Break you
Taur
My little human lay strung across my shoulder.
She’d quieted down after her failed attempt, but the frantic, quick drum of her heart against my back told me she hadn’t fallen asleep.
My mind raced to the act of sinking her teeth into my wrist/finger.
The memory of it sent a punishing surge of heat straight to my groin.
My cock strained against my fur, begging to be buried deep in her cunt.
The longer I waited, the harder it was to stay in control.
Minotaur did not wait. We consumed.
The flesh demanded I tear, confine, and breed in the same breath.
Fuck her until she was broken and filled with my seed.
All thoughts of running vanquished with exhaustion.
My hands, hardened by the weight of my crown, flexed with the overwhelming need to crush, to lay waste to the small creature I held until she was so full her cunt oozed with me.
But I would not be my father. His craving was simple bloodlust; mine is dominion.
I forced my will onto the surge of instinct, refusing to let the blood-craze steal the moment of true possession.
I needed the sound of her defeat and submission, the screaming void in my gut filled only by ownership. Her defiance magnified my need.
Her ragged breathing betrayed her panic, and the thick scent of her fear mixed with anger spurred me forward.
All I’ve wanted and never thought I’d have sat on my shoulder.
I was lost the moment her raw, female scent hit my lungs.
The unspoken truth repeated: I would have killed every bull in my herd for her.
I carried her toward my pen. The walk back felt like walking through a mile of fire.
Each step was a conscious, agonizing choice not to drop her and let primal instinct take over.
My discipline was the only thing standing between spreading her on my cock.
But mating her was sacred. To me. This first time would be mine, and mine alone.
I walked through the doors to my private chambers—raw, cold stone rooms built deep into the earth—the air was thin and cold. Soon, her scent would fill the space.
Her terror hit me as I stopped. She must have peeked.
My eyes on the chute, a cold, elevated rack, in the heart of the room.
Built of iron and heavy leather to restrain a struggling body against the force of my hips.
I had little hope of finding her tonight.
I’d planned to fuck tonight, and the Herders set this up for my K’onn, but they’d pleased me. They brought her to me.
My hands would have access to every inch of her, while she would be rendered useless. She wouldn’t be able to fight me, but I hoped to hear that mouth of hers.
“Don’t you fucking d—omph!” she grunted as I dropped her onto the metal surface.
She gasped, the sound sharp. She immediately began to scramble, but it was pointless.
I moved without hurry, my movements calculated.
I clamped the leather hoops over her ankles and wrists, securing her small, flailing limbs.
She was alive, breathing, and feisty, but soon, she’d be broken, marked, and moaning. A dead prize was a hollow victory; a living subject that submitted against its will was a statement. A testament to my power, to my will winning over hers.
The material hiding her from me lifted and offered her skin. I moved her legs, my shadow swallowing her completely, but my eyes saw all. Underneath her fear, the pheromones of accelerating arousal were already beginning to leak from her skin, mingling with the musk of my territory.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
Her body was affected by my closeness. Need multiplied by our soul tie. It knew her fate before she did.
I slid my clawed hands up her thighs, enjoying the softness of her skin before puncturing flesh as I gripped her. She struggled, straining and thrashing against the restraints as I spread her. The wet sheen betrayed her.
“Please,” she whimpered as she stared up at me with big, brown eyes. They dropped to where my cock had slid out of its pocket. Her jaw agape as her brows furrowed, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and shock. She shook her head, disoriented.
“I think the fuck not!” she scoffed.
I followed her gaze. Along my length, thick ossified girdles, the ridges led up to the blunt crown, permanently stained a deep, dark crimson.
The tip itself was thick and rounded, like a heavily calloused thumb, built for blunt force and clearing a path.
The ridges are a testament to my power, a living framework of possession.
She didn’t know the half of it. Once it locked, she wouldn’t be able to escape; she’d be mine in every sense of the word.
“You’ll soon realize there is no one but me, there is nothing you can do to escape my claim.”
“No, no, no—”
“Not one taste and I’m enchanted, Mát. I’ll have you until I’m satisfied.”
I pulled her back, her thighs on both sides of my hips.
Bending my knees, I brought my tip to her entrance, and in one, single, blunt force, I speared into her.
Hitting resistance, my tip buzzed, balls drew tight.
Her warmth, tight cunt screamed ‘home’. Inch by inch, up to half my member was squeezed by her walls.
The chains clinked as she bucked with the force, and I released a thigh to press down where a bulge now formed from me inside her.
She groaned from the intensity, her brows kissed, and her mouth agape.
And with one final, hard, deep slam that stole the air from her lungs, I filled her completely.
The chute was designed for a quick, face-down coupling—efficiency over pleasure—but I needed to see her eyes. I needed her to watch who took her.
