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Slavery's Release update
🕑 Added 2020-07-06 22:00:01 +0000 UTC
Oola huddled against Peter, hugging herself to him with a quantity of pride and affection and respect that she’d never felt before. A tear dripped from her left eye, physical manifestation of the comfort she took in him. All the fear, all the despair, all the crushing worry—the longer she spent with him, the more they were all stripped away, never to return. Then his hand came around her, stroking her lekku as he’d done before, possessively, making her coo as his fingers padded over the sensitive flesh.
Peter’s hand hovered off her green skin. “Is that alright? I’m not hurting you, am I?”
“No,” Oola said quickly, concerned herself by the lack of a smile on Peter’s face. She was his—she should be giving him as much comfort as he was giving her. “I like it. I… I think I love you.”
Peter burst out laughing, a short blast of disbelief. He caught himself quickly. “You can’t love me. You only just met me—you barely even know me.”
“You’re the only person I’ve met in all my life worth knowing.” She pressed her tear-streaked face into the sleeve of his garment, kissing through the fabric. She could feel the firm muscle underlying his clothing, the physical prowess that had protected her from that Gamorrean scum. They would be a good match—she expected she would find his body as appealing as men always found hers. “Peter Parker. The only man I ever want to touch me, kiss me, look at me—have me.”
Peter chuckled uncomfortably. “Oola, come on… this is crazy…”
Oola met his eyes fiercely. “This is how it is for my people. This is what we do for our mates.” Peter opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “Do you intend to abandon me? To not care for me?”
“No, of course not, but—“
“Then I’m in your debt. I repay my debts.”
“But you don’t have to.”
“I want to. Don’t you want me to?”
“I…” Peter began, but was unsure of where to go.
“Do you believe it’s immoral to enjoy sex?”
“No, I don’t…”
“Do you not find me attractive?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Then what is it?”
Peter threw up his hands. “I don’t want you to feel obligated. That’d make me feel like I was some creep, taking advantage of you!”
Oola frowned. “Did you not feel obligated to protect me?”
“Well, yeah—“
“Am I a ‘creep’? Taking advantage of you?”
“That’s different,” Peter insisted. “You needed help. I don’t have some… burning need for sex!”
Oola looked down at his crotch. “Don’t you?”
Peter coughed. “That, uh… that’s not a… it’s sort of an outlier, statistically speaking, from the majority of me.”
“It’s very outlier.” Oola looked him in the eye again, her gaze now supple, a bit smug. “Is it not uncomfortable, being cooped up in such a constrictive garment, when there is so much to be concealed?”
“You should see me in my workclothes,” Peter quipped automatically.
“I’m hurting you. You’ve rescued me and I’m hurting you. At least let me make you comfortable…”
“Oola,” Peter muttered, but like a pickpocket’s magic, Oola went over his pants—undoing his belt buckle and opening his fly and dragging his trousers down his thighs. His boxers went with them.
Oola marveled at how his cock sprang up, long and hard, sweating with precum. It throbbed. Her lekku twitched. It would be a good mating. A very good mating. Even if he seemed a little big for her.
But then, after the humiliations she’d had to endure, being treated like some living artwork to be displayed, a manhood big enough to stretch her was a welcome challenge. She couldn’t wait to grow accustomed to its size, to slowly form herself into the perfect body servant for this alpha male.
“I want to take care of you,” Oola said. “I want to serve you, in my own way, as you’ve served me in yours.”
“You don’t have to,” Peter insisted, one last time. “Not if you don’t want to.”
Oola smiled hungrily. “Master… if you think I don’t want to, you’ve never seen a set of lekku before.”
She bent down to him worshipfully, submissively, yet doing all the work as Peter laid there in the heat of the fire. She kissed the hairs of his muscular thighs and ran her tongue along the loose skin of his scrotum. Her lips parted to take in his balls, sucking them sweetly into her mouth, then caressing and stroking them with her tongue.
She could almost feel the sperm roiling inside his testes. There was plenty of it and Oola set a goal for herself of draining him of every drop. She would not be in heat for several seasons, but this would be good practice, and by the time her cycle rolled around she would have long since convinced him she’d be an ideal mate. Yes, already she wanted to bear him children. How could she have a better match than that?
While his engorged balls nestled in her wide mouth, Oola wrapped her hand around his upthrust shaft, stroking it from the root to the glans. She circled her palm around it, luxuriating in the building heat, the growing excitement. Then she ran her tongue up the underside of his cock, up to lick and lave his knob, tasting the thrill she was giving him.
“I need you so much, Master. Only you, no one else, but you forever…” she sighed. “I’ll be all you need, too. I’ll give you everything you could ever want.”
Before he could reply, she made it clear conversation was at an end. Putting her lips around his cockhead, sucking until she tasted the deliciousness of his precum blooming into her mouth. Then going down his length. Showing him how much she could take. Pressing his glans into her throat, twisting her head from side to side on his shaft, taking it all totally into the loving grasp of her sucking throat. Drooling a little as she embraced him with her gullet.
Her pussy had become soft and wet, tender, with the presence of Peter’s cock between her lips. As if jealous of the attention her mouth was receiving. Oola tided it over with two fingers stroking inside her—anxious to discover how Peter’s touch would differ from her own. She was hot for him, wet for him, so ready to feel his member. Then and only then could she show him how much she needed him, wanted him, how she was nothing alone and everything with him.
Her pert breasts pressed down into Peter’s legs, Oola splaying herself below him like the dancer she was finishing a performance, though this recital had only just begun. He could only sit there, not with the kingly imperiousness of a master, but as if he didn’t know what to do with her as she groveled at his phallus.
Finally, she reached up to take his hand and pulled it down to one of her lekku. A shudder of anticipation rippled through Oola at his caressing touch. He finally seemed to grasp how sensitive—how intimate—touching her there was.
Comments
P. C.
Peter is finally getting with the program. =)
Shendude
Delish.
