Grab the Lion by the Balls
Marius often complains that his boss, Samson, is a total ball-buster. Samson decided to show his loudmouthed subordinate the true meaning of that term...
While also shutting him up properly...
Sergevna absolutely nailed this insane pose idea of mine 🔥
Thank you so much!!
-Samson
The sharp pain of those lion claws scratching desperately at the skin of Samson's thighs was nothing. Nothing compared to the pure carnal pleasure of filling the lion's bratty, whore mouth with every inch of his cock. The wet warmth and tightness of that throat, the beads of hot saliva falling on his balls, the strangled moans and choking both audible and physically vibrating on his flesh, it was hard to pick a favorite sensation. Samson thrust up in a relentless rhythm. He used his trunk to lift the lion slut up and down in time with his thrusting, dangling by those big balls of his. Every time Samson coiled his trunk around the lion's balls was pure wish fulfillment.
Every day...every damn day...Marius' prissy voice buzzed in Samson's ears. Marius always gave Samson "suggestions" and "concerns" and "not excuses, just reasons." The lion truly had balls far too big for such a novice; balls too big for his washed-out skinny jeans; balls that Samson knew needed a firm lesson or two...or six...
Samson squeezed his trunk even tighter, rumbling with pleasure as the lion whined in pain.
-Marius
That trunk twisted tighter around Marius' balls like a perverted, muscular snake. They were already sore and hot from Samson's "lessons" earlier that night. Flicks, swats, riding crops, paddles and finally suspension. Marius wasn't sure what he was supposed to learn besides...fucking OWWW!
Ever since he'd started fucking his elephantine boss, Marius had seen his limits and boundaries dissolve. Willingly, to his own surprise. It was all a game. A series of tests. Samson would hit Marius with something new, something even more painful or degrading, in small doses. Marius would balk at first (no, of course I'm not into that) then in the time between, he'd think about it. He'd wonder how it would feel. Then, he'd start to need it. Need that challenge. The stimulation. The ecstasy of enduring.
At the moment, Marius was enduring more than he could ever remember attempting before, struggling to breathe around the elephant's massive, writhing cock. His jaw was sore, stretched to the limit, his throat was full shockingly far. He did what he could to control the pace by pushing back with his trembling arms. It amounted to very little. It didn't matter. His brain was foggy with lust. Getting used like this, like a toy, like a puppet on the string of his own manhood, was heaven.