"Ahnnn, more, director~" You moan out, eyes rolled back as your tongue extended out, slobbering down your chin as Reca pulled on the leash harder for your back to arch, his free hand slapping down on the reddened meat of your ass as he drove his cock deeper, almost like he's trying to merge together with you.
The memokeeper panted, a low moan in his throat as your walls tightened around his shaft, the milky dew of your wetness coating and forming a ring around him as he pulled back before slamming home once more.
"Such a needy little actor, aren't you?" He drawled, leaning down to bite your shoulder and draw out another moan, competing with the volume of the wet squelching of your coupling.
This collar, this leash, earlier irked at you due to the AC being down at the studio, picked at your skin until hour fingers rendered it red. Your fellows asking about the collar like they couldn't keep to themselves. A sweat drop here, a deflection there...
But now, it is what tethers and enflames you simultaneously. Your eyes going spotty when Reca pulls on it tight enough, long enough for your breathing to be cut off, all before loosening his grip and granting you the mercy of oxygen before stealing your breath anyways with the harsh bucking of his hips and the frantic rubbing at your clit.
Your inner walls spammed, choking his cock in return, lower belly smoldering with hot raging flames licking at the precipice of nirvana, at the thought of letting go.
"Together, pet." He urged, fully abandoning his hold on the leash, leaving it to dangle uselessly while his hand cupped your breast and his other limb doubling its efforts in ruining your clit for any other.
Remember the rough pads of his fingers, remember the way his member curves up to your sweet spots, remember how well his torso fits against your arched back, remember for this is salvation.
With a guttural swear, his hips stuttered. Hot seed spilling, drenching your shapen-walls as he held on to you, making sure you stayed put and received every drop of his carnal gift straight into the depths of your womb.
"You did so well, lovelette." He cooed, nipping at your ear. You babbled, something incoherent. But nonetheless piqueing him as he gently cupped her chin to guide your face far back enough for a kiss.
Wet, sticky tongueing. Much like the space between your thighs.
He looked at the clock. 13 minutes have passed.
Should be enough, he thinks.
Then his fingers found your clit once more and you burst into mewls, overstuffed, overstimmed.
He'll remedy it, of course.
Truly, the best way to spend a 15-minute break.
