He watched her, the low murmur of his trembling lips proof of his enjoyment... but if it was the touch of her lips and the warmth of her mouth or the pain and fear in her that pleased him more was uncertain.<br/><br/>His fingers moved to her shoulder, wrapping tightly to it.  His thumb found the hollow against her collarbone and sank into it as his nails clawed the soft skin on her back, digging in and raking four red lines into her flesh as he smiled.<br/><br/>"Hold it," he ordered softly but with such dreadful authority, "Hold my cock in your throat.  My pleasure is more important than air to you now slave.  You belong to us... and if I wish it, you will die for nothing more than giving me the pleasure of feeling your last desperate struggles for air around my cock."