Chapter 35 Jean
The jade phallus.
That’s the first thought that goes streaking through my mind when I see the hard thing jutting from between Venim’s legs.
But that’s not exactly right, is it? Just as his face doesn’t quite match the portrait that hung on the wall of my erstwhile bedchamber, neither does his stiff cock match the sculpted jade portrait that rested in the case beneath it.
For one thing, it is bigger. For another, it’s alive.
The long, thick shaft jumps with his pulse, keeping time like some sort of obscene metronome, and when he reaches down and starts to pump it with his fist, a thin string of bluish serum oozes from the tip.
His voice when he speaks is utterly devoid of any warmth, as cold and hard as a slab of polar ice.
“Spread your legs, human.”
My eyes lift to his face. His expression is unreadable, blank. Only his eyes betray any form of emotion inside him. The same blue intensity I saw drilling into me down in the depths of that mine.
“Spread. Your. Legs.”
It’s not me who opens for him. It’s his voice that does it, reaching out for me like a pair of invisible hands, forcing my knees apart with a violence that makes me cry out in shock.
His blue eyes seem to almost glow in the fragile daylight.
He can see everything now. How wet I am. How open. Everything.
I pray it will be over quickly. That it won’t hurt too badly. That it won’t feel good.
But he makes no attempt to approach me.
Instead, he removes his hand from his cock just long enough to spit into the palm. Then he goes back to jacking himself, running his curled fingers up and down his shaft with an even greater fury. The silence is filled up with slick sounds and heavy breathing.
“Play with it,” he says, his voice taut, hungry. “Let me see you play with it.”
Later, I’ll look back and tell myself I resisted, tell myself I disobeyed, tell myself my fingers weren’t already heading south before Venim had finished issuing his command.
But it won’t be true.
I’ve been wanting to touch myself since the moment his pants came off. I’ve just been waiting for an excuse, for permission. He isn’t exactly what the Znthians spent all those weeks conditioning me for, but he’s a little too close for comfort.
I bite my lip and whimper as my fingers go to work, stroking my erect clitoris, rubbing it hard, smearing it with the slippery wetness that is leaking out of me in such embarrassing quantities.
I keep my legs wide so Venim can watch. He obviously likes what he sees.
“Blessed Monad,” he groans.
His legs grow shaky beneath him as he starts to jack himself faster and harder, powerful legs rendered weak with desire. The thought that I’m the cause of that weakness sends a thrill rushing through my body, fierce and scary. I would be lying if I said it didn’t feel good.
He falls to his knees with a thud and starts thrusting his hips, fucking his fist like an animal fucking its mate.
Even though we are several feet apart, I swear I can feel that big, hard cock thrusting up into me, every bit as real as if he were between my legs, spreading me open, pushing deep, stretching me to my limit and beyond, big and hurting and perfect.
And when he starts to come, I feel that too.
It shoots out of him in long, arcing ropes that splatter on the ground between my open thighs. The first spurt lands mere inches from my pussy. Its color is a pale pearlescence tinged with blue. The smell of it is warm and dirty and sweet.
My own climax arrives a second later, hard and sudden, like a punch.
I clap my free hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming.
I bite down on my palm. It tastes of sweat and ashes.
Venim’s eyes shift from my pussy to my face, drinking in my reaction as he rings himself out onto the ground between us.
It takes him a long, long time to finish.
Only, he’s not finished.
His eyes make that clear.
So does his hand. Even after the last dregs of semen have dribbled from his tip, his fist continues to stroke, and his rigid shaft shows no sign of softening. None at all.
He moves forward, walking toward me on his knees, stroking himself as he advances.
My instinct is to retreat, but the hard stone wall blocks me, and before I have a chance to slide to the left or the right, the alien is between my knees, and the tip of his sex is only a few short inches from me, his slit aimed directly at my dripping center.
“Wait!” I gasp, pressing my hands against his chest as if my feeble strength could ever stop him. I can feel the brand under my left palm. The symbol seared into his flesh like a scar. “Venim, what are you—”
“Quiet!” he snarls.
He makes no attempt to enter me, but it would be so easy for him to do so if he wished. One hard thrust is all it would take, and he would be inside me, hard and hot and unprotected.
Oh my God… Oh my God…
His free hand dips between his legs to fondle the massive sac dangling from the base of his shaft. There appear to be three balls inside, not two, and right now Venim is massaging the one in the middle. He begins grunting as if in pain.
“Hngh! Hngh! Hnnngh!”
The stuff that comes gushing out all over me is not the same pale color as what came before.
It is a deep and shimmering blue that matches his eyes and the symbol carved into his chest. I scream and try to squirm away, but Venim catches me by the throat and holds me in place against the wall.
I try to close my legs, but I can’t. His hips are blocking me.
All I can do is sit there and take it as his sticky fluid spills onto my skin, staining me blue.
His face is pressed against the front of my face mask, his forehead flattened against the glass.
His eyes are closed. His brow is knitted.
“Fear not,” he rasps, his voice husky, rough. “It is not seed.”
“Then what is it?” I breathe. “What is it?”