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“Even now I can smell you,” he says. “Your gush is such a sweet, salty scent.”
I gulp. He’s so indecent.
And then he gives me the answer that damns me to hell.
“And it is all your own. What you feel is your body’s own reaction to me.”
He says it he reaches down one of his monstrous, clawed hands between my legs. I feel only the pad of his palm.
How can such a brutal being be gentle enough not to break me?
The tears crest and fall down my cheeks. Oh God. Is he telling the truth?
“But I—” I try to deny. “Before, I never—”
“There is no before!” he barks. “There is only me.”
He bears me down to the bed I haven’t realized I’ve backed up so close to.
“But it is good to hear you have not gushed like this before. Is it because I disgust and excite you in equal measure?”
“No!” I say, shocked. He can barely bark monosyllables at me the rest of the time, but now he is so articulate?
His dark, demonic wings flare out behind him. He lands a fist on the bed beside my shoulder, looming above my body as he climbs on top of me.
“Does this monstrous cock make you gush at the mere thought of it?”
“No!” But the word’s just a gasp.
He bends me over, so I feel his cock pressing against my stomach. Huge. Immovable. Except my flesh yields to him.
Grows wet.
Gush. The obscene way he speaks—!
“Admit it,” he hisses. “It excites you. I excite you.”
“You are a brute! I pound him on the chest, even as my legs fall open for him.
“A brute you gush for. And I will fuck you in such unusual ways, you will gush more still.”
“Unusual—” I start, bewildered. Afraid.
And excited.
His cock gets stiffer, and he readjusts so that it is lodged at my opening.
“My Creator-Father was bad both at being a father and a creator. But while he was a poor constructor of bodies, at least he did not skimp on the nerve centers. I can feel everything.” He hisses the last word. “It was meant to be a curse, I think. So I could feel each excruciating lash of his bullwhip on my every feather as if it was a nerve-center.”
He thrusts in. Only an inch, but I feel it everywhere because he is so huge—so wide.
I let out a small scream. And I gush for him.
He either feels it or… oh god, or he smells it. Or both. For his smile grows. “But now I consider it a blessing. For when I fuck you here, and fill you in your every orifice, I can feel it so good.”
He thrusts forward, driving me into the mattress, and my small body receives him. Oh god. Every time I’m sure I won’t survive it.
And yet every time my body stretches and makes way. Receiving him.
Oh God, how can any of this be? How can he fit? And how can I—
“You love fucking a monster,” he growls, leaning down to my ear. And then his long, long tongue flips out of his dangerous mouth and licks up my throat. Lingering on my pulse-point.
And then he continues licking me. Grooming me like a cat might their mate.
He only pauses to hiss, “And you love being fucked by a monster.” Before he continues to lick me. “Your body will bend and sssqueal for me,” he says. “And become an obedient little consssort.”
My fury flashes despite my body’s confusing signals. “Never.”
His lion’s nostrils flare. “All I have to do”—he grins—“is press the correct …” His dark wing whips around and slips between us. Oh God, he is about to—
“… button.” The most delicate of feathers begins to strum at my clitoris.
“Oh!” I cry, as I press my face into his neck while he continues to lick, and now suckle at my throat with his long tongue.
There are simply too many sensations at once.
His monstrous cock alone penetrating me, plus his mouth, and his devilishness—it’s so much all at once. I can’t—how can I—
He’s a demon.
He’s a miracle.
I reach my arms around his waist and clench him to me. But before I can enclose him, he pulls back and spins me around so that I’m face down on the bed.
“You will be my obedient consort.”
The absence of his cock is a shock, but not for long.
“Oh!” I cry as he pushes in again. I’m stretched and he goes in… not easily, but ohhhhhhhhhh. I wail as he begins to fuck me again.
He grasps my hands and holds them behind my back.
Which makes me… oh god it makes me gush.
Why does everything he does to me make me feel so much? Is he telling the truth about not influencing me? God, what does it say about me if he’s not? If this is all… just… me?
Oh fuck, the tip of his wing is at it again. At least, one wing is. Because just when I think there can’t be any more assault on my senses, his other wing—
