Verulkya's mouth is already open. It wouldn't cost much for her to close it and achieve the imposed goal.
What a grave mistake from the naive mature novice. N'Ïrk possesses an extremely developed synesthesia. Hearing or Tasting images, Savoring textures with his sight, or comprehending sounds through his touch. A weird but entertaining ability that can be trained and used to read the overall vibe of everything that is considered «Alive».
So he presses the female's neck down. A light gentle tap. Enough for the fabric below them, to be stretched, stained with the wet saliva coming out from Verulkya's drooling mouth.
She fails the task. Almost not believing her own incompetence. {This simple order is too much for me?. No way!}.
The woman doesn't give up, and a new series of tries come around, even if Verulkya hasn't show any progress for various tens of seconds.
Now, she is basically making out with the mattress. Kissing desperately like a horny bitch.
One single goal is engrained in her focused mind, which grants her a nigh absolute control over her body movements, making them more precise and fluid, even in her dazed, breathless state.
Her respiration becomes more ragged, panting sporadically with a labored motion that is deliciously enjoyed by the young man standing behind the female.
She is quite resolute, and somehow oblivious of the constant dry humping, her gorgeous ass cheeks give to the young man's groin.
Then, almost out of nowhere, she has a solution for her trouble. Because N'Ïrk taught her what to do.
The woman closes her fists, grabbing two handfuls of the quilt, pushing herself against the bed. Sucking while closing her mouth. A bad imitation of the previously shaped fleshlight her mouth was during the meeting in the lounge.
With this, she manages to acquire the fabric, keeping it between her teeth as she looks upwards. Sighting a dim smile on N'Ïrk's debonair appearance.
Strangely, Verulkya is overjoyed when the young man pats and ruffles her wavy black hair, disheveling it.
"Good Girl". N'Ïrk's hand continues firmly pining down Verulkya by the nape. While the other hand gives a tender brush, combing the woman's hair.
"Look to the front and stay still".
Verulkya obeys. Deviating her sight, not daring to move when the pressure and touches from N'Ïrk's hands disappear.
He does a step back, admiring the female's compromising position. The skirt of the dress is rolled up, uncovering the greyish white skin of the massive buttocks, delimited and highlighted with the cherry thong that is soaked wet by the sexy fluids released from the woman's privates.
Getting rid of his attire, N'Ïrk is taking a bit of time to decide how to approach.
He has never had sex with a mature virgin, much less being intimate and sexual with a female from another species.
His bag of goodies is not that far, reaching for it, and pulling out two items.
"Turn to the left, and step to your right". N'Ïrk's commands, change Verulkya's posture, so she is straddled agains the bed's corner, her legs slightly separated by the obstacle the furniture represents.
The woman's view is captivated with the reflection in the mirror. Her own silhouette in full display. Her endowed breasts hanging out, but partially occulted by the stained satined fabric.
She is still biting the quilt, looking identical to a willing and obedient pet, following her owner's orders, wiggling her prominent buttocks in excitement as she waits for the next instruction, or the incoming intrusion.
The silence prevails in the cabin, instilling a lot of shame in Verulkya's mind. She is not more than a doll, a blank canvas for the libidinous artist foreseeing a picture she cannot even dare to imagine.
Does she look good?. Is the young man internally laughing?. Or perhaps he is so pleased with the view, that he is speechless?.
The questions keep stacking up, stimulating her imagination and provoking the shy twin nipples to finally come out, ready to be played and messed up.
The woman is so absorbed that she doesn't notice when N'Ïrk removes the thong.
The alcoholic sweet scent coming from Verulkya's maidenhood, is hard to resist, just like the attractive shape of her smooth skin.
The female pheromones and hormones are out of control. N'Ïrk doesn't mind nor care about how the mild assault coul affect him.
Though others could be sensible or disgusted with the employment of amplifier sense receptors, even if they are a natural adaptation, like it is the case in the Grüneder.
"Are you that desperate?". Teases N'Ïrk, posing his hard, girthy, throbbing dick in the middle of Verulkya's ass cheeks.
The eleven inches rode of flesh is warmer than her body temperature. Yet, its size and shape is intimidating for the female.
{Is N'Ïrk this excited, because of me?}. The Awe and Pride of achieving a similar deed to what her sister does with countless naive young men, starts to overthrow the initial doubt and astonishment she accumulate during this short but heated span of time.
Then, she observes what N'Ïrk is carrying, a collar and a leash, shutting down Verulkya's brain.
"I suppose i was expecting too much from you. After all, a «Pet» can't talk".
The punctuation of the word is demeaning, a fact ignored by Verulkya, who gasps laudly to conceal a moan. The quilt falls from her mouth to the bed, revealing the woman's neck. An obvious invitation for N'Ïrk. But one that is not used by the young man.
"Bad Girl". He stoically says, reactivating the numbed thoughts of Verulkya with the fast strike he delivers to the woman's vulva with the magenta pelt leash.
The female yelps with a painful and sexy scream, panting with the abrupt hit, plus the tender rub on her pussy lips with the soft pelt of the leash, enticing the production of more lewd juices.
Each stroke is closer to the woman's clit, but never giving the slightest stimulation. Not even the air is providing a gentle breeze that can give the illusion or an actual glimpse of the promised release.
N'Ïrk stops. Leaving the necklace in front of Verulkya, as he walks to the corner of the bedroom, where there is a table with two chairs.
"Bring it, or you can leave". The phrase is nigh madness for Verulkya. {Leaving, I am not going to forfeit!}. "Once you decide, there is no way out".
The warning is irrelevant, Verulkya had already made the decision. Not from the moment in which she entered the room, but when she agreed to let N'Ïrk sit with her in the lounge.
Showing her resolution, Verulkya locks her stare with N'Ïrk's. Lowering her head and opening her mouth, biting and taking the collar, holding it between her fleshy plump lips.
Meanwhile, she doesn't take her eyes off him, holding the gaze and crawling towards N'Ïrk.
He puts the long leash on the back of the chair, dividing the floor behind the object and directing Verulkya so that her vagina is hovering over the item.
The mature virgin doesn't understand why is N'Ïrk doing that. Yet, she doesn't need to.
He Orders. She Obeys.
Simple and Direct.
She hands over the collar to her Owner, lifting her neck as N'Ïrk squats down. "Good Girl. It's time to give you a Name. Bark if you like Veenna?".
*Arf!*.
"What a Good Girl you are Veenna. Keep being obedient and i will give you plenty of treats". Comments N'Ïrk patronizingly, softly patting Verulkya's head and putting the collar around the woman's neck, tightening the grip to almost cut the breath.
N'Ïrk grabs the hook of the leash, securing it with the collar as he stands up. "Veenna. If you are ready for your training. Give me the handle of the leash"…