Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

[🎶 Temptation – P square (Nigerian artist).]

[#whiteafrican #handjob #afro #rough #hot #bathroom]

• IN THE QUIET SOVEREIGNTY OF ONIJO OMI

IT WAS HIS LOUD FOOTFALLS that made her turn. But she'd admit she felt him first.

His aura. His manhood. His virility. . .divinity, because her [Host] was Lord of the shadows and flames. The first and one true Abbadon. And her most beautiful devil. She smelled him from the doorway. He was as the cool rains of Ectoban that fell over rolling mountains, the whiff of kept cigars, and his manly vigour was sure to put a horse to shame. Not to be crass but Peitho felt under the obsidian eyes of a Mandingo. A man of midnight that could go for hours.

But this was better. It was her—

"Lord host..!" Gasping when she turned, she almost dropped the small tub of scented oil in her hands. It was distinctly burgundy, a very expensive lotion for the bathing ritual—not that her Host needed it. However Peitho was glad to do something for him for a change. His riches rubbed off on her. This small municipality, onijo omi, was entirely hers. She had bought and monitored the estate as proprietress; certainly the cost and land mass of a Dukedom. But speaking of rubbing, Peitho blinked rapidly in staring at her strapping [Host].

"Lord Israfel..." She breathed.

He stood across from her in only a towel. The 'Lord' in her sentence came out as 'Lawd' because she really did want to exclaim, "Lord God Almighty!" He was in fact a god. And she loved calling him her Host. It meant she belonged to him, no one else; at least to her wistful brain.

Peitho had forgotten how to breathe. She stood on the other end of the splendorous bathroom, clutching to the perfume vial, her teeth absently working her bottom lip. She felt hot.

So hot.

Yes, she had glimpsed Rafel many times in a bathrobe or in his briefs, which he of course never ceased to make sexy. The man could don a jester's clown pantaloons and still make it rock. He could pull of bingo jeans. Like what! Yep. He was stupid pretty. It made sense to Peitho why his mother wanted to fuck him—and killed herself for it. Any red-blooded female would understand. And she didn't even have to be horny. . .or human.

She could be animal, just saying.

Albeit, all the times she had garnered a look at her Host's Adamic form, she'd been virtual: inside his head. Intangible. And so incapable of doing anything about it.

But now she could. Every which way.

Peitho wrung her fingers around the cap of the vial bottle. She knew what he was packing was way bigger. It'd be even better to play with.

Her hot eyes licked the outline of his manhood. 'Mother of gods!' she thought, 'he is way bigger than this flimsy oil bottle.' Peitho concluded she would curse the towel off if she could. The crazy thing was it was barely hanging onto his lean hip. He had the sexiest torso. Pecs made with a dream of women in mind. His long, strong arms flexed at the sides, and with every shift in his posture, his taut golden-brown skin brought more wetness to her orifices. All of them.

Peitho gulped. She was salivating.

The thing that really drew her eye was the mould of that lovely member between his legs; the sweet and robust pipe barely concealed beneath the towel's immaculate cotton. His big, salty cock. Her Host was a big man. So she knew his thing was thick—and for the most part, she could make out the swell and fat head. What kind of penis was so large it looked like a thirsty cucumber rising? Eager to take. To claim. To satisfy. Peitho's fingers had begun to rub the oil perfume bottle faster now and she didn't even know it. She wished it was that huge thing in her hands. . .all that robust, swelled, veined, dark meat in her grasp – sliding, throbbing, thumping; it's own heartbeat.

"Grrghhh." Rafel made a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

Peitho's eyes quickly flew up. It was only then she realized that she'd been ogling his penis like a huge, stressed-out orc village woman. She realized her bottom lip she'd being biting on, clearing her suddenly dry throat. First, she had enough saliva in her mouth to blow that monster dick, and now she felt all the thirst in the world. Gods! Her [Host] owned her body. She wouldn't mind if he used it too.

Still, he was her Lord. Peitho dropped her candy-colored eyes. Her high Afro and native yorúba wrapper was the favorite things Rafel liked of her sexy body—amongst plenty.

He'd been eyeing her ass-ets from the first time she ascended.

Peitho spoke with her eyes down. Her submissive demeanor did things to him.

