His captive bride.
Broodmare.
His… Siren.
Knot pulsing where her pussy was stretched bloodless and white, she felt another wave crash inside her womb. And she gasped. Resigned to it, now.
For there was no escape. No salvation or prayer strong enough to reel her up from the depths.
She floated, impaled on his knot. Ruined. Her wrists marked with net burn. Skin blemished from… everything else.
Clutched in Nyxarion’s grasp, throbbing in the aftermath, Kore was limp. Swollen, her belly glowing with a bioluminescent hum that matched, she was grotesque.
Changed.
No longer something the sun could warm with that glorious radiance she’d been made to love.
She was meant for the deep.
Powerful tail propelling them through Vorynthar’s skeleton, he drifted toward the seabed. Toward a structure she hadn’t noticed until they slowed before it. Fins flaring to catch the current, he stopped.
Letting her look.
It was… horrific.
A cage of coral stood stark against the abyss. Glowing more intensely than anything else. Long spindles stood in a row, the bars of the cage arching in a delicate, morbid sweep.
“A sanctuary,” he rumbled, and planted the trident into the sea floor, before he pushed another breath through her gills. Pausing to taste her with a lewd sweep of his tongue that shouldn’t have brought heat into her cheeks, given that theywere locked together. Her ribs heaving under the weight of what he’d dumped inside. “The Raskoril is dense here. Enough that you will be able to breathe as I build you a palace. Until your transformation has ended.”
It was a prison.
One meant to keep her locked to the sea floor. Available at all times, caged to service his every unhinged whim.
Panic surged high at the back of her throat, leaking from the slits behind her jaw. Distant. Muted.
She was to be a doll.
A plaything trapped in a box at the bottom of the Black Sea. Mute. Helpless.
Nyxarion tutted, purring for her when she struggled. Making the liquid in her brain shiver, the cum in her belly heat as the venom in her veins quickened. Pussy bearing down upon his knot.
Slithering back, his cock slipped free. Uncoupling from her battered cunt, knot deflating in a gush of warm sperm. Leaving her gaping, ruined and sore. Slow when he reached between them to swirl two fingers through swollen flesh.
“This,” he murmured gills flaring as the scent of her own slick drifted around them. “This is but a taste of what is to come, my sweet Siren.”
Redoubling his effort to purr for her, he let the frequency deepen, sweeping her up, holding her close for a moment. And then, with something approaching reverence in his eyes, he cupped her distended belly. Heavy with the weight of his spend, hefting her girth, he leaned in to press a delicate kiss to her lips. “Soon, your body will know no other purpose but the joy you get from breeding for me.”
Fins fluttering, he pushed her into the heart of the cage, and she watched, entranced as the coral parted. Clicking,crackling, crunching as the petals of her cage parted. Opening at Nyxarion’s unspoken command.
“You’ll be safe here,” he said, raking his claws through the billowing layers of floating hair swirling around her nape. His massive pupils reflected the sinister glow lighting the deep. “My reef will nourish you. Make you strong enough to handle my brood when you are ready.”
Kore shook her head. Daring to cling to his shoulders, her lips moving around a puff of silent bubbles—a plea that floated to the surface, unheard.
The glow cast an eerie shadow across the bars of her cage.
And for a moment, he paused. Head tilting as he considered the tiny female floating in his trap.
“You will be the mother of kings, Kore,” he said at last, and shifted back.
