A.O.E.M.: Sea God's Pleasure

by Alice Gaines

  He groaned at the pleasure of her touch. “Eager to spill my seed into your delicate palm, although he’d quite prefer to do that into your pussy.”

  She bit her lip and smiled at him. Quite the coquette she’d become. She stroked the length of his rod and then reached further down to cup his balls. “These jewels have hardened, too. Do they pain you?”

  “Quite the contrary. The pleasure is exquisite. I fear any more will undo me,” he said. “Pray ride me while I jump the final hurdle.”

  That last was probably too flowery, but his brain had lost touch a few minutes back with anything but the onrushing orgasm. If she didn’t let go of his cock soon, he’d cream all over her hand, the bedspread, and everything else.

  She did release him, though, and sat up. He rolled onto his back with his member sticking up into the air like a flagpole. It had grown deep crimson, and a drop of pre-cum glistened at the tip. She swung her leg over him, and he gathered up the gown so that it spread over his chest rather than tangling between them.

  The lips of her sex found his cock, and she slid slowly onto him. Slick and tight, her cunt grasped him an inch at a time as she lowered herself. Such delicious agony to let her take him this way when he needed to plow into her until he came. Still, if she wanted slow, he’d give it to her somehow even if it killed him.

  She closed her eyes as she eased the last inch down to the base of his cock. “You’re so large, sir, I fear I may swoon.”

  “We’ll swoon together.”

  She moved her hips, rocking forward and back with him buried deep inside her. Her muscles gripped him, relaxed, and gripped him again. Damn, she’d done it on purpose -- squeezed him with her hot, wet pussy. Enough. No male could withstand that.

  He placed his hands on her hips and pumped into her. She felt like heaven, gliding over the length of him as his climax built. He couldn’t stop now, had to keep thrusting upwards over and over. Blind, savage lust drove him, until…

  Yes, now! Starting at his spine and then to his balls. He slammed into her as his cock exploded. Long, hot waves of semen rushed out of him and into her pussy. He growled and roared. Damn, nothing had ever felt like this.

  She came, too. Miraculous creature. Her whole body shuddered as her cunt grabbed at his cock in rhythmic contractions. She threw her head back and gasped for breath.

  For several moments they hung like that in pure bliss. His, hers, theirs. Shared eternity until she fell against his chest.

  He cradled her there and kissed the top of her head. “Unbelievable.”

  “You’re sure something… hey, what’s your name, anyway?” she asked.

  “Quarian.”

  “Well, Quarian, you sure know how to fuck.”

  “Is that any way for a lady to talk?”

  She chuckled and rolled off him. “You did that pretty well, too.”

  “Did what?”

  “The Don Juan thing,” she answered. “Cute.”

  “It wasn’t a thing, and it wasn’t meant to be cute.”

  “What was it meant to be?”

  “I was trying to make you happy.”

  “You know how to make me happy, all right. You’ve made me happy four times today, not that I’m counting.”

  “It wasn’t about sex, either.”

  She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “It wasn’t?”

  “Not completely.”

  “Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” she said. “I’ll still respect you in the morning.”

  “Damn.” That was the sort of thing human males said to females just before they grabbed their hats and disappeared forever. He’d said that, or something like it, to hundreds of mortal women, so he ought to know what it meant -- absolutely nothing. “How can you make light of what we just shared?”

  “Hey, what did I say?” she asked. “What’s gotten into you?”

  He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The woman seemed determined to misunderstand what had just taken place between them. Yes, he’d played a game for her, but not to make her think he was cute. He’d planned everything to convince her to spend eternity with him, not to amuse her for a few days.

  “This wasn’t just an act, you know,” he said. Curse the woman, now he sounded petulant.

  “Oh, really?” She swung her legs over, too, and sat up next to him. “You dress up in satin knee breeches all the time?”

  “I did it to please you.”

  “And you did. I told you so.”

  “I want to show you what immortal life with me would be like.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not that mate stuff again.”

  “It’s not stuff,” he thundered in the voice he used when he wanted humans to cower.

  Gloria VanSant just rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m so scared.”

  “You’re my mate whether you like it or not. At the end of the week, we’ll leave here for our life together.”

  “At the end of the week, I’m going back to Manhattan. You can go to hell.”

  “Curse you, woman.” He stood, towering over where she still sat on the bed. “You will obey me!”

  She glowered right back up at him. “And if I don’t?”

  His hands clenched into fists, and it took some effort to force himself to unclench them again. As much as he’d love to throw her over his shoulder and carry her into the sea, she’d only drown if he didn’t prepare her first. Throttling her wouldn’t get him anywhere, either. Clearly, he had a lot more work to do with this stubborn mortal, but he had several more days to do it. Angering her wouldn’t help.

  “I’m going to go outside and calm down now,” he said.

  “Don’t you want to get dressed first?”

  He looked at the pile of clothing on the floor. “In satin knee breeches? I don’t think so.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Smug little snippet. She had no idea who she was dealing with. She’d learn soon enough, yes she would. Before the week was over, she’d apologize for all her obstinacy and beg him to mate with her. He’d savor every moment of her surrender.