"Sire, I wasn't expecting you, not for ten minutes. I was of the opinion to send one of the vassals to come fetch you when I was done with the water. It has to be the perfect temperature to ease your injuries. I'm preparing the bath now. Perhaps—"

Peitho was interrupted by the view of hard, male abs.

Because she'd been facing downward she hadn't seen him move. Though she'd never admit she did hear the quiet thumps of his feet on the wood-board floors; the quickening of her poor heart as he drew closer. She quaked as her brown eyes rose slowly, consuming inch by inch of his glorious stature. Her body was screaming to be touched by him. He was a solid foot taller. His golden iris met hers squarely. This time, Peitho really didn't breathe. Her mouth started to open. "I—"

"Turn over."

"Lord Host. I—"

"TURN. AROUND." Rafel said again. He left no room for argument in his voice.

Peitho put a foot forward and began to give him her back. Her knuckles were white clutching to the perfume bottle. She was too slow for Rafel's liking and he grabbed her and did it himself; he forced her down so her hands fell to the gigantic bathtub. The oil bottle slipped from her grasp, dunking into the water. As its expensive fragrance leaked into the heated water, the surface of it transfused into a film. A superb mirror. Rafel pushed Peitho more, moving her as he willed with his big hands. Positioning her. She stared into the mirror of water, completely turned-on out of her mind.

Rafel sniffed at the air. He smelled the luxurious bath, and her.

PAH!

He smacked her from behind.

She rocked forward and made a sweet sound. But he grabbed to her wondrous hips and drew her back just as he slammed forward. The swell of his dick jammed into her yellow wrapper, at the seam of her fat buttocks. PAH! He smacked her again. Harder. "Ahnn—" Peitho gave him a soft moan. Rafel kept his big hands to her waist, guiding her to roll on his erection. His towel and her native shawl were the only thing between deep heat. That delirious connection they both craved. Rafel let her twerk a few times on it. He knew how badly she needed to ease some of the coiling friction in her sex. Peitho didn't know when she became a dancer, but she bounced that ass on him recklessly, teasing the both of them senseless.

Rafel rocked her shamelessly.

PAH! PAH!

He continued palming her fine behind, making her go crazy and her eyes roll. And his dick was still on the out. Peitho's thighs shook. She gripped hard to the porcelain of the tub and shook her big butt for him. "How are you this curvy, woman?" He growled, meeting her gyrations.

Peitho was so joined to him as they grinded that the bulb of his thickness was literally in the crack of her ass—clothes be damned.

In the sliver water surface she caught his feline eyes. She knew what he was saying was how she was this curvy for a white woman. But Peitho was white, and wasn't. Not really. She was Nubian. Her huge Afro spoke against her opal skin. It was her proof: genes don't lie.

"But you like, don't you, Host?"

Her pink lips didn't move. She said this in Rafel's head, her voice the same honey melody he'd die for.

Rafel's amber iris flamed in his handsome face. He pulled back and dragged her around, holding her down to kneel. "Eyes!" He commanded and she looked up to him. He slapped her face softly, saying with a glance at the towel, "go ahead, white witch."

Peitho smiled, flushing under his predatory gaze. Her tiny hands trembled but she put them to the cusp of his white towel and gently dropped off the loincloth. "Ohh!" She made both a gentle sigh and a content moan. "You happy?" Rafel caressed her freckles. "Mhmm." She nodded, with another content moan. Rafel himself was so happy. Peitho was a gem, but he wasn't telling her that. On her knees, the bathtub touching her back, Peitho swallowed upon the sight of his shaft.

Her Host was gorgeous.

Truly a man!

His member was girthy and salacious. She smelled the salt on him. The earth. The wild and the dark.

Invigorated at having being able to rouse such a virile god, Peitho instantly swooped in to close her mouth around him, to claim her thick prize in earnest; but Rafel grabbed to her fine Afro. He chuckled, holding her back with those precious lips of hers a kiss away from his broad cap. He ordered her. "Hands first, Afrikaner. Get used to it."

