Chapter 97 Well.

Chapter 97: 97 Well.

"Ha–aww-ahhh...D-deeper," she demanded, and then immediately, "Wait, not that deep!"

"You literally just asked for—"

"I know what I said! Just—there. Right there. That’s—oh, by the Silver-Bark Tree, that’s perfect." She pulled my face down to hers and kissed me, and I could feel hot tears on her cheeks mixed with the kiss. "Grey. My Grey. You’re mine. Say it."

"Yours," I said, because she was crying and asking and I meant it.

"Forever?"

"Yeah, Princess. Forever."

Something in her unlocked when I said that. The tension left her body and she matched my rhythm instead of trying to endure it.

When I got close, I told her, because Juniper had been very clear about the creampie requirement and because honesty during sex is just good policy. Elsa’s response was to lock her ankles behind me and pull me deeper, which was a pretty gangbusters move.

"Give me everything," she said, blue eyes burning into mine. "Every drop is mine by royal right. Ahhhh!"

I came inside her while our tattoos blazed simultaneously, and she screamed my name in a voice that probably carried to the porch.

Her whole body arched off the blanket, her inner walls clenching around me as I emptied into her, and the magical energy of the ritual crackled through both of us like a current.

For a few seconds we were just light and heat and the feeling of being completely connected to another person.

Afterwards, she cried, and it was completely different from Elsa-brand tears. She gripped my arms, pressed her forehead against my chest, and just let them come without theatrics or commentary.

I held her until her breathing slowed, then wrapped her in a blanket. She curled into it and refused to move.

"Send the dog," she murmured. "It is done."

---

Ayra practically bounced across the field when I waved her over, her tail a blur and her ears standing straight up. She’d stripped down to just her collar somewhere between the sideline and the circle, which was very on-brand. Well, collar and nipple piercings, anyway.

"Master!" She bounced to a stop in front of me. "I have been patient! I have been so good! I have waited my turn without complaint!"

From the blanket cocoon behind me, Elsa’s voice came out muffled. "You were howling five minutes ago."

"Gasp! Then you should punish me!"

Ayra stepped into the circle and the moonlight hit her tan skin and lit her tattoo up like crazy.

She was smiling so hard her pointed canines showed, and her tail had given up any pretense of moderation and gone full helicopter.

I’d had this idea that the ritual might draw out Ayra’s softer side. That the gravity of the moment would strip away the act and reveal the vulnerable, intelligent woman underneath. That we’d share a tender, meaningful connection that transcended her usual antics.

That idea was now dead.

"Master, I have been thinking about how this should go," she announced, turning around and presenting her naked backside to me with far too much confidence. "I believe the most sacred approach would be for you to take me from behind while administering corrective discipline to my wretched, sinful bottom—though I loathe the idea ever so much! Pah-tooey!"

"Ayra, this is a magical bonding ritual. It’s romantic and sensual."

"And what better way to bond than through domination and disciplinary coercion?" She dropped to all fours, looked back at me over her shoulder, and wiggled.

Her tail swished to the side cooperatively. "I have been so poorly behaved, Master. A bad, bad dog. So disgraceful. My bottom cries out in defiance of you. Will you really let justice go undone?"

Grey 2: Erector’s Cut spoke to me in that moment. "Just do it, Boss. Look at that rump. Look at that succulent pair of pears. She won’t stop until you’ve given her what she wants."

My penis was absolutely right, as usual. She wouldn’t. I knew she wouldn’t. Ayra had exactly one gear for intimacy and that gear was this.

I knelt behind her and ran a hand along her spine. She shivered and pressed back into me, and whatever smartass bad boy thing I was going to say died when I realized just how ready she already was.

Damn, she was dripping. The moonlight caught the slickness on her inner thighs and her tattoo was pulsing fast, almost frantic, lighting the ground beneath her.

"Please, Master," she moaned, wiggling her ass temptingly, and her voice had gone breathy. "I’ve been so bad lately and—"

I pushed into her and she yelped. Not a performance yelp. An actual, full-body jolt followed by a moan that rumbled up from her chest. Her back arched, her tail shot straight up, and her fingers dug into the blanket beneath us.

"Oh—oh, Master, you’re so—that’s so—I can feel you in my entire—"

With one hand, I gripped the base of her tail. With the other, I spanked her.

One firm, open-palmed crack across her right cheek, timed with a deep thrust, and the result was instantaneous and catastrophic. Ayra came so hard her arms gave out.

Just. Like. That.

Her face hit the blanket, her whole body clenched around me, and a spray of wetness hit the grass beneath us, leaking out from my nearly perfect seal inside her. Her tail went rigid, quivering, and the sound she made was somewhere between a howl and a sob.

"THANK YOU, MASTER!"

Okay then.

She recovered in about ten seconds as I pumped away. She pushed herself back up on her hands, panting, ears flat, and her tail resumed its manic pace. "A-Another. Please. I clearly haven’t learned my lesson."

I spanked her again on the left side. Same result. She detonated like a firework, face back in the blanket, cunt walls clamping down on me, another generous contribution to the local water table leaking into the ground.

She was apparently very, very hydrated. Her legs were shaking through it all but she stayed in position through what I had to assume was sheer stubbornness and core strength.

"NNNNGH! Yes! More! I’m so—I’m still so bad, Master, I—"

At this point I was genuinely curious. Was there a limit? Was there a point of diminishing returns where the spank-to-orgasm pipeline would experience some kind of bottleneck? In the interest of science, I went wild.

Buck wild. Absolute chicky-buck-wild on that juicy ass. Thrust, spank, thrust, spank. Alternating cheeks in the name of equity.

There was no bottleneck. Every single one hit the button.

Ayra came on the third spank, the fourth, the fifth, orgasms megastacking, and by the sixth she’d stopped forming words entirely and was just producing sounds as her pussy leaked like a fountain while I fucked it relentlessly.

Her face was permanently planted in the blanket. Her ass was bright pink and still rising to meet every impact. The puddle beneath us was becoming a genuine logistical concern.

"Bwuhhh," she contributed. "Googija—fffffuuu-nug."

Well said, Ayra.