk widened.
If only your father knew what I will do to you tomorrow.
He stepped closer, his deep voice like a dark promise. "Yes... Little Flower. You come. Early. I will... guide you."
Anya smiled.
She couldn't wait.
Chapter 4: The First Visit Anya woke up hot, restless, and aching, her body still tingling from the energy of the temple. The way Gran Sef had looked at her, his deep voice vibrating through her, the massive bulge in his loincloth barely concealed, twitching as she had stared too long—the images had burned into her mind. She had tried to push them away, but her body refused to forget.
As she lay beneath the thin sheets, her thighs squeezed together, heat pulsing between them. Her fingers itched to wander lower, to relieve the frustration building inside her, but she forced herself to stop.
Slipping out of bed, she padded toward the bathroom, shedding her thin nightgown. The cool water hit her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. As the droplets ran down her full, perky breasts, tightening her already-sensitive nipples, her hands moved lower. She grabbed her razor and shaving cream, carefully gliding the blade over her soft, smooth skin, making sure her pussy was perfectly bare, the way she always preferred.
As she reached her asshole, she shivered, taking extra care to make herself flawless. She swallowed, her stomach fluttering as the thought pulsed through her.
When she finished, she patted herself dry, taking a moment to admire her own body in the mirror. She looked different today—flushed, needy, ready. She bit her lip, running a hand down her stomach, resisting the urge to dip lower. Instead, she turned away, her mind already set on what she would wear.
She picked out a thin, white summer dress, almost completely sheer in the right lighting. The fabric was so light it felt like nothing at all, fluttering against her body, outlining her full, round tits and the barest hint of her pink nipples beneath. She chose a matching white thong, knowing it would be completely visible if she bent over just right.
She adjusted the delicate straps, smoothing her hands over her curves, her ass, her hips, tilting her body slightly as she admired her own reflection. The way the thin fabric clung to her, the way her nipples faintly pressed through the material, the way her thong barely showed through the soft folds of the dress—it was perfect.
Would Gran Sef notice today? Would his cock twitch beneath his loincloth again?
The thought sent a thrill down her spine, tightening the ache between her thighs.
She smirked, biting her lip, her grey eyes twinkling with mischief.
Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing.
She tilted her head, ran a slow hand over her hip, then winked at her reflection, laughing softly to herself.
A tease. A temptation. A game she loved to play.
And she was about to see just how far she could take it.
She found her parents in the kitchen, sipping coffee, completely unaware of the wickedness building inside her.
"I think I'll go back to the temple today," she said casually, biting back a smirk as her mother beamed in approval.
"Oh, that's wonderful, Anya! See if you can learn more about their traditions."
Her father chuckled. "Just don't start dancing naked under the moon, alright?"
Anya gave a slow, knowing smile. If only he knew.
The walk to the temple was different this time. The air was thicker, heavier, and so was the heat pooling low in her belly. Every step rubbed her thighs together, sending sparks of pleasure through her, the thin fabric of her thong pressing against her swollen pussy.
Her dress clung to her skin, teasing her already-sensitive nipples, making her hyperaware of her body—but she wasn't the only one.
As she passed through the village streets, she caught their eyes.
Men turned to stare—some stealing quick glances, others openly watching, their gazes lingering on the soft curve of her ass swaying with every step, the outline of her bare nipples through the thin fabric.
She could feel their eyes on her.
And she loved it.
She smirked, pretending not to notice, but she slowed her steps just enough, letting her hips sway a little more, letting the light catch her dress just right.
One man, dark-skinned and broad-chested, ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes dropping straight to her tits. Another, older, grizzled, let out a low hum of approval, shaking his head like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
They wanted her.
And for the first time, she let herself enjoy it.
A wicked smile curled on her lips as she disappeared down the jungle path, knowing very well that every man she had just passed would be thinking about her long after she was gone.
Her mind drifted back to yesterday—Gran Sef's dark, piercing eyes, the way they had stripped her bare without ever touching her. The thick, pulsing shape beneath his loincloth, the way he had smirked when he caught her staring.
