His words, his smirk, his touch. They are all remnants of a time when her body was not her own, when every breath she took was dictated by his will.
Golden streaks of sunlight filtered through the great barred window of El Impoluto, washing over polished mahogany walls and shelves crowded with trinkets, plunder from far-off coasts. Salt clung to everything, mingling with sweat and something richer still. A scent that had seeped deep into the ship’s grain.
Ysábella lay at the center of it, slanted light catching the sheen of sweat across her abdomen. Sheets lay tangled at her hips, the bed’s warmth still clinging to her skin.
An itch prickled under her breast. She scratched absently, finding a tick latched there. Her nails pinched it. A soft pop, a smear of blood. She wiped her fingers on the sheet.
Across the room, Villanueva lounged in his chair, bare-chested, bronze skin gleaming in the morning light. Scars mapped his torso. A map of old violence worn like a badge. He idly turned an empty glass in his fingers, a smirk playing at his lips as his dark eyes flicked toward her.
“You always were a fast learner, chiquita.”
Her stomach tightened, a dull thrum moving through her veins. The potion still pulsed in her blood, its aftertaste lingering on her tongue.
A shift in the room, a slow stirring in the shadow, pulled her gaze. The creak of heavy paws on old wood.
The mastiff rose from the corner, muscles rippling beneath its patchy coat. It scratched vigorously behind its ear with a hind leg, then lowered the paw to sniff the air, nostrils flaring. It arched its spine, joints popping in a stretch. Claws scratched slowly across the boards before a full-body shake sent its musk rolling through the room. Earthy, animal, intoxicating.
Ysábella’s breath caught as the aroma filled her lungs. That familiar, dangerous warmth began to spread low in her belly.
Tail wagging, it padded to the bed’s edge and lowered its massive head. Warm breath brushed her bare shoulder before its nose pressed just below her collarbone, savoring the sweetness that clung to her skin, each inhale was long and lingering.
"You still feel it, don't you?" Villanueva hummed, tapping his glass against the arm of his chair. "How your body still calls to him."
The words lingered in her thoughts, soft as a whisper but twice as cruel. Ysábella’s throat tightened; her gasp snagged on the silence. She wanted to deny him the satisfaction, but denial would be a lie to herself. Without conscious thought, she slid from the bed, bare knees scraping against the wooden boards with grace.
She knelt low, meeting the mastiff’s gaze head-on. Warmth pulsed in her chest, spreading through her veins. Her hands trembled as she reached for him, fingers sinking into the rough, patchy fur at his neck where a few swollen ticks clung deep in the creases. The skin beneath was dry, flaking under her touch.
The mastiff rumbled, shifting beneath her hands. His tongue flicked out again and again, fast and eager, drawing thick, deliberate strokes up the curve of her neck. He tasted her, then pressed his tongue over and over, grazing her jaw, her cheek, the edge of her mouth. Her fingers tightening in his coarse fur.
Villanueva leaned forward slightly, voice low and indulgent.
"It’s strange, isn’t it? The things we fight, the things we deny. Only to find them waiting for us in the end."
Another lick. This time across her lips. Her mouth parting, her tongue darted out, tasting him.
A soft, broken sound slipped from her throat. Her hands slid higher, fingers tangled in the ragged scruff of his neck. She leaned into him, as the tongue curled, thick and hot, seeking entry. It pressed past her teeth, sweeping the inside of her cheek, before her own tongue met his in a slick, slobbering, primal kiss.
The warmth curled deeper, winding tight inside her. Her hips shifted faintly, a restless ache blooming beneath the slow, molten pull of the potion.
Across the room, Villanueva’s smirk deepened.
And without a word, he reached for the small glass vial, lifting it from his coat pocket, swirling the thick, iridescent liquid between his fingers.
"Do you remember this, chiquita?" His voice was smooth, teasing.
Her stomach twisted. Fingers tightened instinctively in the mastiff’s fur as her gaze locked onto the swirling liquid. A pulse of heat coursed through her. Undeniable, familiar... terrifying.
Villanueva smirked, twirling the vial between his fingers. His eyes pinned her in place, her shoulders tensing under his gaze, fingers twitching against the mastiff’s thick coat, betraying the war within she was rapidly losing.
He leaned back, that insufferable smirk deepening. "Say it, chiquita. Convince me."
