CHAPTER 108: GET ME PREGNANT

I don’t think I’ve ever launched out of a chair faster in my life. It was less standing and more a full-bodied explosion upward, like every muscle in my body had conspired at once to eject me from the realm of sanity.

The poor chair went skittering across the floor with the dignity of a drunkard kicked out of a tavern, wood scraping shrill against stone before collapsing in a pathetic heap. If it had a soul, it was begging to be put out of its misery, much like myself.

She giggled. Of course she giggled. Not just any giggle either, but one of those syrupy, obnoxiously pleased little titters that belong to the sort of people who clap when the theater curtain rises because they think the show’s about them.

"Excuse me?" I croaked.

She clasped her hands together like a giddy child at a solstice festival, rocking slightly on her heels, eyes glittering with amusement. "You heard me," she purred. "I want you to get me pregnant."

My knees locked, my jaw went slack, and my soul briefly considered escaping through my nostrils.

"Gods above and below," I muttered, staring at the ceiling beams as though divine intervention might come crashing through them at any moment. "Not like this..."

She strolled leisurely across the floor, blood wiped casually from her lips with a cloth handed to her by one of her beastfolk attendants. Every step was confident, deliberate, predatory in the way only someone with eternity and obscene power could be.

"As I said before, I didn’t come to this tournament merely for entertainment," she said airily, dabbing her chin. "Though the spectacle has been... charming. No, I came with intent. To find a mate. And what better gathering than this? The strongest in the nation, all gathered in one place." She turned the cloth in her fingers, examining it like it was a mirror.

My brain hiccuped. My mouth opened. My lips formed the only question my scrambled thoughts could spit out. "Why me?"

She finished wiping, her hand dropping to her side, and then she closed the space between us in a blink.

My spine hit the edge of the table behind me, nowhere to run, her perfume drowning me, her golden gaze scorching mine. Her fingers trailed along my collarbone with obscene familiarity, tracing me as though I were an artifact she’d been meaning to polish.

"Why not you?" she purred. "You’re strong. Cunning. Dangerous. And..." her smile turned feral as her hand skimmed lower, brushing across my side, "...you have such a delicate, feminine figure. Such perfect features. It’s as if the gods sculpted you just for me."

I snapped my gaze to the ceiling beams again, teeth grinding. "Perfect features," I muttered. "Yes, right..."

Her fingers had begun to wander in a way that made my skin crawl, my ribs screaming, my dignity shriveling. I jerked back, but before I could truly retreat her hand clamped around my arm with terrifying strength. In her other hand, gleaming wicked in the candlelight, was my pen.

"Come," she commanded, and it wasn’t a suggestion.

The room blurred. My body, traitorous little thing, allowed itself to be yanked forward, hauled along like a child dragged to the whipping post. My mind spun out of control, screaming obscenities and prayers in equal measure.

Don’t fight her, Cecil, I told myself, heart thundering. Don’t fight her. You can’t. She’s a Queen-Class mage.You’d last three seconds, maybe less, and one of those would be her laughing at your mangled corpse.

But the pen. Oh gods, the pen. She had it clutched so casually, like an ornament, like a trinket she might toss aside if she grew bored. If I could just get it, maybe—just maybe—I could turn the board on her.

She dragged me up the staircase, heels clicking, her hum light and cheerful as though she were leading me to a ballroom and not my imminent doom. "No time to waste," she sang, tugging me along. "No time at all."

The hallway stretched long, and at the very end she burst open a door with a flourish. What lay beyond nearly made my stomach plummet.

Red velvet draped every surface, suffocating in its excess. Candles burned in thick clusters, their wax dripping obscene rivers onto gold-gilt stands. And in the center, like a throne disguised as furniture, was a bed. A bed so large, so plush, so maliciously soft it looked capable of swallowing entire families whole.

The sight made me groan aloud, dragging my palms down my face. "Of course. Of course you had this planned. Why wouldn’t you? You probably had the upholstery imported from some cursed dimension."