Her pace quickened, her breath coming faster as she neared the temple.
She froze at the sight of a carving—a woman on her knees, her lips stretched wide, a massive cock disappearing into her mouth.
The details were obscene, every curve of the thick shaft glistening, the woman's eyes half-lidded in bliss, her throat bulging as she took him deeper.
Anya's breath hitched, her thighs pressing together. She reached out, tracing the grooves of the stone, her fingers following the wet curve of the woman's tongue, the ridge of the cock's head, the way her lips stretched around it.
"Mmm... This is... complete surrender, Little Flower."
The deep, rough voice made her shudder.
She turned, already knowing what she would see—Gran Sef, watching her, his dark eyes burning with something primal.
Her breath came a little faster, her nipples tightening beneath her dress. She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady.
"What does it mean?"
He stepped closer, his presence towering over her, his dark eyes roaming shamelessly over her body, drinking in every curve, every soft swell of flesh beneath the thin fabric of her dress. His voice was thick, rich, slow like dripping honey, but his thoughts were anything but sweet.
He wanted her.
Wanted to rip that flimsy dress off her, press her against the cold stone of the temple, and bury himself deep inside her.
Her tits rose and fell with every breath, her nipples stiff beneath the fabric, teasing him, taunting him. His eyes slid lower, tracing the delicate dip of her waist, the perfect curve of her hips, the soft swaying of her ass as she shifted under his stare.
She was so ripe, so ready, so fucking perfect.
His cock twitched beneath his loincloth, already thick and aching, his hands itching to grab her, to spread her open, to hear her moan as he claimed her.
But not yet.
He licked his lips slowly, his gaze burning into her, making sure she felt the weight of his hunger before he spoke.
"It mean she give herself... completely," he murmured, his voice low, thick with intent. "No thinkin'. No holdin' back. Only pleasure."
Anya's pulse pounded. She turned back to the carving, staring at the woman's parted lips, the thick cock between them.
Gran Sef led her deeper inside, past even filthier carvings—women on all fours, taken from behind, their bodies writhing in pleasure.
"You want... understand more, yes?" he asked, his voice smooth, knowing.
She nodded.
He sat on a stone seat, his legs spread, his loincloth hanging low. The bulge beneath it was massive, heavy, pulsing.
"Come... sit."
Anya glanced around the temple, her grey eyes scanning the dimly lit space, searching for a place to sit. But there was nothing—no cushions, no chairs, only the cold stone floor and the imposing figure of Gran Sef seated on the carved temple seat.
She furrowed her brows, looking at him. "Where... where should I sit?" she asked, her voice soft, uncertain.
Gran Sef let out a low, rumbling chuckle, deep and knowing, his white dreadlocks shifting as he tilted his head. His dark eyes gleamed, full of amusement and something far filthier.
"Ah, Little Flower... no need look 'round. You sit here." He patted his thick, muscled thigh, his grin widening. "Come. Sit on Gran Sef lap."
Anya's breath caught.
On his lap?
She froze, her cheeks flushing, her mind racing. Was he serious?
Gran Sef laughed again, his deep voice echoing through the temple, the sound both calm and commanding.
"What, you shy now?" His lips curled into a knowing smirk, his cock twitching beneath his loincloth, though she could not see it yet. "Come, come. It just sit. I not bite, eh?"
Her stomach fluttered, a strange, unfamiliar heat pooling low in her belly. This was wrong. This was dangerous.
And yet...
The way he looked at her, the way his voice wrapped around her, thick and slow, drawing her in like a spell—it made her want to obey.
Swallowing hard, she stepped forward, her heart hammering as she positioned herself between his legs.
She lowered herself slowly, her thighs brushing against his, the heat of his body seeping through the thin fabric of her dress.
The moment she settled onto his lap, she realised her mistake.
Her dress, already short and flimsy, rode up as she sat, lifting just enough to leave her completely exposed. The soft, round globes of her ass pressed directly against his lap, with only the tiny strip of her thong separating them.
