The clearing had become a theater of pure, unadulterated tragedy and carnal triumph. Zane's screams were no longer coherent; they were the jagged, rhythmic wails of a man watching his entire universe collapse into a puddle of white, viscous fluid.
He thrashed against his bindings so violently that the wood groaned and the metal clinked in a frantic, desperate tempo, but his strength was nothing compared to the overwhelming presence of the man sitting on his throne of seed.
"NOOOOO! IGNIVARA! PLEASE! DON'T DO THIS!"
"DON'T LEAVE ME IN THE DARK! AAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
Ignivara, however, was no longer listening to the man she once called her soulmate. She was moving through the slick, steaming mess with a singular, primal purpose.
Every inch of her skin felt hyper-sensitized, the cool night air hitting her sweat-soaked, semen-coated body making her shiver with a lewd, expectant tension.
SLOP... SQUISH... SLOP... SQUELCH...
