That was the moment Quentin chased. The moment when Zoey would imperceptibly slip from a noble girl acting out of fear and desperation, to a slave learning her place and acting through her own perverse sense of satisfaction. The moment where for the first time the slut bouncing against his cock admitted the pleasure and began to yield her mind to him, instead of forcing him to rape her each time. And this moment was going to be soon.<br/><br/>Her snatch was tight and between the constricting muscles and the way she started to bounce back against him he was soon gleefully surrendering himself to the haze of pleasure. Instinct took over, urging him to gasp, groan and - most pressingly of all - go faster.<br/><br/>His hips rocketed to clap against her arse so readily that the constant patting noise became as regular and uninterrupted as his breathless grunts. Her body barely dropped back to position before he was pushing it forward again and, in the same way, their sexes didn't get even half a moment to rest and regain themselves.<br/><br/>It was a constant wash of pleasure that saw Quentin growing nearer and nearer to painting her insides.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>