Page 36 of Warlord’s Prize

"Look at me," he commands, golden eyes fixed on my face as he seats himself fully inside me.

I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze as the visible bulge in my abdomen confirms the depth of his penetration. The vibrating nodule at the base of his cock makes contact with my clit, the specialized oni anatomy beginning its maddening rhythm that guarantees my pleasure regardless of my will.

The vibrations spread through my core like liquid fire, transforming the stretch into undeniable pleasure that crashes through my rational thoughts. My hands clutch at his massive arms, fingernails digging into crimson skin that yields to pressure like warm stone.

"That's it," he encourages as my body responds to the vibrations with instinctive movement, hips rising to increase contact with the nodule that sends waves of pleasure through me. "Show me how much you need this."

The taunting words would have enraged me once, but now they feel like permission to embrace the response I can't control anyway. My body moves in counterpoint to his thrusts, the vibrations against my clit building pressure that tightens low in my abdomen with increasing urgency.

When he shifts angle slightly, the head of his massive cock presses against a spot deep inside that makes stars explode behind my eyes. The combination of internal pressure and external vibration pushes me toward climax with unstoppable momentum.

"Please," I gasp again, the word barely coherent as pleasure builds beyond my capacity to process. "Please don't stop."

His rhythm intensifies, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge while golden eyes watch my face with fascination that transcends simple dominance. The vibrating nodule increases its rhythm against my overstimulated clit, guaranteeing my pleasure whether I want it or not.

The orgasm breaks over me like a storm, muscles clenching around the massive intrusion as waves of pleasure crash through me with overwhelming intensity. My vision narrows to pinpoints of light as my body convulses beneath his, the surrender complete and undeniable.

Before the first climax fully subsides, the vibrations trigger a second wave that tears a sob from my throat—pleasure so intense it borders on pain washing through me in relentless pulses. My fingers dig into his arms hard enough to leave marks even on oni skin, anchor points in a sea of sensation threatening to drown my conscious mind.

"Mine," Kazuul growls again, his thrusts becoming more forceful as his own pleasure builds. The vibrating nodule continues its merciless stimulation against my oversensitive clit, forcing my body toward a third climax that seems impossible yet approaches with unavoidable certainty.

When his knot begins to swell, the additional stretch creates burning pressure that somehow transforms into another dimension of pleasure. The knot locks us together as his release floods my womb with burning heat, quantity so great it distends my abdomen further.

The third orgasm shatters what remains of my conscious control, my body arching beneath him as pleasure whites out rational thought entirely. His name escapes my lips as a desperate cry, acknowledgment of connection I once rejected but now embrace with my entire being.

We remain locked together by biology, his massive form curved protectively around mine as our breathing gradually steadies. His hand spreads across my distended abdomen where our child grows, the gesture possessive yet somehow protective in a way that would have seemed impossible months ago.

"The Emperor will try again," I murmur against his chest, strategic assessment automatic despite post-claiming lethargy.

"Yes," Kazuul agrees, his voice a rumble I feel through my skin. "But he won't succeed."

The simple declaration contains acknowledgment of both immediate victory and ongoing challenge. We've survived today's confrontation, but the political landscape continues evolving around us. What remains uncertain is exactly what we're fighting to protect—my position, his authority, our child's future, or something more fundamental.

What I know with uncomfortable certainty is that I would make the same choice again—stepping forward to defend this strange connection that began through force but has evolved into something neither of us expected. The realization shifts my understanding of myself in ways my resistance training never prepared me for, the strategic leader I once was merging with the claimed omega I've become to create someone new I'm only beginning to recognize.

CHAPTER16

RETURN TO FORTRESS

The imperial cityshrinks behind us as our procession winds through the outer territories. With each mile that passes, my shoulders lower incrementally, a tension I hadn't fully acknowledged beginning to release. Compared to the suffocating atmosphere of Emperor Goran's court, even the open road feels like freedom.

I watch the landscape change from the covered transport wagon Kazuul arranged for me. The imperial territories we first pass through show clear signs of neglect—fields harvested to exhaustion, settlements with crumbling buildings, hollow-eyed humans whose gazes drop instantly when our oni escort passes.

"They look half-starved," I murmur, not really expecting a response.

Kazuul, riding alongside the wagon rather than in the lead position his rank would typically demand, turns his massive head toward me. "Goran thinks fear works better than contentment. His results say otherwise."

"Fear only breeds desperation," I counter, gesturing toward a field where the crops grow stunted and yellowed. "And desperate people make poor farmers."

His golden eyes track my gaze, the vertical pupils contracting slightly in the bright sunlight. "A lesson my half-brother refuses to learn, despite the evidence right in front of him."

The border between imperial central territory and Kazuul's domain isn't marked by any official boundary stone, but the change becomes evident within just a few miles. The fields grow more orderly, irrigation systems maintain proper moisture levels, and most tellingly, the humans working the land stand straighter. They still bow respectfully as our procession passes, but their movements lack the bone-deep terror visible in the imperial territories.

I lean forward, studying the differences with the same strategic precision that once served resistance planning but now catalogs governance effectiveness. The buildings in Kazuul's territories show recent repairs, the roads receive regular maintenance, and most significantly, the food storage facilities appear well-constructed and properly sealed against vermin.

"Your people don't starve," I observe, the words emerging more question than statement.

"Hungry humans can't work effectively," Kazuul replies, the practical assessment somehow more meaningful than any moral claim could be. "Proper food ensures better harvests. It's simple math, even if others can't see it."

---