Ysábella swallowed, throat bone-dry. The weight in her belly was unbearable. Warmth coiled deeper with every slow breath, stretching each second into something molten, hungry. The ache threaded through her bones now, sinking in.
She clenched her fists in the mastiff’s fur, grounding herself, exhaling slowly through her nose. Shame prickled, losing ground to the vial's promise.
"You want me to beg?" Her voice broke. "Please… I need it…"
Villanueva tilted his head, smile widening. Dark, indulgent.
“Need?” he murmured, drawing the word out, amusement glinting in his eyes.
He let the silence hang for a little longer.
“Say what you want.” His voice was soft, coaxing, cruel in its patience. “Tell me. I want to hear you.”
Her heart pounded. Flush crept up her cheeks as her mouth opened, but the words stuck. The mastiff’s breath warmed her skin, the scent of him thick in her lungs. Her hips shifted without thought, the ache unbearable.
Another breath. Ragged, desperate. “I… I want it,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I want him.”
Villanueva tilted his head, smirking. “I’m not quite convinced.”
Her lips trembled. “I want him to…” She hesitated. The nwords slipped out before she could stop them. “...fuck me.”
His smirk deepened, pleased. "Then prove it, chiquita."
The mastiff shifted beneath her palms. Warm, solid, unyielding. His presence seeped into her hands, grounding her, suffocating her. A presence that steadied... and unraveled her.
Ysábella closed her eyes for a beat, fingers threading deeper into the rough, uneven coat. The musk hung thick in the air. Cloying, heady, sinking deeper into her lungs with every breath.
She drew him in more, savoring the musk that clung to him. When his breath brushed her neck, she felt him take her scent in return. The same rhythm, the same breath, one feeding the other.
She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to her feet. The warmth in her limbs made her movements fluid, almost languid, as if some unseen thread pulled her forward. Her breath was steady, but her pulse betrayed her, quickening as she stepped toward Villanueva.
He watched her, the vial still twirling between his fingers, amusement deepening. "So eager now, chiquita?"
She didn’t answer, only stopped before him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin.
His smirk widened as he uncorked the vial. With deliberate slowness, he tilted it, letting a single glistening drop bead at the rim. He held her gaze as he let the drop fall directly onto the flushed head of his cock, where it gleamed like pearl against his skin.
Villanueva leaned back, tilting his head slightly, his smirk deepening. "Take it, chiquita. Right from where I’ve placed it."
Ysábella’s stomach clenched. He was playing with her, as he always did. The need simmered beneath her skin, the ghost of the potion still on her tongue, urging her closer.
She hesitated, then leaned in. Her lips hovered over his cock, the scent of him, salt and musk, mingled with the potion's enticing sweetness.
Villanueva chuckled lowly. "Go on, chiquita. You wouldn’t want it to go to waste."
Her ribs constricted. Each breath she drew was shallow, catching in her throat. She should resist. She should fight. Her body trembled.
His hand settled on her head, a warm, heavy weight that was both grounding and a claim. She parted her lips and took him into her mouth. The moment her tongue made contact with the potion, warmth spread, unfurling like slow-burning embers. Silk-smooth, deceptively sweet, it deepened into something richer, coiling low in her stomach, seeping into her veins.
He pressed down, setting her pace, and she followed, head bobbing as she took him deeper. A soft, broken moan escaped her throat.
Villanueva traced a finger along her jaw, tilting her chin up until her eyes met his. “You don't know what the potion does, do you, chiquita?”
Ysábella said nothing. She didn’t want to know. Her mouth chasing the last traces of the potion. The heat bloomed in her belly, igniting an ache that never fully faded. Her breath quickened, her pulse fluttering. She couldn’t stop. Her movements grew more desperate, taking him deeper, her head bobbing in a hungry rhythm until every last trace of the potion was gone.
“Some really sick fuck made it.” His voice dropped low, almost thoughtful. He leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. “An alchemist obsessed with breaking the laws of nature.”
A pulse throbbed in her throat. Her skin prickled, and a faint tremor crawled through her chest.
Villanueva’s smirk deepened as he felt her stiffen. He drew back just enough for her to see the amusement glinting in his eyes.
“You’ll see in time,” he murmured.
She pulled back slightly, her lashes fluttered. The head of his cock remained in her mouth. The warmth crept through her now. She could feel the shift, the quiet pulse of something dangerous threading its way into her limbs. The mastiff let out a low, whining breath behind her, shifting its weight, the scent of musk growing heavier in the air.
