Mark woke up to a sensation that abruptly tore him from sleep—a warm, moist heat enveloping his groin, sending waves of pleasure through his still-drowsy body.
He blinked in the dimness of the room, the morning sun barely filtering through the worn curtains of the Millbrook inn.
His mind, clouded by the exhaustion of the previous night took a few seconds to process what was happening.
He looked down, and there she was: Elyndra—or Ely, as he now called her in moments of intimacy.
Her snow-white hair cascaded softly over her bare shoulders, contrasting softly with her pale skin, which—despite her not-quite-alive state—seemed almost luminous under the faint light.
She was kneeling between his legs, her light armor unfastened and set aside on the floor, revealing the perfect curve of her breasts and the smoothness of her slender figure.
Her lips, cold yet soft, were wrapped around his erect member, moving with a deliberate slowness, almost reverent, as if each motion were an act of absolute devotion.
Her blue eyes stared up at him, filled with that unbreakable adoration he himself had implanted in her through necromantic magic.
What the hell is happening? Mark thought, his brain struggling to catch up as a surge of pleasure washed over him from head to toe.
At twenty-four, he wasn't a virgin—he'd had a couple of awkward, fleeting experiences in his previous life on Earth with college girls that hadn't lasted more than a few uncomfortable, forgettable nights—but this was something entirely different.
Ely, with her apparent twenty-three years—though her death and resurrection complicated any real notion of age—had awakened him in the most unexpected and intimate way possible.
Her mouth glided along his hardened length with precision, sucking with perfect pressure that made him gasp, while her tongue traced slow, circular patterns around the sensitive tip of his glans, exploring every vein and curve as if memorizing his shape.
"Ely… what are you doing?" Mark murmured, his voice rough with sleep and the growing pleasure that forced him to grip the wrinkled sheets tightly.
He tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but a deeper suction combined with a twist of her tongue made him fall back against the pillow, an involuntary groan escaping his lips.
His body betrayed any attempt at rational thought; his member throbbed inside her mouth, hardening further with every movement.
Fuck, I know I programmed her to love me and serve me without question… but damn, it feels so good.
Mark hadn't been a saint in his past life; he'd been an ordinary guy with repressed fantasies, but he'd never forced anything on anyone.
Yet Ely didn't seem forced at all—her movements were enthusiastic, guided by a devotion that made her bold, as if she were discovering a new world of sensations through him, her master.
Ely lifted her head for a moment, releasing him with a soft, wet sound that echoed in the quiet room, her lips glistening with saliva and traces of his arousal.
She smiled at him with that mix of pure innocence and obsessive adoration that completely disarmed him, a subtle blush coloring her pale cheeks—a miracle considering her undead state, as if his magic had infused her with a hint of life in moments like this.
"Good morning, Master," she whispered softly. "Last night you said we would go together, that we would do everything together. I wanted… to show you how much you mean to me."
She paused briefly, staring at him with obsessive intensity.
"I wanted to make you feel good, the way you make me feel just by being near me, with every look you give me."
Her gaze never left his, shining with an intensity that made Mark feel like the absolute center of the universe.
She was a virgin—he knew that from the fragments of memories he'd altered in her—yet here she was, taking him into her mouth as if it were the most natural, an act of loyalty and love that transcended her undead state.
Mark swallowed hard, his mind torn between the persistent guilt of having turned her into this—a devoted, obsessive servant programmed to please him—and the overwhelming desire consuming him like wildfire.
It's her first time doing something like this… and she does it as if she were born to please me, to anticipate every need.
The thought only excited him more, the knowledge of her inexperience clashing with the instinctive boldness of her actions.
Mark couldn't deny it—his body responded almost on its own, his member pulsing, hardening further under her devoted gaze as pleasure continued to build.
"Ely… you don't have to do this," he started.
The words were lost in a strangled gasp as she lowered her head again, enveloping him once more in her cold warmth, sucking deeper, more determined.
This time, it was more intentional—more desperate.
Ely took him deeper, sliding more of him into her mouth until the tip brushed the back of her throat, her tongue pressing underneath as she moved her head in a steady, accelerating rhythm.
One of her hands joined in, wrapping around the base that wouldn't fit in her mouth, pumping with smooth but firm motions perfectly synchronized with her suction.
Mark felt the pleasure coil in his abdomen, heat spreading through his veins like liquid fire, making his muscles tense involuntarily.
God, she's perfect.
Cold at first, but she warms with contact… as if her body adapts to me, molding itself to my pleasure.
His hips moved on instinct, pushing a little deeper, and Ely didn't protest—on the contrary, she moaned softly around him, the vibration traveling through his shaft and sending sparks of ecstasy up his spine.
"You're… incredible," Mark growled, his hand instinctively reaching for her white hair, tangling in the soft, silky strands.
He didn't guide her forcefully—he simply touched her, feeling how she moved beneath his palm, responding with even greater enthusiasm.
Ely picked up the pace, her lips sliding up and down with urgency, sucking with a pressure that stole his breath, alternating between long licks and short, quick pulls.
Her tongue explored every inch, swirling around the tip before sinking down again, swallowing as deep as she could without choking, her cheeks hollowing with each deep suction.
Mark watched her eyes close in concentration, her body trembling faintly as if the act of pleasing him aroused her too—the brush of her soft teeth, the growing warmth of her mouth, the wet sounds of her movements.
The pleasure grew uncontrollably, like a rising tide dragging him under. Mark gasped, muscles tightening as the climax approached—inevitable.
I can't hold it much longer… she's too good at this.
He tried to warn her.
"Ely, I'm going to—"
But she didn't pull away.
Her eyes opened again, locking onto his with obsession and a glimmer of triumph—and that was enough to push him over the edge.
With a low groan echoing through the room, he came in her mouth, waves of pleasure tearing through him as he ejaculated, his body trembling with the force of the orgasm.
Ely swallowed eagerly, not spilling a single drop, her lips staying wrapped around him until he was completely spent.
She licked him tenderly, cleaning every trace, prolonging the moment as if she didn't want it to end, her tongue tracing final patterns that made him shudder.
When she finally pulled back, Ely licked her lips with a satisfied gesture, her face flushed and her eyes shining with pride and desire.
"Master… did you like it? Was I… enough for you?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion, as if his approval were the only thing that mattered in the world—the axis of her existence.
She shifted closer, pressing her body against his, her breasts brushing his chest as she leaned forward, inviting more.
Mark, still panting and with his heart racing, pulled her toward him with a possessive growl.
Instead of kissing her mouth, he buried his face in her neck, gently biting the pale skin there, leaving a red mark stark against her pallor.
Ely moaned, arching her neck to give him better access, her body trembling beneath the assault of his teeth and lips.
"Yeah… you did a good job," he murmured against her skin, his hands roaming her body with renewed urgency.
He moving down to her breasts, capturing a nipple between his teeth and tugging gently, making her gasp.
Ely arched into him, her hands tangling in his hair, guiding him.
She positioned herself over him, her legs spreading astride his hips, preparing for what would come next.
It was her first time, and Mark could feel her nervousness mixed with excitement—her pussy pressing against his still-sensitive member as she prepared to take him inside, her body trembling in anticipation.