Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 46785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
His instincts were proved correct when Tristan next spoke.
“I’m going to punish you for this, Mort.”
“Are you?” Mort could not hide his delight, or his anticipation.
“Yes,” Tristan said, stern as hell, and beautiful in his newfound power. “I am.”
“Do it then,” Mort challenged him.
With a curse, Tristan grabbed him and tossed him over onto his stomach. Mort’s hard cock rubbed against rucked up sheets as Tristan bared his ass and laid a hard slap across both cheeks. It was Mort’s first spanking, and it stung.
“You’ve been planning this all along, haven’t you. You found me trying to end my life, and you gave me all the life. Twisted little devil.”
“Not a devil, a psychopomp,” Mort corrected, earning himself a flurry of very hard slaps.
“Nothing more than my mortal slave now,” Tristan growled. He had settled into his position very quickly and naturally, taking to immortality far more easily than Mort had adjusted to mortality.
“I’ve wanted to do this many times,” Tristan confessed as he spanked. “You’ve always needed taking down a peg or two, just a little too arrogant, a little too spoiled, a little too reckless.”
Every accurate insight was accompanied by ever intensified sting. Tristan spanked hard. He was not nearly as careful with Mort as a mortal as Mort had been with him. He was genuinely pissed at having been put in such a position, and he was demonstrating his displeasure very firmly.
“How dare you,” he growled. “Without asking me, without even considering my consent. You were so offended and hurt when Loki did that to you, but you did it to me without a second thought.”
Mort thought briefly about apologizing, but he didn’t. He didn’t because that might make this stop, and he didn’t want it to stop. He relished the pain rushing through his body. It was starting to feel like pleasure. His cock ground against the bed with every slap. Tristan’s grip and dominance thrilled him and made the pain worth it.
After a lengthy thrashing, his ass bright red, swollen, and sore, he felt Tristan rise up over him, felt his cheeks being spread and knew that his thrashed ass was about to be fucked.
Tristan grabbed the lube from the side of the bed; the same lube they had previously been used for his ass fucking was now going to be used on Mort. Mort heard the top open and felt cool lubricating gel dropping against his ass.
Tristan was silent, grim, even, as he rubbed the lube up and into Mort’s hole, pushing his finger in with casual ownership. Mort laid still and submissive, anticipating what was going to happen next.
He felt the bed move as Tristan straddled him from behind, his massive muscular thighs spread on either side of Mort’s hips. Big hands spread his cheeks and held them wide. The thick head of Tristan’s rampant cock pressed against Mort’s tight, un-fucked ass.
“You wanted to claim me,” Tristan said, sliding inside Mort’s once virginal ass in a stern stroke. “Now I claim you. You wanted the mark removed from me…”
He fucked Mort with powerful strokes, grinding him into the bed, punishing his ass inside and out. Mort gasped and grunted, feeling himself violated and disciplined in the most perfect way.
“But now I put my mark on you.”
Tristan bit Mort, his teeth sinking into Mort’s shoulder hard enough to draw blood.
“Fuck!” Mort screamed.
It was only the beginning.
Tristan bit and fucked, and punished, absolutely ravaging Mort until Mort felt so completely human, utterly mortal and entirely debased. When Tristan finally relinquished his place, Mort was leaking cum from his aching ass, his cock sore from more than one orgasm forcefully milked from Tristan’s rutting. The bed was covered in his semen and his sweat.
He was weak, beautifully, perfectly, pathetically weak. He could hardly focus his eyes, let alone move his limbs. He had been drained, all that nervous human energy transformed to pleasure, pain, and submission.
As he recovered, he looked over at Tristan. Tristan wasn’t out of breath, because he did not have to breathe. He was not covered in sweat, because he did not have to sweat. Sitting propped against the wall, one arm resting on a raised knee, his face peaceful and powerful, Tristan was finally all he could be, and he was magnificent.
Tristan caught his eye, replying to the helpless little plea Mort made without words.
“You should have thought about the consequences before you forced me into immortality,” Tristan said. “I don’t feel sorry for you, Mort. I know you did what you did because you wanted this. Needed it. You’ve spent an eternity on top, and now it’s time you felt what it’s like to be the bottom.”
Tears gleamed in Mort’s eyes, for he knew what had gone unspoken so long had been understood. He didn’t have to ask Tristan for what he needed. He was going to get it.