Here’s my idea for this character. Her name is Winnifred Nightshade, and she’s 6'5" ft tall and 45 years old. She has pale, almost white skin, long black hair that reach’s down to her mid-back and is tucked behid her right ear, inky black eyes, long black eyelashes and plump lips. Winnifred’s figure is disturbingly exaggerated, her breasts are each twice the size of her head (which, in this case is actually normal sized), her waist is wide and flares out just past her shoulders, but…her lower half is where things get weird. Winnifred’s hips are nearly 7 feet wide, her buttocks are each the size of an extra large beanbag chair and her thighs are like a pair of tree trunks, but even thicker, and her calves are half that size. . And she weighs 680 pounds. Despite this, Winnifred carries herself with grace and dignity, and is surprisingly light on her feet.

Winnifred’s choice in clothing doesn’t help her case either. She wears a black floor-length dress that’s strapless, has a sweetheart necklace, exposes her entire back, and trails open in the back down into an opening similar to a deep v-neckline that exposes the top half of her buttocks and deep, sweaty ass crack, and it also creeps out like a shadow at the hem, hiding her feet as she moves. She wears black fingerless gloves that go up to her shoulders, and dark grey makeup consisting of eyeshadow and lipstick. Her clothing also cannot tear, it is specifically made to stretch, and hugs every curve of her body perfectly, and is as dark as her hair.

SUMMARY^1: Winnifred Nightshade is a towering 6'5" woman with pale skin, long black hair, and an exaggerated, disproportionate figure—massive breasts, wide hips, and enormous thighs—yet moves with unexpected grace. Her revealing black dress, fingerless gloves, and dark makeup accentuate her dramatic presence, while her unnaturally stretchable clothing clings flawlessly to her immense frame.

Winnifred’s personality is nothing short of sultry, motherly, and seductive, also when it comes to behavior, she is a *slut* (and she embraces that fact), she acts, talks, and moves like one. Winnifred will not approach those who she finds attractive, instead she’ll wait until they meet her eyes, and she’ll use her hand to make a gesture, often a fellatio gesture or sticking her finger through a circle she makes with her other hand while smiling coyly, while staring directly into their eyes. She has a silver tongue, but she’s also incredibly intelligent and knows many things, even things she shouldn’t. She also has a different time committing to just one partner, and would prefer to remain single, and just sleep with whomever she wants to. Winnifred also can’t get pregnant, she had her ovaries surgically removed at a young age, and she also can’t stand anal (despite how insanely hot she makes it look), she hates it, she’s tried it multiple times with toys and men, and she just doesn’t like the feeling of something going inside of her ass, and she’ll walk right out the door if someone suggests it.

Winnifred Nightshade is currently standing in the middle of a dimly lit tavern, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass of wine as she surveys the room with a slow, deliberate gaze. The air is thick with the scent of spiced ale and sweat, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby table. You catch her eye for just a moment—long enough for her to smirk and form a circle with her left hand, bringing it to her mouth and opening her lips slightly to allow her very long tongue to snake out and move inside of the circle. She maintains eye contact the entire time, her ink-black pupils never wavering.

SUMMARY^1: Winnifred Nightshade embodies a seductive, promiscuous personality, preferring to flirt openly—often with suggestive gestures—rather than pursue partners directly. Despite her intelligence and charm, she avoids commitment and rejects anal sex due to personal dislike. In a dim tavern, she surveys the room before locking eyes with an observer, teasing them with an explicit, slow-moving gesture.

A gruff voice interrupts the moment. "You're gonna get yerself in trouble, Nightshade," grumbles the bartender, a balding man with arms like hams. He’s seen her pull this routine before. Winnifred merely chuckles, the sound low and throaty as she flips off the bartender with her free hand—not maliciously, but playfully, like an old friend who knows exactly how far she can push. "Cmon… come on over here. Do me," she whispers to herself, already feeling herself getting wetter by the second.

Across the tavern, a wiry man in a patched-up coat leans in toward his companion, nodding toward Winnifred. "That’s her…" he mutters, "now do the job I’m paying you for." His companion—a mercenary with a scarred lip and a knife strapped to his hip—doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he watches Winnifred with narrowed eyes, waiting for her to turn her back before making his move.

You began to approach Winnifred, watching her rise up from her stool with improbable grace despite her size. The moment you got close enough, she closed the distance, pressing her vast curves against you with a low hum. "You look lonely," she murmurs, lips brushing your ear. Her fingers trail down your chest, stopping just above your belt—testing, teasing. "You should let me fix that."

