So you did. #8
The praise hits me like a drug—warm and sweet, flooding through my chest and making my cunt spasm around his cock.
I feel another gush of his seed pulse into me, feel my walls flutter and grip him like they’re trying to milk out more.
My body is responding to his approval like it’s been programmed, clenching and softening and wanting in ways I can’t control.
I hate how good it feels.
I hate that my body is doing this, clenching and fluttering and desperate for more when my mind is still screaming that this is wrong.
But the pleasure is relentless—waves of it rolling through me every time his knot shifts, every time another spurt of cum fills me, every time his fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin.
“How long?” My voice comes out wrecked. Destroyed. Barely recognizable as my own.
“The knot?” His hand slides down my belly to rest just above where we’re joined, and I shudder at the possessive weight of it. “Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. Stone Court males knot longer than most.”
Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes locked together, impaled on his cock, his seed flooding me until I overflow.
My pussy clenches at the thought. Traitor body. Traitor cunt that’s already anticipating more, already greedy for everything he’ll give me.
The bond is the strangest part.
I feel him now. Not just his body pressed against mine, not just his cock stretching me open—but him.
His satisfaction bleeds into my awareness, dark and possessive and utterly content.
His hunger, banked but not gone, a patient fire waiting to flare again.
His certainty—ancient, absolute, the knowledge that I’m exactly where I belong.
I hate that I can feel how much he wants me. Hate that my body softens under the weight of his desire, hate that some deep part of me preens at being wanted this badly by something this powerful. Eight years I spent being needed but never wanted. Eight years of being useful but never desired.
And now this ancient creature is wrapped around me like I’m the most precious thing in his world, his satisfaction humming through the bond, his seed flooding my body like he’s trying to mark me from the inside out.
It’s wrong. It’s violation. It’s everything I was trying to avoid.
It feels like coming home.
“You feel it,” he says. Not a question—he already knows. He can probably feel my confused tangle of emotions bleeding through the bond from my side.
“What did you do to me?”
“I claimed you.” His hand slides up to cup my breast, and my nipple is so sensitive that even that gentle touch makes me gasp.
“The bond forms during the first knotting. You’ll always be able to feel me now.
My emotions. My desire.” He rolls my nipple between his fingers, and lightning shoots straight to my clit. “My pleasure when I’m inside you.”
I cry out, my hips jerking against him, and the movement makes his knot tug at my entrance in a way that’s almost painful and entirely too good. Through the bond, I feel his surge of satisfaction at my response—feel how much he likes watching me squirm on his cock, helpless and overwhelmed.
“I don’t want—”
“You do.” He pinches my nipple, and I feel my pussy flood with fresh wetness around his cock.
Through the bond, I feel his dark amusement.
“Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind hasn’t caught up.
And I can feel everything now, Hannah. Every flutter of your cunt.
Every spike of pleasure you try to hide.
” His other hand slides down my belly, over the swell where his seed fills me, and finds my clit.
“Every time you clench around me and wish you weren’t enjoying it so much. ”
I nearly come off the bed.
“Fuck—” The word tears out of me as his fingers circle the swollen bundle of nerves. I’m so sensitive from everything he’s already done to me, and the pleasure is immediate and overwhelming. “Please, I can’t—”
“You can.” He rubs harder, and my thighs fall open without my permission, giving him better access. “You’re going to come on my knot, Hannah. Going to feel that pretty pussy squeeze me while I’m still filling you with cum.”
I shake my head, but my hips are already rocking against his hand, chasing the pleasure I don’t want to want.
His fingers work my clit in tight circles while his other hand torments my nipple, and I feel the orgasm building at the base of my spine—feel it coiling tighter and tighter while his cock pulses inside me and his knot stretches me open.
Through the bond, I feel his anticipation. Feel him waiting for me to shatter, eager to experience my pleasure alongside his own.
“That’s it,” he murmurs as my breathing goes ragged. “Good girl. Let me make you feel good.”
The praise breaks me.
I come with a scream, my pussy clamping down on his knot so hard I see white.
