Claimed by Her Mates(2)

By: Grace Goodwin

“Come now,” he commanded, his cock like a piston, his fingers on my clit hard and unforgiving.

My orgasm exploded deep within me, for I had no other choice. I couldn’t resist it. I had no control. I was no longer myself, I was his. I screamed my release, my body clenching and releasing around his cock, pulling him in deeper, holding him all the way inside me. It was as if my body craved his life essence, was desperate for it.

My release triggered his and I felt him swell and grow even bigger before he growled in my ear, hot pulses of his seed filling me. My body greedily milked his cock of the life essence, taking it deep inside.

Just as he’d promised, something in his seed triggered a physical reaction in me, forcing me to come a second time.

“Yes, love. Yes, take every drop. Your body is changing. It knows me. It must have me. You will beg for my cock; you will crave my seed. You will need it, love it, just as I need and love you.”

“Yes!” I cried again, knowing his words were true. It was a hot wash of pleasure that seeped through my body, directly from my pussy, then outward. He was right; now that I felt the power of him, of what he could give me, I was a slave to it. I was a slave to his cock.

“Miss Adams?”

“Yes,” I said once again, my dream merging with the present.

“Miss Adams, your testing is over.”

I shook my head. No. I was bound to a fucking bench and being fucked and filled with seed. I wanted to stay there. I wanted… more.

“Miss Adams!”

The voice was stern now, and loud. I forced my eyes open.

“Oh, God,” I gasped, trying to catch my breath as my pussy clenched and pulsed with aftershocks of my orgasms. I wasn’t tied down to a fucking bench. No solid male body pressed into my back. I was in the Interstellar Bride Program’s processing center in a medical examination gown. My wrists were trapped in medical restraints secured to the edges of an uncomfortable reclining chair, similar to a dentist’s, for the last stage of preparations for going off-planet. I hadn’t realized, when they’d hooked up the wires and sensors, that I would end up in a sex dream. I felt the lingering effects of it. My pussy was wet, the back of my scratchy medical gown damp. My nipples were hard and my hands were clenched into fists. I felt wrung out and used. I felt complete.

“As I said, your testing is over.” Warden Egara stood before me. A stern young woman with dark brown hair and a hawk-like attention to every detail of the matching process, she glanced down at her tablet as her finger ran over it. “Your match has been made.”

I licked my dry lips as I tried to slow my frantic heart. Goosebumps broke out on my sweaty skin. “The dream… was it real?”

“It wasn’t a dream,” she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. “We use recorded sensory data from prior brides to assist in the matching process.”

“What?” Recorded data?

“A neuro-processing unit, or NPU, will be inserted in your skull before you leave Earth. It assists in language and helps you adapt to your new world.” She grinned then, and the sight was as frightening as it was wicked. “The NPU is programmed to record your mating and send the data back to the system.”

“You are going to record me with my new mate?”

“Yes. That is required by the matching protocol. All claiming ceremonies are reviewed to ensure that our brides are safely and properly placed.” She dropped the tablet to her side and I noticed the stiff collar and starched skirt of her uniform. There was not a wrinkle to be seen, not a single hair out of place in her tight chignon. She looked almost like a robot. But the fire in her eyes betrayed her fervor and dedication to her duty. Her devotion to the program was clearly evident in her next words. “We do all we can to make sure our warriors receive worthy brides. They serve us all, protecting the Earth and all member planets from certain destruction. The system uses your body’s reactions to probe your inner conscience, your darkest fantasies, your innermost needs. What didn’t interest you was quickly discarded by the matching program. The sensory input was filtered until we found a warrior from a planet with a perfect match.”

That had been my match? Surely not. “I can’t be matched to a man who ties me up. That’s not what I wanted when I volunteered.”

Her dark eyebrow winged up at that. “Apparently, Miss Adams, that is exactly what you desire. The testing reveals the truth, even if your mind denies it.”

I thought of her words as she moved around the table and took a seat opposite me. Her crisp uniform for the Interstellar Bride Program matched her cool demeanor. “You are an unusual case, Miss Adams. While we do have a few volunteers, we have never had one with your reasons before.”

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