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Should he do it? Just forfeit the match? To admit before the crowd that their prince was too weak to fight back? After everything that had happened to him, he had no pride left, nothing to lose. Maybe it was better to accept his failure and resign himself to his shame. Lying on the ground, he raised his arm, about to surrender, but stopped, thinking back to a conversation he had with Tarnas. It was during the year of training, the two of them sitting around the campfire on an autumn night. Seraph was staring deep into the flames, into the light and warmth, but all he felt inside was cold darkness.

Sarah leaned down, her face right above the base of his cock and smelled it. It was like heaven. She pushed her nose down onto his cock inhaling as she rubbed it up along the underside, relishing the slow burn. Finally reaching the head of his dick her nose pressed up against something wet and she pulled away. A long string of precum stretched up from his dick to the end of her nose. Breaking it midway with her fingers she gathered the strand around her hand and brought it to her nose and smelled. This was the purest the smell had been. Though every part of father’s body smelled unique, it had a general musk to it, and this little smear of precum on her knuckles was nothing but that musk.

“Here Brucie, playtime!” I called, his head immediately perking up from his nap. “Playtime, Brucie!” I repeated, and he scurried to his feet—I almost never let him have me twice in such quick succession, so he was understandably excited. But as he hurried over to Mom and me he ignored her completely, coming around behind me and trying to push me to the ground instead!