“Riven,” she says, testing the bonds with a gentle tug. “I can feel… something through the silk. Like a pulse.”
“My heartbeat,” I confirm, pleased by her sensitivity to the connection. “The silk is alive, June. It’s part of me.”
Her eyes widen in understanding. “So when I move—”
I hiss with pleasure as she deliberately shifts against the restraints, sending exquisite vibrations back through the silk directly to my nervous system. “Yes. Exactly like that.”
I stalk around the hammock once more, all six of my eyes fixed on different parts of her body simultaneously. One pair tracks the rapid pulse at her throat, another the flush spreading across her chest, a third the moisture gathering between her thighs.
My species evolved to hunt with perfect visual acuity, to miss no detail of our prey. Now all that evolutionary advantage is focused on one goal: her pleasure.
“You’re looking at me like I’m dinner,” she observes, a nervous laugh escaping her.
“Not dinner.” I lean in until my face hovers inches from hers. “Sustenance. Life. The end of a deeper hunger.”
With a single sharp claw, I slice through her shirt from top to bottom, the fabric parting without touching her skin. When I peel the halves away, she gasps at the sudden exposure. Then, with a similar precise movement, I dispatch her bra, leaving her completely naked in my silken cradle.
I focus on her body, the canvas for my claiming. I begin at her throat, pressing my mandibles gently against the delicate skin where her pulse hammers. These same appendages that could deliver venom to paralyze prey now trace the contours of her neck with pure gentleness.
Through the silk bonds, I feel her reactions in real-time: the small tremors when I find a sensitive spot, the way her heart rate spikes when I brush against the undersides of her breasts. It creates a feedback loop between us as her pleasure travels up the silk to me, which in turn makes me produce more potent silk, carrying stronger sensations back to her.
I take my time exploring her body, using my mouth, my hands, and occasionally the gentlest touch of my sharp leg-tips to map her responses. When I finally lower my head between her thighs, she jerks against the restraints, sending a cascade of delicious vibrations through our connection.
“Please,” she whispers, the single word containing volumes of need.
“Patience,” I admonish, though my own control is hanging by a thread. “This ritual has steps.”
I use my mandibles to spread her open, exposing her most intimate flesh to my gaze. Then I extend my tongue, using its specialized sensory receptors to detect the most minute changes in chemistry and texture.
At the first touch of my tongue between her pussy, she cries out, back arching off the hammock. The silk strands connecting us flare brighter, pulsing with the rhythm of her racing heart. I taste her arousal, the unique flavor of her desire, and it triggers a flood of instincts. My own body responds, my cock emerging from its protective sheath, engorged and ready.
But I am not some rutting beast, driven solely by instinct. I am a master of silk and patience. I will make this ritual perfect for her.
I use my tongue with deliberate skill, finding the precise patterns that make her thighs tremble against my head. Through our silk connection, I feel the exact moment when pleasure begins to crest within her, a distinctive vibration pattern that my species has evolved to recognize and respond to.
Just as she approaches her peak, I withdraw, ignoring her frustrated cry.
“Mine,” I growl, the word more vibration than sound.
“Yours,” she agrees, the single word sending a shockwave of possessive pleasure through me.
Now, finally, I align my cock across her pussy, then begin to push inside her, the specialized ridges along my length stimulating her inner walls as I claim her inch by careful inch. I’m large, but my body produces a natural lubricant that eases the way. Still, I move with excruciating slowness, watching her face for any sign of discomfort.
What I see instead is wonder, her lips parted on a silent gasp as I fill her completely. When I’m fully seated within her, I pause, savoring the exquisite sensation of her heat surrounding me. Through our silk connection, I can feel her body adjusting to my size, the small ripples of pleasure already building toward another peak.
“You feel…” I struggle to find adequate words. “Perfect. Made for me.”
“Move,” she urges, hips shifting restlessly against my cock. “Please, Riven.”
I begin a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust carefully controlled. As I move, I activate a specialized muscle group within my mating appendage, creating a deep vibration. June’s eyes roll back in pleasure as the sensation begins, and she lets out a moan. The sound is sweeter than any music, and I intend to hear it again and again. I adjust my angle, using my perfect vision to observe which movements elicit the strongest responses, then repeating them with methodical precision.
I sense through my silk her pleasure building again, stronger this time. Her inner walls pulse around me, her heartbeat a frantic rhythm that travels up the strands directly to my core. My own release begins to build, a mounting pressure at the base of my spine.
“I’m close,” she gasps, straining against the silk.
“Wait,” I command, though it costs me dearly. “Together. This part must be together.”
I increase my pace, driving my hard cock into her with more force, now that I know she can take it. The vibration intensifies, and I bend down to capture one nipple between my mandibles, applying the gentlest pressure. The combination of sensations pushes her to the edge, her body tensing beneath me.