Her breath hitched, a rush of heat spreading through her as she felt the hardness of his muscles beneath her, the warmth of his skin against her bare cheeks.
The fabric of her dress barely covered anything, the hem resting high on her thighs, and she knew—she fucking knew—that Gran Sef could feel everything.
Her body tensed, every nerve on fire, but the old priest simply smirked, his rough, calloused hands settling on her hips, holding her in place.
She swallowed hard, her thighs pressing together, but it only made it worse—made her even more aware of the throbbing heat beneath her, of how close she was to something dangerous, something forbidden.
And then—she felt it.
Thick. Hot. Heavy. Pressing up between her thighs, twitching beneath her.
Her breath hitched.
She shifted, trying to adjust herself, but in doing so, she ground against it—slowly, lightly.
Gran Sef's breath deepened.
"You feel the... power." His hands settled on her hips.
Anya swallowed, nodding.
"Good," he murmured. "Then we begin."
Chapter 5: The First Surrender The temple was silent, save for the distant hum of the jungle beyond its stone walls. The heavy scent of incense and aged stone filled the air, clinging to her skin like an unseen touch. Anya's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming quicker as she remained perched on Gran Sef's lap, her bare ass pressing against his firm thighs. The thin fabric of her thong did nothing to shield her from the searing heat of his body, the hard muscles beneath her sending an unmistakable pulse of awareness through her.
The whole walk through the jungle, her body had been buzzing with restless energy, her thoughts consumed by the feeling of Gran Sef's heavy stare, the raw, dominant presence he carried.
And now, as his large, weathered hands settled on her hips, his fingers pressing firmly, possessively, she knew she was about to surrender to him completely, to give herself over to his touch, his control, his desire.
The carvings surrounding them only fueled the fire burning inside her—the figures of women on their knees, taken by powerful men, their bodies offered in complete surrender. She had tried to tell herself it was just art, just history, but something about them awoke something primal in her.
And then there was Gran Sef, his deep, commanding voice, his dark, knowing eyes, the thick shape pressing against her, so close, so tempting.
What was she doing?
She knew this was forbidden, dangerous, utterly wrong—yet her body refused to listen.
Her pussy throbbed, her nipples hardened against the thin fabric of her dress, every nerve in her body screaming for more.
She couldn't fight it.
"Breathe, Little Flower," he murmured, his deep, gravelly voice rumbling through her. "Let... body feel."
Anya exhaled slowly, deliberately, allowing herself to sink deeper into his lap, her body melting against his firm thighs. As if testing the waters, she rolled her hips ever so slightly, feeling the unmistakable press of his thick, heavy cock beneath his loincloth. The warmth of it, the sheer size, sent a pulse of need straight to her core.
Biting her lip, she tilted her hips again, this time dragging herself slowly along the length of him. A delicious friction sparked through her, making her thighs clench, her pussy ache as she moved back and forth in slow, teasing strokes.
Gran Sef let out a low, approving hum, his grip on her hips tightening slightly. His fingers dug into her flesh, firm yet unhurried, letting her set the pace.
"Mmm... you feel it, yes?" he murmured, his rough voice laced with something deeper, darker.
Anya's breath hitched, but she didn't stop. She kept grinding slowly, pressing herself against the thick, pulsing heat beneath her, feeling it grow harder, heavier, as if testing just how much she could tempt him.
Gran Sef exhaled through his nose, his smirk deepening as his cock twitched beneath her.
"Ahhh... Little Flower, you like playin' wit' fire," he rumbled, his voice thick with approval. "Mmm... but I tink you ready to burn."
Gran Sef's hands slid up, his fingers tracing the soft curve of her waist, his rough thumbs grazing just below the swells of her tits. He didn't touch her nipples—yet—but the deliberate way he hovered made her body tingle with anticipation.
"No think," he said, his voice slow, calm. "No hold back. Only feel."
