by Isoellen
"That's it. Let me watch those beautiful breasts. Those tight, fine nipples."
He reached up to cup her. She needed it so much and hadn't even known. She needed the touch of dry, callused palms rubbing over her smooth, delicate skin.
This man was going to wreck her again and she welcomed it. He would break her down until she was only pleasure. His pleasure.
He shaped her breasts, weighed her, rolled his thumbs over her until her quiet noises ratcheted up.
"You take my breath away. You've stolen me. Robbed me of everything. Where did you come from, little treasure?" Her alpha's voice felt like the finest heavy velvet to her, wrapping her up in ownership and safety.
He slid his hands up over her shoulders, pushing her tangled locks away so he could see her. Then he reached around her torso and grabbed the ends of her hair, making a wispy brush.
Moaning so deep she felt the vibration of the noise in her clit, she answered with her own cries.
Flicking her hair over himself, over her bottom, he brought it back over her shoulders and brushed it teasingly across her nipples.
Never would she have thought she could be so sensitive that her own hair felt good.
"Sing for me, little thing. Sing for your monster."
Warbling howls trilled from her throat. She tried to cover her mouth and stop the sound, but he bucked his hips and the intense sensation of his manhood inside her took away her self-control again.
She felt light tugging at her scalp and watched him bring the tangled mess of her hair to his face, inhaling with more groans and smothering himself in its length.
She rode him, the position burning the inside of her thighs, filling her up, and teasing at the entrance of her womb. His low growl coaxed her slick and kept her on the edge of orgasm.
In waves and ripples, her body was at his mercy. Everything he did, pain and pleasure, set her adrift on a sea of lust. Whenever she got close, he'd stop what he was doing, pinch a nipple, slap her thigh, or tug at her hair, before beginning his sensual tortures again.
"Alpha, please. More?" Naya panted.
"Come here, you little thing. Come here, Naya." He drew her down against his body, one arm over her shoulders, the other curling over her hip. "Relax now. Let me do what I need to do."
Naya stretched along him, her arms circling his neck, fingers sinking into his hair. She nosed at his chest, breathing in his scent with every inhale as he bent his knees and moved her body how he wanted it.
Suddenly he was pushing deep, hips lifting, bending his head to her neck and finding the raw place where he had bitten her to nip and lick and bite again. Gently he forced her to loosen her hold, then moved her body back and forth on his shaft, all the fluid she'd spilled earlier that had soaked his pelvis now a slick surface.
When the monster moved his hand between them, spreading her sex and exposing her clit, holding her so that it rubbed against him, Naya turned to flame, bearing down, pressing in, sliding back and forth. Her focus and will centered on reaching that ending.
"That's it, little thing. Sing for me."
He slid his hand over her bottom, cupping so that his fingers pressed into the crack between her cheeks, until the blunt tip of one of his fingers was brushing at the puckered hole between them.
"You have me now. Never saw anything like you before. You chose the monster, and he wanted you. Such a fucking selfish bastard. But he's not gonna settle for a little bit. Want it all. Give it all."
He pumped his hips up while pulling her down, and at the same time he sank that finger inside her to the second knuckle.
Naya howled. It burned.
He invaded her delicate tissue, pushed and pressed and searched until he found what he was looking for—and lit up her every nerve ending, an aggressive takeover bringing the ultimate devastation she’d longed for.
She came screaming.
He met her there.
His movements devolved, becoming erratic and uncontrolled. His shouts erupted into a soul-shaking roar of triumph as his knot locked them together.
Sensation overwhelmed her body, robbing her of the ability to think or even breathe. He was inside of her, locked, pulsing, and deep, filling her womb with enough cum to balloon her abdomen.
He went deep inside of her, shredding through all her delicate hidden parts, layers of girlish desires and womanly hopes.
He exposed them. Exposed her.
The tears caught her by surprise. Their physical communion had incited a flood of emotion. He held her tighter, her shelter and her strength, as he purred for her.
It was impossible to predict what would happen when biological instinct took over. All inhibition and rational thought dismantled. It overrode free will, emotion, and heart's desire, reshaping fundamental thought into what was most important: reproduction.
Naya was a modern, well-born, free omega breeder female. She'd feared this. That anxiety building like a dark storm inside her for months, the inevitable ax that would cut through her self-control to expose and humiliate her. But now she’d discovered, inexplicably, here in this man's arms, mating was everything she had ever wanted and needed.
She'd grown up knowing that she would marry early. With sexual maturity came an unstoppable need to reproduce. Like a cat she cycled over and over again. All breed women found themselves with child one way or another by the time they were twenty-one. There had never been an escape from this.
One of her sister's friends had tried to resist the biological pull. The discovery of a black-market herbal mix capable of masking a mating estrus had been a frequent, popular discussion for months. Phee had talked of it endlessly.
The omega Dionndal's underground writings on the subject of breeder rights, extreme by most standards, gained new meaning and popularity. Months later, on her way home after a gathering in a tea shop with her beta girlfriends, Dionndal had encountered two mature alphas.
