“God!” Selma tossed her head back against the wall again as jolts of uninhibited pleasure rushed through her form. “Hnng!” Her cries abruptly cut off as the demon pushed her down and simultaneously drove his hips up with a single rough jerk, ploughing his cock all the way into her.
She clung to his shoulders, gasping through the shock. Though her pussy was more than ready, her unused muscles protested at the violent entry. He was enormous and diamond-hard, her squeezing core not finding any give in the ridgid mass as she struggled to adjust.
“One more mention of a god of any kind and you won’t be able to walk for a week, do you hear?” Marathin hissed at her through gritted teeth, but he might as well have spoken Greek for all the sense it made to her; her focus was solely on the need for him to begin the thrusting rhythm she instinctively knew she had to receive to quell her wild lust.
Whimpering at the unyielding pressure, she flexed her hips, trying to gain enough momentum from the wall and his strong hands holding her up to ride him, but he was so deep within her that she could barely move.
But her efforts forced the demon’s attention to the same urge, and he growled with pleasure at her movements, drawing back far enough for the uneven bumps to once more massage her G-spot before he drove in again. And again.
Oh, this was it! This was exactly what she craved, what she was built for, what her entire universe was centered around!
Selma let out a sob of relief even as he pounded her viciously, her abused pussy numb to the ache and her mind swathed in endorphins. She dug her nails into his shoulders to ensure that he didn’t pull away before she surrendered completely to his control. Even if she had wanted to, she could do nothing to alter his deep, rapid thrusts, and her efforts to ease the coupling by moving against him went ignored as he lost himself in his instincts.
It took a few minutes before the bliss of being filled and rutted morphed into something more, turning her throaty moans of contentment into sharp cries as the ridges on his cock over-stimulated the deepest parts of her, pulling her towards climax.
It swelled and grew low in her belly with the dull, deep sensation of mounting pleasure, so different from her normal clitoral orgasms. Yet the desperate need for its completion had exactly the same power over her as when he had rubbed her clit until her world shattered.
Frantically she writhed for Marathin, unnecessary pleas for more spilling from her lips even as he ravaged her with the full force of his inhuman strength until…
Yes, finally!
Selma clung to her lover, screaming as her pussy clamped down around him, squeezing his hard length for all it was worth. Black dots danced in front of her eyes as she peaked.
When her orgasm finally released her, she slouched against his shoulder, breathing hard while slowly regaining her bearings.
He had courteously stopped pounding her into the wall while she came, and now his strong arms and the heavy thickness she was still straddling held her aloft, her torso resting intimately against his. His warmth was comforting, even as the heady pheromones from his sweat forced her tired pussy to contract weakly in an attempt at responding to the demand for every last drop of her lust.
She groaned at the persistent fullness, the ache slowly setting back in as the endorphin rush ebbed. Every time he breathed, small spikes of pleasure would ripple through her from where the bumps on his cock dug into her cunt.
God, what were those things? Now that her craze was dwindling, they weren’t entirely pleasant as they pressed into the deepest, most sensitive spots inside of her, even though they had felt amazing during... whatever it was they’d just done.
Fucked.
She glanced up at the waiting man and shivered at the heat blazing from his eyes. Though he was allowing for her body to recuperate, nothing about the way he looked at her made her think she’d receive any additional mercy.
Goodness, what had she done? The twist of her ring had turned her into some wanton whore, had changed her completely until she was nothing more than an aching vessel for Marathin’s semen—and now she was trapped, melded to a demon who had no intention of letting her get out of the role as his broodmare.
She had begged for this... How could she have given up control so completely?
His all-pervading heat was suddenly anything but comforting; it wrapped around her oppressively, demanding her continued submission.
“I want you on your knees, Breeder.” His voice was husky and deep as he slowly moved his hips against hers again, pulling a groan from her weakly protesting body. It was as if he could sense that she was no longer under the ring’s thrall and needed a physical reminder of the pleasure he could cause.
“Enough foreplay; you need to get on your hands and knees and take my cock so I can show you what a good little Breeder you’ll be.”
Foreplay? She’d never been fucked so thoroughly in all her life! This had to stop; they had to stop for a moment so she could regain her bearings—regain her sense of self.
“Marathin, wait. Maybe we could—oh!”
Her pleas choked off when he hammered his cock in to the hilt, keeping her pressed against the wall at the hips.
“Don’t even try. You asked to get fucked—and that is exactly what’s going to happen.” He smiled darkly at her as she writhed for him. “But if you prefer, we can certainly make it a little easier for you again.”
“No!” Her eyes flew open as he slipped his fingers in between their bodies. She pushed at his chest, but it was futile. If he twisted her ring again, she would be lost, swept away in the firestorm of desire, and she wasn’t sure she could go through that again without breaking completely and permanently. How many times could she succumb to that bottomless need before there would be no way back?
“Yes.” His warm breath ghosted over her forehead as he wrapped his other hand around her wrists and pinned them to the wall. The dark lust that had taken over his professional persona burned in his gaze, leaving no shadow of reason; he was as lost in her as she had been in him.
Selma panted as he moved slowly and deliberately inside her until her attempts at freeing herself stilled, her traitorous body beginning to wake and respond again, though somewhat more mutedly than it had during the short, wild heat caused by the ring. Marathin stretched her perfectly, and she was wet enough for the bumps to feel good when he thrust, rubbing them slowly over every sensitive spot inside of her.