  In the meantime, he needed to get out of here before he did something he’d regret. So, he walked, stark naked, out of the cabin and slammed the door behind him. He’d take a nice, long walk along the sea bottom and spend time among some creatures that made sense -- flounders.

  Chapter Four

  Gloria had to admit that Quarian had knocked himself out every day to give her pleasure. Don Juan, Tarzan, her favorite bad-boy actor -- he’d played them all for her. She’d never had a vacation like this one -- not that she ever took vacations, but still. They’d splashed naked in the ocean and the lagoon he’d found at the center of the island. No one else ever showed up, just trays of the most delicious food and wine discreetly left at the front door of the cabin. She’d stopped moussing her hair or putting on make-up. What was the point if she spent most of her time either swimming or fucking? Life was good, and she’d get to live out the dream of her adult life this afternoon.

  Today they sat in the makeshift classroom he’d set up under a palm tree. The set consisted of a podium, a chalkboard, and one student’s desk. Bare bones, but it would serve, as would the more… um… unusual props nearby.

  He walked to the chalkboard and wrote on it for a moment. “Story of O.”

  He dropped the chalk in the tray and turned, dusting his hands. “I imagine some of the feminists in the class will squirm today, so I want to state right now that I don’t want to hear any of your whining.”

  Quarian didn’t resemble Professor Glocket in any physical sense. Quarian stood tall and imposing, making the tweed jacket look like something from the cover of GQ. Glocket had been a mangy little weasel who didn’t seem to wash often. No doubt, all women found him repulsive. He worked out his anger by humiliating the female students in his class on a daily basis. If the subject matter hadn’t sounded so intriguing -- Erotic Literature -- she would never have enrolled in his class
. Once in, she hadn’t found a way to get out.

  “Miss VanSant,” he said. “Would you care to discuss the post-Freudian symbolism in the use of implants to expand the woman’s anus to accommodate a penis?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “May I remind you that class participation is a major part of your grade?”

  “You always do.” That had sounded great in the course description. Who didn’t want to get class credit for talking about sex? In practice, though, it meant Glocket could force the women to talk about the most violent, goriest parts of his syllabus in front of a bunch of male students with boners in their pants. She ought to bring harassment charges against the bozo, but that would only mean repeating all of the crap in front of yet more men who might also have boners in their pants.

  Glocket smirked at her, his weasel-nose all a-twitch. Quarian had his mannerisms down to a tee. “Freudian symbolism, if you please.”

  “Well…” She could turn this around if she could think quickly enough. “I can see why you’d need it explained to you. I imagine your penis would fit easily into the tightest of anuses.”

  In her mind, the other women in the room let out a whoop of victory as Glocket sputtered.

  “This is about literature,” he huffed. “It doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

  “Oh, really? Then, why do you wear pants tight enough that the outline of your pathetic weenie shows every time you get a hard-on?”

  More laughter from her imaginary classmates. Quarian clenched Glocket’s jaw and got red in the face. Bless him. She’d have to think of a really great way to thank him for this.

  “That’s insubordination,” Glocket shouted.

  “You have to be kidding. For my behavior to be insubordinate, I’d have to be subordinate to you, Glocket. In fact, the other women and I passed you on the evolutionary scale a long time ago.”

  “May I remind you I’ll be grading you at the end of the term?”

  “Why not? You remind me all the time, but this time I don’t give a shit.” Damn, but that felt good. “I’m not twenty-one and trying to get through an MFA program any longer. I’m an adult woman with a responsible job in the art world. You’re a dirty-minded pinhead who can’t get it up except at some poor woman’s expense.”

  “Miss VanSant, leave the room immediately!”

  “Not on your life, asshole.” She rose from her seat and approached the podium. Glocket’s eyes widened, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he watched her approach. Quarian had nothing to fear from her, of course, but he’d agreed to play the coward for her enjoyment.

  “I’ve had enough of your power trips,” she said as she got closer. “Today, I’m going to take your itty-bitty pecker out of your pants and make you cream in front of the entire class.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Ladies, block the doors,” she ordered her imaginary classmates. “I don’t want any of the men to miss this.”

  He backed away. “Don’t touch me. I’m warning you.”

  She followed him, punching her finger into his chest. “Or, you’ll do what, little man?”

  The two of them continued, Quarian backing up toward the other area where the cast iron rings stuck up out of the sand. Any child could pull them out easily enough, but this was all play-acting and a hell of a lot of fun.

  When they got there, she bent and picked up the lash -- a smaller version of a cat-o’-nine-tails -- and flicked it against her leg. “Okay, strip.”

  “Me?”

  “No, the Marquis DeSade. Who else but you?”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Did I ask what you want?” She swished the tongues of leather against her leg again. They created a pleasant smarting sensation.

  He held up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. Don’t hurt me.”

  He shed his clothes in record time, throwing garments in every direction. For almost the first time since he’d walked out of the sea that day, his cock hung only semi-hard. He’d managed that to please her, too. Even in that state, his member was impressively long and thick. She’d have him hard and pounding into her in a minute, which would follow a satisfying fantasy with an even more exciting reality.

