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“I don’t know…” I mused. I didn’t know if jacking off four or five times a day was different from repeated fucking. I had a feeling it was going to be harder to keep fucking. “I’d better call home. I’m usually there by now. I don’t want them to worry.”

Should he do it? Just forfeit the match? To admit before the crowd that their prince was too weak to fight back? After everything that had happened to him, he had no pride left, nothing to lose. Maybe it was better to accept his failure and resign himself to his shame. Lying on the ground, he raised his arm, about to surrender, but stopped, thinking back to a conversation he had with Tarnas. It was during the year of training, the two of them sitting around the campfire on an autumn night. Seraph was staring deep into the flames, into the light and warmth, but all he felt inside was cold darkness.

Though even if it was a stupid realisation to have after what she was doing, the sight of his thick and mostly flaccid penis pointing right at her face wiped away all her previous thoughts and desires. It was only a few inches away from her face and it was beginning to grow. She knew she shouldn’t stare and that she should run back to her bed, but she was mesmerised. With only her hand rubbing the hair above and her slow and hot breath blowing on it, it steadily stretched forward and up right towards her face.