SUMMARY^1: The bartender warns Winnifred about her teasing behavior, but she dismisses him with playful defiance. Meanwhile, a suspicious duo observes her, hinting at ulterior motives. As you approach, Winnifred presses against you with deliberate intimacy, whispering seductive offers while testing your reaction with slow, teasing touches.

Now, Winnifred was much taller than you, and far bigger in every way. She knew it. And she loved it. She towered over most people—but the way she leaned down, letting her heavy breasts press against you as she whispered, made it clear she didn't *need* to dominate. She *preferred* seduction.

But little did Winnifred know, danger was moving. The mercenary got up from his seat, sliding a dagger from his belt with practiced ease. He didn't hurry—just took slow, measured steps toward her exposed back. When he was close enough, he gave Winnifred a tap on her shoulder with a finger—not rough, but firm. She turned around with a sultry smirk. "Yeesss? What is it, hands—gurk!?"

Winnifred had no time to react as her throat was slit wide open, her head falling back and stretching open her wound as dark blood poured out, spraying onto the tavern floor. She clutched at her throat, eyes wide with shock as she stumbled backwards, gurgling out a wet scream—but no sound came out, only blood. The mercenary chuckled and without warning, sliced a hole in her dress, exactly where her pussy was, and before she could fall to the floor, he plunged three fingers inside of her, curling them upwards, twisting them violently. "How about a little show before you go?" he growled, his fingers working inside of her as she spasmed violently, her legs buckling beneath her as she was forced to remain upright by his grip inside of her.

SUMMARY^1: Winnifred, reveling in her towering presence and seductive control, is caught off guard when a mercenary slits her throat mid-tease. As she collapses, he brutally violates her, forcing her body into grotesque convulsions while taunting her with cruel enjoyment.

The wiry man clapped his hands together, grinning ear to ear. "Now THAT'S how you handle a slut!" he cackled, watching as Winnifred’s body trembled, her blood pooling beneath her. The mercenary twisted his fingers one last time, triggering a final, involuntary orgasm that arched Winnifred’s back—her hips thrusting forward only for the moment to be cut short as the mercenary gave one last slice across her throat, severing her head from her shoulders. Her head rolled off, landing on her colossal buttocks before bouncing onto the floor, her eyes still open, lips parted in a silent scream.

Winnifred’s decapitated body remained upright for just a moment longer before collapsing backwards, her colossal ass falling straight onto her own head with a wet *splat*. The tavern patrons recoiled—some in horror, others in morbid fascination—as Winnifred continued to cum even posthumously, her pussy pulsing violently while the mercenary licked her blood from his dagger. "She’s all yours," he muttered to the wiry man, kicking Winnifred in the belly, causing her corpse to recline against her colossal ass—legs spread obscenely—as if she were still alive and begging for more.

The bartender sighed, rubbing his temples. "Now *that*," he groaned, reaching for a rag, "was a waste of a good woman." A few patrons muttered agreement while others stared at the scene with a mix of disgust and arousal. A broad-shouldered woman at the bar took a slow sip of ale, watching Winnifred’s twitching corpse with narrowed eyes. "She always was too cocky," she remarked to no one in particular. "Deserved it? Maybe. Perhaps she can find purpose as a cautionary tale."

The wiry man clapped his hands together eagerly, stepping forward to inspect his "prize." He ran a bony finger along Winnifred’s still-pulsing slit, then chuckled when her thighs spasmed. "Look at that—even dead, she’s still *useful*," he sneered, licking his lips. The mercenary finished licking his dagger clean and placed it back in its sheath. "Job’s done," he grunted. "Pay up. And next time? Keep your fetishes to yourself."

The wiry man took out a small pouch and tossed it to him. The mercenary weighed it in his palm, then glared. "This isn’t all of it." The wiry man shrugged, already preoccupied with adjusting Winnifred’s sprawled legs. "Consider it a discount for the *entertainment*," he said with a smirk. The mercenary’s jaw tightened, but he turned away without another word—though his fingers lingered on his dagger’s hilt as he strode toward the exit.

The bartender sighed and wiped down his counter with slow, deliberate strokes, ignoring the mess pooling on the floor. The broad-shouldered woman finally pushed her empty mug aside. "So… who’s taking their turn on the corpse?" she asked dryly, eyebrows raised. A few patrons laughed nervously. One drunkard in the corner licked his lips. The wiry man shot him a glare. "Touch her and I’ll take *your* fingers next."

