“Please…” I whimper. I am debasing myself, begging him for the orgasm I know he could give me. Several of them rolled through me while he was inside me, but there is a bigger, more intense one yet to come. I can feel it.
He looks down at me, and I hope that there is some pity in that incandescent soul of his.
“If I let you come now, and you fail to obey me in any way, shape, or form, I promise you, I will fuck you and keep you on this verge you are now feeling until you can barely stand it. I will use your hot, wet little hole as a means of control. I will punish you. I will discipline you. I will destroy every trace of human arrogance inside you, and you will call me master.”
God, he’s so fucking intense. I can tell he means every word. Nothing less than total control is enough for him.
“Yes!” I am willing to promise whatever he wants. What do I care, now, if he is my master? I’ve lost all control of my life anyway. I’m not sure I ever had any. I was born without consent, my life was mostly a shit show, people were assholes to me and then I was alien abducted. I don’t have much to cling to, but there is so much pleasure to be gained from doing as he says. He has proved to me in the roughest, sexiest way possible that working for him is worth my while, and I’ll do whatever the fuck he says.
“I promise I’ll be good for you. I’ll be the best assistant you’ve ever had. I’ll work late. I’ll work early. I’ll suck your dick. You can fuck me whenever you want…”
Some people might call these pleas an act of desperation, but those people weren’t so fucking close to coming that their ovaries and uterus and their whole sexual package of carnal fuckery was literally aching with need for release. Terrible has stirred me to a level of arousal I can barely describe. Hell, I can barely experience it without being driven completely insane.
He thrusts his cock back inside me and kisses me deeply at the same time. It is an act of conquest and pity which stretches and comforts me, and most importantly, gives me that final scale-cocked thrusting push over the edge of the most wickedly intense orgasm I will ever experience.
I scream as if I am falling from a great height, clinging to him as if he is the only creature in all creation who can save me. My legs are shaking so intensely it’s scary, and I can feel this incredible lightness surging through my body as every single nerve cluster gives up every bit of resistance.
I think I just killed the human with sex. She is lying completely still, her curvaceous form flushed with the effort of her orgasm. Some little fact from my research into humanity returns with a vengeance. They call their climaxes la petit mort, the little death.
“Wake up!” I try to rouse her, the tender parts of me clenching with fear. If I have harmed her in any way, I will never forgive myself.
She opens her eyes, looks at me with no small amount of confusion, and then a slow smile passes over her face.
“Wow,” she says. “That was incredible. Thank you so much…”
I am greatly surprised at her gratitude for being fucked unconsciousness. I thought she might chastise me for being careless with her, but such a thought has not entered her mind. I am the one concerned for her wellbeing. She is not. She gave herself to me without reservation, and without fear. That puts a great deal of responsibility on me. But it also gives me what I enjoy most: great power.
“You are welcome,” I tell her, settling her back against the bed, making sure she is comfortable. I want her to rest now, and enjoy the aftermath of our tryst. I want this memory to be as powerful as it can be, to lodge in the deepest recesses of her mind and become the basis for all future behavior.
She does as she is silently told, following the cues of my body and my behavior. We are experiencing a moment of pure synchronicity. She does as I will her to, and in this space in which I am not struggling with her, and in which I am free to cherish her and the intimacy we just shared, I feel a tenderness like no other sweeping over me. It catches me very much off guard. I thought mating with her would be nothing more than an act of domination, a way to gain complete control. But it is more than that, even I cannot deny it.
Lucky closes her eyes and curls up on her side, looking cozy and content in the nest of blankets wrapped around her. In the distance, a dragon roars. It is the echo of my heart, a sound of dominion and conquest. I know exactly how he feels.