Page 8 of Naga's Mate

"Still resisting?" Nezzar growls, beginning to move with deliberate, punishing strokes. "Your body has already yielded."

He's right, and I despise him for it. Hate myself more for how my passage grips his invading lengths, for how each thrust extracts shameful, needy sounds from my lips. My inner walls undulate around him, contracting and releasing with omega biology's instinctive knowledge of alpha pleasure.

When the secretion coating his cocks absorbs into my tissues, everything shatters into terrifying new dimensions.

What begins as unusual warmth erupts into neural wildfire. Every sensation amplifies beyond bearable intensity—the texture of his scales against my skin, the weight of his coils around my limbs, the impossible stretch of my inner walls around his twin organs. My vision fragments into prismatic shards, colors too vivid to process. Scents assault me with information overload—his alpha musk, my omega sweetness, the mineral tang of the pools, the botanical life of the walls, all suddenly overwhelming my sensory processing.

"What—" The question deteriorates into a broken moan as pleasure crashes through me like a tidal wave. "What did you?—"

"Venom," he answers, driving deeper, his thrusts gaining momentum as my body yields completely. "Specially evolved to dissolve omega resistance."

Naga venom. The biochemical weapon disguised as pleasure, engineered to create dependency in human omegas. I'd studied it academically, analyzed its components in controlled environments. Nothing prepared me for this reality—the sensation of it burning through my bloodstream, rewriting my neural pathways with each pulse of his cocks inside me.

"No," I whimper, even as my hips rock backward to meet his thrusts, my body craving more of the toxin destroying my autonomy. "I don't want?—"

"Falsehood," he snarls, coils tightening around my thighs as he increases his pace. His cocks drive into me with punishing force now, the controlled claiming yielding to alpha rut aggression. "Your conscious mind deceives. Your body reveals truth."

I want to scream denials, but what emerges is a broken moan as another wave of venom-laced pleasure tears through me. Each brutal thrust sends his textured cocks dragging against internal zones that make my vision blur. The dual invasion should be unbearable, but the venom transforms everything to ecstasy so intense it borders on torment.

I fight with everything I possess—biting my lip until I taste copper, focusing on my hatred, my fury, my humiliation—but my body betrays me absolutely. Five years of suppressed omega biology erupts in violent surrender, accepting Nezzar's claiming with enthusiastic compliance. My inner walls clench around his invading cocks, pulsing with hunger I cannot control. My hips move to meet each thrust without conscious direction, my spine arching to present myself more completely. My scent gland throbs at my neck, swelling and pulsing in submission display I cannot suppress, releasing omega pheromones that saturate the humid air.

"Cease fighting what you require," Nezzar hisses against my ear, his forked tongue caressing the sensitive shell in teasing counterpoint to the brutal invasion below. "Your resistance only enhances this experience."

"I hate you," I manage between gasps, the words losing all venom as they dissolve into moans. "I hate what you're—ah—doing to me."

"Do you truly?" One scaled hand encircles my throat, applying just enough pressure to make breathing deliberate. The constriction shouldn't arouse me, but my passage floods with fresh wetness at this display of dominance. "Describe how intensely you despise this," he challenges, punctuating his demand with a particularly vicious thrust that drives his twin cocks against a spot so deep inside me that stars explode behind my eyelids.

His other hand finds my breast, scales rasping against sensitized skin as he captures my nipple between thumb and forefinger. The pressure is precise, perfectly calibrated between pleasure and pain, extracting a broken cry from my throat.

"That's it, little scientist. Let me hear how thoroughly you reject your pleasure."

His coils shift beneath me, muscular undulations changing the angle of penetration with each thrust. The twin textured shafts rotate inside me in opposite directions, stretching and stimulating my passage in ways no human anatomy could possibly replicate. Every ridge and texture drags against nerve endings evolved specifically for this claiming, sending contradictory signals of violation and ecstasy to my overwhelmed system.

When the first climax hits, it annihilates me.

I come screaming around his twin cocks, my body convulsing in violent spasms that would be agonizing without the venom flooding my system. The orgasm doesn't peak and recede like normal pleasure—it continues building, fragmenting into multiple waves that crash through me with increasing intensity. I'm distantly aware of feral sounds emerging from my throat—pleas, curses, omega submission whines I didn't know humans could produce.

"Please," I sob, no longer certain if I'm begging for mercy or continuation. "Please, I can't—it's too much?—"

"You can," he counters, his coils tightening around my thighs, spreading me wider for deeper access. "Your physiology was designed for this claiming, this pleasure." One massive coil wraps around my waist, lifting me slightly to alter the angle, driving his twin cocks impossibly deeper. "Feel how perfectly you accommodate me."

He's right—my omega passage expands to receive his alien dimensions with perverse eagerness, tissues reshaping themselves in real-time to optimize the friction of his cocks against my most sensitive zones. His venom has triggered some evolutionary adaptation mechanism I never knew existed, my body literally reconfiguring itself for his specific anatomy.

His hand slides from my throat down between my legs, finding the swollen bundle of nerves with unerring precision. His cool, scaled fingers circle my clit in methodical, relentless patterns that propel me toward another climax before the first has even subsided.

"No," I whimper, overwhelmed by the dual stimulation. "I can't experience another orgasm so quickly—it's physiologically impossible?—"

"Everything about you is being reconfigured," he growls, his fingers increasing their pressure as his thrusts gain brutal force. "What was impossible before my claiming is now inevitable."

His pace becomes relentless, punishing—all pretense of restraint abandoned as my ongoing pleasure triggers deeper rut response. His scales now cover his entire form, no longer just patches but a complete transformation. Golden eyes blaze with alpha possession, tongue repeatedly sampling the surrender in my scent. His cocks expand further inside me, the bases swelling noticeably now, the knots beginning to form.

The contrast of textures overwhelms my venom-enhanced senses—the cool smoothness of his scales against my feverish skin, the rigid heat of his cocks splitting me open, the slick movement of his fingers against my clit, the humid air heavy with our combined pheromones. Every sensation amplifies the others, creating a cycle of pleasure so intense it approaches agony.

"Look at me," he commands, one coil wrapping around my hair to pull my head back. "Witness who claims you."

I force my eyes open, meeting his predatory gaze as he towers above me, his upper body now more serpentine than human, iridescent scales reflecting the bioluminescent light. The sight should terrify me, but instead it hurls me toward another climax.

"Mine," he roars, the declaration vibrating through his coils and into my restrained body. "Mine to claim. Mine to breed. Mine to possess."

---