Anya let her eyes flutter shut, her body already betraying her as she leaned into his touch. She wanted him to touch her more. She wanted to see how far he would take this, how much he was willing to give her.
His hands roamed lower, tracing lazy circles along her inner thighs. Every touch was unhurried, calculated, making her squirm slightly in his lap. Her breath hitched when one of his fingers trailed dangerously close to the damp heat between her legs. She fought the urge to grind against him, to push herself closer, to make him give her what she craved.
Gran Sef's grip tightened slightly. "Mmm... you want it, yes?"
Her body betrayed her with a shiver.
"Tell me."
Her eyes opened slowly, dark with lust as she met his gaze. "Yes."
A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his dark eyes gleaming with approval. "Mmm... good."
His fingers traced higher, teasing along the crease of her thigh, making her whimper in frustration.
"You have man back home, Little Flower?" he asked, his voice low, teasing.
Anya's breath hitched at the question. She licked her lips, hesitating only for a moment before answering. "Yes."
His smirk deepened. His hand moved up, cupping her bare ass, his thumb tracing along the delicate strip of her thong.
"He... take you yet?"
A thrill shot through her at his words, her stomach tightening with anticipation. She shook her head, a small, breathy laugh escaping her lips. "No."
His eyes darkened, his fingers squeezing her flesh. "Ah... still pure, oui?"
She swallowed hard, feeling his grip tighten, the intensity in his gaze making her legs tremble.
His lips were so close to her ear now, his breath hot against her skin. "Mmm... but body say different."
She gasped softly as his fingers slid lower, his knuckles brushing against the damp heat of her pussy, feeling how wet she already was.
Her thighs trembled.
"Body ready."
A shudder rippled through her as she felt his hand spread her open slightly, teasing her with the barest pressure. She exhaled a shaky breath, her hips shifting instinctively, silently begging for more.
"Lay down," Gran Sef commanded, his voice thick, dripping with approval.
Anya obeyed without hesitation, reclining against the smooth stone altar. The cool surface contrasted sharply with the heat radiating from her body, sending a delicious chill down her spine.
Her legs remained open, her tiny thong soaked and barely covering anything.
Gran Sef's gaze devoured her, his expression unreadable, predatory. He reached out, trailing his fingers over her skin, tracing slow, deliberate patterns along her hips, her thighs, her stomach.
He hooked a finger under the thin fabric of her thong and pulled it aside, exposing her completely.
She gasped softly, feeling the warm air against her slick folds.
He took a slow, deep breath, exhaling with a pleased hum. "Mmm... you smell sweet, Little Flower."
Anya's cheeks burned, but she didn't move, didn't close her legs. She watched him, breathless, her body thrumming with anticipation.
He lowered himself between her thighs, his rough hands spreading her open, his thumbs brushing against her swollen clit.
"Time feel power of temple," he murmured. "Let Gran Sef show you real pleasure."
Then—his tongue.
A long, slow lick from bottom to top.
Anya cried out, her fingers gripping the stone beneath her as his tongue moved over her, teasing, tasting, savoring. Her back arched as he flicked her clit with precision, his lips sealing around it, sucking gently before releasing her with a sinful hum.
Her moans filled the temple, the wet sounds of his tongue working her driving her insane. She had never felt anything like this before—never knew she could feel like this.
His grip on her thighs tightened, keeping her open, keeping her still as he devoured her, dragging his tongue over her slick folds, teasing her entrance before plunging deep inside.
Anya's breathing broke into gasps, her body writhing beneath him, desperate for more, for everything.
His tongue circled her clit again, sucking, flicking, licking, and she shattered.
Her orgasm slammed into her, her hips jerking as her moans spilled freely from her lips, raw and uninhibited. She grabbed his head, her fingers tangling in his dreadlocks as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her.
He didn't stop.
He licked her through every aftershock, drinking her in, owning every pulse, every shudder.
When she finally collapsed against the altar, her chest heaving, her legs trembling, she knew—
She was no longer the same.
She had surrendered to Lake Nwar.
And she would never go back.