She hummed happily, releasing my arm at last, twirling once in the room as though showing me her prized collection. She set my pen carefully on a nightstand, right beside an ornate desk stacked with papers and trinkets, as if daring me to lunge for it. Then she turned back, radiant, eyes locked on mine.

We stood there in thick silence, the air hot with candle smoke and perfume. My throat bobbed. My brain screamed at me to talk, to stall, to find a crack.

"Are... are there any other alternatives?" I asked at last, my voice thin. "Anything else you might want, perhaps? Jewelry? A blood sacrifice? A witty monologue? Because I’m really good at those."

She smiled, shaking her head with mock sorrow. "I’ve waited eons for this. For the right partner. The right vessel. You think I would settle for less now? I will revive what was lost. My bloodline will not end in dust." Her tone was solemn, powerful, almost regal.

My objections—dozens of them, perhaps hundreds—rattled against my teeth, clamoring to be voiced. I had enough arguments to topple a council meeting, and all of them very good, very reasonable, very logical.

But before I could spill a single one, she closed the distance, seized my chin, and pressed her lips into mine.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was an assault disguised as one. Wet, sloppy, obscene, her mouth flooding mine with the taste of iron and roses. I stiffened almost instantly, my body betraying me in ways I would rather burn alive than admit.

My thoughts melted into static.

We stumbled backward, my legs buckling under the sheer weight of her desire, until the edge of the bed caught us, and we collapsed in a tangled heap.

She pulled away suddenly, leaving me panting, my chest heaving as if I’d just sprinted through a battlefield. My shirt clung to me, soaked with our mingled sweat, and my lungs burned as I gasped for air.

Her hands slid down my shoulders, fingers lingering for a heartbeat, leaving trails of heat that made my skin prickle, before she stood up and spun around with a flourish, her back to me. Her movements were fluid and deliberate, like a predator savoring the kill.

Then her dress—that damnable dress—slid from her body like liquid sin, slipping down her curves with a soft, wet rustle, pooling at her feet in a silken puddle that shimmered in the candlelight.

My eyes widened, my mouth dry as I took in the sight of her, every nerve in my body screaming with a mix of dread and desire. Her skin glistened in the flickering glow, slick with perspiration.

Beads of sweat traced the lines of her spine, dripping slowly, catching the light like molten gold, each droplet a testament to the heat radiating off of her. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, shoulders heaving, body trembling with barely contained need. The air around her was thick with the musky scent of her arousal.

She’s been holding back for so long, I realized, her restraint fraying like a rope stretched to snapping, a thought that made my cock twitch almost painfully in my pants, straining against the damp fabric already being soaked with precum.

My eyes drifted lower, unable to resist, drawn to the obscene sight between her thighs—a thin, glistening string of arousal stretching like a spider’s web, dripping in slow, viscous strands that caught the candlelight, shimmering like morning dew.

Her inner thighs were slick, coated in a glossy sheen of her juices, the wet heat of her so potent it seemed to pulse in the air, beckoning me closer. Another drop fell, splattering softly against the floor, and the sound—wet, intimate, and raw—sent a shiver racing down my spine, my body betraying me with a low, involuntary groan.

My heart pounded in my chest, so loud I was sure she could hear it. And then there was a sound—thump, thump, thump—my pen vibrating faintly on the nightstand, as if it were alive, as if it knew what was about to happen.

I half-considered grabbing for it, but before I could move, she spun around, her smirk wicked and knowing. She leaned into me, her fingers brushing through my hair, her lips grazing mine. I shuddered, my self-control fraying at the edges.

"Oh, darling," she purred, her voice dripping with amusement. "You look so adorable when you whimper like that."

Her breath was hot and moist against my skin as her lips brushed the top of my forehead in a kiss that felt more like a brand. Then her hand slid lower to cup my cheek. "Shh, it’s okay, baby," she cooed, her tone shifting into something softer, more maternal. "Mommy’s here to take care of you."

Mommy.

