Chapter 3 #5
He withdrew his fingers with a wet sound that made my empty core clench on nothing.
For a heartbeat I felt the cool air rush into the space they had left behind; I was open, gaping, aching in a way that bordered on desperation.
Then the broad, blunt head of his cock pressed against me.
The heat of it was shocking. Larger than his three fingers combined, the flared tip kissed my entrance and simply rested there, heavy and insistent.
Anticipation flooded every nerve. I could feel the thick pulse of his heartbeat through the sensitive skin of my folds.
My body clenched instinctively, trying to draw him in even as a flicker of fear whispered that he would never fit.
He began to push. The pressure was slow, inexorable, and absolute.
The head of him stretched me wider than anything before, forcing my entrance to bloom around the thick crown.
My breath left me in a long, shaky exhale.
The sensation of being opened so completely was almost too much; my fingers dug into the sandstone until the stone bit my palms. Inch by careful inch the broad head sank deeper until, with a sudden soft pop of resistance giving way, it seated fully inside me.
He stopped. I hung there, impaled on just the head of him, lungs working like bellows.
My walls fluttered and spasmed around the intrusion, already stretched taut, the pressure bordering on the edge of too much.
Sweat beaded along my spine. The cool wind against my overheated skin only heightened every sensation.
“Breathe,” he rasped behind me, the word strained.
I could hear the effort it cost him to remain still.
“Just breathe for me.” I tried. My chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid pulls.
The fullness was overwhelming, a constant heavy presence that made every tiny shift of my hips send sparks of pleasure-pain racing through my core.
Then he began to move again. The slow, relentless advance of his cock forced my inner walls to part around him.
I felt every ridge, every thick vein as the heavy length drove deeper.
The sensation was visceral - my body opening for him, stretching around a thickness that seemed to have no end.
A broken, continuous moan spilled from my lips.
My thighs shook. The stretch burned and throbbed and somehow, impossibly, felt like the only thing I had ever needed.
Deeper. And deeper still. When at last the blunt head of him met the deepest part of me and could go no farther, Nartab’s breath left him in a rough, shattered groan.
His hands clamped hard on my hips, holding me still as though the effort of not thrusting was physically painful.
“So small,” he panted, voice thick with strain and wonder.
“So tight. You’re gripping me like a fist, Veliria. Gods, you’re perfect.”
I could only whimper in answer, body trembling around the massive length that filled me so completely I could feel him in my throat.
Nartab held himself buried to the root for several long heartbeats, the sheer bulk of him forcing my body to accept a fullness that bordered on the impossible.
Every breath I took made my inner walls flutter and clamp around the thick shaft, and each tiny contraction drew a low, guttural sound from deep in his chest. The pressure was constant, relentless - an unyielding presence that stretched me so completely I could feel the shape of him pressing against places I had never known existed.
He began to move. The first withdrawal was agonizingly slow.
Inch by thick inch he dragged himself back, the heavy ridges of his cock scraping along my sensitized walls until only the broad head remained lodged inside me.
The emptiness that followed was almost as overwhelming as the fullness had been.
My body clenched desperately around the remaining girth, trying to keep him, and a broken whimper escaped my throat.
Then he thrust forward again. The return stroke forced a sharp cry from my lungs.
He filled me in one long, controlled surge, the massive length stretching me open all over again until the blunt head kissed the deepest part of me and the heavy base of him pressed flush against my entrance.
The impact sent a shockwave of sensation through my entire body.
My toes curled against the cold stone. My fingers scraped uselessly at the parapet.
He set a rhythm after that, deep and measured, each stroke a deliberate claiming.
The wet sounds of my body accepting him filled the quiet evening air, mixed with the low, rhythmic grunts that vibrated through his chest and into my back.
Every time he bottomed out, the sheer volume of him forced the air from my lungs in short, punched-out moans.
I could feel the stretch with every movement - the way my walls were compelled to part around a thickness that should not have fit, the way the heavy shaft dragged against every sensitive place inside me on both the inward and outward strokes.
The pleasure built in waves that grew heavier and more insistent.
My thighs shook. Sweat slicked the small of my back where his abdomen brushed against me on the deepest thrusts.
The cool mountain wind did nothing to ease the feverish heat spreading through my core.
Each time he drove home I felt myself opening a little more, my body slowly, grudgingly adapting to the extreme invasion even as the burn of the stretch remained a constant, electric undercurrent to the building ecstasy.
Nartab’s hands never left my hips. His grip was bruising, holding me steady so that every powerful surge of his body drove him as deep as anatomy would allow.
The thick fleece of his thighs brushed the backs of my legs with every stroke, a constant reminder of the monster half of him that now claimed me so completely.
His breathing had grown rough and uneven; the careful control he had shown earlier was fraying under the demands of the rut.
I felt the change before I fully understood it.
On the next deep thrust something thicker, something broader, began to press against my entrance.
The base of him had started to swell. The pressure was different from the shaft - rounder, denser, insistent.
My eyes flew open as the growing knot kissed the stretched ring of muscle and demanded entry.
I have heard of that. Lesta and Miri had spoken of it in quiet, matter-of-fact tones during the long climb, explaining the final, irreversible stage of a bighorn mating.
Once the knot locked, there would be no separation until the swelling subsided.
Minutes or hours - no one could predict.
The thought should have frightened me. Instead it sent a fresh flood of wetness spilling around the cock already buried inside me.
Nartab felt the extra slickness and groaned, the sound raw and almost pained.
He thrust harder, forcing the swelling base against my entrance again and again.
The stretch bordered on too much. My body resisted, the ring of muscle trying to keep the thicker girth out even as the rest of me desperately wanted everything he could give.
Each failed attempt made the knot grow fuller, hotter, more demanding.
“Veliria - ” His voice cracked on my name. “I can’t - it’s coming - ”
I pushed back against him, offering myself more fully, and on the next powerful surge the swollen knot finally forced its way past the tight ring of my entrance.
The sensation was overwhelming. One moment I was stretched around the cock alone; the next a heavy, dense bulb of flesh locked inside me, sealing us together with a final, irreversible pressure.
The sudden increase in girth dragged a broken, high cry from my throat.
My walls clamped down hard around the new fullness, fluttering and spasming as they tried to adjust to a thickness that left no room for anything else.
Nartab’s entire body went rigid behind me.
A deep, guttural roar tore from his chest as the lock completed.
His hips jerked once, twice, grinding the massive knot deeper against the sensitive places inside me.
Then the first hot pulse of his release flooded my core.
The feeling of him spilling into me while locked so completely triggered my own climax with violent suddenness.
Pleasure detonated through my body in waves so intense my vision went white at the edges.
My walls seized around the swollen knot in rhythmic, milking contractions, each one pulling another thick surge of seed from him.
I could feel every pulse, every heavy spurt filling me until the pressure of it became another kind of fullness - hot, deep, and inescapable.
Nartab collapsed forward, catching himself on the parapet with one hand so that his chest pressed along the length of my back.
His breathing was ragged against the side of my neck.
The knot throbbed inside me in time with his heartbeat, a living lock that held us joined while his cock continued to empty itself in long, pulsing waves.
I trembled beneath him, still riding the aftershocks.
Every small shift of our bodies sent fresh sparks of sensation through the place where we were tied.
The stretch remained intense, almost painful, yet the deep, grinding pressure of the knot against my most sensitive walls kept the pleasure alive in slow, rolling waves.
I could feel the heat of his seed trapped inside me by the swollen base, a heavy, intimate weight that left no doubt I had been thoroughly claimed.