I ❤ to check his stamina and stroking after orgasm torturing him

Title: “Russian Stamina Queen’s Tormenting Tribunal”

In the heart of Moscow, in a lavish penthouse suite, lived a ravishing Russian beauty named Natasha. This temptress, with her sun-kissed skin, fiery red hair, and piercing green eyes, was a mistress of sensual sorcery. Her latest prey was a ripe young stud named Dmitri, brought in to serve as her personal plaything.

Natasha lounged on her chaise, elven fingers tapping her chin as she observed Dmitri with an appraising gaze. “Dmitri, Pozhaluysta – please, let’s see what you’re made of,” she purred, her sweet voice laced withárt commands. The young man, clad only in tight white briefs that stanza his assets, approached hesitatively. With a flick of Natasha’s wrist, he was divested of his last shreds of decency, his hardening manhood springing free.

The sultry seductress stretched her lithe form, rising gracefully. She beckoned Dmitri to sit, to which he complied eagerly. Natasha perched herself astride him, her pert bottom nestling against his swelling manhood. “Nyet, nyet, my pet,” she scolded, guiding his hands to her heaving bosom. “You will not find release until I deem you worthy.”

Captivated, Dmitri fondled and teased under Natasha’s guiding touch, his touch becoming bolder as her breathy moans of approval spurred him on. “Hmmm, not bad for a cub,” she exhaled huskily. “Zelenaoperative, priseumiesta Morgen floozie’s car – now it’s time for your stroking lesson.”

Natasha dismounted and reclined on the chaise, spreading her mile-long legs in invitation. Dmitri descended to mouth her glistening folds, his tongue delving deep to taste her ambrosia. Natasha lolled her head back, crimson locks cascading around her, surrendering to the young stud’s oral ministrations.

Just as Dmitri quickened his pace, Natasha surged upright, seizing his wrist. “Nyet!” She hauled him up, pressing him against the wall with her body. “You forget your place, krotik. The only release you will find today is in my hand, when I allow it.” Natasha took his throbbing shaft in her warm palm, pumping slowly, wringing out pearly beads of pre-cum that she lapped up with a wicked grin. “Mmmm, so savory…”

She increased her stroke as Dmitri gasped and bucked, his knees weakening. But just as he hovered on the precipice of climax, Natasha ceased her caress, leaving him hanging. “Nyet, nyet, I don’t think so,” Natasha taunted, pinching his slit harshly, making Dmitri yelp and dance with need.

Natasha smacked his softened member, sending him stumbling. “Now, after you rouse that rasputitsa meat back to glory, you will torment yourself. Stroke until you are oh-so-very close…but no release. Repeat, until I have mercy.” She lounged back, green eyes sparkling with malicious glee as Dmitri reluctantly gripped his slick shaft. He stroke faster, harder, tensing as a blinding orgasm built…and stopped. Again. And again. Natasha cackled, delighting in his pain.

Ocheringly palming and teasing, Natasha’s cruel ministrations would build Dmitri to fever pitches, only to abate at the last instant. “Beh, maybe you’re not cut out for serving a queen after all,” Natasha mused aloud, divesting herself of her top to reveal perfect bare breasts, nipples stiff and begging to be suckled. Dmitri whimpered, aching wobbling on his knees, completely at Natasha’s mercy. Her cruel hand movements on him would drive away more senses, she dropped down to caress his saliva-slicked cock and fondle her girth.

During the headspace of that, Dmitri would gasp, wimpy and shuddering while Natasha climbed on top of him sharply slamming him and milking his virility. When finding his release, Natasha would ride him hard until his cock became sensitive and drained…that alone didn’t satisfy her. She wanted to claim every part of him.

Natasha would continue to arouse Dmitri, teasing him, rousing his cock back repeatedly, milking him; repeating the nightmare cycle in a fit of sexual torture without having him come until his mind and body grew weary and conscience was willing for her to stroke his sensitivity and use his post-orgasm fluid build up for stroking so Natasha could have her cruel way.

Natasha was awakening before Dmitri’s pitiful erection became sorry and limp…this was no comparison than to hell. Her scrunched fist beats down on his shaft, twisting, watching him scream in agony, whimpering and begging, “They were going against the pulsing pump of her palms that, gnawing their way through ball-shaking fatigue, pushing him anew into the centers of their vas deferens with each beating fist pump.”

“He would surely die from this torment of stimulation, be it of a heart attack or group fatality…compounded by shock and exhaustion, as she squeezed them until the blood spurted out the tip in little beads, and then let go, stroking him with those pads of her fingers that teased merely and knowingly, as though watching him corrode under the torment of such perverse carnal torture.

With Dmitri wrung out, twitching and empty as a rag doll, Natasha cupped his chin with cruel fingers, forcing his head up to meet her piercing gaze. “Den’tu spatsrivne – do you submit?” she asked coolly. Dmitri, hollowed and hopeless, could only nod meekly in assent. “Nyzcaitionally I can make you buck your eyes again, unable submit to my every whim!” Natasha smirked in victory, already planning her next session with her eager plaything.