The word echoed in my skull, a twisted anchor that pulled me deeper into this abyss. Gods, what has my life become? A plaything for this eternal predator, reduced to nothing but a trembling mess beneath her gaze?

Her lips trailed lower then, each kiss a searing spark igniting heated embers underneath my skin, leaving wet trails of saliva that cooled in the air and made me shiver. She paused at my collarbone, her tongue darting out slow and deliberate, lapping at the salt of my sweat like she was savoring the taste of my defeat.

I groaned again, deep and unwilling.

Her hands moved to my waist then, deftly undoing the fastenings before sliding my pants down my legs. Her breath hitched as she took me in, her eyes darkening with hunger.

"Look at you," she murmured, her voice a intoxicating mix of awe and cruel amusement, her fingers ghosting over my thighs, nails scraping lightly. "So eager for more..."

Her tongue flickered out then, slow and deliberate, tracing a long, maddening line up the length of my shaft, her saliva mixing with my precum to create a slick, glistening trail that dripped down my skin.

"Gods, you’re fucking throbbing," she teased, her breath ghosting over me. "Does that feel good, baby? Tell Mommy how much you need this."

I gasped, a high-pitched sound that I would’ve been embarrassed by if I weren’t so far gone.

"So sensitive," she teased, her fingers wrapping around the base of my cock. Then she leaned in again, her tongue circling the head in lazy, wet spirals, lapping up the remaining precum with a satisfied, slurping hum that filled the room with obscene sounds.

Fuck, I was unraveling, thread by thread, under her oppression.

Then she did something that nearly shattered me completely—she arched her back with a predatory grace, her breasts pressing heavy against my thighs before her hands moved to cradle them, pushing them together around my dick in a vise of warm, yielding flesh.

The feeling was indescribable—soft, warm, and wet, her skin slick with sweat and the remnants of my earlier desperation, sliding up and down my shaft with a furious rhythm that made sloppy, squelching sounds echo throughout the room.

I clutched the sheets for dear life, my knuckles white, nails digging into the fabric as she picked up the pace, her movements becoming more urgent, more demanding, her breasts bouncing with every thrust, sweat flying in tiny droplets.

"That’s it, hold on tight," she commanded, her eyes gleaming. "But don’t you dare cum without my permission. I’ll decide when you get to break."

"F-Fuck, please, slow down," I moaned, my voice breaking into a raw plea as traitorous pleasure surged through the base of my spine, coiling tight and threatening to snap. "I can’t... it’s too much..."

She looked up at me then, her eyes locking onto mine as she whispered, "You’re going to cum for mommy, aren’t you~?"

And just like that, I was gone.

My orgasm hit me like a freight train, my cock throbbing violently as I came, hot and thick, between her breasts, ropes of my cum splattering across her skin in messy, sticky bursts.

She gasped, some of it splashing onto her face, dripping down her chin in viscous trails, and without missing a beat, she licked it from her lips with a slow, deliberate swipe of her tongue, her eyes never leaving mine.

"Good boy," she purred.

But she wasn’t done—oh no, not by a long shot. She pushed me back onto the bed, her hands roaming over my body with purpose. Her fingers trailed lower and lower until they reached the swell of my ass, and I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

"Wait, please—" I whimpered, my voice barely above a whisper.

She chuckled darkly, her fingers pressing against me with a firmness that made me shiver. "Relax," she murmured, her breath hot against my ear.

And then she pressed into me, slowly but surely, my entire body trembling as she stretched me open. Her fingers moved with precision, massaging me from the inside as she whispered filthy promises into my ear.

"Feel that? Fufu~"

"Hah~!" I gasped, my voice cracking as I struggled to hold myself back, my cock twitching back to life despite the overwhelming invasion, sweat pouring down my body in rivers.

I was on the edge, teetering so close to climaxing again, my mind fracturing under the assault. Then she pulled out with a wicked, triumphant laugh.

"Not yet," she teased...

Her eyes, dark and predatory, bore into mine like daggers as she began to crawl over me, her movements deliberate and hypnotic. My breath hitched as she positioned herself on her knees, her pussy hovering just inches above my face, swollen and dripping with arousal that scented the air with musk and sin.