Chapter 6: The Second Pathway The air inside the temple was thick with heat and the lingering scent of incense. Anya's body still trembled from the overwhelming pleasure Gran Sef had given her, but her mind was sharper now—hungry, awake, craving more.
She sat on the edge of the altar, her legs still spread slightly, her inner thighs slick from the climax that had just rocked through her. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her nipples still achingly stiff beneath the thin fabric of her dress, and yet, it wasn't enough.
Gran Sef watched her with dark, knowing eyes, his presence still towering even as he stood in silence. His bare chest gleamed with sweat, his lean body painted in tribal markings, his aura exuding something both primal and powerful. His gaze roamed over her, taking in the way her body quivered, the way her thighs pressed together as if she could trap the need still burning inside her.
Anya swallowed hard, her cheeks flushed, her fingers clutching the altar beneath her.
Gran Sef let out a deep, throaty chuckle, sensing the hunger in her eyes. "Mmm... Little Flower, you feel it now, oui? The ache? The need?"
Her breath hitched. She didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
The pulsing between her legs was answer enough.
"Now... you ready to learn." His voice was low, commanding, laced with something unspoken.
Gran Sef took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, his scent filling her lungs—masculine, musky, dominant. He reached out, his rough fingers tilting her chin upward, forcing her to look at him.
"Come, Little Flower..." his voice was deep, thick with authority. "Kneel."
Anya exhaled slowly, a shiver running through her.
Her legs felt weak as she slid off the altar and lowered herself onto her knees, her breath coming quicker. The cold stone beneath her was a stark contrast to the fire burning in her core, but she barely noticed. Her focus was on him.
Gran Sef's lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. His large, weathered hands reached for the knot at his waist, and with a flick of his fingers, his loincloth dropped.
Anya's breath hitched violently.
Her wide, grey eyes locked onto the thick, monstrous length now standing proudly before her.
It was massive.
Dark. Veined. Heavy.
The thick shaft jutted forward, its size intimidating, its presence undeniable. The head was swollen, the skin taut, glistening with his need.
She could only stare.
Her mouth went dry.
She swallowed hard, her thighs pressing together involuntarily, the heat between them pulsing at the sheer sight of him.
"Ahh... now you see, oui?" Gran Sef's deep chuckle rumbled through the temple. "You like, Little Flower?"
Anya's breath was shaky, but her lips parting slightly, her mouth already watering.
How could something so thick, so heavy ever fit?
Gran Sef stepped forward, his cock inches from her face, throbbing with heat. He reached down, tilting her chin up with his fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"You want to please, yes?" His voice was thick, intoxicating, laced with dominance.
Anya's breath hitched. Every fiber of her body screamed yes, yes, yes—and yet, a small voice in the back of her mind made her hesitate.
"But... what about my boyfriend?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, her lips still parted as she stared up at him.
Gran Sef let out a deep, rumbling laugh, his large hand moving to cup her cheek, his rough thumb stroking along the softness of her skin. His gaze burned into her, heavy with certainty.
"Little Flower... you not here for him," he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement and something far darker. "You here for something greater. You here to learn de true journey... de path to ecstasy."
His fingers trailed down her jawline, past her throat, grazing her collarbone before sliding lower, his touch sending a shiver down her spine.
"He could never teach you what I will."
Anya exhaled sharply, her thighs pressing together at his words, the heat between them unbearable.
He was right.
She wanted to learn.
She swallowed hard, her voice breathless as she whispered, "Yes... I want to learn."
Gran Sef grinned, his hand cupping the back of her head.
"Good."
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached out, wrapping her delicate fingers around the thick shaft, feeling the heat, the weight, the sheer power of him.
Gran Sef groaned low in approval.
"Mmm... dat it, Little Flower. Feel me. Know me."
Anya bit her lip as she stroked him slowly, running her fingers over the velvet hardness, tracing the veins, memorising every inch.
She had never touched a man like this before.
And yet, it felt right.
It felt addictive.
