Barbarian's Prize(23)

The thought is surprisingly titillating.

As I wait in shocked silence, he finishes untying his pants and down they go. He’s…not wearing underwear. I’m not surprised, because I’m pretty sure they’re a foreign concept to the sa-khui, who dress like it’s a nice spring day instead of endless winter. And then of course, I’m eye-level with the biggest blue dong I’ve ever seen in my life. I tell myself I shouldn’t stare, but who am I kidding? I stare. Because damn, there’s a lot to see. His thighs are massive, strong and thick and a delicious shade of blue that’s just begging for me to run my hands over them. The strange, bony ridges common to the sa-khui creep down the front of each muscular thigh and cap at his knees. As he kicks off his pants I get a glimpse of strong calves and my gaze creeps back up.

Back to his dick, because I’m only human. And I’ve got to be honest, it’s a really great dick for all that it’s rather…different than human dick. The sa-khui apparently have the same plate-y ridges on their cocks as they do their skin, and he’s got a thick spur sticking out on top. His balls are heavy and dark, and he’s hairless on his groin, unlike a human man. But the head of his cock is thick and his skin looks just as velvety here. I’ve seen a few dicks in my day and this one’s probably the best one. It’s not circumcised, but that doesn’t change how impressively big and thick it is. My, my.

The little cave suddenly feels awful warm.

I tear my gaze away from his equipment and look up as Salukh tugs his vest off his shoulders in a sensual move that makes me feel like I should have a few dollars to shove into a g-string or something. The man can move. Damn.

When he’s completely naked, he gazes down at me. His long black hair swings over his shoulder and he tosses it back with another graceful move. Then, he considers the furs at his feet. “Do you want me to sit or stand?”

Why’s he asking me? “Um, whatever makes you the most comfortable.”

He considers for a moment, hand on his hips. It draws attention to the fact that, fully erect, his cock is jutting out almost obscenely from his body. I…can’t stop staring at it. “I normally sit.” He folds his big body down and sits in the furs again, and immediately one hand goes to his cock. He curls his fingers around the base and then looks expectantly at me.

“What?” I squirm uncomfortably in my seat. I feel off kilter and curiously exposed in this situation. It’s not…bad. It’s just strange. I’ve had sex in the past, before my rape. Lord knows I’ve masturbated. It’s not that I don’t feel safe. I just feel…strangely breathless. I clamp my thighs together because my pulse is starting to thrum between them.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“M-me?” I stammer. “What do you mean?”

“I want you to tell me what you wish me to do. How I should touch myself to please you.” His eyes are gleaming with that wild intensity again, and as my gaze flicks from his face back to his dick, I see even more pre-cum beading on the head of it, as if just talking to me is turning him on like no tomorrow.

“Why do you want me to direct you?”

“Because it pleases me,” he says, voice blunt. There’s a rasp in his tone that wasn’t there before, and I watch as his hand tenses around his cock, as if he’s having to will himself not to stroke it without permission. “And because I want you to realize that I will only do what gives you pleasure. Nothing else.”

Oh boy. I wrap my arms around myself and stare at him. He doesn’t move, and when I realize that he’s waiting patiently for me, dick in hand, I feel safe. He’s letting me have all the control. If touching scares me, then we’ll do other naughty things to work up to the touching. He’s willing to do whatever it is I want, as long as it helps me.

Not that this is a hardship for him, I’m sure.

I wet my lips with my tongue and start to speak, then pause. I notice his gaze is on my mouth now. I glance down at his cock, and his hand is tight around the base. “Stroke it,” I whisper, feeling daring. “Slowly.”

It’s utterly titillating to me when his fisted hand moves up and down with excruciating slowness. He pumps it once, giving a little twist of his wrist when he gets to the head before sliding back down the shaft. Oh. That’s fascinating to me. “Do that again.”

“What part?” His voice is thick with lust.

“All of it.” I can’t stop watching as he does it again, dragging his big hand over his cock. It makes me feel hollow inside, as if I need to be filled up with that big cock. I’m not ready for that, but I’m encouraged by the fact that I’m feeling aroused at the sight of him touching himself. “Squeeze the head,” I tell him when he strokes again.