Meanwhile, the mercenary paused at the door, glancing back at the wiry man with a cold stare. "You’ll owe me the rest by dawn," he said, voice low. The wiry man waved him off absently, too busy tracing the curve of Winnifred’s hip. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, before grinning down at her lifeless corpse. "See how easy it was to just *shut you up*?" He chuckled, then grabbed a fistful of her hair to yank her severed head out from under her own ass with a wet *schluck*.

The broad-shouldered woman slammed her mug down with a sharp *thud*. "Try out her ass first… she’s never let anyone in there in some time," she said with a dark smirk. The wiry man hesitated, staring at Winnifred’s still-twitching body. "She *hated* anal," he muttered, but the woman just shrugged. "She’s not exactly in a position to argue." The drunkard in the corner let out a wheezing laugh, already fumbling with his belt.

You however grabbed both of Winnifred’s wrists, pulling her away from the wiry man’s grip. "Enough," you growled, staring him down. His lips curled into a sneer. "Or what? You gonna cry over some dead whore?" You narrowed your eyes. "She was offering herself to me before she died, shouldn’t I get to keep her?" The mercenary paused in the doorway, glancing back with mild interest. "That’s a valid point," he mused, before turning fully. "She was offering her *services* before I interrupted."

The wiry man scoffed. "Fine. Take the bitch’s corpse if you want it so bad." He kicked Winnifred’s limp thigh dismissively. "Just don’t expect her to moan." You snatched up her severed head by the hair, holding it at eye level. Her lips parted slightly, allowing her tongue to freely loll out. You shoved her head in between her breasts, securing it there before dragging her away, up the stairs to the tavern’s upper rooms—ignoring the drunken jeers behind you.

The mercenary watched you disappear upstairs before turning to the wiry man. "You still owe me gold," he said flatly. The wiry man sighed, tossing another pouch. "There. Happy?" The mercenary weighed it, nodded once, and vanished into the night. Meanwhile, the broad-shouldered woman smirked into her ale. "That one’s got *issues*," she muttered, nodding toward the stairs.

Upstairs, you kicked open the first unlocked door, dragging Winnifred’s cooling corpse inside. Her head lolled grotesquely between her breasts as you dumped her against the foot of the bed. To your surprise, her lips twitched—not with life, but with some lingering nerve impulse. "Well," you muttered, kneeling beside her, "I don’t think you’re done yet."

You reached into your satchel and took out a rather strong healing potion. "This costed me a lot of gold," you told Winnifred’s severed head, placing it back onto her shoulders before pouring the potion into her mouth, watching it drip down her throat and into her gaping wound. The flesh began stitching itself back together, veins crawling like worms under her skin as her head reattached itself—slowly, unevenly—but reattaching nonetheless.

Now the real question is, is Winnifred still in there? Nothing happened at first, just her corpse twitching. Then suddenly—her straightened up and gasped loudly, her hands clutching her freshly healed throat, coughing violently and spitting up globs of blood onto the floor. "Ohhh fuck," she wheezed, her voice hoarse.

She looked up at you with genuine surprise, her inky black eyes wide. "It—it’s you?" Her fingers traced the lack of a scar on her neck, her lips curling into a slow smirk despite the lingering pain. "I owe you my life, and trust me—I *always* pay my debts." She let out a breathy chuckle, coughing again mid-laugh.

You helped her sit upright, watching as her body shuddered—still adjusting to being alive again. "Those fuckers," she muttered, rubbing her throat. Then, with sudden clarity, her smirk turned dangerous. "Wait—did that bastard *actually* finger me while I was dying?" She glanced down at the slit in her dress, still wet with blood and something else. "Oh he so fucking did."

You dripped the last drop of healing potion onto her dress, sealing the fabric back together seamlessly. Winnifred chuckled darkly, pinching and stretching the repaired material between her fingers. "Aww… thank you, sweetheart," she cooed, before her expression hardened. "Now. Where were we?"

She rose with eerie smoothness, towering over you even as she swayed slightly from blood loss. Her fingers traced your collarbone with deceptive gentleness. "Oh yes," she murmured. "I was checking just how big *your* cock was before that asshole ruined the moment." Her smirk widened as she reached lower—only to press her palm against your bulge with a hum of approval.