Fuck, she was absolutely soaking, her folds glistening in the dim candlelight, fluids trickling down her thighs in shiny trails. A single drop fell onto my lip, warm and tangy, salty with her essence, and I whimpered, my voice trembling with raw desperation.

"No more... I can’t take it," I begged.

But she didn’t answer—at least, not with words. Instead, she descended onto me with a low growl, her thighs framing my face like iron bars, pressing her dripping pussy against my mouth in a smothering claim.

My world narrowed to nothing but her—the overpowering scent of her arousal, the heat of her skin slick against my cheeks, and the way she pulsed with insatiable need, juices flooding my lips and chin in a messy cascade.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only obey as she ground herself against me, forcing my tongue to drag across her clit.

Her moan was low and guttural, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine. I could feel the tremors running through her body, the way her thighs tensed and released as she rode my face with abandon. The Lady of Fangs was unraveling, her predatory grace giving way to something raw and feral.

It was intoxicating—the way she used me, the way she needed me.

But then, just as I felt like I might suffocate beneath her, drowning in her wetness, she pulled back with a gasp, leaving a glistening trail of her cum stretching between her pussy and my coated lips, snapping in the air with a wet pop. She chuckled softly, her breath ragged and triumphant as she looked down at me with those piercing eyes, her face flushed and slick.

"That should have warmed you up," she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

Warmed me up?! My eyes widened, my mind racing as I tried to process what she meant. But before I could beg or protest, she shifted her weight with a predatory grace, her hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise as she positioned herself above me.

I barely had time to register the heat of her before she sank down onto my cock, her tight, dripping warmth enveloping me completely, squeezing like a vice that made my vision blur and my back arch.

"Oh fuck~!" I gasped.

She was so tight, so impossibly perfect, her inner walls slick and pulsing around me, every inch a raw, wet friction that drove me mad.

She began to move slowly at first, testing me, teasing with shallow rolls of her hips that made her juices coat us both, dripping down my balls in hot streams.

Her nails dug into my chest as she leaned in close, her breasts brushing against me as she claimed my lips with a searing kiss.

I moaned into her mouth, the sound swallowed by her own as she dominated me completely, her rhythm turning fierce and unrelenting, hips slamming down with brutal force. Each thrust was a wet slap of skin on skin that echoed through the room, her arousal squirting out in messy spurts with every collision.

"Oh, gods, fuck me harder!" she gasped, her voice trembling with raw, unraveling hunger, words spilling out in a frantic torrent of disjointed thought. "I need you to pump me full, fuck, I’m begging you, please...please breed me! I want to feel your hot sticky load flooding my insides. Get me pregnant, please!"

The weight of her, the heat of her, the way she moved—it was all too damn much. My hands gripped her hips desperately, trying to anchor myself in the storm of sensations threatening to overwhelm me.

However, amidst the chaos, my mind kept drifting back to the pen. It was there, on the nightstand, just out of reach. I could see it from the corner of my eye, its faint pulsing growing louder in my ears. My fingers twitched with the urge to reach for it, but she was relentless, her pace only intensifying as she pushed me closer and closer to the brink.

"Cum for mommy," she whispered against my lips, her voice low and commanding. "Be a good boy and cum for mommy."

I tried to resist, tried to hold on just long enough to grab the pen, but it was impossible. Her body was too perfect, her movements too demanding. I could feel the tension coiling tightly in my gut, my cock throbbing with the need for release.

But then, her head dipped, her lips parting to reveal the glint of her sharp, elongated fangs, gleaming wickedly in the candlelight.

My heart stopped as she lunged for my neck, her breath hot and ragged against my skin, the tips of her fangs grazing my pulse point, a whisper of pain promising something far worse.

In that instant, my hand shot out, grasping the pen with a desperation I didn’t fully understand. Her eyes widened in surprise, but it was too late.

I jammed the pen straight into her neck.