Chapter 3 #2
For a moment, I feel incredibly vulnerable.
Maybe Zane was right. Maybe I should have asked for an extension or an exemption.
But god, there’s no turning back now, even if I wanted to. I’m in this until I’m either committed to marriage or my dick no longer functions.
Until my body is sucked dry of cum and the Vyastil are satisfied. I shiver and feel a slight thickening between my legs at the thought of what’s coming next.
Will I cry out in pleasure like the other men did in those closed rooms?
Or will I hate every moment of it?
A gentle alarm sounds, and suddenly, metal cuffs appear on the arms and legs of the chair. I position my wrists and ankles inside, and they clasp lightly but firmly until I’m unable to move.
I breathe deeply, trying to calm my nerves, but that only lasts a second before the door handle turns and a Vyastil appears.
He’s taller than most, forcing my neck to crane back so I can take him in. He’s not what I expected. He’s different from the ones at the gym or who work at the coffee shop.
I don’t think he’s as old as the one who gave me my test, but he’s got an air of authority about him, especially in the way his eyes catch mine.
His dark blue hair is twisted in a low bun at the nape of his neck, and his skin is a lighter shade of teal.
It shimmers in the fluorescent lights above us as he moves, and I try not to stare, but I can’t help it.
He’s not wearing anything except a shawl that covers his shoulders, which immediately exposes the metal adorning his skin.
He has piercings in his pointy ears and one through his septum, and a heavy metal necklace around his neck with a pendant that rests in the center of his sternum.
And below all of that is a simple loincloth covering his groin, though I know there’s not much to see there. The Vyastil have what websites call “genital pockets.” Supposedly, they have cocks like we do, hidden away in natural sheaths.
They must extend them for fucking and breeding, but as far as I know, no human has ever been given the chance to see how it works. These are the males, of course, but there has never been any mention of females, and as far as I’m aware, no one has been brave enough to ask.
And I’m not sure if I want to be the first.
He grunts something in his language, which I don’t understand, then his face tilts down toward mine, his expression something close to disappointed.
That disapproving glare makes me shift in my chair. Does he not like what he sees? I mean, does it matter what I look like? It’s my dick he wants, right? My cum? It’s not about sex for them.
So, if that’s true, he can’t possibly care what I look like. Right?
He shakes his head and then sighs, moving to the sink to wash his hands.
“What is your name?” he asks, his accent thicker than most, almost harmonic.
I like how they sound when they speak. I can’t help it. It’s fucking nice. It calms my nerves just a little.
I continue to stare at him, and he grumbles something else in his language before repeating, “Your name, human.”
“Everest,” I stammer. Because, right, I’m supposed to speak if they address me directly.
“You seem nervous. Your first time?”
“Yes.”
I see his tail tighten around his thigh, almost bucking against it, but then it goes still. It settles behind him, and his ears twitch as he wipes his hands, then moves to stand in front of me.
His gaze darts down to my lap, and he lets out a little disappointed sigh again.
I glance down at my half-hard dick and back up at him. “Is there a problem?”
His jaw tightens, and then he sinks to his knees, seemingly unbothered by the cold floor beneath him.
He murmurs something under his breath, and then his hands settle on my knees. He spreads them, my cock perking up at the velvety feel of his palms against my skin.
I know I compared them to reptiles with the way they shed, but he doesn’t feel like a lizard or a snake. His palms are smooth and soft, like new velour from a heavy winter coat.
And his skin is so much warmer than mine.
“Your cock is small,” he eventually murmurs.
I startle. I wasn’t expecting him to answer my earlier question, and I certainly wasn’t expecting him to say that.
“Is that why you were muttering under your breath? For fuck’s sake. It’s not small.” I huff as he stares down at it. “It’s a normal size for a human, just so you know.”
“I requested a big dick.”
“Dicks give the same amount of cum no matter what size they are.” I’m trying not to sound defensive, but goddamn. I wasn’t expecting to have my ego trashed in this process.
His ears flit, and he spreads my legs a little further apart. “Your balls are small, too. Like little…what do you humans call them? Walnuts?”
“They’re not walnuts. More like apricots.” How fucking dare he. My chest puffs up a little, and I wonder how much trouble I’m going to be in if I try to defend my honor.
He reaches out with a sneer and tugs at them, making me grunt. “They’re small like…pecans.”
