Chapter 1 #2
“You’re taking it so well,” Nyxarion growled, claws skittering up her spine before they found an anchor on her hips.
“So slick. So tight.” Fingers sinking into the soft, female flesh, he tilted her hips back and made space for his girth only to bottom out.
Letting his cock nuzzle at her at the mouth of her womb.
Kore couldn’t beg. Couldn’t pray or grunt or scream.
She could only take every brutal inch he deigned to give.
Restrained, positioned to suit his needs, she was used.
Still, each selfish thrust dragged against that spot inside her that made her vision whiten.
Snaking one hand through the bars, Nyxarion seized her throat. Promising, “I can taste you in the water, Kore. Every Pelagorn within a thousand miles can taste how slick this sweet little cunt has grown for me. They’ll follow the scent of your perfume all the way back to my throne.”
Shame flooded her, then. Even as her body clenched and milked, a shudder rippled through the cradle of her hips.
“They’ll come just to watch me fuck this pretty hole,” he groaned, picking up speed as he began to rut at the altar of upturned hips.
“They’ll bring gifts to populate this trench with new life.
A thousand eyes will attend your breeding.
Bearing witness as you become a cherished broodmare for my spawn.
They’ll be drunk on the flavor of a Siren in estrus.
And when I’ve filled you with so much sperm you’re unable to swim,” he snarled as he thumbed the base of her clit, in a slow, greedy circle, “they’ll swear fealty to my throne. ”
He groaned, growing thick and sluggish inside her as his thrusts grew heavier. Scales grating at the back of her thighs, he drove her forward into the coral.
Vision dimming with the rise of her climax, the reef’s glow bled into a hazy blur.
“And”—he grunted, painting maddening circles around the base of her clit—“and when the first of my sons splits you open, we’ll do it all again.”
Lips parting on a mute wail, Kore’s skin flushed with heat. Desperate for him to finish her, to send her spiraling into the pleasure she’d come to need.
But the exiled prince only laughed.
Slowing his pumping hips. Fingers abandoning her clit, he moved instead to knead her breasts. Milking her nipples until she arched, back bowing off the coral.
“That’s it,” he purred, dragging his cock back with a brutal, glacial pace.
The ridged line of pearls caught on her rim before popping back inside.
“Gush for me. Fill this basin with the scent of your wanton need. Make them taste this cunt. Flood the trench with the scent of a breeding Siren, so they might grow hungry for the spectacle awaiting them.”
One hand slipping down, eyes rolling white, Kore tried to make herself cum.
He caught her wrist with a cruel laugh, tail flexing as he hilted himself inside her. “Not yet. You don’t need relief, my sweet bride.”
A sob tore through her, even as a gushing wave of slick bloomed around his cock. And when he leaned back, she tried to pull her captured wrist free. Tried to claim the peak he denied her.
He grinned—she could feel it through the water.
Hips grinding to a halt, he abandoned the race toward his end and pulled her cheeks apart.
Toying for a moment with that forbidden, clenching ring of muscle, before he dipped his digits inside her overstretched cunt. Worming them in alongside his cock.
And then he pulled out. “Taste,” he commanded, dipping his fingers between her lips, delving inside to paint her tongue.
An electric flavor exploded on her palate. Citrus and sunlight. Her own corrupted desire, thick and intoxicating.
Hips jerking, bubbles kissing the corner of her jaw, Kore sobbed. Trying to force him to give her what she craved.
“Such a greedy little thing,” he sang and let his cock twist inside her.
Stretching her out, refusing to give the friction she desperately needed, he grew selfish and cruel.
“Does my sweet Siren bride need my knot?” he crooned, plucking at her clit, pulling it away from her body as if milking the tiny bundle.
Nodding, she fought and thrashed. Jaws gaping around a string of silent curses or prayers—she couldn’t begin to say which.
Reckless and full of glee, Nyxarion threw his head back and laughed. And with a deliberate flick of his wrist, drew up a spine lurking in the fin on his forearm.
“I need you hungry for it,” he murmured, slipping his arm between the bars. Making her watch as he dragged his arm across the upturned globes of her ass until her flesh caught the spine.
Pain lanced through her, then. Sharp and bright.
With a silent gasp, Kore recoiled. Back arching against the onslaught, for she knew what came next. The tidal wave of heat and bottomless, aching need as his venom pulsed through her blood.
Sluggish.
Delicious agony.
Vision whiting out, she convulsed around his cock as the toxin pulsed through her muscles.
“You are the promise written in the Deep,” he hummed, giving her one delicate micro thrust that wasn’t nearly enough. “The covenant etched in black waters. A myth reborn in the poisoned tide.”
A plume of bubbles escaped flaring gills as Kore’s mind fractured under the strain. The fire of a climax denied.
But he forced her still with a bruising grip, and fucked her through the venom’s haze.
“Your scent is the summons,” he droned, careful not to give her enough—determined to torment her into a state of arousal that drew a line between her body and mind.
“Your breath the lure that will enthrall my people to the promise of legacy, rebirth. Everything I shall claim from your womb.”
Her eyes rolled back, teeth flashing white as she tried to chase what he refused to give.
“That’s it,” he growled, voice gone gravelly and rich as his end approached. “Milk it. Let your body beg for this knot. You can have my cum,” he snarled as she bucked beneath him. “You can take every drop.”
Cock pulsing, Nyxarion groaned.
And then she felt it.
The rush of seed. Scalding where it lashed against the mouth of her womb.
“Such a good little bride,” he moaned, claws dimpling her hips as he used her sheath for his own end.
Denying her.
Screams swallowed by a billowing cloud of bubbles, Kore’s agony was lost to the black waters. Body shivering with the force of his denial, held open and helpless by the coral wrapped around her, she lurched. Flinching when he eased back.
Withdrawing slowly, she felt every bump and pearl when he dragged it over sensitized flesh and left her empty.
Ruined.
Aching and denied.
Fist working between them, he sent the last few jets of seed into her cage. Ribbons of salty brine that clouded her vision with a lewd haze, her every breath a torment laced with all things Nyxarion.
Tail uncoiling, he flicked that great appendage and circled her in the water, grinning at her as he commanded the coral to release her, freeing her to float in her prison at the bottom of the Black Sea.
Gentle fingers brushed the back of her neck, then. And in a voice heavy with darkness, he whispered, “Soon, my bride. They’ll come to witness what calls them to the poisoned tide.”
And then, with an unspoken command, he touched the bars of her cage.
It shivered.
Pulsed.
Tiny fingers branched out, reaching for their master.
“Soon,” he whispered again.
And the coral pulled in on itself.
A dying bloom that closed in around her…
… sealing her away inside.
Where no one might hear her screams.