“That's not an answer.”
“Isn't it?” Another coil joins the first at my waist. “Forty seasons I've hunted. Forty seasons of females who beg or break. Then you arrive, throwing rocks at shadows. Cursing the water itself. Building traps while your body burns with need.”
His tail slides around my right ankle. Gentle. Barely there. But I know I couldn't pull away if I tried. The scales there are smaller, more flexible, almost silky against my skin.
“Is this what always happens?” I ask. “The great serpent hunter sees something shiny and decides to keep it?”
“Nothing about you is always.”
My left ankle gets caught next. The coils pull slowly, inevitably apart. Not violent. Just inexorable. Like continental drift in real time. My legs spread in the water, and I can't close them. The position makes my pussy lips part, exposed to the aphrodisiac water that immediately makes my clit throb harder.
“Let go.” The words come out breathless.
“No.”
“I said?—”
“I heard you. Still no.” His coils adjust, and suddenly I'm floating on my back, legs spread wide, arms free but useless. The position leaves me completely exposed, pussy presented just below the water's surface. I can see myself—dark lips swollenand spread, clit jutting out obscenely, everything glistening with more than just water. “You didn't say stop. You said let go. Different words. Different meaning.”
He's right and I hate him for it.
My hands are still free. I could punch him. Could claw at the coils holding me. Instead, I grip the smooth scales at my waist, nails digging in, feeling the way his muscles shift beneath.
“I still hate you.”
“Good. Hate is honest. Better than false submission.” His massive head dips lower, eyes level with my spread pussy. “And your body is honest too. Look how wet you are. How swollen. Seven days of preparation and you're perfect.”
Another coil catches my right wrist. Pulls it out to the side. Then my left. Spread eagle in the water, held by loops of muscle that could crush me but don't. Just hold. Support. Display.
“Fuck you,” I manage, but my hips are already rolling, seeking friction that isn't there.
“Yes,” he agrees. “Eventually. But first...”
His tongue extends. Longer than should be possible. Twelve inches at least, forked at the end into two separate points. It doesn't touch me. Not yet. Just tastes the water around my spread thighs. His pupils dilate as he processes my pheromones.
“So much anger,” he muses. “So much need. Seven days of modification. Seven days of preparation. Your pussy drips for me even while you curse my name.”
“Always fighting.”
“Yes.” One fork of his tongue touches my outer lips, just barely. The contact makes me scream. Not pain. The opposite of pain. Seven days of buildup releasing in that single point of contact.
I come immediately. Violently. My whole body convulses in his coils, pussy clenching around nothing while that one fork of his tongue just rests against my entrance. Not entering. Justthere. The orgasm rips through me like electricity, making my vision white out.
“Sensitive,” he observes while I shake apart. “So responsive. The way you clench... your body begs even when your mouth refuses.”
“Fuck... you...” I gasp between aftershocks.
“Such anger even in pleasure.” The second fork of his tongue joins the first, bracketing my clit. “Let's see how long it lasts.”
Both forks begin to vibrate. Different frequencies. One high and quick, the other low and throbbing. The sensation is completely alien. Nothing human could create this specific stimulation. My modified body recognizes it though. Knows this is what it's been prepared for.
“Oh god, oh fuck, what are you?—”
He adjusts the vibration, and my words dissolve into wordless keening. His tail slides between my spread legs, the tip using its finest scales to pull my pussy lips wider, completely exposing my clit to his tongue's attention.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, the vibration of his voice carrying through the water to my spread pussy. “Look how you glisten. How your clit throbs. Made for this. Made for me.”
I come again before the first orgasm fully ends. Overlapping waves that make me arch in his coils, water splashing as I thrash. He holds me steady, safe, keeping my head above water while my body tries to fly apart. My nipples ache in the air, so hard they hurt.