“I’m not talking about nuts anymore,” I mutter. “How much cum do you need, anyway? Because I’m pretty sure I produce an average amount.”
He cocks his head, looking unamused by the way I’m talking back. “I’ll have to find another human sooner rather than later if I go unsatisfied.”
“Oh, you know what? Fuck you,” I murmur, feeling my entire body heat. When I came here, I figured I’d get a blow job and leave slightly turned on, not get insulted about my dick and ball size—which is average, by the way.
It’s how you use them that matters, and I use them extremely well, thank you very fucking much.
“If you don’t like what you see,” I tell him, “you can find someone else. I’m only volunteering to do my duty as a citizen.”
“I don’t have time to request a bigger dick. I have meetings I need to attend.” He shuffles as close as he can get to me, and my breath catches in my chest as he stares down at my now-limp cock.
“When will you get hard?”
“I was hard until you started insulting me.”
The Vyastil tilts his head, and his lips purse. “Perhaps I should compliment it. You humans are very ego-driven.”
My eyes narrow. “I have a normal, healthy ego. I just don’t like being told I have a small dick.”
“Fine,” he replies and then reaches out and cups it, cooing soft platitudes to my dick. Like it’s some kind of sentient being.
It’s fucking weird.
But as he touches and strokes it, his palm soft against me, I start to grow hard again.
And then harder, my cock pulsing with the rapid blood flow south.
A moment later, I’m so hard it aches.
Damn, maybe my dick does like compliments after all. Maybe these monsters are onto something.
A bead of precum sits on the tip, and the Vyastil’s gaze lands on it. Assessing, wondering. And then he closes his eyes and swipes it up with the pointed tip of his very long tongue.
The sensation makes my entire body shudder, my hands clasping the arms of the chair tightly so I don’t hurt myself trying to reach for him.
And then, suddenly, there’s nothing. No more licking, no sucking.
I peer down at him and see that his entire body is frozen.
My heart hammers in my chest with fear and anxiety. What if he doesn’t like what he tasted? What if my dick is small and my cum is terrible?
What if I’m the worst he’s ever had, and now even the government won’t want me?
But then his eyes flash to mine, and I see his pupils are consuming most of his rainbow irises, making his entire eye look black.
“What?” I ask, unable to keep my mouth shut. “What is it?”
He blinks, and when he speaks, he sounds shaken. “You taste good.”
I let out a relieved breath. My cum doesn’t suck, and my dick isn’t too small. “Of course I do. I told you I’m normal.”
“You said nothing about the way you taste, which is very much not normal. Why do humans always lie?”
That makes me bristle. “I didn’t lie. I’m not a liar. I told you, I’m normal—”
“Nothing about you,” he says very slowly, almost dangerously, “is normal.”
Before I can ask what the fuck he’s talking about, he huffs and his long tongue extends again, lengthening so far I can see two piercings adorning the center.
Before I can ask what the piercings are for, his tongue curls around my cock, and all the words leave my brain.
The feeling is wet and warm, a nice sleeve for my dick, and for a moment, my eyes close against my will.
And then his mouth engulfs me, and I let out a very unmanly groan, which sounds a bit more like a squeak than a moan.
But he says nothing. He sucks harder, almost as if he’s on a mission.
A cum mission.
My eyes roll into the back of my head as my fingers tighten on the arms of the chair. He’s sucking like his life depends on it. His tongue vibrates, making my eyes cross and my balls draw up.
The piercings don’t help. They’re icy cold, creating a sensation I don’t think any human could ever replicate.
This is, by far, the best blow job I’ve ever had. No wonder those men are lined up outside, waiting for their turn again.
This is amazing.
My groans deepen, my fingers digging into the metal of the chair. I can feel my orgasm start to crest, and I can’t hold on. I knew thirty minutes would be too long.
Apparently, I only need thirty seconds.
Pleasure barrels through me, my cum exploding into his mouth.
I can’t help the sounds I make, or the thrashing my body does against the chair restraints.
My wrists and ankles ache, but the pain is overpowered by the feeling of my cock releasing endlessly into the monster’s mouth—spilling over his vibrating tongue.
But through it all, it’s the harmonic growl coming from his throat that makes me shudder. It’s low and needy, as if he’s never had anything so delicious.
As if he’s surprised by how good this all is.
He sucks once more, almost making me cry out in pain. I don’t think my dick is ready to go again. I’ve never had a quick refractory period, and I don’t think this amazing sensation is going to change that.