"Now... just like de carving, taste it and surrender, Little Flower," Gran Sef murmured, his deep, commanding voice thick with authority and desire.
Anya hesitated for only a second before leaning in, her lips brushing against the thick head, a soft sigh escaping her throat.
Her tongue flicked out, tracing a slow, teasing circle around the tip.
Gran Sef's breath hitched, his grip on her hair tightening slightly.
"Ahhh... yes, Little Flower. Dat it."
The encouragement made her bolder.
She opened her mouth, wrapping her lips around him, taking him in slowly, sucking lightly, teasing him.
Gran Sef groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair.
"Mmm... more."
She obeyed, taking him deeper, inch by inch, feeling him fill her mouth, stretch her lips.
Her jaw ached, but she loved it.
She loved the way he watched her, the way his breath grew heavier.
She took him deeper, feeling him press against the back of her throat.
Her eyes watered, her throat tightened, but she refused to stop.
Gran Sef chuckled, his voice dark and approving.
"You learn fast, Little Flower."
He held her still for a moment, letting her adjust, letting her feel the full weight of her submission.
Chapter 7: The Final Test The temple of Lakaz Nwar was cloaked in shadow, thick with the scent of incense and sweat, humming with the whispers of forgotten rituals. The stone walls seemed to pulse with heat, their very foundation soaked in the echoes of pleasure and power.
Anya knelt before Gran Sef, her breath shallow, her body burning. He towered above her, dark eyes drinking in her submission as she parted her lips and took his massive cock inside.
The sheer size of him filled her mouth, stretching her lips as her tongue curled around the thick, pulsing heat. His musk invaded her senses, raw and intoxicating. He tasted like a forbidden fruit—like something she shouldn't want but couldn't resist.
"Ahh... Little Flower," he groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair as he guided her deeper. "You learn fast, oui?"
She moaned around him, her pussy clenching as the lewd, wet sounds of her mouth filled the chamber. Her tongue traced along his length, lapping up the salty drops that leaked from the swollen tip of his veiny cock.
Gran Sef grunted, rolling his hips forward, forcing her throat to take him deeper. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she gagged, her body betraying her with the warm rush of arousal that pooled between her trembling thighs.
With a low, rumbling chuckle, he pulled her off him, her lips swollen and slick with his essence. He traced his thumb over her wet, parted mouth, smirking at the way she gasped for breath.
"Mmm... you ready for de final step?"
Anya swallowed hard, her pulse racing.
She should have hesitated. Should have feared what came next.
But her body burned for him.
"Teach me," she whispered.
His strong hands slid down her back, guiding her to turn, pressing against the curves of ass. She felt the rigid heat of his cock nudging against her skin, teasing her, testing her.
"Bend."
The single command sent a shiver through her core.
She placed her hands on the cold altar stone, arching her back, her ass on display for him.
Her breath came in short, desperate gasps as she felt him position himself behind her.
His hands gripped her hips, thumbs spreading her ass cheeks open, exposing her untouched, tight wet little pussy.
"Ahh... you trust me, oui?"
She swallowed, looking back at him with wide, dark eyes.
Her lips trembled.
"I do."
A wicked grin spread across his face.
"Den let me show you... the way."
Gran Sef pressed his thick, throbbing cock against her wet pussy's entrance, the heat of him searing against her. The heavy weight nudged lower, pressing against the tight entrance of her untouched pussy.
Anya tensed. Her heart pounded as the realisation hit her.
"I... I can't," she gasped, her fingers digging into the altar. "I'm... I'm still a virgin... I won't be able to take it."
A low, dark chuckle rumbled through his chest.
"Ahhh... Little Flower," he murmured, his voice thick with amusement. "Dere is another way, oui?"
His grip on her hips tightened as he spread her ass cheeks wider, guiding himself up to her most forbidden place.
Anya's breath hitched as his thick tip pressed against her asshole, teasing, pushing just enough for her to feel the stretch.
"Ahh... so tight," Gran Sef groaned, rolling his hips forward, testing her, making her feel every thick inch of what was coming. "But you trust me, non?"