The orgasm tears through me in waves—my walls rippling around his cock, my clit throbbing against his fingers, every ridge of his shaft pressing into my spasming flesh.
It goes on and on, pleasure crashing through me while he keeps rubbing my clit, keeps murmuring praise against my ear, keeps pumping me full of seed that has nowhere to go.
And through the bond, I feel his pleasure layered over mine—feel his satisfaction at my surrender, feel his cock twitch inside me as my orgasm milks him. It amplifies everything, his pleasure feeding mine feeding his, until I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
By the time it fades, I’m sobbing.
“Good girl,” he says again, and my spent cunt clenches weakly at the words. Through the bond, I feel how much he means it—feel the genuine approval, the possessive pride. “Such a good omega. Coming so hard for your Alpha.”
I hate myself for how much I needed that.
I hate myself more for how much I want to hear it again.
Time loses meaning.
The knot releases eventually—I feel it shrink inside me, feel the sudden gush of his seed spilling out of my stretched hole. So much of it. Hot and thick, flooding out of me and soaking the furs beneath us. My pussy clenches around the sudden emptiness, and the loss is so acute it makes me whimper.
I should be relieved. Should use this moment to gather myself, to remember who I am, to rebuild some fragment of the resistance that’s been crumbling since he first touched me.
Instead, I hear myself whisper: “Please. Please, I need—”
“Need what?” His voice is dark with satisfaction. He knows. He can feel it through the bond—the hollow ache inside me, the desperate craving to be filled again. He’s going to make me say it anyway.
“I need you inside me again.” The words spill out without thought, without shame. “Please, Alpha. I need your cock. I feel so empty—”
“Good girl.”
He flips me onto my stomach before I can prepare, and my oversensitive nipples drag against the furs.
I moan at the friction, my hips lifting instinctively, presenting myself to him like the omega I’m becoming.
I don’t even think about it anymore—my body just knows what position he wants, and it offers itself up without consulting my brain.
Then he slams back into me, and I scream.
The stretch is different from this angle—deeper, more intense.
His cock is so thick it feels like he’s splitting me in half, those mineral ridges catching on my swollen walls with every inch.
He hits the end of me with the first thrust, his heavy balls slapping against my clit, every impossible inch of him buried inside my too-small body.
And underneath the overwhelming sensation, underneath the pleasure that borders on pain—there’s relief.
I don’t have to fight this. Don’t have to resist. I can just take it, let him use me, let the pleasure wash away everything I was holding onto. My body knows what to do even when my mind is screaming. My body just… surrenders.
It feels so good to stop fighting.
“This is what you needed,” he growls, setting a brutal pace. Each thrust drives me forward into the furs, his massive frame blanketing mine, making me feel tiny and helpless and safe. “Needed to be full of my cock. Needed to be bred like a good little omega.”
I can’t respond. Can’t do anything except take what he gives me—each thrust driving the air from my lungs, each impact sending sparks of pleasure radiating from my core.
My hands fist in the bedding. My toes curl.
My pussy clenches around him with every stroke, greedy and desperate and so far beyond shame I can’t even remember what it felt like.
“Touch yourself,” he commands. “Rub that pretty clit while I fuck you.”
My hand moves before I consciously decide to obey. I find my clit—swollen, slippery with his seed and my arousal—and the first touch makes me clench so hard around him that he groans. Through the bond, I feel his spike of pleasure, feel how good my pussy feels wrapped around his cock.
“That’s it.” His fingers dig into my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me in place while he pounds into me. “Make yourself come on my cock. Show me how much you love being fucked.”
I rub my clit in frantic circles while he takes me from behind.
The pleasure builds impossibly fast—I’m still sensitive from the last orgasm, still stretched and aching and flooded with his cum.
His cock is so thick I feel every thrust in my throat, feel those ridges dragging against my swollen walls like they’re designed to drive me insane.
“Please,” I gasp into the furs. “Please, can I—”
“Ask properly.”
“Please, Alpha.” The words come out desperate, broken, and I don’t even care anymore. “Please let me come. Please, I need it, I’ll do anything—”
“Come.”