<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">The nips along her skin were like little trickles of pleasure that ran down her body and teased her senses, driving her a little crazier with desire each time. His hands continued to abuse her breasts, which by now were tender and her nipples hurt with each touch or slap of his palm against her reddened flesh. But still, she continued to move on top of him, listening to his tale, trembling with pleasure as the images appeared behind her closed lids. She envisioned everything he said; and she wanted to hear so much more.<br/><br/><em>"...and with her cunt she begged for her life."</em><br/><br/>Zara shuddered, for a split second feeling like the Queen herself. Did she not beg every day with her cunt? It was her job, her duty to satisfy each and every patron that chose her when they came into the Teahouse. Her lips curved into a blissful smile of pleasure; unlike the Queen, she did a better job at it. Just to prove that she did, Zara tightened her inner walls around his shaft, clenching and milking him slowly as she continued to move her body on top of him, little by little her excitement growing, which made her hips rise and fall faster. It was only a matter of time before her ass was slapping against his thighs as she rode his cock faster.<br/><br/>She brought a hand up to lightly finger the trinket, her voice breathless, trying to continue focusing on the story as she felt her juices soaking his cock and sac, the scent of their carnal desires in the air, "Did she...pleasure...only you?...Was she not...enjoyable, Harry?"</span>