Page 9 of Breeding Season
I signaled the outer guards. The thought of the Herders’ filthy claws touching her, even if just to clean her, made me see red. I was greedy. I didn’t even want them to hear her moans. Their hooves on stone quietly disappeared. No one would see her unless I permitted it.
She needed to be utterly ruined, yes, but first, she needed to be broken in. My cock craved her warmth, and I’d have it, but this round was not just for release. I needed to force her to break. I needed to flood her system, drive her past defiance, and make her body ready to release the final binding fluid that would seal us.
As soon as they were out of earshot, I moved.
My steps were heavy, measured. I approached the chute as a conqueror reclaiming my spoils. My claws found my thick length and tugged. She watched me. Her eyes, wide and desperate, were locked on the monstrosity that strained against my belly. I could smell the sharp, metallic tang of fear mixed with the euphoricscent of her arousal. Her thighs, strapped open to me, were clenched tight enough to bruise the leather. A futile effort.
I placed a large hand on the iron, the cold metal a stark contrast to my hot cock. My goal was not a simple release, but the obliteration of her will.
Lie
Pele
Something bloomed in my chest, and a wave of heat surged through my body as the beast readied me for another round. It was a craving so strong it overrode the fear that kept my body stiff, and with that I tensed, not in defiance, but in a humiliating, unwanted anticipation that stole my breath.
There’s no way.
He saw it instantly. The way my pussy dripped for him. A dark, slow smile spread across his face, and that gold hoop gleamed, as if taunting me. The monster knew my body was no longer my own, and I hated him for it. He moved me how he wanted, the puppeteer and I the doll on strings.
“You feel it, Mát?” his deep voice rumbled. “Not just lust, but necessity. You need my cock inside you as much as I do.”
I turned my head and spat onto the stone floor. The wet thwack of spittle was pathetic, yet satisfying. When I looked back at him, my lip was pulled back in disgust, “Fuck you.”
Just like when I bit him on the Market Block, he didn’t hit me for my actions or words. His focus was elsewhere entirely - my pussy. Taur didn’t bother with foreplay; there was no slow build with him, no sensual caresses, only immediate, brutal invasion. He lowered me slightly, his hand guiding. My legs spread wide, and then, with a punishing thrust that slammed me against the cold metal, he slammed back into me. I was stretched to animpossible depth, the hard, relentless pressure settling deep in my pelvis, refusing to be ignored.
The shock should have been painful, my core tight from the last brutal fucking, but the craving was instant, spiking violently, rising from my depths to meet him. My hips twitched, straining to accommodate his impossible size that now felt not only familiar, but like oxygen, a need.
Hate him. Hate him.
My mind screamed the mantra repeatedly, but my breath hitched on a gasp of unwanted pleasure as he withdrew completely before slamming into me. He towered over me, his massive frame shadowing me, forcing me to see nothing but him. I was drowning—in him, his scent, his need. I turned away from him, set on the impossible; blocking him out, desperate to hide the shameful pleasure.
My guts were forced out of the way as he drove into me relentlessly. He was obsessed with my body’s response, set on drawing out my pleasure. I’d been wrong. I thought he wasn’t punishing me for my defiance; he was. Just not with hitting me, but in his attempts to drown my body in ecstasy, so I couldn’t think, breathe, or feel anything but him. Each thrust was a hammer blow against my autonomy, but also the walls I had up.
“Your fight is a lie,” he grated out, his breath hot against my ear, his chiseled abs firm against my softness. “That heat you’re feeling? That’s the truth. Your body knows its Mát. Yield to me.”
“No,” I rasped weakly.
I was losing the fight to focus on my hate as the faint burning of the hoof-crest shape at my navel turned into an inferno. Everything screamed I fight, but the magic used my resistance against me, making it feel like a welcoming embrace. My body’s response leaned into the pleasure, tightening as everything intensified.
I tried to focus on the sharp, raw pain of the mark on my neck, or the furs, anything to anchor myself to anything other than him and what he was making me feel. But he flooded my senses, turning every mental defense into a point of intensifying, agonizing pleasure. My mind went black, reduced to nothing but the desperate need for him. It was terrifying, deep, and vast sensation. It wasn’t the sweet release of my desire; it was the crushing, overwhelming obedience to his body’s command that erased thought.
As my body tingled and jerked from the orgasm, Taur slowed. The room spun as metal clinked. The cuffs securing my wrists and legs fell away. He was freeing me, and I was too drunk with pleasure to run.
My pussy and body convulsed as strong arms wrapped around me. A clawed hand cradled my head as my hair cascaded beneath me. His cock was still lodged with me and hadn’t done that thing it does, and I almost sobbed in relief as he carried me into another room.
It was short-lived as he lowered us until my back hit a bed of furs, his knees bent as he put both arms beside my head, propping himself up.
My head was heavy, my body a live wire, and my eyes were tearing at the emotions I couldn’t decipher or accept. He watched me, his gold hoop gleaming as he tracked the way my body shivered. The furs beneath me were soft, and my body relaxed. I was a limp noodle; my thighs went slack around him, but little eased the monstrous pressure inside me.
It felt good.
He felt good.
I hated that.
Taur leaned down, his massive chest obscuring the stone ceiling above. His breath no longer ragged from exertion, but low and steady, laced with the scent of pine and conquest. Iturned from him, staring at the stone wall. I twitched as his clawed hand traced the inflamed crescent where he’d marked my neck before grabbing my face and turning me to face him.
“Enough running, Mát,” he whispered, his voice dangerously gentle. My chest shuddered as it blew the flames of my overwhelming emotions. “The iron gave way, and now your flesh opens. Rest beneath your King while I fill your belly.”
