Chapter 10
The tentacle slid higher.
I didn’t stop it. That was the thing I’d think about later, not what happened, but the moment I chose not to prevent it.
The thick, muscular tip traced the crease where my thigh met my hip leaving a trail of warm, viscous slick that made my skin tingle and my hole flutter before anything had even touched it.
I stood there with my back pressed to the mirror, gills fluttering against my neck, and I did not move away.
You’re shaking.
I was. Violent little tremors rippled through my thighs and up into my chest. My cock was already fully hard, traitorously, humiliatingly hard, heavy between my legs, leaking a thin continuous string of precum that drifted in lazy spirals through the water.
My body had decided what it wanted before my brain had been consulted, and the shame of that burned almost as hot as the slick tingling on my skin.
Yeah, I know.
Ishka’s eyes held mine. Unhurried, watching every twitch, every involuntary roll of my hips. He could feel it all through the link, the arousal, the fear, the bitter cocktail of wanting something I had no business wanting from the creature who owned me.
A second tentacle curled around my left hip, the ring of suckers kissing my skin with wet rhythmic thumps.
Then a third. A fourth. They moved like they already owned every inch of me.
I was breathing his air, living in his ocean, wearing gills he’d carved into my neck.
Every beat of my heart was a debt I owed him, and the sick part was that my body was offering to pay it.
Two more wrapped my wrists and yanked my arms straight up overhead, locking them in place so my shoulders pulled tight and my ribs flared open.
Two thick limbs coiled around my calves, spreading my thighs obscenely wide and folding them back toward my chest. A final one slid under the small of my back and arched me forward, lifting me completely off the mirror.
Suspended and displayed. Every part of me open and offered to him in a position that left nothing hidden and nothing mine.
Zayne had never seen me like this. No one had.
The thought arrived before I could stop it, the memory of fumbling in a narrow cot on Krackus, quick and quiet so the neighbors wouldn’t hear, Zayne’s hands always slightly too rough, always slightly too distracted, and I’d told myself that was enough because it was all I knew.
He yanked me roughly and got me out of my own head.
Sorry…
Why the hell was I sorry?
And was he jealous?
Hmmm
Was that a yes?
A thick tentacle wrapped around my cock without warning, the smooth underside sliding along my shaft while rows of suckers latched onto the head and started a slow rhythmic pull. Milking me.
The grip was perfect, too perfect, adjusting in real time to every spike of pleasure it felt through our link.
The suckers popped off and re-latched in wet pulsing drags, and the sounds they made rebounded through the telepathic connection and into my skull until I couldn’t tell the difference between hearing it and feeling it.
Oh by all the Gods…oh fuck…
My knees would have buckled if the tentacles hadn’t been holding me pinned.
Precum poured out of me in thick ropes and the suckers drank it down, never once letting up, and I hated myself for how good it felt.
I hated that the link was showing Ishka exactly how much I hated it and exactly how little that hatred was doing to stop me from wanting more.
Do not think, little one. Just feel.
The directive landed in my brain like a hand around my throat. And the tentacle between my legs shifted, sliding back, pressing between my cheeks. Already dripping with a fresh gush of hot alien slick that was thicker than before, hotter, and the instant it touched my hole, something changed.
Heat exploded from where the tentacle touched me.
Fire racing straight down my belly and between my legs.
My thighs shook.
My hole clenched hard once, then fluttered open on its own, slick and puckering like it was trying to pull something inside. Every nerve down there lit up at once.
Demanding.
I sucked in a breath and tried to lock my knees.
They buckled instead.
My whole lower body was throbbing now, hot and empty.
I stared up at him, wide-eyed, chest heaving.
What the hell is happening to me?
Breathe.
One word. Calm as the ocean floor. And the tentacle pressed in.
The stretch was slow, relentless, and the slick that was rushing in my veins like a drug turned every nerve ending upside down.
My hole spasmed around the intrusion, greedy, desperate, clenching, and totally out of my control.
I felt the ridged texture of the tentacle’s surface dragging against my inner walls, each bump sending a cascade of sparks up my spine, and I was losing the argument with myself.
The part of me that said this is wrong, he owns you, this isn’t consent, it’s captivity was getting quieter with every inch that pushed into me, and the part that said more was getting louder.
Then a second tentacle pressed against my rim alongside the first.
Wait—
It slid in without waiting. Thicker, ridged differently, stretching me open around both of them until I felt split and ruined and so impossibly full that my vision wavered.
Both tentacles started fucking me in alternating rhythm, long dragging withdrawals that tugged at my rim, then deep brutal slams that punched the air out of my lungs through my gills.
The suckers inside caught and pulled on every outstroke, milking my walls from the inside, and the wet obscene sounds of it echoed through the water and through the link simultaneously.
I couldn’t think. I’d been trying to hold onto something, anger, resistance, the snark that had kept me alive on Krackus, but it was dissolving. Being fucked out of me stroke by stroke, replaced by a white formless need that I’d never felt before and couldn’t fight.
A third, thinner tentacle curled deep inside alongside the other two and wrapped specifically around my prostate.
It started squeezing and pumping in perfect time with the thrusts, forcing wave after wave of milked pleasure through me that I had no say in.
My body wasn’t asking my opinion anymore.
It was just taking, taking the pleasure and the stretch and converting it into a need so total it erased everything else.