Peitho's hands were sufficiently lubricated, thanks to the oil perfume, and she did a bang job with her hands. Her fingers were nimble and gifted, and within moments she had Rafel in her world of lust. "Fuck, woman!" He slapped her hands off, slapping her cute face too. His slaps were deliberately soft. He was dripping with musk and rich scents; she went low, opened her mouth wide, and took him whole. Peitho swallowed his thick shaft and loved every second of him slithering down her throat. He was fat and hot in her mouth.

Rafel massaged the corners of her cheeks to ease her wheezing. It was inspiring how she kept him down for a full ten seconds.

Rafel's red hair curler at his nape from sweat. Her orange nails scraped his v-line. His hands gripped to her full Afro. She sucked him crazy, up and down, up and down, up and down, up. . .and down.

His head was fallen back when she sucked his broad tip and licked her way down to his balls. Peitho was a goner when she breathed that part of him. No wonder goddesses were dying for her Host, she surmised. As she swallowed and sucked on his balls, she did something Rafel didn't expect.

She gifted him.

[Ding!]

[System rewards FIVE GOLDEN ROOSTERS to War-chest!]

Rafel dropped his head to stare upon her. "You gifted me?" Peitho kissed along the ream of his dick. She spat and swallowed down, impaling her own self. Her action spoke louder than words. Totally besotted with her, Rafel pulled out her treacherous mouth and stroked her lips. Her eyes were bright. She was ready—to fuck.

Without needing telling, Peitho stood up, turned around again and gripped the ceramic top. She lifted up her wrapper to her waist, spread her legs on the smooth Bamboo floors, and waited. Rafel had never felt a stronger come-on in his life. He enveloped her back. And he grabbed her hair hard, holding her down. For the first breathless seconds, he stroked himself at her entrance, making her shiver. He smacked her nude butt, ripe as swelled melons, and he rammed right in.

"Ohhhh—"

The ceramic top cracked.

His first thrust shot Peitho to the tips of her toes—and had her anklet beads rattling.

Peitho bent more at the waist, availing herself to him. He thrust so hard and fast it could only be called a 'pounding'. He held her in her thick, dark hair and her generous hips. Her moans were stilted; a rapture of female ecstasy, exactly as her sugar voice. "Oh! Yes! Yes! Uh huh! Fuck yes! Ohh God. . .ahhn—" She gave herself wholly to his taking. Rafel pounded that pussy to madness. Peitho did submit, her body and [core]. Systems didn't have souls. But she knew him, and that which he liked. She was his [Subservience].

Rafel continued to receive notifications of more gifts from her. Clearly he fucked good.

[Ding!]

[You have received ONE LICH HELM!]

[Ding!]

[System rewards you with THREE BLESSED LIN JIAN TUNICS!]

[Ding! Ding! Ding!]

Forty torrid minutes later and Rafel still hadn't taken a bath. But he was standing in a puddle.

That had to count.

Peitho had surprised him at her twelfth orgasm. In that time, he had dragged her down to his little brother—which really had become a third leg—and made her suck her moist off his cock. He'd held her down till she'd cleaned his dick shiny of her juicies and then proceeded to fuck her hot face some more. It did not stop him from dragging her panting into the tub with him, and making her sit on the 10-inch meaty pole. She rode him hard and good, then wet and slow. She did crumble and almost pass out a few times in the reverse cowgirl position but his penis was too damn good to quit on.

PAH!

He spanked her in the fragrant water and finally held her down on himself as he shot loads into her. Did he really care if those melons swelled with a little one?

Fuck no!

They were both rich enough to cater for ten thousand babies.

PAH! PAH! PAH!

Rafel kept slapping her big white ass, on the underside; he knew it made her cream harder.

He watched her sexy body take in his seed, wonderfully at that, and when he was done, he made her squat above him so he could look in and admire his filthy handiwork. Peitho couldn't feel her toes. She had cum so much. So much. The bathroom smelled thickly of sex. Her tribe wrapper and his towel lay discarded. His bath water was now cold.

A few minutes passed and Peitho rose from the milky water—and his slimed dick—to fetch fresh, hot water. Shamelessly, when she did bend to pick her wrapper, Rafel spied her spread, perfect pussy. What a creampie?

Her Afro was still high and imperial. It didn't take long before she reappeared with a kettle. He thanked her, grateful he had such a caregiver, servant, and concubine all in his one [Subservient Infernal System] because he didn't want to think about Corazón and Aya Naamah.