Nara was not doing the fifth form.
Nara was pressing her thighs together and watching with her bottom lip between her teeth and her hands wrapped around her wooden sword so tightly that her knuckles were white.
Celia was doing the fifth form. She was doing it with more aggression than it technically required.
Rika was watching. Just watching. Her eyes were moving between Edda's face — the rolling eyes, the drooling mouth, the forced discipline of a warrior trying to maintain function while being destroyed — and Raven's face, which was calm and focused and beautiful in the morning light.
He pulled out.
SKHLRK—
Edda's body pitched forward. She caught herself. Her hands went to her knees. Her head hung. Seed poured from her gaped anal in a thick, white, continuous stream that ran down the inside of her muscular thigh and dripped into the dirt. Her chest heaved. Her mouth was open. The drool fell in a thin thread to the ground.
She breathed.
Raven looked at the women.
