Chapter 29: Wheels and Whispers
The velvet seat groaned as Minalan shifted, his body reacting to her words with a traitorous heat. "You'd just watch?" he breathed, the image she painted making his stomach clench.
Elara’s laugh was a low, wicked thing. "I'd have a front-row seat." Her fingers, slick with some enchanted oil, traced a lazy circle around his stretched rim. "Lord Valerius is… traditional. He’d want you on your knees, facing me, so I could see every flinch."
The carriage hit a bump, jostling them together. "He’d take his time, stretching you open with that thick, elven cock until you were begging for it."
Minalan’s own length twitched against his thigh, a confusing cocktail of shame and raw want. "And you'd just… let him?"
"Let him?" She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. "I'd guide him. I'd whisper how you love it, how your tight little hole guzzles seed like a drunkard at a feast." Her finger pressed inside, just to the first knuckle, and he gasped. "Imagine a hundred men after him, a line out the door, all pumping their virulent loads into your well-used gutter."
The hum of the carriage’s magic seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. "Your ass would be dripping for days, a constant reminder of your purpose."
He could almost smell the sweat and sex of the fantasy, a stark contrast to the floral air. "You belong to me," she murmured, biting his earlobe. "But your holes? They belong to the magic. To whatever I decide fills them."
The carriage began to slow. "Almost there," she purred, withdrawing her finger. "Now, be a good boy and try to look presentable for our host."