She'd encountered other men without incident and had thought herself safe. She'd even written about her freedom from the enslavement of her vagina. But on that day, those two alphas stood out somehow, an instinctual understanding science couldn't replicate.
Their scent triggered Dionndal's heat right there on the street. The event made the news, her story blaring across every data pad in the 12 Sectors. Before the end of the day, she'd mated herself to both alphas. A year later with a baby girl on her hip, she was authoring papers on the advantages of polyamorous marriages.
Like her sister, Naya had planned to choose a good alpha. A malleable alpha. Safe. One who found himself on the bottom of most alpha piles. Crispin's life would amount to giving orders to betas in an office rather than on a battlefield. There would be little conflict or risk to disturb their tranquil existence. As a calm, placid man, he did not need to command her every move or make excessive demands.
Omega females found mates as soon as they reached physical maturity. The joke with alphas was that they were born physically mature, but it took 80 years to know how to treat an omega properly. Her brothers said, crudely, that it took 80 years to know how to fuck an omega pussy so she would choose you over all the others.
Most of society considered alphas under the age of 55 to be adolescent children unfit for the company of respectable ladies.
Crispin was 58.
The emotions overwhelmed her, but locked to her new mate, his arms around her, she processed them quickly. This mate, who was not malleable, was hers. Perfect for her.
Monster locked himself inside her, his purr a balm easing her physical pains and her emotional wretchedness. His hips moving, he continued to pleasure them both.
She'd lost everything. Gained everything.
He was much, much older than Crispin. His smell, the scars on his body, the commanding nature of his voice—everything about him felt older.
Powerful.
Inexorable.
She had smelled him. She had wanted him. She had chosen him.
Brushing at her own teeth marks with her f
ingers while he worked her insides, the rawness of her exposed emotions transformed into satisfaction. Her tears faded, replaced by enchantment.
She could do this. She would do this.
Some seed planted by her upbringing whispered like an extra voice in the back of her head, reminding her of how she had gotten here. It poked at her about her unsigned contract with Crispin and her family's expectations, demanding her outrage.
She pushed the thoughts aside as soon as they came, facing them down one by one while her alpha held her close. She wouldn't think on what she couldn't change.
That voice sounded like her mother's, and this was no place for her mother.
Intoxicated by their bond, vulnerable and open as a book, she gave him everything of herself. Normally allowing someone to see her in such a raw state would have made her embarrassed or ashamed.
But not with him.
With the monster, she felt free.
Chapter Seven
Darre
His release too-long denied, Darre's knot refused to relax. He hadn't been thinking when he’d shoved the sharp claw of his forefinger up her precious little ass, but it was now locked inside her by the massive swelling at the base of his dick. He couldn't remove the offending digit for fear of hurting her.
Maybe tomorrow the situation would be funny. He'd have a fucking story to tell.
Unable to move, worried about them becoming dehydrated, Darre felt like an idiot.
This was going to be an ongoing problem. He'd avoided putting his fingers in her tight little pussy for just this reason. He'd need to cut one of his claws off. File it down.
Better make it two.
Three.
Damn. She was declawing him.
His berserker gloated at the thought, ridiculously pleased with himself.
Darre did not want a mate. He had done everything in his power to kill the desire for a mate that burned inside him.
He had devoted himself to his memories. Sweet Alennie. Adorable Alennie. Shy. Quiet. Everything an omega breeder should be.
Obedient. Biddable. Sun-gilt and full of life. He'd been afraid to hurt her or frighten her. He couldn't imagine daring to rub his thumb down her crease, much less jamming his favorite disemboweling tool up her asshole in search of an omega's hidden pleasure nodule.
Now he was locked tight and tangled up with this little thing his monster had claimed.
She needed water, and he needed protein to last through her heat. Accustomed to his rages and self-isolation, his people wouldn't come knocking at his door, wouldn't offer any aid.
They'd learned long ago that trying to placate brought about the deaths of well-intentioned people when the monster thought they'd crossed a line.
On average, a knot rarely lasted twenty or thirty minutes. Darre wasn't so sure about his, though. He'd never knotted a female before, had never even cum in one.
When he'd been young and still dicking around, he hadn't wanted any beta or drone offspring chasing after him. He wanted the dream—Alennie and her blessing—the peace, and a purr to ease the ugly of his soul.
Why should he have settled for a weak, transitory emotional connection with a beta? It would never have been enough.
He'd seen alphas take beta lovers, but the best those relationships could offer was companionship and a mockery of sexual relief. A beta couldn't take his knot and wouldn't take his heart. So Darre had never given his seed.
His Alennie had been so young when they met. He’d pledged himself to her, said he would wait for her to grow up, for her to choose him. His pledge had been real. He hadn’t even sniffed at other females.
He’d been finishing his duties in the Un, separated from her by a week of day and night travel on the fastest transport, when her first heat had come, and he'd felt it.
He had chosen to endure the discomfort of it, the fiery urgency in his cock and the maddening itch under his skin, thinking it was easier on them both that he couldn't get to her.
When next he returned to the 12 Sectors still trapped in his rut, he discovered his father had thrown another alpha into her nest. She'd accepted the stranger and came out of her heat pregnant.