  She made a circular motion with the whip. “Turn around.”

  He did so, slowly.

  “Stop,” she ordered when his ass came into view. “Have you ever seen anything so inadequate as his butt, ladies and gentlemen?”

  He whimpered, so she slapped the lash against his buttocks. She’d never hit him hard enough to cause major pain, but his flesh did redden.

  His butt was anything but inadequate, of course. Round and firm -- powerful like the rest of his body -- it could win any derrière competition it entered. She swatted it again, for the sheer pleasure of watching his flesh tremble.

  “All right, lie down,” she said. “And spread your arms and legs.”

  He stretched out on his stomach, his hands and feet near the iron rings.

  “On your back, stupid,” she said.

  He rolled over, and she knelt next to him. After removing the silk bonds from the pocket of her sundress, she moved quickly around him to tie him to all four rings. That done, she stripped out of her dress -- the only piece of clothing she wore -- picked up the lash, and stood.

  “Have you ever seen a naked woman before?” she asked.

  “Please, Miss VanSant, let me up.”

  “Oh, I’ll let you up, all right.” She bent over and nudged his cock upward with the end of the whip. “You’re not very well endowed, are you?”

  That last bit was ridiculous. He’d hardened some more, but while still not completely erect, he had several inches on lots of men.

  “Have you ever watched a woman touch herself?” she asked. “Most men find that erotic.”

  He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing again.

  Gloria touched herself, found her clit, and rubbed it. His cock immediately swelled to full attention, and she pictured it inside her as she stroked herself. Damn, it felt good, standing here getting wet while a few feet away, he became more and more obviously aroused.

  She plunged two fingers into her pussy and moaned with the pleasure. “Do you want to do this with your prick?”

  “Yes.”

  She teased her clit some more until it throbbed. “Do you want to fuck me until I climax?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to be inside me when you come?”

  “Yes, yes, yes.”

  “Well, you can’t.” She moved her hand and bent over again. Very carefully, she circled his cock with the tips of the lash. Slowly, slowly, while he whimpered and his eyes went wild with fear. One more circle of his member, and she raised the lash to strike. He closed his eyes, and she brought the tongues of leather down, but across his thighs, not his groin.

  “That’s a warning to be a good boy and do as I tell you,” she said.

  “I will. Please don’t hit me.”

  She struck his thighs again to punctuate her order and then tossed aside the lash. “I’m going to make you come now so that the whole class can laugh at your pathetic load.”

  “No,” he moaned. “I don’t want to.”

  “Then do your best to resist, but you will climax for all of us to see.”

  She dropped to her knees beside him and took his cock into her hand. It hardened even further against her palm -- a sure sign that he was fully aroused now and defenseless against whatever she wanted to do to him.

  “See if you can take this,” she said as she lowered her face. For a moment, she let him anticipate her next move, and then she closed her lips around his tip and sucked.

  “Ah,” he cried. “Oh, God.”

  She moved her lips lower, taking more and more of him into her mouth. He tasted pleasantly salty as she worked his cock, sliding up and down over his length.

  “Please, I can’t,” he shouted.

  She pulled her mouth from his rod and squeezed the s
haft. A drop of moisture appeared at the tip, and she licked it off. His hips jerked at the contact. He was trying to hold himself in control and losing the effort.

  “I’m going to make you cream now, but not in my mouth,” she said. “If you get any in my mouth, I really will beat you.”

  “No,” he cried again, but from his tone, his plea might have meant the exact opposite.

  She bent to his cock again and rasped her teeth gently against the shaft. His whole body went rigid, nearly rising off the sand. He was only a moment away now, and her pussy throbbed in sympathy. She’d get him to satisfy her afterwards, but she wasn’t quite through torturing her sadistic prof yet.

  She took him into her mouth again and worked him hard. Up and down, sliding over him at a furious pace. He moaned and thrashed as his climax neared.

  “Chimera!” he shouted.

  The safe word. She released him and spread out on her back, parting her legs for him. With angry movements, he pulled the iron rings out of the sand. Then, in one fluid movement, he rolled onto her and thrust his cock into her throbbing cunt.

  “Yes,” she cried. “Oh, yes. Do it!”

  His answer was animal grunts as he plowed into her over and over. Massive strength, male power, every muscle in his body driving them both on. The whole world disappeared as he pushed her closer to climax.

  “Do it, Quarian,” she cried. “I love you. Oh, God, I love you.”

  He plunged into her, deeper and deeper, past endurance, past anything she’d ever known. He shouted -- a great, booming sound -- as he went rigid in climax. Deep inside her, he spilled his essence, and her own body responded in a massive orgasm. Her cries joined his while her sex squeezed his over and over. Finally, he rested his head against her shoulder.

  “Did you mean that?” he whispered. “Do you love me?”

  At another time, she might have lied. She might have made up some explanation about the heat of the moment and losing her head. Besides, hey, everyone says I love you when they’re about to come. At this moment, with him still deep inside her and the reverberations of her own fulfillment still grasping at his sex, all she could do was tell the truth. “Yes, I love you,” she whispered back.