Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I have never overestimated my importance to him. But I have deeply underestimated how dangerous he is.
The horrible creature strokes my face with the tip of one tentacle. Small, muscular rings line the underside, and they stick and pop against my skin as they roll across it.
Perhaps I should beg for mercy. Perhaps that’s what Arcus wants. Not to feed me to this creature, but to know that I’m afraid, that I respect his power.
“Please,” I whimper. “I’m so sorry. I would never have done it if I had known—”
The tentacle slaps across my face.
“You will not speak to your king that way!” the creature hisses. Her voice is strangely melodic. As quickly as she slapped me, she moves to soothe me. She uses her hand to caress my cheek and runs her thumb across my bottom lip. “You will not speak at all.”
I don’t know if she’s forbidding me or if she’s done something to silence my voice. My fear is too great to test it.
I am so distracted by her hand on my face, I don’t see the other tentacles beneath me until one brushes against my sex.
There is no mistaking what she plans to do.
I shake my head, open my mouth to scream, and nothing comes out. Still, I cannot tell if it’s magic silencing me or my own horror. The tip of the appendage touches me, finds my opening, and thrusts inside.
There is no enchantment upon me, making me silent. My wail rings off the dirty walls of the room. The small, sucking cups on the tentacle pull and release against my inner walls, a sensation too strange and disgusting to comprehend. She stuffs more and more of it inside, curling, twisting, while I sob in revulsion.
She lifts me so that I am impaled on her, and her penetration of my body is fully exposed to Arcus. Another tentacle prods my ass, slips between my cheeks. I fight, but she is stronger, and I scream as she forces her way inside.
My eyes roll toward the ceiling and find it is a tarnished mirror. I see myself, spread and violated, and my memory jolts.
Luthian’s pet.
The image stirs my blood. It’s easy enough for me to ignore the sight of the horrible creature holding me, easy for me to imagine that I’m being held by Luthian’s vines, ravaged by them. I relax in her hold.
I’m supposed to be scared. I will not give Arcus that victory.
“The slut enjoys it,” the creature hisses. “She grows wetter even now.”
“You will not speak of your future queen in that manner,” Arcus warns her. “Get on with it.”
Get on with what? I think. Will the beast rend me limb from limb? Drown me? Devour me?
It is the last one, I realize, when she drops her mouth to the space between my neck and shoulder and sinks her teeth deeply in.
My head swims. She laps greedily at my blood, draws on the wound, her tentacles working in and out of my ass and cunt while I writhe in her arms. Another tentacle lashes across my breast, those sucking rings finding my nipples. I cry out at the shock of sensation, feel another tentacle girdle my hips. The tip pushes between my labia, attaching to my clit with impossible force. I kick my legs, not certain if I’m trying to escape or if I’m simply overcome by the feeling.
Luthian said that pain, that fear made things more pleasurable. His lesson serves me now; if I did not know this about myself, I would be ashamed, mortified by my body’s enthusiastic response to this attack.
Instead, I’m angry. If this were not intended as a punishment, I might have truly enjoyed it. I suspect, though, that the creature delights in my fear and pain, and would have caused them, anyway.
The creature’s mouth on my neck is its own kind of pleasure, warm and obscene as she revels in the taste of my blood. The tentacles inside me alternate their movements, and I rock my hips with them. It takes barely seven breaths before the suction on my clit is too much to bear, and I come, screaming, back bowing, hips pumping.
“Enough!” Arcus shouts, and the beast drops me into the water, withdrawing from my body and gliding off on a cloud of blood-red ink.
I cannot swim, but some instinct pulls me through the water, to the ledge where Arcus stands.
“This was but a taste of what will happen should you disobey me again,” he warns, his boot crushing my fingers where I clutch the stone lip of the pool. “Next time, you will not enjoy it.”
That’s why he’s angry? Because I climaxed when I was supposed to be suffering? Because I ruined the horror he meant to punish me with?
I wince as he grinds his foot down harder, and finally cry out with the pain.