jenna morgan arthur

Something was wrong. I struggled to open my eyes, blearily forcing myself to focus. I was in a red-panelled room, dimly lit, one I'd never been in before, with... things, on the walls. Whips, floggers, toys of all descr*ptions, most of which I couldn't even name. It was only then that I realized I was naked, bound on my back to a table with my legs spread into a slight V in the air, wrists above my head, a belt around my waist holding me down. I lifted my head, and saw that my six-inch dick was hard and straining, twitching without my command. Why the fuck was I hard? Arousal was the last thing I was feeling! Confusion, fear, panic, yes. But not arousal.

That was when Daddy moved into place behind me, just as I was really getting into it. He grabbed and lifted me by my hips, and I obediently pulled up my knees, holding myself up as he pushed himself into me again. I gasped loudly, and I guess the sudden exhale of breath over Mom's clit must have really felt good, because so did she. Either that, or she was finally coming to grips with the idea of Daddy fucking me, and she just liked getting to see it again. Maybe both, actually; I hoped it was both. Daddy started thrusting, and I wrapped my arms around Mom's thighs, holding tight and securing myself in place so the movement wouldn't make me accidentally hurt her with my teeth. It was so, so much harder than they made it look in porn, trying to concentrate on eating Mom's pussy while I was also getting fucked! But I found I was gradually getting better at it, and by the time Daddy was finally cumming in me again I think I'd managed to give her one for every two that he'd given me. Not as many as I'd hoped, but I think that was pretty good for my first time, and only having my mouth to work with instead of Daddy's miracle cock!

Noah had already made progress in slowing the flow of his mana and his bodily functions, and the headband was helping. His heart dropped to one beat a minute, and he all but stopped breathing. Typically, such a state would be fatal, but the more he slowed down his mana, the more he could forestall damage. Without mana flowing, his cells would stop processing nourishment and oxygen, but they wouldn’t wither and die, for the molecular processes of cell death were also halted. Caught in a near-perfect state of suspended animation, his physical senses operated at the lowest possible level, and he became more attuned to the flow of mana around him, sharpening his spirit senses.