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ning you, taming you." Syrin
spread my legs, sitting between them while I lay back with my hands
bound at my sides, collared and enslaved. His leather-rough hands
stroked up the insides of my thighs to enfold my hanging balls and
stroke my sheath. I tried to relax, not yield to his caresses, but he
lowered his head to my crotch and insinuated his thick, black, forked
tongue within my sheath to lick across the hidden head of my cock. I
could not resist his skill and he coaxed out my length, telescoping
in his hands as his tongue flickered.
He aroused my passions slowly and intently, rubbing with his
palms and tongue until I hung on the edge of a gentle climax, holding
me down with his legs and tail so that I could not thrust my hips
against him and quicken my pleasure. He held me there, milking me
slowly, lashing his tongue across the rounded head of my alabaster
cock whenever his gripping red claws squeezed sweet spoor from me. I
begged for surcease, desperately tried to rock my hips and force
myself to completion; Syrin merely backed off, let me calm, and then
heated me to his desired temperature again. Only in his own time did
he
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