Her body was betraying her—her pussy dripping as the raw heat between her thighs burned hotter.
She should have been scared. She should have said no.
But her ass clenched around the teasing pressure, and a moan slipped past her lips.
"I... I do," she whispered.
A devilish grin spread across his face as he angled himself just right, his fingers digging into her flesh.
"Den let me show you how sweet surrender can be, Little Flower."
With slow, relentless pressure, he pushed forward.
Anya gasped, her nails scraping against the altar as she felt the thick intrusion, stretching her inch by inch.
Her tight, untouched asshole struggled to take him, the burn of the stretch igniting every nerve in her body.
Her lips parted in a helpless, broken moan as he sank deeper, filling her in a way she had never imagined.
"Ahhh... dat's it," Gran Sef groaned, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You take me so good, oui?"
The first deep thrust sent a shockwave through her, her toes curling as the pressure built inside her.
The pain melted into pleasure—a slow, pulsing need that coiled tighter with every stroke.
And then—the first wave of pure, blinding ecstasy crashed through her.
Her cry filled the temple, her body shaking as her first forbidden climax overtook her, more powerful than anything she had ever known.
Gran Sef chuckled darkly, gripping her hips as he drove into her, relentless, claiming her completely.
"Ahh, dat's it, Little Flower," he grunted, rolling his hips, grinding deeper. "Feel how good it is to give in, oui?"
Her body betrayed her over and over again, the pleasure building faster, harder, until she was nothing but a writhing, moaning mess beneath him.
By the time he finally pulled back, his cock glistening with her surrender, she could barely breathe, barely think.
Anya lay trembling against the altar, her skin damp with sweat, her pussy aching, her asshole wrecked, her breath ragged.
And yet... it still wasn't enough.
Her thighs parted wider, her hips arching back, her body offering herself completely.
Her voice came in a soft, breathless whisper.
"Take me... all of me."
Gran Sef grunted, his fingers tightening around her waist, as if savouring the moment, relishing her surrender.
"You ready, Little Flower?" His accent was thick, his voice low and dangerous. "Dis what you want?"
Anya shuddered under his heavy touch. There was no hesitation now.
Only pure, burning desire.
"Yes," she whispered. "I want it. I want you to claim me."
A deep, satisfied growl rumbled from his chest.
"Den I give you what you beg for, oui?"
Anya's breath hitched as she turned her head slightly, her eyes locking onto Gran Sef's dark, commanding gaze. Her entire body burned with a craving she had never felt before, a need that went beyond reason, beyond hesitation.
She offered herself completely, surrendering her last shred of innocence to the towering man behind her. With her pussy dripping, her ass clenching around nothing, she arched her back, pressing herself against his throbbing cock, inviting him to claim her fully.
Gran Sef's fingers dug into her hips as he guided himself lower, pressing against her slick entrance, teasing her pussy, feeling how ready she was for him. A deep, satisfied groan rumbled through his chest as he pushed forward, stretching her inch by inch.
Anya's mouth fell open, a broken gasp escaping her as she felt herself being filled, her body struggling to accommodate his thick, demanding presence. The first deep thrust sent a shockwave of pleasure and pain tearing through her, her walls gripping him tight, her nerves firing with raw sensation.
Her orgasm slammed into her almost instantly, her body overwhelmed by the stretch, the fullness, the way he buried himself inside her, claiming her in the most primal way possible.
Gran Sef didn't stop. He held her firmly, letting her feel every inch of him as he withdrew slightly, only to thrust deep again, pushing her into another wave of unbearable ecstasy.
"Ahhh... dat's it, Little Flower," he groaned, his pace relentless, pushing her past the point of no return.
Her body shook, her legs weak beneath her, yet she pushed back against him, needing more, craving everything.
Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, Gran Sef shifted, his grip tightening as he pulled free, leaving her empty, throbbing, desperate for his cock.
A wicked chuckle slipped from his lips as he guided himself lower, his thick length nudging between the firm cheeks of her ass, pressing against her other entrance again.
