Cyrena the superheroine (Nivel 4) mail warning

~.e-mindhack.lewd

Owner: Star~
I came in cocky, confident—thinking I could tame the feral little kitty who’d already knocked me up once. Dressed to fight back, I was sure I’d be the one on top this time. But the moment his tail wrapped around my throat and he kissed me, I felt the balance shift. He teased me, pinned me, edged me with his tongue and fingers until I was moaning around his cock—humiliated and breathless. His pheromones, his magic, his overwhelming heat... I couldn’t keep up. Bound in glowing ropes and left on my knees, I was stripped and taken again, his thick cock slamming into me as I screamed from a balcony for the whole city to hear. He filled me once, twice, even forced another cock into me with magic—stretching me open, marking me, branding me with stars and bite marks like I was his prey. My belly swelled, my thoughts broke, and still he thrust deeper, breeding me like I was made for it. I tried to resist. I even pushed him back once—jerked him off, teased him with my ass, tried to take control. But every time I tempted him, I just triggered another feral response. He’d pin me, slam into me, and rut until I was drooling and cumming all over his cock. Eventually I stopped fighting. My body gave up before my mind did, but my mind followed. When I finally whispered that I was his toy, I meant it. I wasn’t Cyrena the superheroine anymore. I was just his kitten maker—bred full of cum, soaked in scent, and purring for more.

Trophies:
None yet~

Pets:
None yet!~

Memorable defeats

I met a cocky tribal chief and decided to challenge him! It turned into the most intense, overwhelming experience I’ve ever faced. He didn’t just undress me—he took control of me, piece by piece. From the collar around my neck to the ropes that suspended me in the air, he made it clear I wasn’t leaving without surrendering. He forced me to deepthroat him until I gagged, spanked me raw, licked and fingered me until I was begging to cum—only to deny it or demand more. Even when I brought in a friend for backup, he claimed us both, swapping between our bodies like we were his toys. I was whipped, tied, choked, fucked in the ass midair, made to squirt over and over, until my mind blurred from pleasure and exhaustion. I tried to flip the script—grind on him, ride him, even tease him with my feet—but no matter what I did, he took it back tenfold. And just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, when my pussy was twitching and soaked, he pinned me down and told me exactly what I was made for. He filled me up, thrusting deep until his cock pulsed inside me, and I felt every drop of his hot cum flood my womb. He didn’t stop—he wanted to breed me, mark me, claim me completely. And as my body shuddered through one final, mind-breaking orgasm, I realized something terrifying and exhilarating: he wasn’t just trying to fuck me—he was trying to own me. And in that moment… He managed it~

Mehmet:
It started like any other bout—brash words, showboating, and the ring under my boots. I strutted in with confidence, trading jabs and taunts with Mehmet, certain I’d be the one on top. But he wasn’t like the others. He struck hard and fast, his fists merciless, his words even sharper. We clashed like titans, blow for blow, round after round, until my muscles burned and my pride cracked. He mocked me, called me names, and pounded my abs with relentless precision until I dropped—face flushed, ass up, humiliated on the mat. But I wasn’t out. I came back swinging, landed a strike, even knocked him down. The crowd roared. I smirked. I thought I had it.

But that was only the start of the real match—the prize round. Clothes came off, and so did any illusion of control. I was the one who won, but I was the one stripped, stroked, and worshipped. His hands roamed, his cock throbbed, and my moans betrayed every loss of control. I teased, I commanded, but soon he rebelled—pounding into me with fierce rhythm, spanking me, marking me, making me cum hard around him. I screamed, shook, and clung to the ropes, my body betraying my pride over and over. Every time I tried to regain dominance, he took it further—asking my age, my size, making me admit to everything as his cock drove my mind into blissful submission.

By the end, I was on my knees, drenched, squirming, filled and wrecked. I had come out the victor in the ring—but he owned me on the mat. And as I lay there, breathless, praising his cock like a good girl, I knew one truth: sometimes the winner is the one who breaks.