Page 44 of Sinadim

She squealed and braced, glassy black eyes going wide as the war chief fucked her from the back.

“You can have as much cum as you can take,” he promised, muttering the words best suited to trigger her primitive brain. To encourage her eggs to drop so she could be fertilized properly. “One after the other. We’ll both keep you stuffed full. Drunk on Anhur sperm. Even after you’re pregnant, we’ll be dripping down your thighs and have you begging for more…”

She came.

With a strangled squawk, she clamped down on Balkazar’s cock with the force of her orgasm. Sent into spasm at the mere mention of such devoted treatment.

“Fucking—” Balkazar shuddered, his entire body going rigid as he bottomed out. His last stroke captured by powerful internal forces, his knot was forced to bloom by the muscles milking him empty.

“That’s a good girl,” Sinadim cooed. “Show the war chief how grateful you are for his efforts.”

If the rolling whites gazing back at him were any kind of judge, she was beyond hearing him.

And she’d taken the war chief with her into bliss, for Balkazar had collapsed across her back. Both hands planted to either side, forehead all but pressed against Sinadim’s upper thigh as cum erupted from the war chief’s balls.

Sinadim watched, eyes glassy with a predatory gleam. Thrilled by the taboo. By the forbidden nature of watching another attempt to impregnate one of his females.

Heaving for breath, Balkazar struggled to lift his head. Sweat gleaming in icy blue eyes that had gone liquid and dim. Glazed by spent lust, for he was, after all, a commoner. Unaccustomed to such vigorous activity or the demands of breeding a female such as this.

“Perfect little slut,” the war chief slurred, pulling her ass cheeks apart as he continued to grind his knot against her glands, continued to pump her full.

“She’ll give you a fine warrior or two,” Sinadim agreed, letting her head sink down. Prying slack lips apart so she might nurse at the tip of his cock, suckling in her stupor.

Balkazar grunted, shunting deeper. Sucking air between his teeth as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm him. And then, “Did you mean it?”

Humming, Sinadim didn’t bother to look. His focus glued to the dainty creature who, even in her absence, was desperate to drink him down.

“That we can keep her stuffed full,” Balkazar said, “even after she’s… gravid?”

At this, Sinadim chuckled and let her sink down on his shaft. Stopping her from choking with big hands framing her face. “This… bubble… is a fantasy,” he said at length. “It can’t exist in the Silver City. Not like this. Not openly. But for now,” he added and pulled his length from that little sucking hole, “we’re about to be buried by a sandstorm. Unable to leave until it’s passed. Ensconced in a nest with a Hathorian female who needs to be bred. Enjoy it,” Sinadim said and stood. “Enjoy it simply because it can’t last.”

Balkazar was quiet for a time after that. Seeming to enjoy the divine internal muscles working to keep his cum flowing.

The only sound the howling winds, the hiss of lashing sand, and the occasional grunt as another jet of seed was pulled from the dregs left in Balkazar’s drained sack.

And when his knot let go, it was with a gush of spilled cream. Slick that saturated the bedding. Soaking deep into the fabric as she was emptied, readied for the next round.

And the next.

“It’s time,” Sinadim murmured. Keeping his voice low, almost reverent as he watched the female stir.

Inky black eyes flicked open, blinking against the harsh glow penetrating the raging storm and the tent walls. Nuzzling, she turned her face into the extra bedding, seeking out the sheets most soiled by their combined scents.

Twisting and turning, she pulled them over herself as instinct consumed what remained of her civilized brain.

Sinadim pulled a clean sheet toward himself only to drag it against the scent glands buried in his mane. Letting the hoppy perfume of ownership saturate the air.

She didn’t disappoint.

With a delicate hiss, she snatched the fabric from his claws. Wrapping it around and around herself, burrowing deep enough to vanish from sight with a happy, contented coo.

Ensconced, cocooned in her nest, she went still.

Waiting.

Balkazar shifted. “What now?” he asked, keeping his voice low. As if afraid to disturb so primitive a ritual.

“Now,” Sinadim said and stripped away the remainder of his clothing with a greedy grin, “it begins.”