Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“That’ll teach you, won’t it,” he growls down at me. “Look at that pretty little hole stretched around me. If you could see yourself now, Kita. You’re a wet little bitch in heat, aren’t you. Taking this cock like the punishment it is. You’re being fucked like the rebellious little animal you are.”
He pulls out, slaps my pussy with the length of his cock, and then slides back in, hard. The yowl I make causes an answering roar from the crowd, who I have suddenly remembered exist.
“That’s right. You’re being publicly bred,” he says as he feels me jolt underneath him. “You’re going to take my cum in your pussy, aren’t you. You’re going to take it so fucking deep in this bare little hole that belongs to me.”
His cock is getting thicker, strangely so. It feels like he’s almost two dicks thick, and now it feels like I almost can’t take it.
“Easy, little one,” he growls. “That’s my cock knotting inside you. It won’t hurt you. It will make you feel good. Just keep grinding your hips, let me fill your pussy up.”
I do as I am told because there is nothing else to do. My body insists I do as he says, and the ache in my pussy is making me respond physically in ways I cannot contain. It’s like discovering I’ve been a second person all along, someone who fucks hot, strange men because they want to fuck her. Someone who is being bred by a wolf, and plans to be bred by more.
His knot is hard to take.
He can’t move as much inside me. He’s quite stuck, in fact. All I can do is wriggle and grind, my pussy clenching tight around the thickness of his cock until I hear him roar and feel a release happening inside me. I feel heat flowing into my aching interior, and the knot already starting to deflate just a little. It doesn’t go down completely though. It keeps me in place, and it means I can’t escape the insemination happening deep inside.
I come to my senses, slowly. I realize that I am covered in filth, and that the table beneath me is sticky, and that I just lost all semblance of modesty. This story is going to follow me for the rest of my life. The only silver lining is that there’s some chance nobody will ever believe them if they try to tell it, because this is wild, even for Port Denhome.
“Good girl,” Conroy says, rubbing his hand along the back of my neck, giving me the first positive feedback he’s given me since meeting me. It’s strange, but it feels more intimate than him taking my virginity. It doesn’t make sense, but feelings don’t make sense.
His knot is starting to subside now, and as it does, he pulls slowly out of my body. I am myself again. Just myself.
“We should take her somewhere private,” Tailor says. “She’s had enough. And I have not had anything.”
“Feel free to fuck her,” Conroy says, slapping my butt and rubbing his fingers between my legs, massaging his cum into my pussy lips. “She could take cock after cock right now. She’s in a mating frenzy.”
I am dripping semen as Tailor picks me up. He is not nearly as rough with me as Conroy was. He’s almost reverent as he wraps me in his arms and carries me out of the bar to a series of cheers that seems to get louder and louder every time even though I am actively escaping the area now.
Tailor takes me upstairs, past the velvet rope that keeps people who respect ropes off the stairs, and through a solid metal door that deals with people who are less respectful of boundaries.
I find myself inside the true den of Port Denhome. This is where the masters live, and it is clearly where all the proceeds of the port have been funneled. There are three armchairs, each of them in very different styles. There’s a big brown leather one sitting in the middle of a rug facing the fireplace. There’s another one to the left of it, made in better quality everything. It’s smaller, stiffer, but looks like it would probably still be very comfortable. And then there’s a black chair, set to the far right side, just barely in the realm of the fireplace. That one’s got to belong to Damon.
Tailor carries me into the place like I’m his personal prize. The darker-haired quiet guy does not seem bothered. He follows like a shadow.
“I’m going to strip her down.” Tailor says. “We can lick her clean. She’s still so messy.”
They keep talking about me as if I am not here, as if I am something they are trying to work out.
“Oh, yes, she is,” Conroy agrees, his tone deep and satisfied.