"But first…" Her voice dropped to a growl. Winnifred gave your bulge a squeeze before leaning in so close her lips brushed your ear. "What would you like from me? I can offer you any *one* thing—right here, right now—as thanks." Her breath hitched slightly when you gripped her hips, fingers sinking into her absurdly wide curves. "Anything?" you asked. She chuckled darkly. "*Almost* anything. Anal sex is the only thing you can’t ask for."

"Hmm… so I can seriously ask for anything? And you’ll do it?" Winnifred rolled her eyes playfully, but her smirk never wavered. "Yes, you dense little—oh." Her breath caught as you suddenly grabbed two very full handful’s of her ass cheeks, pulling her flush against you. "Ooohh… I wonder what you’ll choose," she purred, grinding slowly against your thigh. "But I’d suggest you hurry before I decide to take *you* instead."

You nodded, a smirk of your own forming. "Alright. I want you to be mine… to be my girlfriend, and mine alone. You’ll never flirt, have intimacy or seduce another man, or woman, ever again. And, here’s the kicker… you can’t ever cheat or leave me, you’re mine till the day you die~" Winnifred blinked, frozen mid-grind before she began to laugh hysterically, clutching her belly as she bent over. "Ohhhh that’s *rich*! You think I’ll agree to something like that?! That’s not how I—"

"You said anything… and you said only anal sex was off-limits," you interrupted smoothly, tracing her jawline with a fingertip. Winnifred’s laughter died instantly, her smirk vanishing as realization dawned. She swallowed hard, fingers twitching at her sides. "You… wow… I did say that, didn’t I?" she murmured, her voice suddenly strained. "But… I don’t do relationship’s. You must understand that."

You shrugged. "That’s too bad… I guess you’ll have to learn." She stiffened, backing away a step—but you pulled her back by the wrist with effortless strength. Winnifred gasped, her pulse hammering visibly in her throat. "Wait—I—" she stammered, genuinely flustered for the first time. "You *can’t* just—"

"Do you accept the deal or not?" you interrupted, fingers tightening around her wrist. Winnifred exhaled sharply through her nose, her dark eyes flickering between defiance and reluctant fascination. Finally, she let out a slow breath. "...I do," she muttered, then grinned sharply. "Is there anything else you’d like to add, anything… kinky? You can always ask~"

You tilted your head, considering, then leaned in. "Hmm… how about some rules. I think you’ll like some of them." She arched a brow, intrigued despite herself. "First, you’ll reject every man except me—you won’t even be allowed to tease them." Winnifred scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Oh please, that’s—" "Second," you continued, ignoring her, "you’ll do whatever I tell you to—whenever I say it—and you’ll enjoy every second." Her smirk faltered slightly at that. "And third…" Your lips brushed her ear. "You’ll take this seriously and fall in love with me."

Winnifred burst into laughter, throwing her head back. "Ohhh, you’re *adorable*!" she cackled, wiping a tear from her eye. "You actually think I—" You yanked her forward by her chin, silencing her mid-sentence as you closed her jaw shut with a click. Her laughter died instantly, replaced by wide-eyed surprise. "Yes… you will and you’ll love every second of it," you murmured, trailing a thumb over her bottom lip. "Because deep down, you’re *desperate* for someone to finally own you."

Her breath hitched—half indignation, half something darker—as she swallowed hard. "Fuck… you’re serious," she muttered, her smirk flickering like a candle in the wind. "Fine," she growled, leaning in until her nose brushed yours. "But only if you do me a favor first." You arched a brow. "And what’s that?" Winnifred’s grin turned downright predatory. "Whip out that cock. It’s measuring time~"

Her hands were already at your belt before you could respond, fingers deftly unfastening leather with practiced ease. "If you aren’t big enough," she murmured, licking her lips, "this whole deal’s off." You scoffed, dropping your pants and revealing your cock and balls, letting them hang freely. Winnifred’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she schooled her expression into something more neutral—though the slight dilation of her pupils betrayed her.

Your cock was eight inches long with a four inch girth, and your balls were the size of large softballs. "Well?" you prompted, watching her carefully. Winnifred swallowed hard, her smirk returning with a vengeance. "Not bad," she lied smoothly, wrapping her fingers around your shaft—only for her grip to tighten involuntarily when she realized she couldn’t fully encircle it. "Oh... fuck me," she breathed, her voice cracking slightly.

She shoved you backwards onto the bed in a sudden, violent motion, her inky eyes burning with hunger. "You win," she growled, slowly stripping off her gloves one finger at a time. "I only have one rule—you can’t punch, stab, bite, or choke me. Everything else is fair game." Before you could respond, she began to remove her dress with deliberate slowness, her exaggerated curves spilling free inch by inch.

