A pressure began to slowly build within the pit of the young woman’s stomach, a feeling of pleasure that was slowly dripping; with every thrust, it grew in size. She had forgotten the nature of this act, how the man had terrorized her and forced her down. If he had not done so, she would not be enjoying herself as she was. She would never admit it—especially not to the man himself—but she truly was taking a breath of fresh air with someone more experienced with female anatomy. The squeaking of the bed only added to the symphony, a higher pitched sound than Danielle’s sweet voice that permeated the air and was likely noticeable rooms over. He would adjust and adapt every so often, changing her body position by a slight degree that had quite the impact on how she responded. When he pulled her back, bending her back ever so slightly, she moaned sweetly and parted her lips once more. She listened for the sound of his peak arising, and yet his breathing somehow seemed as even as when he started. While she was nearly panting, he was even sounding, as if this was a walk in the park for the veteran. She didn’t dwell on the thought too much, her own body having much less self-control than the man’s. It was often said that women took longer to finish than any man, and yet that old saying was being put to the test on the silk bedsheets in Mistress Danielle’s room.<br/><br/>The man dialed his thrust pace noticeably and quite spontaneously, a simultaneous hand coming to press firmly on her spine to keep her in place. She was pinned and unable to move, each slam of his hips against hers holding more power now that she was unable  to shift. She subconsciously lifted her ass a bit, angling him in s way that would pleasure them both a bit more. Her voice was quickly becoming more and more frequent as she became more vocal, nearing the final moments of her crest. Like a sudden avalanche she came, her thighs trembling intensely and her body seemingly convulsing.