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I was exhausted.
Breathless—from the way I draped over his torso and growing far, far too full—my tongue unhinged for the first time in days. “Enough.”
Abandoning my belly, his hand slid higher to fix his grip to my throat, urging me to arch as he undulated his fingers over my windpipe. Without thought, my body moved as if it knew to obey, angling my pelvis at a great angle, so he might rock his knot even deeper and give me more.
His other hand came to my breast, finger and thumb pulling at my nipple, milking me.
Lips at my ear, he whispered, “I know what you need.”
It was that simple. I was to receive; he was to give.
Accepting another flood of cum to stretch my belly, I was on the verge of another climax with little more than another squeeze to my throat.
When sparks of pleasure subsided, all tingly from his touch, I purred, “I’m yours.”
He froze.
So still he did not even draw breath.
Only his knot within me pulsating.
Despite estrous, I realized the weight of my words and his obvious reaction to them.
My full, unpredicted submission, my acquiescence in a way I had never offered it openly.
“Tell me you love me.” It was not a kind request; it was an absolute demand by a male flexing his fingers over my windpipe.
My tender heart wasn’t ready to admit he may have possessed more than his share. Nor was I in my right mind.
Absolutely vulnerable, draped over him, my back to his chest, his hands free to roam as they willed. I could not even see his eyes.
But I knew they were narrowed and unblinking. Watching me as he considered how to force my compliance to his will.
Rocking his hips and threatening me with the hugeness of his knot, he snarled, “Female, you will tell me you love me.”
High on him, caught in estrous, but certain I’d be less if I admitted my fondness had foolishly expanded into something terrifying, I held my tongue as he held my throat.
Estrous was not the time to show him how weak he made me.
How far I’d fallen from ignorant ideals.
How quickly the inevitable had swallowed me whole.
What I needed in that moment was to deny him what he should not have demanded. I needed mercy.
But the low snarl of my agitated beast warned me I would pay for my refusal to admit he had charmed me… that I had just given myself to him.
That he would have my declaration one way or another.
As if to seal my words, his body sealed his fluids. Lumps of the waxy substance he produced to form the plug moved down this cock to stopper the passage where he pleasured me full of his gift. The tip of his dick went to work, forming that waxy stuff glob by glob so not a drop would be wasted.
When it was done, I felt him slither out of my body, my swollen slit empty, its little opening sucking at nothing as if it might hold him in.
He gave my cunt nothing but cool air, sultry as he undulated his frame under my body. “End this battle of wills. Admit that you love me. Do this, and I will give you pleasure you cannot imagine.”
He would give me pleasure regardless, my smirk dark when he turned me in his arms.
With the grace of a dangerous warrior, he moved us both until the softness of my beautiful nest came to my back. Kneeling over me, commanding and huge, his cock, slippery with our shared fluids, stroked my belly.
