Eveline's back arched violently as Arthur pounded into her without mercy, her throat held tight in his grasp. Her moans came out ragged, desperate, her face twisted in pleasure that no prayer could cleanse. Her thighs trembled around his waist, juices leaking down to soak the sheets beneath her.
Her once pristine image—hair always neat, voice always calm—was in ruins. Her lips were smeared with spit, eyes glazed over, and she was moaning obscenities with every thrust.
"You love this, don't you?" Arthur hissed into her ear. "Being fucked like a cock-drunk bitch."
"Yes! Fuck! Harder! Ruin me!"
He slapped her cheek sharply, just enough to jolt her, and pulled out suddenly.
Eveline gasped, confused, until she saw him grab Althea by the hair and drag the kneeling knight closer.
"You've had enough of a break," he growled at her, yanking the gag off with a wet snap. Her tongue lolled out, drool trailing down her chin.
