Page 16 of Shadow's Claim

"Yours," I sob, internal muscles clenching around his invading length with omega submission I no longer have strength to fight. "Alpha, yours!"

His pace accelerates, each thrust driving me harder against the wall. Inside me, his cock changes again—new textures emerging, ridges rippling in waves that stroke every nerve ending simultaneously. The tip extends to press against my cervix with gentle insistence while a secondary ridge focuses merciless attention on my g-spot.

"Good omega," he purrs, the vibration traveling through his chest into my back. "Taking your alpha's cock so perfectly. You were made for this, made for me."

The combination of physical stimulation and dominant language pushes me toward another climax with embarrassing speed. My inner walls flutter around his length, pressure building toward explosion I can't fight.

"Come for me," he commands, increasing pressure on my clit while his cock expands inside me. "Now."

My body obeys instantly, climax crashing through me with violence that steals my breath. My knees buckle, only his four arms keeping me upright as pleasure borders on pain with its intensity.

His knot forms with brutal efficiency, stretching my entrance beyond limits before locking inside with evolutionary precision. His release follows immediately, filling me with seed that burns like ice against heat-flushed tissues.

As we remain locked together, his shadows extend again, wrapping around my limbs and torso with possessive intention. Through the haze of aftershocks, I feel his consciousness pressing against mine—no longer exploratory but claiming mental territory with the same thoroughness his body claimed physical space.

I'm too exhausted to fight the intrusion, mental barriers crumbling like sandcastles before tidal wave. He moves through my thoughts with predatory focus, extracting more resistance information I've fought to protect. Names, locations, protocols—nothing remains hidden from his relentless mental invasion.

When he finally withdraws from my mind, leaving me gasping and broken against the wall, his voice holds new edge of satisfaction.

"Your resistance training is impressive," he murmurs, four arms rearranging us into more comfortable position while his knot maintains our connection. "But ultimately futile."

I have no response, no clever comeback, no final act of defiance. My body and mind both violated beyond recovery, nothing remains but hollow ache of defeat.

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Hours later—or perhaps days, time loses meaning in the perpetual twilight of Kael's claiming chamber—I find myself in his massive bathing chamber. After heat-exhaustion and multiple claimings, the cool water should feel like heaven against my overheated skin. Instead, it becomes another stage for claiming.

"Here," Kael says, his voice regaining some of its earlier clinical detachment. His four arms guide me into the largest pool, where the water reaches my waist. The temperature is perfect—cool enough to soothe my heat-flushed skin but not cold enough to shock.

For a moment, I allow myself to simply exist in the sensation, eyes closed as water embraces my claiming-sore body. The respite is short-lived.

I open my eyes to find him watching me with renewed intensity. Rather than commanding me to turn around as before, he moves through the water with predatory grace, positioning himself on a submerged ledge at the edge of the pool.

"Come here," he commands, beckoning with one hand while the other three arrange his massive form on the stone seat. His prehensile cock extends from his lower body, moving with eager anticipation above the water's surface.

I hesitate, some fragment of resistance flickering despite days of claiming. His expression darkens immediately, shadows gathering around him in visible manifestation of displeasure.

"Do not make me force you," he warns, voice dropping to that register that sends vibrations through the water itself. "Your heat requires regular claiming, and I have other methods if you prefer."

The threat registers clearly—cooperation or something worse. I move through the water toward him, each step feeling like surrender beyond the physical claiming I've already endured.

"Closer," he growls as I stop at arm's length. "Between my legs."

I comply, positioning myself between his spread thighs, the water now reaching just below my breasts. His prehensile cock hovers at eye level, moving slightly as though tasting the air between us.

"You know what to do," he says, four hands arranging themselves in a display of dominance—two resting on his thighs, one extended to grip my throat, the fourth tangling in my hair to guide my movements.

I do know, though I've never performed this act with shadow demon anatomy. The humiliation burns hotter than my heat as I lean forward, lips parting reluctantly to accept what's being offered.

The moment my mouth makes contact, his prehensile cock changes again—adapting to this orifice with evolutionary efficiency, becoming more manageable while maintaining textures designed to maximize sensation. The taste is nothing like human anatomy—something cool and almost minty, with undertones that remind me of night air and darkness itself.

"That's it," Kael purrs, the hand in my hair guiding me to take him deeper. "Such a talented mouth. Almost as good as your cunt."

The crude comparison should repulse me. Instead, my traitor body responds with another rush of slick, heat biology interpreting degradation as proof of alpha interest. The hand at my throat applies gentle pressure, restricting my breathing just enough to create lightheadedness that intensifies every sensation.

As I struggle to accommodate his alien length, something unexpected happens. His prehensile tongue extends, the forked tip brushing against my ear with teasing precision.

"So focused on one task," he murmurs, the tongue tracing the sensitive shell of my ear before moving downward. "Let's see if you can maintain that focus while experiencing pleasure yourself."

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