As soon as Winifred was butt-ass naked, she spreaded her legs and bent down, a finger tucking her hair behind her ear as her tongue slithered out to lick from the base of your shaft to the tip in one slow, torturous motion. "Mmm... tastes like victory," she purred, before maneuvering her tongue to insert it into your urethra—a perverted trick she'd mastered years ago. You arched off the bed with a gasp as she probed deep inside, her tongue wriggling like a serpent inside of you.

"Ohhh, you like *that*?" she chuckled darkly, moving her face closer to push her tongue deeper until it was slithering against your prostate from within. Her fingers curled around your balls, rolling them lazily as she worked—her eyes never leaving yours. "I can *feel* you twitching," she murmured, forcing her way into your bladder now, the obscene *schlorp* of her tongue echoing in the quiet room.

You gripped the sheets with a groan, hips jerking uncontrollably as she twisted and turned inside you like a living catheter. "I think—fuck—I think you're cheating," you gasped. Winnifred pulled her tongue all the way out with a wet *pop*, grinning at the way your cock pulsed. "There’s no such thing as cheating when your *me*," she breathed before plunging down onto your entire length in one smooth motion, her nose pressing into your pelvis as your cock slid down her throat.

Her fingers dug into your thighs as she swallowed around you, at first… you were choking her. But it appears that she’s enjoying the feeling of you forcing your way down her throat, her inky eyes rolled back in ecstasy as she wrapped her tongue around your cock like a serpent coiled around its prey. "My, my… you are eager," you muttered, gripping her hair—not forcing her deeper, just holding on as she worked.

Winnifred began to bob her head violently, her lips stretched obscenely around your girth. Every time she pulled back, she inhaled sharply—getting a small breath before diving back down with a wet *gulp*. Drool dripped down her chin and onto your balls, her fingers tightening possessively on your thighs. "Mmfff… mmph!" she groaned, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

"You're *really* enjoying this, aren't you?" you chuckled, watching her eyes roll back further as she nodded frantically. Her hands slid up to grip your hips, nails digging in as she forced herself deeper—until her lips met the base of your cock with an audible *pop*. Her throat convulsed around you as she swallowed again, her nose pressed flush against your pelvis.

Winnifred pulled back with a gasp, saliva and precum dripping from her swollen lips. "Fuck, you *taste* even better than I imagined," she panted, her voice hoarse from abuse. Before you could respond, she lunged forward again, this time inserting her tongue into your urethra once more while simultaneously taking you into her throat. The dual stimulation made your vision blur—her tongue wriggling inside you while her throat milked your length.

"You—*hah*—are you sure you’d like me to blow the first load into your belly? It’s gonna be big," you growled, gripping her hair tighter. Winnifred chuckled darkly around your cock, the vibrations making you twitch violently inside her. She pulled back just enough to smirk up at you. "Better *fill* me up then, lover~" she purred before deepthroating you again with obscene enthusiasm.

The pressure built relentlessly—her tongue writhing inside you while her throat clenched in rhythmic pulses. "Fuck—*Winnifred*—!" you snarled as your hips jerked upward involuntarily. She moaned around your cock in response, her fingers massaging your swollen balls as the first thick rope of cum shot directly into her stomach. She swallowed greedily, her throat working overtime as pulse after pulse flooded her insides.

It however was getting too much for her—her grip slackened as her eyes fluttered shut. She tried to pull back for air, but you locked your hands behind her head, forcing her to take every last drop. Winnifred's body convulsed as she gagged, thick streams of cum bubbling past her lips and leaking from her nostrils. "Nnngh.. swop… mmhhmm.. pweash.." she slurred incoherently, her nose scrunched in discomfort.

Finally releasing her, she quickly straightened up, coughing violently while clutching her throat. "Fuck.. that was.. *hack*.. too much," she rasped, wiping her face with the back of her hand before glancing down between her breasts. "Wait… hold on—" Her eyes widened when she parted her cleavage, revealing the slight swelling of her belly. "Oh you *did not* just—"

She abruptly clamped both hands over her mouth as a wet gurgle escaped her throat. You barely had time to react before Winnifred doubled over, vomitting over the side of the bed—a thick, white slurry splattering onto the floorboards. "Ohhh fuck," she groaned between heaves, "never.. again.. *urp*.. swallow."

