"Oh!"  Once Aurora allowed herself to participate in this, foolishly imagining herself the seductress, imagining herself controlling the puissant spectre, it was surprising how easy it was to feel the pleasure of his touch.  And her virgin flesh, hot and wet and eager, sent the most delicious shivers inside, deeper, where she knew he would want to take her as well.  She felt him, felt his rod, against her bare ass, and, although at first tensing away from it, relaxed, and let it trace against her cheeks, even as she kept her hands over his, to follow where he stroked her.<br/><br/>"On the throne, grandsire.  Let me sit on the throne when you take me. . ."  True, it was not<em>the</em>Sun Throne, not even something she wanted to touch, but it represented, even twisted and nightmarish, everything she wanted, everything due to her, and she could think of no better way to seal the promise than to shed her virgin's blood on the image of the very seat of power promised her.