Villanueva looked down at Ysábella with a satisfied smile, his hand gently patting her head in a possessive gesture. "That's a good girl," he murmured, pleased with her submission.
His fingers trailed lower, brushing the bare curve of her shoulder, slow and deliberate. Ysábella shivered, not from cold, but from the slow, building fire curling in her belly. The potion seeped deeper, winding through her veins like silk.
Villanueva’s smirk deepened as he watched the tension melt from her limbs, her resistance fading into something else entirely. A single snap of his fingers cut through the air. “Up.”
The word struck like a whip. Ysábella flinched. Then lifted her head. She obeyed, slowly pulling back, before rising to her feet.
His hands slid down, skimming the curve of her waist before settling against her hips, pulling her flush against him, grounding her in place. Ysábella exhaled, breath shaky, pulse quickening beneath her skin.
Behind her, the mastiff's growl, claws scraping sharp against the wooden floor. Its massive frame pressed closer, breath quickening, posture taut with anticipation. She felt its presence at her back, each ragged inhale searing her skin. It was waiting for what she could feel... the simmering heat blooming low in her core.
A sharp bark broke the air, raw with instinct. The musk surged. Cloying, seizing her breath and mingling with the fading floral sweetness on her tongue.
The mastiff pressed closer. A broad nudge against her side, urgent, demanding. Nosing beneath her arm, then higher, hot breath rushing over her neck.
A wet stroke of his tongue dragged up her throat. Slow, rough, tasting. Ysábella gasped, body trembling from the sensation.
Another deep growl. His paw rose, pressing against her hip, claws catching lightly on her skin. Another lick. Across her cheek this time, leaving a heated trail.
Her breath broke, soft and ragged.
Then lower. His muzzle buried at her side, tongue dragging along her ribs, tasting the sweat-slick skin. Another eager stroke. This time over the swell of her breast, hot and hungry.
She shuddered beneath him, her thighs trembling, the coil of heat inside her tightening.
A low hum came from the chair.
Villanueva chuckled darkly. “He knows already, Palomita,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. “He smells it.”
The mastiff let out an eager whine. It pawed higher now, one heavy foreleg resting on the edge of the bed. Its muzzle dipped lower, pressing against her side, snuffling at her ribs, hot breath leaving her skin flushed and tingling.
Villanueva’s smile sharpened. He snapped his fingers once. Sharp. Then pointed away, voice smooth but commanding.
“Me first.”
The mastiff whined in protest. It circled the bed, restless, pacing, panting heavily. The floor creaked beneath its weight as it obeyed, but not without protest. Amber eyes stayed fixed on her, body trembling with pent-up instinct.
Villanueva guided her closer, his touch firm but patient, his fingers pressing into her hips before lifting her effortlessly into his arms. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs curling around his waist as he carried her toward the bed, his hold unyielding.
He carried her with ease, each slow, deliberate stride drawing them closer to the bed. The mattress gave a soft, yielding creak beneath them as he lowered her down, without letting her go.
Her hands found his chest, the warmth of his skin beneath her palms sending another ripple through her, something unspoken passing between them. His grasp tightened, his gaze darkening as he studied her, measured her, tested the depth of her surrender.
"Let go, chiquita." Villanueva murmured, satisfaction lacing his voice. "Let it take you."
The potion coursed through her veins like liquid silk, subtle yet persistent, unraveling her resolve thread by thread. The heat in her belly spread, a slow, creeping pulse that reached her fingertips, her limbs weighted yet light all at once. Each inhale brought with it more of the musk, more of the scent that wrapped itself around her senses, inescapable.
The mastiff huffed, claws scraping against the wooden floor as it prowled closer. Its massive head nudged her waist, breath hot and ragged, stirring the fine hairs along her side. Its presence was heavy, suffocating.
It inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring, drinking her in. The moment stretched, thick with something unspoken, its low whine barely audible but unmistakable. It circled restlessly, the sound of its movements mingling with the creak of the ship, the steady lap of waves against the hull.
Villanueva's thumb traced the curve of her hip, his smirk widening as he took in the scene before him.
"Do you feel it, chiquita? The way it builds? The way it takes?"
