So much has changed. That wasn’t just sex. That was transformation on a biological and spiritual level. That was fucking everything.
I am a woman. I am his woman.
I belong to King Rex. He feels like he is mine. I don’t know how any of the harem ladies ever did it, but I am certain I could not stand it if a single other person or person-related creature ever touched him.
“Rex…”
“Yes?” There is so much warmth in that word. I feel his affection wash over me again, and I know that I am safe and cared for, even if my pussy might ache forever after that royal orgasm.
“Was that… are we….” I don’t know how to formulate the question, but he knows how to answer it anyway.
“We are bonded. We are mated. You are mine.”
That’s all I needed to hear. Completely exhausted, I fall asleep in his arms, perfectly content, and perhaps even loved.
Three
Kristine
The next morning after breakfast, Rex puts a bow in my hand. “It is time you learned to provide and defend this place.”
And here I was, thinking that we were just going to roll around in bed from now until forever. The sex was incredible. It changed my life in some fundamental way. I think it might have changed me, rewritten parts of my code, turned me into a better, more loving person. Or maybe it just felt fucking awesome and I want more. I crave this king, with his hard body and even harder…
“Kristine?” he says my name sharply when I fail to reply and simply stare at him with a lustful human gaze.
“I thought those were your jobs,” I say. I’m mostly kidding, but I suppose there’s some part of me that is surprised he considers me worthy of either of those things.
“Oh, did you? There are only two of us here, Kristine. I would happily allow you to be my perpetual fuck toy, but that is a luxury neither one of us can afford now. You will have to take your place beside me, as well as beneath me.”
“Okay. Cool. Sounds good.” I’m trying to sound casual, because I don’t want Rex to know how wildly inept I’ve always been at physical things.
“We will start with practice. There are arrows here, and there are targets there, bags of sand that will stop the arrow. Behind is a dense thicket of thorns. I’ve found it’s best not to shoot wildly.”
“Why not?”
“Very early on in my time here, I shot an arrow while practicing. I had just made the bow, and it was not shooting true. I happened to hit the juvenile of a very large species of dinosaur. One even larger than the one that detained you when you arrived. It…uh…”
“It’s the scar on your back.”
“It is,” he admits. “These beasts lay eggs, and they brood their offspring. They take great offense if you shoot one of them.”
“That doesn’t make me want to use this bow, like, ever.”
“Maybe not, but you will learn. These arrows are the only weapons we have which allow us to maintain distance and do heavy damage. We are able to dispatch these creatures, or at least frighten them away. You need to be able to do this as well as I can.”
I try to pull the bow, but the string is far tighter than I thought and I can hardly move it an inch.
“I can’t do this. This is fucking…”
“I may need to make a bow more suited to you. I won’t be able to make it a simple draw. I’ll need pulleys. Something to further enhance the draw weight while still making it possible for you to pull it.” He’s almost talking more to himself than to me, caught up in the process of engineering a weapon for me. Why is that so sexy? It’s because everything he does is sexy.
I watch him work on my new bow. He’s all ripply and sexy and my not-so-virgin-anymore self wants an encore performance of last night. I slide up to him, press myself against his back and nibble at his ear. He makes a grunting sound of amusement and gently nudges me away.
“Not now,” he murmurs. “I need to finish these weapons.”
I pout. I’ve waited twenty something years to finally get laid, and now that it has happened I want more. So much more. I want to wrap myself around his cock. I want to feel him surging deep inside me again. I want my body to be his tool for pleasure. I want so many things, and I am getting none of them because he is insisting on working on that bow.
“You could be gardening, or tending the smaller creatures,” he suggests.
“You could be fucking my brains out.”
“I could be turning your ass red with a whipping lash that would remind you that you are not here to lie on your back and spread your legs. You are here to survive.”