I screamed inside his head. Raw and wordless. My cock jerked in the milking tentacle and spurted a thick rope of precum that the suckers swallowed instantly.
Humans are greedy.
Ishka’s voice slid through my mind, filthy and absolute.
I thought my aphrodisiac would kill you. But look at how well you take it, little one.
On Krackus I’d been invisible. A number on a quota sheet, a mouth to feed that wasn’t worth the ration cost. Nobody had ever wanted me this way.
Nobody had ever looked at me, all of me, every thought and every shameful desperate impulse, and responded with more.
And the fact that it was this creature, this thing I couldn’t even name three days ago, made me feel more wanted than any human ever had—
I couldn’t finish the thought. The two thick tentacles ripped out of me in one wet obscene motion that left my hole gaping, twitching, clenching around nothing.
The sudden emptiness was devastating. A whimper escaped through the link before I could catch it, and I felt Ishka’s satisfaction through the connection, dark, possessive, pleased.
The blunt, massive head of what could only be described as his cock pressed against my wrecked entrance.
It had emerged from the slit in his lower torso, thick as my wrist at the base, covered in glowing spiraling ridges and fleshy nodules that pulsed with bioluminescence, already drooling heavy ropes of clear hot slick.
Did he mention an aphrodisiac? I wanted to fight against him putting that alien monster inside of me but my cock was begging me to shut the hell up as my body was practically humping the water.
My hole spasmed violently the instant it made contact, opening, loosening, the muscles surrendering to a chemical command my brain had no power to override.
That’s not going to…there’s no way…
It will.
He pushed in.
My mind went white. The head popped past my rim and the stretch was obscene, burning, impossible, the ridges dragging through me one by one, each glowing spiral forcing my body wider than I thought it could go.
The prostate-milking tentacle buried itself alongside him, squeezing, pumping, and turning every inch of penetration into a rolling wave of forced pleasure that kept me pinned right at the edge of too much.
I felt every ridge, every textured inch scraping my inner walls, and by the time his hips met my ass, when the heavy dense weight of him bottomed out inside me and I felt the thick base pressing against my rim, I was shaking so hard the water around us churned.
My prostate was crushed flat under the sheer girth, the milking tentacle working it from the inside, and the combined sensation was so overwhelming that my thoughts collapsed into static.
Feel how your body opens for me.
I was being fucked by a deep sea god and oh the way he approved of me hit that spot that had been starving for approval.
He felt it. Of course he felt it. The tentacle on my cock tightened and stroked harder.
He started to move. Slow dragging withdrawals that let every ridge pop past my rim one by one, then savage rolling thrusts that slammed him so deep I felt it in my stomach. The ridges dragged over my prostate on every stroke while the thin tentacle milked it in perfect sync.
Harder. The water turned into a churning storm around us. My body bounced between the tentacles, ass meeting his armored hips with each thrust, hole sloppy and dripping with slick that clouded the water in luminescent strings.
Then the base of his cock began to swell.
The knot inflated fast, thick, hot, unforgiving, stretching my rim wider and wider until it popped past the ring with a wet obscene sound I felt in my teeth.
Buried so deep my belly visibly rounded from the pressure alone.
The knot throbbed in time with his heartbeat, each pulse grinding against my prostate.
Two smaller tentacles slid in alongside the knotted cock, stretching my already-ruined rim even tighter, writhing and twisting deep inside, and the fullness was so total, so complete, that I felt it in my throat.
Every square inch of my insides was occupied by some part of him, and the link was still feeding everything I felt back to him and everything he felt back to me, and the loop was tightening into annihilation.
The orgasm detonated without warning, a violent full-body seizure that started in my prostate and radiated outward through every nerve I had.
The knot pulsed and the first thick jet of glowing blue-white cum flooded my insides.
The tentacle on my cock drank every spurt simultaneously, suckers pulling so hard it felt like they were draining me from the inside out.
My gills stopped. For one perfect, terrible second, I stopped existing as a person and became nothing but a vessel for sensation.
Then the second wave hit.
Ishka’s knot swelled tighter, locking us together.
He stopped thrusting and ground into me, tiny brutal pulses that worked the knot against my prostate while the internal tentacles writhed.
Each beat forced another heavy jet of cum into me.
I could feel my belly stretching, skin going taut over the growing load, and through the link I could feel his pleasure too, dark, vast, a satisfaction so deep it predated language.
Your mind and now this beautiful wrecked body belongs to me.
Another orgasm tore through me before the last one finished.
Dry, ruined, my cock jerking uselessly in the milking tentacle with nothing left to give.
The aphrodisiac kept my body locked in a state of forced arousal that wouldn’t let me come down, and each peak fed into Ishka through the link and came back amplified, and I was sobbing inside his head, not words, not thoughts, just raw shattered signal.
Glowing cum started to leak around the seal of the knot in slow thick bioluminescent strings that drifted through the water.
Ishka pressed one massive tentacle flat against the swollen curve of my stomach and felt every spurt, every helpless clench of my body around him, and the possessiveness that rolled back through the link was so total it bordered on reverence.
I lost count. I lost time. The link was white fire and I was burning in it, cumming again and again while my belly distended and glowed and the tentacles held me pinned and Ishka poured himself into me like I was something worth filling. Like I was something worth keeping.
The knot began to soften an eternity later.