Curling around herself, Kore tried to twist. Gagging when her lungs seized and her breath strangled high at the back of her throat, aching beneath the corner of her jaws.
“Wai—” she hissed, voice a wisp of smoke and broken glass, throat too raw to muster a fragile protest, much less an outraged scream.
“Aye, treasure,” he said, hands prodding. “I’ll get ya sorted, beastie. Bet on that.”
An ache started low, a shuddering throb that wasn’t quite pain.
It wasneed.
Starvation.
Confusion flooded her brain when her womb clenched. Her pussy flushing wet and open, desperate for something she didn’t have, but needed more than the blistering air that ached when it sliced through her throat and burned in her lungs.
The fisherman laughed low, fingers working at her seam. “Oh, you’re a desperate little cunny, alright. Caught a proper Siren, eh?”
Kore gasped as pain spiked through her blood.
And then she knew.
Understood the particular sort of ache turning her blood to fire.
She was bound.
Not by rope, but… biology. By what the beast had done to her on that island.
What he’d made her.
She clenched—slick, grasping, obscene. Body starving, keening for what she’d come to need. The soothing burn of thatfevered ecstasy that had been pumped into her body, remaking her as something monstrous.
Venom.
She’d fled when the tide was low.
The last taste of his venom was days ago… a barb in her palm.
Not nearly enough.
Already her body was breaking. Cracking at the seams that hadn’t been plugged inhours.
The fisherman didn’t notice the desperate twitching—he pressed a palm to her belly. Marveling at the fever heating her glittering skin.
Lips gaping, she arched into his touch. Starved for the toxin she’d come to crave.
“Aye, lass. I know. You need it, don’t you?” he asked, more curious than cruel. And then, “You’ll sing for me. Soon, treasure,” he crooned, slipping a finger back, twisting through her slick before he brought that digit to his lips and sucked. “By the drowned gods…” he groaned, fisting a bulge in his pants with his free hand. “Sweetest cunny I ever tasted.”
Kore could only tremble. Arching, her hips canting into that touch without meaning to do it. Her thighs grew slick, flushed with a desperate want she didn’t own. Didn’t understand.
Pulling at his bloated little prick, he laughed, cheeks flushed. “Your tricks ain’t gonna work, treasure. Not on me. I know your sort. Heard the tales all my life, understand? I know ye will try to drag me under with that sweet little trap between your legs. I know,” he said, and didn’t pull himself free of his pants. “Know what you’re about. Luring good men into the sea by their cocks with a cursed cunny, begging to be fucked. Draggin’ honest men into the dark, screamin’. Sent to their deaths for nothin’ but the want of a taste of pussy theyearned. Honest day’s work.”
Kore’s lips parted when she tried to deny his fantasy. She wasn’t a Siren! Just a woman in need of rescue.
But his fingers didn’t stop.
And the ache grew, blooming into agony.
First two fingers, then three. Rubbing circles into her clit as her pussy gushed slick and her hips rocked against the friction.
She whimpered, a hoarse, cracked sound dragged from the bottom of soggy lungs, too ruined to scream. Teeth clenching, slicing, aching pain erupted behind the corner of her jaw.