Ysábella's breath hitched, her body betraying her with a slow, involuntary shudder. Her fingers pressed into Villanueva's skin, as if grounding herself against the tide pulling her deeper.
He chuckled, leaning in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, "Let it in, chiquita. Stop fighting it."
The mastiff let out a low growl, not of aggression but of something else, something primal, charged. Its weight pressing insistently against her. It pressed its muzzle against her shoulder, inhaling long and deep. The warmth of its breath sent another tremor through her.
Villanueva’s weight shifted over her, the mattress dipping beneath them. One hand braced beside her head, the other sliding down, fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path along her side, over the curve of her waist, down to her thigh.
"Breathe, chiquita," he murmured. His voice low, a velvet drag against her ear. "Do not fight it."
Ysábella's breath caught. Sharp and trembling. She felt the heat rising within her, the potion working its way deeper, making every sensation more intense.
He gripped her thigh, guiding it higher, spreading her open beneath him. The cool air brushed against slick heat between her thighs. Leaving her bare, exposed, aching.
Her pulse fluttered. She could feel him. Hard, ready, the blunt head of his cock pressing against her entrance, slow, deliberate. Teasing.
Behind them, the mastiff paced. Claws clicking softly against the floorboards, its low breath thick with anticipation.
Ysábella felt it. Its presence. Its hunger. As sharp as the man above her. The scent of her own heat hung thick now, filling the cabin, mingling with the musk, the potion. Sweet and raw, undeniable.
Villanueva's hands slid to her sides, until they found the soft, supple curves of her breasts. The warmth of his palms on her sensitive skin sent shivers down her spine, their calloused roughness against her silky flesh heightening her arousal.
She gasped. A soft, broken sound, as Villanueva shifted his hips, sliding the swollen head of his cock through her labia, coating himself in her slick.
A low, satisfied growl rumbled from him, almost a mirror of the beast behind them.
"So ready already," he murmured, dark amusement threading his tone. "You’re dripping for it."
The words made her flush, shame and hunger tangled too tightly to separate now. Her hips shifted without thought, chasing the friction, the contact, needing more.
Another sharp whine broke, claws raking once more at the floor. Impatient, restless.
Villanueva smirked. His free hand rose, palm stroking her belly, fingers splayed wide, possessive.
"Patience," he drawled. Whether to her or to the beast, she couldn’t tell. "You’ll both have your fill."
Then, with one slow, steady thrust, he pressed inside. Her body arching instinctively, mouth falling open on a sharp gasp.
Villanueva groaned low, the sound vibrating against her skin. "Tight as ever, chiquita," he murmured.
He stilled for a moment, buried deep, letting her feel every inch of him, letting her walls throb helplessly around him.
Behind them, the mastiff circled again. A restless weight in the air. Its breath came faster now, panting, as it paced closer to the bed. Claws catching lightly on the wood.
The room seemed to grow warmer, the scent of sex and dog heavy in the air. Ysábella’s senses reeled. Every breath thick with musk, every nerve burning with sensation. The potion wound tighter through her blood, amplifying everything. The feel of Villanueva’s cock deep inside her, the rough press of his hands, the suffocating presence of the mastiff so near.
She whimpered. Unable to stop herself, hips twitching beneath Villanueva’s weight.
Villanueva knew. He saw the war waging within her. And he savored in it. Relished in it.
"You were always going to lose, chiquita," he murmured, his voice like silk laced with poison.
She wanted to deny him. Wanted to spit the words back in his face.
But her body refused.
Villanueva moved. Slow, grinding thrusts at first, each one dragging a helpless moan from her lips.
The bed creaked beneath their rhythm.
And still, always, the mastiff paced. Watching. Waiting. The air thrummed with thick, unbearable tension.
Ysábella’s breath faltered, torn from her throat in a raw, helpless cry. Her fingers clenched the sheets beneath her, as her hips lifted instinctively to meet him.
The potion burned even hotter now. Each throb of her pulse sent fresh waves of heat through her veins, deepening the ache in her belly until it was unbearable. Her core clenched around him, desperate, greedy. There was no room for thought. Only sensation, only need.
He drew back slowly, almost teasing, the head of his cock dragging slick through her folds, only to thrust deeper again. Harder this time, claiming her fully.
"Ah!" Ysábella gasped, her voice breaking, spine arching beneath him. Her legs curled tighter around his waist, hips lifting, chasing the next thrust.
