Emberspikes growl - an unending vibration from a goblin throat, but with the viciousness of his demonic self - was a tremor through his chest into the exposed midriff of his trollish servitor as she lowered her alluring body onto his cock. The rock solid shaft felt almost burning as it violated her inch by inch, easily causing quakes of that oh-so-delicious tingling to radiate out from her groin.<br/><br/>Her unique position, given ample opportunity to relax (or rather, pace it at her desired fashion), yielded some interesting new perspectives; among those, Tamaska noticed for the first time that while the scent of his sweat was predictable, there was this undercurrent of other odors: gentile traces of coal, burning wood, even faint hints of candlewax – either the rumors of brimstone left in the wake of a demons passage were highly exaggerated, or maybe this particular horned gent had the good graces of knowing when to smell like rotten eggs and when not to.<br/><br/>She could, with a bit of effort, take in his entire length; the irony struck that his disproportional size was something near a perfect fit compared to his demonic shape. But it mattered little – when up so close, so connected with this agent of the devious, it was easy to feel his very nature: it was as if leaning against a large heating pad or to swath yourself in a large bearskin warmed in the close presence of a fireplace: He felt so, so terribly warm, almost - but not quite - to the point of discomfort.<br/>On her languid descent, she felt every ridge and undulation of his silky-soft skin wrapped around a harsh,hard and prideful lance - her lips hugged firmly around this invasive element, electrical signals of pure sexual hunger exploding in the recesses of her mind. Her lust-soaked nethers working with his saliva drenched schlong make it an almost unbearably delicate sensation of slickness that, intersecting with his unnatural warmth, made her body cry out in anguished satisfaction for every blissful inch she took in.<br/><br/>Regardless of this, her mind - as if trying in vain to warn her of something unnatural afoot - attempted to warn her that this was wrong-wrong-wrong. But the signals never made it far before her sweet corruption interpreted these signals to “more-more-more!”, for he filled her up so exquisitely – her aching clit was so sensitive by now that direct stimulation wasn’t even necessary, though happened every time she ground close against his groin – a forbidden, wrong and oh so blissful sensation to which her figure responded in all the right fashions. Whatever inhibited objections her mind might have were like faint echoes in the back of her mind and while straddling this fiend, they only grew dimmer.<br/><br/>His hands wrapped around her sweaty arse-cheeks, molding them, weighing them, toying with them; the orange-eyed goblin ate her from his lower vantage point, his cheeky and cocksure grin beaming up at her flustered, lust-ridden face. In a deep, confidential murmur he said:<br/><br/>“<b><span style="color: DarkSlateBlue">Hurrrmn, yeeer’ve been a good fuck-puppy: Ya’ take mah’ juice like a good little obedient and more ‘mportantly hungry gal. Sooeh.. go on, enjoy’s yer’ reward – ride yer’self until ya’ can’t squeeze another orgasm outta’ ya’self.</span></b>”<br/><br/>By the modest ministrations of his hands, she had now been given permission to enjoy herself at her own pace; this was a definite sign that she indeed had met his expectations and she now, at least sexually, could reap the reward.<br/><br/>His manhood pulsed deep inside her, aching to be used and abused in the sight of hundreds of guests. It made for a rather absurd picture, her freely fucking a goblin atop a dias in the middle of a throne room as if it was a royal pleasure and the finest example of proper behavior.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>