Hour seven, she rode him facing away, her hands cuffed behind her by torn silk, her hips rolling on their own ancient training, her head thrown back against his shoulder, drooling and smiling.
Hour eight, she had stopped forming arguments entirely. The woman who had entered this valley as the terror of three trade roads now knew exactly four words, and she used them in every order the mood suggested.
'PAH! PAH! PAAH!'
"SLOW DOWN... I LOVE YOU... HNNGH~!! ...GIVE ME MORE... PLEASE, GIVE ME MORE..."
He came inside her for the... she had lost count. He bit down on her neck, marking her above the punctures of old faded marks left by dead men, and growled against her sweat soaked skin.
"I'll give you more. But not like this. We fuck like this for a few more days, until you learn what you are now. You belong to me. As my sex slave."
She mumbled it back with a broken, blissful smile, eyes rolled to the whites, his seed overflowing around his buried cock.
