The heavy wooden door to the cell groaned open, revealing Lady Nyra, her face concealed behind a silk scarf embroidered with intricate silver patterns. Two armored guards flanked her, their eyes scanning the room with unease.
What lay before them was nothing short of chaos.
The fox girl was straddling the unconscious Allen, her hips grinding in slow, jerky motions as her laughter echoed like a haunting melody in the cold chamber. Her mouth was smeared with cum, a twisted grin plastered on her flushed face. Her body trembled, both from exertion and a manic energy that clung to her like a second skin.
Beneath her, Allen was limp, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths, oblivious to the madness around him. His cock, slick and still partially erect, glistened with their combined fluids, while more dripped from between her thighs, staining the stone floor.
Nyra's eyes narrowed sharply, the guards shifting uncomfortably at her sides.
