steele balto

The last time he saw her was just before the Night of a Hundred Heads, when he had been brought to the War Room. Her head was shaved back then, but since her fall from grace, it seemed she was letting her hair grow.“Unhand me, you godless bastard!” she hissed, trying to loosen the iron grip on her throat.

She peeled herself off her father’s leg, her panties practically glued to the hairs on his leg and pulled the sheet back up and over him, taking one last look at his steadily deflating cock and balls, both shining in the moonlight from her efforts. Then, taking care not to swallow or choke on her mouthful, she tiptoed out of the room, grabbing her phone from her nightstand and into the bathroom where she flicked on the lights.

The fights continued, but they were becoming more and more drawn out. The weakest combatants had all been culled in the first three rounds, and now the remaining warriors were going at it with everything they had. Eventually, Noah’s first target entered the arena. He was a young man, spirited and garbed in plate mail, having won his fights with hard-won determination and effort. His name was Falco. Noah followed him outside, the warrior unaware of his presence. On the other end of the ring, his opponent arrived, another man, a few inches taller and years older, wearing dark clothes and an amused smirk upon seeing Falco. Both were brawlers, entering the ring without weapons.