Chapter 24 #2
I lifted up before sinking down and taking a little more. This was not like riding a toy. They were still and smooth. Farrow’s cock throbbed and twitched, and he moved his hips, lifting to meet me.
I gasped as too much thrust in, and I couldn’t breathe because it felt like he was fucking my lungs.
His claws caressed my ass cheeks, separating them as if that might help. “I love the way you look when you’re concentrating.”
I smiled. “There’s a lot for me to concentrate on.”
“You’ve got plenty more to think about.” He lifted me up, almost off, as if I weighed nothing, before letting my own weight drag me down his length.
Every movement sent sparks through my nerve endings. I was stretched and filled, but it wasn’t painful now. It was the kind I liked—that made me want to take everything and not worry about the consequences.
I moved a little quicker, not thinking about more, only about enjoying the way he filled me. I tilted my hips, so every thrust swept over my prostate. I moaned as the edge of a climax rippled through me.
Farrow lifted me off his cock in one movement. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck, and he pulled my face to his. “You don’t come until I do.”
I blinked. “Okay.”
“And I’m not coming until it is all buried inside your tight ass.”
I moaned again because talking to me like that was not going to help with the not coming part. “I’m not sure every inch will fit.”
He laughed. “I have been doing research on my competitors.”
“Oh.”
“I should have gotten you bigger toys.”
“Do you think I’m your toy to stuff?” I tried to sound indignant, but even to my ears it was more hopeful than anything.
He stared into my eyes, the ever-changing greens and blues of his own mesmerizing. “You want to be my toy.”
I nodded.
“You want me to tell you what to do while I film you, sweaty and moaning.”
My breath hitched, and I nodded again.
“Then I will fill you however I want.” He kissed me, his tongue sliding into my mouth like it was fucking me.
My orgasm crept closer again, but his tail wrapped around my balls and tugged. Fuck.
He turned me around, so I faced his feet.
“Now I can see your hole better.”
I glanced over my shoulder and moved into position. “I want to see…please can you…”
He picked his phone up from next to the pillow. “You want me to record you?”
“Yes.”
He held the phone with one hand and his dick with the other, slapping it against my ass. “Your hole is gaping, you want it.”
“Yes.”
This time, when he fitted the head of his cock to my hole, there was no resistance, or at least there was less, as his cock stretched me in every direction. “Add some more lube.”
I watched as his hand slicked the thicker, lower half of his dick.
I was half tempted to drop right down, but that was not the smart thing to do.
I needed to go slow, rising up before sliding a little farther down.
My thighs shook like it was leg day, and even though the need to come was rough in my blood, Farrow’s tail had a firm grip on the situation.
“So close,” Farrow murmured. “The pink of your hole shows every time you lift up, like you don’t want to pull off.”
I leaned forward, my hand on the bed, rocking back with tiny thrusts, trying to take the last two inches. My stomach was full, and I didn’t know if I was imagining it or if I could see his cock bumping around.
“Stay like that,” Farrow said. He pulled free and lifted me up, swinging his legs from beneath me. Then he was behind me. He turned my head to the side and pressed it to the mattress. “So I can see your concentration face as I fuck you.”
He kept his hand on the back of my neck and thrust in, sinking deep enough that we both groaned. I arched my back, wanting to make room for his cock. My hole throbbed with each thrust, stretched and sore, and pre-cum dripped from my dick as each thrust pressed against my prostate.
This was how I died, prevented from coming as an oversized monster used me as his fuck toy. There were worse ways than being a monster’s cum hole.
His hips hit my ass, and his hand caressed my hip. “So pretty.”
He slowly eased back, dragging every thick inch out of me. My hole gaped, begging to be filled.
“Please.” I lifted my hips, as if not being fucked would kill me, when the opposite was far more likely.
“Please?” His voice rumbled through me.
“Please fuck me. Fill me with your cum.” My cheeks burned, but I needed to feel it dripping out of me.
Farrow kept one hand on my neck and the other on my hip as he fucked me in long, hard thrusts, making use of every inch of his cock. My eyes rolled closed as I fell off the edge. My climax tore through me as I came on the bed sheets like it had been weeks, not a day.
My ass clenched around Farrow. He grunted and stilled, his cock pulsing inside me. He pulled out, and I collapsed onto the bed, pretty sure that I’d never be able to move again.
“Do you have anything to clean up with?”
I almost told him to go to the bathroom before remembering how dangerous cats and dogs were to monsters. I flapped my hand toward the floor where I’d tossed my clothes. “Just use my sweatshirt.”
He wiped his dick and pulled on his pants.
“Do you want me to wipe you?” He tilted his head. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m just recovering from being fucked into next week… I’ll have a shower in a bit. When I can walk again.”
Farrow ran his fingers through my hair. “I didn’t mean to…to exhaust you. It was meant to be fun.”
“It was. But I need some recovery time.” And I didn’t trust my legs to take me to the bathroom.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’ll be fine. Go and scare some children and keep your world safe.”
He leaned in and kissed my cheek as if he cared, which made my heart do a stupid thing, as if I cared about him and this wasn’t just a sex and money thing to him. “Can I give you a tracker so it’s easier for me to find you?”
“Sure.” Unless it was on a collar with a ‘please call Farrow if found’ tag.
He held up a metal token about half an inch across. “Put it somewhere safe.”
He seemed very serious all of a sudden. I pushed myself up onto my elbows. “What’s wrong? Are you in trouble? Am…I in trouble?”
He shook his head and pulled on his shirt. “I won’t let anything happen to you, but you need to trust me.”
There was something in his tone that made me wary. “Um, what? What’s going on?”
“I’ll see you soon.” He stepped into the wardrobe and disappeared without answering.
I lay there for several heartbeats, then wiggled over to the edge and peered into the shadows beneath the bed. No glimmer of gold, and I wasn’t brave enough to wish for something to test it. Not now that he’d told me to trust him and given me a tracker.
Should I flush it or keep it?
What was safer, or was there no such thing as safe for people like me?