He might be spreading my legs, stroking my cock, and twisting a dexterous tentacle with greedy suckers deep inside me at a banquet table, but that was my purpose—to be a pleasure for him and to bask in what pleasures were granted to me in return. He needn’t fear rejection from me, not this first time together, this trial run of which master I would choose to keep. But was he a possessive lover? A rageful loser? What were his true desires to fulfill that would guarantee he was never made bitter toward me? The tentacle coiled deeper inside me. I could feel the body of it slickly twisting, higher
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