"Ahh... so tight," he groaned, rolling his hips just enough to tease, to test, to make her feel every inch of what was about to come.
Anya moaned helplessly, her body betraying her, her asshole clenching around the thick tip that now pressed against her tightest, most forbidden place.
She barely had time to breathe before he took her there too, pushing deep, stretching her in a way that made her vision blur with the intensity of it. Pain and pleasure mixed into one unbearable, overwhelming rush.
Her next orgasm tore through her with brutal force, leaving her gasping, moaning, completely lost in the pleasure of being filled, taken, claimed in both ways.
Gran Sef moved between her pussy and her asshole, taking her in every way possible, his rhythm punishing, his control absolute.
He grunted, his grip on her hips bruising, his pace brutal as he drove her into orgasms after orgasms, each one more intense than the last, until her body was nothing but a trembling, wrecked mess beneath him.
And then—his pace stuttered, his grip tightening as he buried himself one last time, a deep growl vibrating from his chest as he released himself inside her, filling her asshole completely with his warm cum, marking her as his.
Anya collapsed against the altar, her body spent, her mind reeling, her skin damp with sweat and pleasure. She barely had the strength to move.
Chapter 8: The Beginning of More Anya lay sprawled against the altar stone, her body trembling, her skin slick with sweat and the aftermath of what had just transpired. Every nerve in her body pulsed with lingering pleasure, a deep ache settling between her thighs, a raw sensitivity that made her shudder with every breath.
Behind her, Gran Sef stood tall, his broad frame casting shadows over her spent, naked form. His gaze was heavy, dark with possession, drinking in the sight of her as if she were a prize he had just claimed.
A slow, satisfied grin curled his lips.
"Ahhh, Little Flower... you did well today."
His voice was thick with amusement, his accent wrapping around the words like silk, like power. He reached out, his fingers trailing over her damp, trembling flesh, tracing the bruises his grip had left behind.
Anya shivered under his touch, her body still responding to him, still aching for more.
He chuckled, seeing the way her thighs pressed together, how her breath hitched even now, when it should have been over.
"But dis... is only de beginning."
She blinked up at him, her lips parting, confusion flickering in her pleasure-dazed mind.
Gran Sef cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. His dark eyes burned into hers, so sure, so knowing, so dominant.
"It is done for today," he murmured, his thumb brushing over her swollen lips, still slick from where she had taken him in. "But soon... you will return."
A thrill shot through her—fear, excitement, lust—all tangled into one.
She swallowed. "Return?"
His smirk deepened.
"Oh oui, Little Flower. But next time..." He leaned in, his lips grazing her ear, his voice a whisper of temptation and warning.
"It will not just be me."
A sharp pulse of heat shot through her belly. Her body betrayed her again, clenching at the thought, at the promise in his words.
He laughed softly, feeling her shudder beneath him, sensing the war inside her—the girl she once was fighting against the woman she was becoming.
"Rest now," he said, releasing her. "You will need your strength for what is to come."
Anya felt his absence like a cold wind as he stepped back, letting her catch her breath. The temple still pulsed with heat, still whispered of sins yet to be committed.
With legs that barely carried her, she gathered her clothes, her fingers trembling as she dressed, her body still aching, still sensitive.
As she stepped out into the evening, the cool air kissed her flushed skin, yet it did nothing to quench the fire still burning inside her.
She walked home in a daze, her body sore, her mind spinning.
And yet...
She already missed the feeling of being taken.
Even as she lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, her hands drifted down her body, tracing the places where he had touched her, claimed her.
Her pussy ached, desperate to be filled again.
Her asshole clenched at the memory of being stretched, used, conquered.
She squeezed her thighs together, but it wasn't enough.
Nothing would be enough.
Because now, she knew what it felt like to surrender.
She knew what it felt like to be his.
And she knew—deep in her bones—that she wouldn't resist when he called her back.
Even if this time, there would be more.
Even if she had to offer herself to them all.
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