Again, a brutal piston stroke, forcing a guttural cry from her throat as she slammed forward against leather.
Each one an admission of defeat. Her breasts bounced, eyes fixed on me as I reveled in the feel of her.
A third time—possessive, final, driving her hips up to meet mine, the blunt crown pounding through her cervix, forcing its way in.
“Fuck!” she screamed as the scent of her blood coated my cock. Her thighs tightened around my waist as delicate fingers clawed into the fur on my forearms.
And then it happened. I stilled. My vision went red as bloodlust seeped into every fiber of my being.
The need to bite—to tear through flesh, taste her blood running down my mane, to consume not only her cunt but her—threatened to ruin everything.
I inhaled her scent as my claws dug deeper into soft hips.
I was not my father.
This was Mát.
I would not eat her.
She was mine. I inhaled harshly; steam enveloped us. The consuming need drained from my roaring, hyper-focused body.
Her chest rose and fell as she still struggled to adjust to my girth.
Greed stopped me from preparing her, getting her ready.
That would come. She flinched. Her body, though secured at the wrists and ankles, began to move beneath me, no longer struggling against the chute, but reacting through need.
A deep, guttural growl tore from my chest as Mát lifted her hips, widened her legs, and fucked herself with my cock.
She was too tight, too small, but she opened for me.
Her back arched impossibly high against the cold metal, a small, involuntary shriek catching as I helped her by burying myself to the hilt.
The feel of her was divine as she squeezed every inch.
My gaze locked onto her face as her eyes rolled back into her head, saliva dripping, and cheeks flushed.
I kept her pinned to the apparatus. I didn’t move, simply holding myself inside her, riding the pulsing pressure, letting the sheer overwhelming reality of my presence sink into her luscious frame.
I felt the need coursing through me to fuck her into oblivion, and instead, started a slow, grinding withdrawal.
The friction was agonizingly intense, a roar of heat in my groin that screamed to do the opposite.
I pushed back into her, watching as her lashes fluttered as she, too, fought against the sensations, the bond, the tie.
Soon, she’d know there was no fighting this. I withdrew again, her tight pussy suctioning me, unwilling to let me go. I watched as her lips held on until I pulled out completely, a delicious sound meeting my ears. I stared at her open lips, begging for my cock.
Then, I pounded into her. A brutal, heavy pounding, deep and ceaseless. Her eyes drifted shut as the pain morphed into a sensation her nerves couldn’t process. I was breaking down her resolve one thrust at a time.
For years, I told myself I didn’t need my Mát’s love. Finding her was enough, but now, holding her captive beneath me, I knew that mere possession would never be enough. Her complete devotion was already a desperate craving.
Her thighs shook, and I grabbed her face, my claws stopping at her temple. Her eyes flew open.
“Watch as I break you.”
Her chest shuddered, breath rattled as her cunt squeezed me in a vice-like grip.
A growl shook my chambers as I realized she’d given me the first of many orgasms to come.
The control I fought to maintain threatened to shatter into a million pieces.
I chomped down on my lip, needing the taste of blood as I pressed my hips down, hard, and speared into her over and over again.
She came again, squeezing me so fucking hard the constellations danced across my vision.
I growled as I fucked her, holding fast to the reins of my control as a shiver ran up my back.
My shaft split, thickening as I forced her wider, clawing against her walls as she screamed.
I felt my Mát seize beneath me, the helpless creature caught in the iron grip of my overwhelming need.
I felt her body arch violently beneath me, a deep, shuddering tremor that wasn’t climax but the shock of the claim.
Her eyes snapped back open, wide and staring, not at me, but at the raw ceiling, as the magic took hold.
The sensation of her squeezing down hard on me was more than a climax. It was completion, a biological command obeyed.
It came in a torrent, delivered symmetrically from both ossified horns, filling her completely. With a deep growl, the split shaft hardened. Her eyes widened the size of the full moon as the two brutal, thick lobes spread outward, reaching, occupying, claiming—a living lock.
“Oh,” she cried, her face etched with blinding rapture.
With a deep, commanding thrust, I buried the horned shaft into her softness.
Her guttural moan had me seeing red, but this time with lust, piston-driving relentlessly until the pleasure became agony and my own body gave way.
I drove into her repeatedly, the knots grating against her walls, until my balls squeezed tight.
Then, the climax erupted from me. The torrent of seed shot simultaneously from both knots, filling her core.
“Mine,” I roared.
As the fluid saturated her core, the irreversible magical claim triggered. A searing, lasting heat exploded deep within her, radiating outwards—a permanent fever that would forever associate her body with my essence.
It was done. The initial breeding ritual was complete, but the night was far from over.