“Beg properly,” he commands.
“Please touch me. Please make it stop. Please, I need...”
“What does female need?”
“I need to cum. Please, I've been empty for three days. Everything hurts. Everything aches. Please.”
A tentacle slides between my pussy lips, not entering, just exploring. The suckers taste my wetness, pulse against my entrance. I try to push down, to force it inside, but he controls the movement completely.
“This one could make female cum twenty times,” he says conversationally, his hand moving to my hair, fingers tangling in the wet strands. “Could make her cum until she passes out. Until her body can produce no more wetness. Until she begs for mercy instead of relief.”
“Yes. Yes, please.”
The tentacle pushes inside just an inch. The suckers immediately attach to my inner walls, creating suction that makes me see stars. My pussy clamps down, trying to pull it deeper, but he holds perfectly still.
“Or this one could breed female properly. Fill her with primary tentacle. Lock inside. Pump her full of seed until her belly swells. Secondary tentacle would play with this swollen bud,” his finger demonstrates with a light touch to my clit that makes me cry out, “ensuring continuous orgasms while breeding occurs.”
“Anything. I'll do anything.”
But instead of giving me what I'm begging for, he withdraws everything. His hands leave me. The tentacles pull away. I'm left lying on the ledge, empty and aching, watching him slide back into the water.
“Female will wait,” he says. “Will think about what she truly wants. Temporary relief that leaves her needing more? Or proper claiming that ends the torment permanently?”
I watch him move to the other side of the cave, his tentacles spreading against the walls, holding him in place. The distance between us feels like miles. My pussy continues clenching on nothing, producing wetness that pools beneath me on the moss.
“Can't,” I whimper. “Can't wait anymore. Please.”
“Female can. Female will. This one has waited forty seasons. Female can wait forty minutes.”
Forty minutes. It might as well be forty years. Every second is agony. The cave's bioluminescence pulses in rhythm that matches my heartbeat, or maybe that's my imagination. Everything throbs. Everything aches. The water itself seems to caress my sensitized skin, making it worse.
I try touching myself, but my own fingers brought no relief; the tonic had rewired me for him alone. Just like before, I can climb toward orgasm but never crest. My own fingers bring no relief. Him. Those tentacles with their secretions and suckers. Those hands that know exactly where to touch. That knowledge makes me want to cry.
“Tell this one about the male,” he says suddenly.
“What?”
“The one female saves credits for. Brother unit?”
“Brother. Sam. He's sixteen.” Talking is hard when my whole body is one exposed nerve, but maybe it will distract from the ache. “The water is taking our home. Has taken it. He needs to evacuate or he'll drown.”
“Female trades her breeding for his safety.”
“Yes.”
“Admirable. Stupid but admirable.” He moves slightly, tentacles shifting. “This one had clutch-siblings once. Would not have sacrificed breeding rights for them.”
“That's because you're selfish.”
“Yes. This one is selfish. Wants female completely. Wants her belly full of offspring. Wants her marked inside and out as belonging to this one alone.” His eyes catch the bioluminescent light, reflecting it back at me. “But female already knows this. Already accepts it. Body begs for it even as mouth protests.”
He's right. God help me, he's right. My body has accepted what my mind still fights. Every cell screams for him to claim me, breed me, make me his in whatever way his species does. The tonic has rewired me so completely that I can't imagine wanting anything else.
Time passes. Maybe forty minutes, maybe more. The storm continues outside, muffled by rock and water. In here, there's only the sound of water lapping at cave walls and my occasional whimper when the need gets too intense.
Finally, he moves back toward me. His tentacles propel him through the water, but when he reaches the ledge, it's his hands that pull him up. His hands that reach for me.
“Has female decided?”
