Layla watched as her Master pounded into her, those weak and feeble movements that she was now able to return since he'd worn her quite blissfully out made her feel less than she was.  She wanted to be able to drive him wild but her body was not insatiable. She had limits where endurance was concerned.<br/><br/>But he made time with her quite well, his moans following her own, his bliss right on the heels of her orgasm.  His begging words made no sense to her mind, one forcefully molded into servitude.  She didn't understand why he'd ask please to her for any reason other than politeness but in the heat of the moment?  She supposed that it was one of the random things that men sometimes said during or right before an orgasm and put it out of her mind.<br/><br/>"Oh, Master!" she panted, her voice squeaky as she cried out to him, gripping his arms as he firmly gripped the back of her hair.  The way that he came was beautiful; she'd never seen anything quite so wonderful, at least not since she'd lost her husband. Letting him go was painful. It hurt like nothing had but for the actual loss of him. But how could she be true to this man, Tarkus, and hold onto the memory of him?  She knew that had the situations been reversed that she would have wanted him to move on and do what he needed to in order to live his life without pain or regret.<br/><br/>Her legs locked around him, drawing him yet deeper inside of her so that he couldn't pull out when he lost his seed within her.  With luck she could conceive before Aisha, not that she was trying to be competitive, it was just a logical thought to want to bear the first son of a man.  To gain his favor through his heir… it was the way of the world, of that time and any time to come.<br/><br/>"Please, Master, give me your seed so that I might be able to conceive. Please don't pull out of me," she whispered huskily, looking up into his face with earnest honesty.<br/>