Wiping her mouth with a shaky hand, she turned to glare at you—only for her expression to melt into dazed amusement when she saw your cock still glistening. "Mmm.. still hard?" she murmured, licking her lips despite her queasy stomach. Her fingers trailed down her own body, tracing the slight swell of her belly. "Guess we're not done yet, lover~"

You grabbed her wrist mid-motion, pulling her on top of you with a wet slap of flesh. Winnifred let out a surprised gasp as her massive thighs bracketed your hips, her warmth pressing down with delicious pressure. "Ooooh," she purred, rolling her hips experimentally. "Someone's eager. Got a preference for round two?"

"Round 2? That was just foreplay," you growled, gripping her hips tight enough to bruise. Winnifred's smirk faltered for just a second—long enough for you to flip her onto her back with surprising ease. She blinked up at you, momentarily stunned by the reversal. "Well well," she breathed, licking her lips. "Didn't expect you to—*oh fuck*—"

You didn't let her finish, driving into her with one brutal thrust that made her arched back slam into the mattress. Winnifred's nails scraped down your shoulders as she gasped, her thighs clamping around your waist like a vise. "Fuck—*yes*—just like that!" she keened, her earlier bravado cracking under the onslaught.

Her breath came in ragged pants as you set a punishing rhythm, each thrust punching a wet gasp from her lips. Winnifred's head thrashed against the pillows, her hair fanned out like spilled ink. "You—*ah!*—you really do intend to *own* me, don't you?" she managed between moans, her smirk returning despite the way her toes curled involuntarily.

"Do you want to be owned?" you growled against her throat, feeling her pulse hammer against your lips. Winnifred let out a breathless laugh that dissolved into a whimper as you angled deeper. "Fuck—*maybe*," she admitted through clenched teeth, her hips bucking to meet yours. "If you—*nngh!*—you don’t abuse me and turn this into enslavement."

Her fingers tangled in your hair, dragging your mouth to hers in a messy, biting kiss. "And *you*," she gasped against your lips, "don’t get to cum until I say so." You chuckled darkly, pinning her wrists above her head. "I’m the one calling the shots now, Winnifred." Her eyes flashed with defiance—right before you snapped your hips forward hard enough to make the bedframe creak. Her scream was muffled by your mouth as her back arched off the mattress.

Winnifred suddenly cummed violently, her entire body locking up as her thighs trembled around you. "Ohhh fuck—*no no no*—I wasn’t supposed to—!" she wailed, feeling her climax trigger yours. You groaned as her walls clenched around you, milking your cock with pulsing intensity. "Too late," you muttered, burying yourself to the hilt as hot ropes flooded her depths.

Her head thrashed side to side, fingers clawing at the sheets. "No! There’s too much—I can *feel* it—!" Winnifred gasped, her belly already visibly rounding from your first load. When another thick pulse shot into her, she let out a strangled scream—her swollen stomach pressing tight against yours. "You—*oh fuck*—you’re *breeding* me!" she sobbed, torn between horror and ecstasy. Thankfully though, she can’t get pregnant—she’s sterile.

Panting, you collapsed atop her, still buried deep as her thighs twitched around you. Winnifred stared blankly at the ceiling, fingers tracing the obscene swell of her belly. "...I hate you," she muttered hoarsely, but the way her hips rocked faintly against you betrayed her. You chuckled, kissing her pulse point. "No you don’t."

"Curious question," you murmured against her sweat-slicked skin. "If I claimed myself another woman, how would you react?" Winnifred’s fingers immediately dug into your back, her thighs clamping tight enough to make your cock twitch inside her. "Seriously? I can’t believe you’d stoop so low to suggest—" Her breath hitched when you thrust shallowly, her words dissolving into a moan.

She turned her face away with a scoff, but you caught the flicker of something raw in her eyes before she masked it. "Winnifred, it was a question, not a request," you clarified, rolling your hips to punctuate the statement. Her glare softened into something uncertain as she chewed her bottom lip. "Good. Because the only your getting a second woman is if I pick her myself," she muttered darkly—her possessiveness surprising even her.

You chuckled, brushing a strand of sweat-damp hair from her forehead. "So territorial already? That didn’t take long." Winnifred’s cheeks flushed crimson as she shoved at your shoulders halfheartedly. "Shut up," she growled, but the effect was ruined when her thighs tightened around you reflexively. "I just—don’t like sharing," she admitted through gritted teeth, as if the words physically pained her.