to visit you for lunch breaking. I don’t want the belt to hinder my access.”
My whole body heats at his words. I hold my hand out to him, fingers splayed.
He locks his fingers with mine, brings my hand down beside my thigh, and sinks his mouth against my pussy. There’s a delightfully eerie glow cast from his eyes that lights up my mons and thighs and belly, making me look ringed in magic.
Bash is certainly making me feel magic.
He licks me until I scream, then he unknits our fingers to pin my stomach down for round two.
But back on the subject of my belt: chastity has become a game. That Bash is opting to have me walk around beltless more and more is a sign of how secure he finally feels. His trust is a beautiful thing.
I’m sure we’re not done with the belt for forever though. We’re sure to drag it out from time to time, but lately, Bash hasn’t needed it. That said, I figure when our kids are twenty or thirty we might let it slip that they were conceived after I was violently torn out of a chastity belt. Because your conception happening while your mom was getting shredded out of said belt by your horny dad is the kind of mental bomb you should share when it’s time to round out your children’s therapy sessions. I mean, you don’t want them paying the therapist for the average crap to wade through. You want to make those sessions interesting. Now the doctors won’t be bored and our kids will at least know their parents are madly in love.
We're going to have so much fun scarring our offspring.
Besides his growing trust, Bash has been motivated to ease off the belt play because they were getting expensive to repair, or in some cases, replace.
Just thinking about it makes me gasp and clutch his quills and snicker. Bash and I enjoyed a good long stretch of roleplaying where my king was away—and my naughty royal Rakhii guard wrenched my belt apart to have his way with me.
Then came the day Cyden informed us he was getting sick of making belts. Since he’s also charging a mint to repair or replace them, it’s not like he wasn’t well compensated for his talents. But apparently the man has other plans for his life than mending our sex toys.
Liiiike… plans for finding his own female. He approached Dohrein with his savings (care of us, really), whose dam supplied the considerable funds once to make a trip to Earth, wherein a shipful of hobs plus some Rakhii picked up human mates.
Cyden wants a mate.
Dohrein agreed to approach his dam for a second trip with one condition—Cyden has to take Jonohkada and find the hob a wife.
Gracie is worried, Jonoh doesn’t feel very hopeful that he’ll have success (he was on the original mission-trip to Earth and found no woman who wanted him for a mate), but Dohrein is already relaxing.
I told Gracie, “See? If you’d been in a chastity belt, your bat-husband might not have felt so wildly territorial.”
“Yeah, well,” she’d said with a strained sigh, “I was kind of pregnant, so that’s not an option I’d have wanted to explore.” She nuzzled with her baby girl then, reassuring herself. Nisha is her baby’s name. Just like her father, she was born with leathery-skinned wings, glacier-blue eyes, little claws on each finger—and she’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.
“Jonoh will be fine on his own,” I’d assured her. “And he won’t be alone alone. Sounds like there’s a bunch of guys who are hoping to bring back mates.”
“Yeah,” Gracie had agreed, but she still looked like a mother swan who watched one of her cygnets get jerked underwater by an alligator snapping turtle.
“He’ll be fine,” I’d said confidently. “He’ll find some nice girl that you’ll terrify so much she’ll privately consider you the mother-in-law from hell.”
Gracie took a moment to consider this before rocking her adorable newborn and nodding. “I like this scenario.”
EPILOGUE II
BASH
(Crying Counter: I WILL BREAK YOUR HAND IF YOU TOUCH IT)
You—yes. *Sigh.* You, human. You.
There are three rules: The first is you’d better enter my domain ready to work.
It’s very simple. So are you, I realize, but I expect you to do your best. The second rule is don’t touch the Snivel Counter.
The third is don’t speak. I don’t want to hear your voice grating in my ears.
I am the Quarry Master. And I am mated to a human.