The sixth builds immediately after. His tongue finds a spot deep inside that makes my whole body electric. When I come, I actually laugh. Hysteria maybe. Or just the absurdity ofmy situation. But my pussy clenches harder than ever, trying desperately to hold his tongue inside.
“Two more,” he warns. “Your body shakes. Almost at limit.”
Seven is transcendent. Every nerve firing at once. The empty ache momentarily silent, fooled into thinking it's being filled. I float outside my body for seconds, watching myself writhe in alien coils, pussy clenching around a forked tongue while bioluminescent trees pulse overhead.
Eight breaks me completely.
I'm sobbing when it ends. Not sad. Not happy. Just overwhelmed. Seven days of need crashing into eight moments of almost-satisfaction. My pussy is so sensitive that even the water feels like too much. Every nerve is raw, oversensitized, electric.
He withdraws slowly, gently. His coils loosen but don't release. Instead, they support me, keep me floating while I shake through aftershocks that seem endless. I'm completely wrecked—pussy gaping open, clit so swollen it's visible above my lips, whole body flushed and trembling.
“Look at you,” he says softly. “Thoroughly pleasured but still empty. Still needing.”
“Can't... can't take more...”
“Not now. Too sensitive. But tonight...”
The coils release my wrists first. Then my ankles. But the ones around my waist stay, holding me steady while my legs remember how to work. My pussy won't stop clenching, still trying to hold something that isn't there.
“I should go,” I say, though I make no move to leave his embrace.
“Should?”
“The young males?—”
“Won't approach. Not after what they heard.” There's dark satisfaction in his voice. “You scream beautifully when you come.”
Heat that has nothing to do with arousal floods my face. “You did that on purpose. Made me scream so they'd know.”
“Yes. They know you're mine now. Can smell it. Hear it.”
“Asshole.”
“Yes.”
He starts to withdraw the last coils. The loss of contact makes me panicky in a way I don't understand. My hands grab at his scales, holding on.
“Tonight?” The word comes out small. Vulnerable. Nothing like me.
His massive head tilts, studying me. “When the moons rise. If you choose.”
“I just let you...” I gesture vaguely at the water, at my wrecked body.
“That's accepting. Choosing is different. Choosing means understanding what comes next.”
“Which is?”
“Breeding. Real and complete. Both cocks. The lock that won't release for hours. Eggs. Bond bite. Everything your body craves but your mind fears.”
My pussy clenches hard at the words alone, so sensitive that even that internal movement makes me whimper.
“And if I choose not to?”
“Then you survive twenty-three more days. Live with permanent need that will never be satisfied.” He pulls away completely now, heading for the shore. “But you'll be alive. Free. Your choice.”
“That's not a choice. That's torture either way.”
“Yes.” He reaches the bank, coils already starting to dry in the morning sun. His cocks are still visible, still dripping. Ready for tonight. “Welcome to the hunt.”
