Free Carnal Sacrifice by Lacey Alexander

growing pleasure, but by the notion of her body being breached by his, entered by him. It seemed impossibly wonderful.
    She let out a quick yelp when he penetrated her from behind, both of them lying on their sides, but the new shot of discomfort subsided almost immediately as he began driving his big, hard tool into her, making her forget pain even existed.
    She learned to meet his hard thrusts this way, too, and he was right—she could feel him deeper, and she couldn’t help crying out her delight at each and every hot stroke.
    Soon enough, though, his moves slowed…into something surprisingly softer, a gentle sort of fucking that seemed to soothe her weariness and all the new worries inside her. He reached around from behind to caress her breast as he kissed her
    shoulder, then softly brushed his hand back over the hair pulled so tight against her
    head.
    “Take my hair down,” she whispered.
    “What?”
    “Unbind my hair. I’m a virgin no more.”
    She sensed a short hitch in his rhythm before he resumed sliding into her warmth.  “Maybe we shouldn’t put that information on display.”
    She shook her head in front of him, desperately wanting the braid gone and  knowing it was right, in every way. “Actually, it will make me less recognizable. And I   need   for it to be down now. I need to be made a woman—like this.”
    He didn’t answer and she didn’t know if he was going to comply with her request—until she felt him begin to work at the bands that held her hair.
    He continued to move inside her—slow, deep drives of his cock that echoed in the gradual way he parted one lock of hair from the others, untwisting, spreading its fullness across her bare back so that she could feel it beginning to wrap around her, a mane of womanhood, as he stroked into her—deep, deep, deep—below.
    She closed her eyes, emotions pummeling her—too many to sort out. All she knew was that she liked where she was and what she was experiencing. She didn’t care that she’d promised herself to him as a slave. She didn’t care that she’d left her family without a word. She didn’t care that she’d left her father without a bride to give for protection of the mountain passes. She didn’t care about anything but the masculine hands in her hair and the thick, hard flesh that pulsed inside her now.
    Finally, he drew out again, rolling her to her back once more, reaching to draw rippling brown tresses over each of her shoulders down onto her breasts until only the nipples peeked through. “Don’t worry—you’re undoubtedly a woman now, princess,” he said, his eyes glimmering with familiar heat. “You’re   all   woman.”

    39

    Lacey Alexander
    With that, he rose to his knees, upright, lifted her thighs to lie atop his, and thrust his cock back between her legs—and this time it came without pain. This time she took it without anything but a gasp of joy as he sank wonderfully deep.
    He watched where their bodies met and the mere knowledge of that excited her.
    And then he reached down, rubbing his fingers in hot, fast circles over her clit.  “Oh!” she moaned as the pleasure hit her hard, thick, rolling through her like something slow and crushing. She met his thrusts and she met his touch, lifting to it, lifting, then closed her eyes, lost to it now, lost to sensation, perspiration, the musky scent of him, the fullness of having him inside her and that delectable stimulation at the top of her slit.
    “Come for me,” he said, his voice suddenly dark and demanding. Just like when he’d made her his slave. “Come for me   now .”
    What I say, you do.   His earlier words rushed over her on the heels of the command—and so she came. Hard, her heart threatening to burst from her chest, her pussy throbbing forcefully as the pure delight of sex roared through her, unstoppable. She screamed at each pulse, with no thought of anyone hearing, no thought that anyone in the world existed but the two of