Page 6 of Breeding Season
This one I’d answer.
“Everything.”
Break you
Taur
My little human lay strung across my shoulder. She’d quieted down after her failed attempt, but the frantic, quick drum of her heart against my back told me she hadn’t fallen asleep. My mind raced to the act of sinking her teeth into my wrist/finger. The memory of it sent a punishing surge of heat straight to my groin. My cock strained against my fur, begging to be buried deep in her cunt. The longer I waited, the harder it was to stay in control.
Minotaur did not wait. We consumed.
The flesh demanded I tear, confine, and breed in the same breath. Fuck her until she was broken and filled with my seed. All thoughts of running vanquished with exhaustion. My hands, hardened by the weight of my crown, flexed with the overwhelming need to crush, to lay waste to the small creature I held until she was so full her cunt oozed with me.
But I would not be my father. His craving was simple bloodlust; mine is dominion. I forced my will onto the surge of instinct, refusing to let the blood-craze steal the moment of true possession. I needed the sound of her defeat and submission, the screaming void in my gut filled only by ownership. Her defiance magnified my need.
Her ragged breathing betrayed her panic, and the thick scent of her fear mixed with anger spurred me forward. All I’ve wanted and never thought I’d have sat on my shoulder. I was lost themoment her raw, female scent hit my lungs. The unspoken truth repeated: I would have killed every bull in my herd for her.
I carried her toward my pen. The walk back felt like walking through a mile of fire. Each step was a conscious, agonizing choice not to drop her and let primal instinct take over. My discipline was the only thing standing between spreading her on my cock. But mating her was sacred. Tome. This first time would be mine, and mine alone.
I walked through the doors to my private chambers—raw, cold stone rooms built deep into the earth—the air was thin and cold. Soon, her scent would fill the space.
Her terror hit me as I stopped. She must have peeked. My eyes on the chute, a cold, elevated rack, in the heart of the room. Built of iron and heavy leather to restrain a struggling body against the force of my hips. I had little hope of finding her tonight. I’d planned to fuck tonight, and the Herders set this up for my K’onn, but they’d pleased me. They brought her to me.
My hands would have access to every inch of her, while she would be rendered useless. She wouldn’t be able to fight me, but I hoped to hear that mouth of hers.
“Don’t you fucking d—omph!” she grunted as I dropped her onto the metal surface. She gasped, the sound sharp. She immediately began to scramble, but it was pointless. I moved without hurry, my movements calculated. I clamped the leather hoops over her ankles and wrists, securing her small, flailing limbs.
She was alive, breathing, and feisty, but soon, she’d be broken, marked, and moaning. A dead prize was a hollow victory; a living subject that submitted against its will was a statement. A testament to my power, to my will winning over hers.
The material hiding her from me lifted and offered her skin. I moved her legs, my shadow swallowing her completely,but my eyes saw all. Underneath her fear, the pheromones of accelerating arousal were already beginning to leak from her skin, mingling with the musk of my territory.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
Her body was affected by my closeness. Need multiplied by our soul tie. It knew her fate before she did.
I slid my clawed hands up her thighs, enjoying the softness of her skin before puncturing flesh as I gripped her. She struggled, straining and thrashing against the restraints as I spread her. The wet sheen betrayed her.
“Please,” she whimpered as she stared up at me with big, brown eyes. They dropped to where my cock had slid out of its pocket. Her jaw agape as her brows furrowed, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and shock. She shook her head, disoriented.
“I think the fuck not!” she scoffed.
I followed her gaze. Along my length, thick ossified girdles, the ridges led up to the blunt crown, permanently stained a deep, dark crimson. The tip itself was thick and rounded, like a heavily calloused thumb, built for blunt force and clearing a path. The ridges are a testament to my power, a living framework of possession. She didn’t know the half of it. Once it locked, she wouldn’t be able to escape; she’d be mine in every sense of the word.
“You’ll soon realize there is no one but me, there is nothing you can do to escape my claim.”
“No, no, no—”
“Not one taste and I’m enchanted, Mát. I’ll have you until I’m satisfied.”
I pulled her back, her thighs on both sides of my hips. Bending my knees, I brought my tip to her entrance, and in one, single, blunt force, I speared into her. Hitting resistance, mytip buzzed, balls drew tight. Her warmth, tight cunt screamed ‘home’. Inch by inch, up to half my member was squeezed by her walls. The chains clinked as she bucked with the force, and I released a thigh to press down where a bulge now formed from me inside her. She groaned from the intensity, her brows kissed, and her mouth agape. And with one final, hard, deep slam that stole the air from her lungs, I filled her completely.
The chute was designed for a quick, face-down coupling—efficiency over pleasure—but I needed to see her eyes. I needed her to watch who took her.
Again, a brutal piston stroke, forcing a guttural cry from her throat as she slammed forward against leather. Each one an admission of defeat. Her breasts bounced, eyes fixed on me as I reveled in the feel of her. A third time—possessive, final, driving her hips up to meet mine, the blunt crown pounding through her cervix, forcing its way in.
