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He drives inside me harder, rougher, wrapping both arms and wings around me as he holds me atop him and uses me the way I am begging to be used.
Usually it’s hard for me to orgasm during sex. I’ve always said I can’t come from penetration. Turns out that was a fucking lie. I just needed to be rutted by a beast with scales and wings. I needed to be thoroughly dominated, punished, and made to obey. I needed to become submissive to the will of the male pounding me, demanding not only that I give him my body, but that I give him my orgasm too. Coming is not optional with Avel. It is biologically fucking mandatory.
I come so fucking hard that for a moment everything is obliterated but him. Avel is everything. His body is part of me, and I am part of him, and he is pure fucking pleasure. I don’t lose consciousness, but I do lose all sense of everything but him, but the connection of alien flesh between my thighs. My senses are attuned to the bulk of his body, his athletic, flexing form put to the sole task of claiming me.
He holds me tight as I orgasm, and I feel him shuddering as his own climax comes upon him.
“You’re going to take this,” he orders me in those rumbling tones, holding my soft, limp, post-orgasmic form against his still taut body. “You’re going to take every bit of my seed, Raine. You’re going to be filled with me, and you’re never, ever going to take anybody else the way you take me.”
He grinds the words out in my ear as he pumps his hips against me, churning my desire and taking advantage of the new relaxation that comes with orgasm to surge his cock to my very depths. He intends to bathe me with his seed, fill me up so completely I will never be empty again.
It is all I can do to hold onto him as he snarls, arches, and comes hard. I feel myself being filled, there is a pressure inside me as my already stretched walls stretch a little more for the sheer volume of his cum, which fills me up and begins to drip out of me almost immediately, flowing down the channels made by his scales and dripping down to the floor below.
“Yes,” he snarls. “Yes. Do you feel that, Raine? That is the mate bond. You are mine. You, are fucking mine.”
I do not have the energy to argue with him, even if I wanted to — which I do not. I feel the truth of the words he’s saying. I am his. I am his in a way I’ve never belonged to any other man before. He has branded my body and he has left a mark on my fucking soul. I feel as though when I next look in the mirror, I’m going to see him reflected in my eyes.
Avel has fucked the sense out of me. He fucked the fear out of me. He’s left me in a state where I am absolutely drained of all my energy, leaning against him as if he were some large, breathing bed as he carries me to what I suspect is the only other proper room in this abode, a bedroom with a big round bed that is somewhat scooped up at the sides and down in the middle. There’s a plethora of pillows stacked in the center, and all manner of handmade blankets ranged around them. It is large, even for Avel, and I feel like a baby bird in a nest as he lays me down among the comforters and motions for me to stay where I am.
“I have something for you,” he says. “It may take a little adjustment, but…”
The room is round, and there are drawers and things made to fit the curvature of the space. It is a very, very cozy place to have one’s mind absolutely fucked out of one’s head. Everything here seems handmade and old fashioned. I can tell that craftsmen put it together, including the large windows that look out over the city and forest beyond. They range the entire width of the room as well, inviting the wind and breeze to flow through. A few of them are shuttered, but enough are open that I can appreciate the purple and blue hues of a day starting to wane.
I lose sense of time as Avel busies himself with something. I hear the slight tink tink of a small hammer on metal, but I don’t think too much about it. I don’t think about anything much. I bask in the luxury of not having to run my brain at full speed for once.
At some point sometime later, I am not sure when, I feel a collar slide around my neck, some saurian-type latch closing at the nape of my neck. That’s not all, though. A leather strap extends from the back and front of the collar, down my back, and down my front between my breasts. Then a third strap loops around my waist, to which the first two straps are attached.
Avel slides it all onto my body with a certain pleased tenderness in his alien gaze. It feels as though he is doing something nice, but I can’t be sure. There’s something in the way the collar feels around my neck, and even the way the leather band around my chest sits that makes me feel very held. Very owned.
“A harness,” he says. “It will be easier to control you with this. You require close and frequent handling.”
I should fight him on this, but I don’t have the energy. I can still feel his seed leaking out of me, and the ache between my thighs that I know will deepen over time. Fucking aliens is not for the faint of heart or the tender of flesh. The welts and marks on my ass might very well fade before the constant reminder of begging for his cock harder and deeper and getting both.
“I’m cold,” I admit as the gathering night air flows in, bringing with it a brisk chill.
He covers me with a blanket for the moment, making me instantly warm, but being a practical creature, he is thinking of future attire too.
“You will need clothing,” he says. “But not that suit. You will wear something that marks you as mine. Something that reminds you who you must call master. Something…” he pauses, then glances at me with an unexpected glimmer of humor in his gaze. “Aerodynamic.”
I find myself blushing again. I know I was acting like a completely insane woman, but mad situations sometimes call for mad solutions.
“In the meantime, you may wear my smallest garment.”
His smallest garment is a woven woolen sweater in the most stunning blue hue which falls nearly all the way to my ankles. It smells like him, like masculine breezes. The back of it has openings for his wings, which works in this case because it enables him to reach the harness if he likes.
“Sit up,” he says. “Let me put this on you.”
There’s a brief moment in which I want to snap about how I am perfectly capable of dressing myself, thank you, but it passes. I let him dress me. He is so careful when he handles me, almost as if he is concerned he might break my limbs while maneuvering them through the loose confines of the arms.
I find myself feeling cozy, small, and satisfied.
“Come out to the living area with me,” he says, picking me up out of the bed. “I would like to cook, and I would like to have you with me.”
Idid not pay attention to the interior of his main living area the first time I was in it. Too busy trying to hurl myself into oblivion for what now seem like very silly reasons. I must have been very upset at the time. I’m not usually reckless. I’m usually very logical and sensible.
Now that I look around his living area, I notice that it’s not as empty as it first seemed to be. It’s just simple, that’s all. It has everything one needs to live, and absolutely nothing one does not.
Avel sits me down on some cushions which he releases from a net string to the ceiling. I didn’t see that detail at all. There is a hearth at one side of the room where he lights a fire. A simple grate sits above the flames, and a pan above it, taken from a cupboard neatly built into the wall and covered by a simple curtain. There are several such cupboards, and from these he retrieves both food and utensils.
