She moans around my primary cock, the vibration sending pleasure straight down my spine. Takes me deeper, relaxing her throat to accept more of my length. After a year together, she knows exactly how to work my body.
I let her worship me for several minutes, savoring the sight of my mate on her knees, the mother of my children servicing me with devoted attention. The palace sculptures spin faster outside, responding to our dynamic.
"Open," I tell her, taking my secondary cock and nudging it against her lips. "Wider."
She moans, messily sliding my primary cock into her cheek, then lets my secondary slide in on the other side. They're so big that she can only take a few inches of each in at the same time.
The sight of her stuffed to the brim with them makes my cocks rock-hard, especially as she drools all over them. Tightening a hand in her hair, I rock in and out of her mouth, enjoying how she whimpers and frantically swallows my pre-cum. Her dainty hands work the shafts, one on each cocks, her eyes tearing up as she stares up at me with worship and love.
My perfect, beautiful omega.
I pull back, both cocks sliding free of her mouth with an obscene sound, pre-cum and saliva spilling from her pink, well-used lips.
"Before I fuck you properly," I say, ice spreading across the floor toward her, "I think you need a reminder. It's been too long since you've been disciplined."
Her eyes flash with recognition and want. "Is that really necessary?"
"Questioning me?" I settle into the chair by the window. "That's five extra. Over my knee. Now."
She approaches with deliberate slowness—not stalling, but making me work for it. Making me wait. When she finally drapes herself across my lap, rubbing against my throbbing cocks, I can feel her trembling with anticipation. The preservation magic pulses, asking to archive this moment.
"Why are you being punished?" I ask, my hand resting on the curve of her ass.
"Because I need to remember who's in charge," she says honestly.
"And who is that?"
"You are, Alpha."
The first strike lands across both cheeks, firm and commanding. She cries out, then catches herself.
"One. Thank you, Alpha."
Frost blooms across the walls in sharp, chaotic patterns—exactly like what she used to create before I broke her completely. I continue methodically, each strike precisely placed. Her ass turns pink, then red.
"Ten," she gasps. "Thank you, Alpha."
I pause to let my cold hand soothe the heated skin. "Why do you need this?"
"Because perfect is boring," she admits, voice raw. "Because I want you to have to work for me again. Because I miss the fight."
By the time I reach twenty strikes, she's sobbing openly. Not from pain alone, but from arousal and release.
"Perfect," I murmur, my hand moving in soothing circles with cooling ice magic. "You took that beautifully."
"Did I earn what I need now?" she asks.
"What do you need?"
"You. Not the careful version who treats me like I'm fragile. The version who claimed me in that first brutal heat."
I flip her onto her back on the floor, ice spreading beneath her in crystalline patterns. Her legs fall open automatically, displaying her soaked pussy.
"You're dripping," I observe, running one finger through her slick. "All that defiance and you've been desperate for my cocks the whole time."
"Yes," she gasps as I circle her clit with maddening lightness. "Wanted you to remember what it's like when I make you work for it."
"I never forgot." I position myself between her thighs, both cocks already weeping and coated with her spit. "I just got distracted by how perfect you became. Forgot that you're most beautiful when you're pushing back."