He’d wanted to kill the other male. Kill his father. Kill everyone.
But with the choice made, and a peacemaker at heart, Alennie had asked him to leave.
His disappointment, his fury left its mark.
There'd been nothing to do after that. Already fixated on her, his rut held strong. No other woman could relieve it—none were close enough to right to even try.
He hoped that when Naya became pregnant, at least his damnable knot would return to normal. But Darre had his doubts. He was messed up.
He was larger than most alphas, had claws, sharper teeth, keener senses, and a highly developed precognitive instinct. Not to mention he had a nasty temper and a big ol' malformed penis.
Whatever beastly genes had been spliced into his ancestors to make them better soldiers had become the dominant controllers of his mind and body. His body bore the brunt of his lost omega.
A little mate like this fine princess might alter his physiology, might give him back some self-control so that he didn't want to shred every living thing all the time.
The monster inside him was content after years of endless raging. Quiet.
Darre purred for Naya and the little female purred back. What an incredible sound. He felt it in his chest, his head, and his soul. He purred until she slept, until his body started to relax and deflate, allowing him to leave the nest.
Padding naked to the door, he rushed down the hall, filled with an unusual urgency. Rushed wasn't his normal style. He did not flutter about like a beta with a list that needed completing.
But now he hated the idea of stepping outside his den and had to hurry and find someone to get food for them so he could get back.
There were always two alphas on duty at the top of the stairwell.
Under renovation to become an administration headquarters when Darre took over the building, not all the fifteen floors of his tower were finished or fully habitable. The top four floors were his alone, but he spent most of his time on the twelfth. It was the most livable, with windows to let the daylight in and several rooms to choose from.
There were escape routes for every level of the building, but guards were stationed in the lobby of every floor. Working in shifts, they were heavily armed with orders only to let those Darre had approved pass by them.
The twelfth-floor guards gave him matching looks of surprise when he appeared naked and smelling of breeder female.
The monster in him stirred, offended that they would try to steal his treasure's scent. No part of him was ready for any of the misbegotten bastards of the tower to see or smell her. He knew he'd take down any male who so much as sniffed in her direction.
"All details will start wearing breathers immediately. Get a setup here before I take off your faces," he snapped. "I need two days' worth of fresh water and half a bloody goat—whatever meat we have that is fresh, seared two minutes each side.
“And have Mac take some men over to Tenbel's place. Clean it out. Bring any of his drones and females here. Put the rest in the hole. Don't let them die; I want to talk to them in a few days. The East Room will need a full cleaning. Get my shit moved over to room three."
"Men at the front are wondering if you had seen that black robe," one of the men, Alreck, answered. He kept his eyes down and was wisely breathing through his mouth. All Darre's alphas knew he had a tricky temper.
"Clear them out. No answers. Leave food and water at the door. Don't knock."
"Mac was gonna give a report, Alpha," Alreck said.
"Yeah. Life goes on. Don't care. None of Mac's reports until tomorrow. He's to handle his shit."
He could send his orders with a data pad, but he only had three functional ones. Not a one of them would be in the kitchen. Alreck would call down the useless elevator shaft to the floors below with Darre's request and a runner
would make sure the message got where it needed to go.
Crude as it was, this method of communication was efficient enough that Darre wasn't bothered by hovering servants. It kept his guards at their posts and not running back and forth.
The breeder was getting anxious. He could feel her in his chest, a building sense of unease at his absence. His body turned and he was already taking long strides back to her before he registered the desire to do it. His only conscious thought was getting back to her and not running like a drone slave in front of his men.
Sitting up in the middle of his bed, she was a gorgeous tumble of untamed black curls and generous curves. A woman born for pleasure, her big tits tempted his mouth with puffy areolas. Full and round and strawberry-topped, their shape was beyond his wildest dreams of perfection.
Her every movement made them tremble, and his mouth watered, incisors sharp on his bottom lip. When the fur fell away as she sat up to her knees, he saw her delicious hourglass figure.
Next time he fucked her, it would be from the back. He needed those hips in his hands and that ass cushioning his pelvis as he pounded into his cock’s new favorite place.
"Monster," she murmured, her voice a whispered song. "I don't know where I am."
"You're with me." He took her hand and kissed her fingers, small and pale in his. Everything about her was fuckin' luscious and dainty.
Sitting down, he drew her to his cock, instinct to feed her this way and fill her up—to brand her from the inside out—striking him hard.
She covered him with her mouth, fingering the rings of flesh at his base. He let her play a bit while he put his hands all over her, exploring every bit of her satin skin he could reach.
When he heard someone setting a tray outside the door, he gave her an encouraging growl, causing her to flood between her legs and suck harder at his cock. She was so responsive, like playing a musical instrument.
The low rumble from his chest increased her urgency and her hands tightened, her tongue lapping at him in needy swipes.
Fisting her hair, he pushed her mouth down until he hit the back of her throat. Like pulling a trigger, his cum released. Her body spasmed as she drank from him, her need to take equally matched by his need to give.