Villanueva’s rhythm quickened. Strong, unyielding, each thrust driving her deeper beneath the tide of sensation. His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, anchoring her in place as he used her body with deliberate control.
Behind them, the mastiff's whines sharpened, claws raking the floor in growing frenzy.
But Ysábella could barely process it anymore. Every nerve in her body sang with sensation. The ache tightening low in her belly. Her skin flushed, damp with sweat, breasts heaving beneath each ragged breath.
The friction built higher inside her. Each stroke drawing her closer to the edge. Her hips bucked beneath him, chasing the rhythm instinctively. She was gasping now, high and breathless, no shame left. Only the raw, aching need to be filled.
A low growl echoed from behind her. Ysábella stiffened as the mastiff stirred, shifting with purpose, its heavy paws pressing against the floorboards. It could sense it.
The change.
Ysábella’s eyes fluttered shut, her head shaking in denial, breath sharp and ragged.
"No, no..." she whispered... a plea without power. The heat pressed deeper, relentless, curling through her core. She couldn’t stop it.
Villanueva’s smirk widened, sensing the last bit of tension slip from her body. His grip on her waist tightened, securing her in place.
"Ah," he murmured, pleased. "There it is."
He had been waiting for this.
The moment Ysábella completely surrenders herself to the effects of the potion. The moment her body no longer fought him was the moment he let go.
His breathing slowed, heavy and uneven, brushing her skin. He withdrew with deliberate care, spilling his warmth across her belly. His grip tightened, his body seizing with the sharp, calculated pleasure of conquest.
"I can't risk fucking it up now," he muttered, more to himself than to her.
His withdrawal drew a guttural bark from the mastiff, shattering the silence .
Ysábella’s breath hitched as the mastiff lunged forward, its nails scraping the floor, its massive frame tense, bristling. Its eyes locked onto Villanueva, teeth bared, saliva dripping from its jowls.
It wasn’t a warning.
It was a challenge.
Villanueva didn’t flinch. His smirk only widened, still basking in the afterglow of his victory.
Ysábella’s breath turning ragged, her body growing rigid against him, caught between two forces.
Then she smelled it.
Thick. Heavy.
Musk.
It rolled toward her in slow waves. Earthy, primal, masculine.
Ysábella’s heart pounded against her ribs.
The mastiff barked again, sharp, insistent, its muscles coiled tight. The musk grew stronger. It crept into her lungs, hot and thick, coiling around her throat.
She swallowed, but the scent only deepened, saturating the air.
A hot flush crawled beneath her skin. Her body tensed, trapped between the overpowering weight of Villanueva on top of her and the thick, humid presence pressing in from her side.
The mastiff took another step forward, breath heaving, amber eyes flicking from Villanueva to her, as if waiting for her to make a choice.
Then another step.
Closer.
The beast was too close.
Suddenly, a deep, snarling breath rushed over the exposed side of her neck. Warm, damp, animalistic. The mastiff had moved.
Before she could react, before she could even take in what was happening...
It jumped.
The bed shook beneath them as the mastiff leapt onto the mattress, landing heavily beside her.
Ysábella’s breath stuttered, her muscles locking. The beast’s sheer weight sank into the bed, pressing against her side. The mastiff pressed harder, its nails digging into her skin through the thin fabric. Too close. Too strong. She couldn’t move.
Villanueva chuckled, completely at ease, as if the beast’s sudden intrusion didn’t bother him in the slightest.
"He knows," he murmured, voice thick with amusement.
The mastiff shifted, breath harsh against her skin. Then, slowly, its muzzle pressed to her side. Hot breath fanned over her ribs, the first rough drag of its tongue rasping up her rib and armpit.
Ysábella gasped. Sharp and broken.
Another stroke. Slow, deliberate. Up her shoulder, tasting her sweat-slick flesh.
Its muzzle nudged beneath her arm, forcing her open, forcing her to feel it. A wet stroke dragged across the underside of her breast. Hot, searing.
A trembling whimper spilled past her lips. Beneath the insistent laps of his tongue, a rush of heat flooded through her, slick and urgent. She could feel her own body yielding. Wetness slickening her thighs, her scent spilling out, sweet and unmistakable.
The mastiff barked. Sharp, pleased. It licked again, this time up the curve of her breast, broad tongue flattening against her skin.
Its muzzle pressed against her throat, tongue dragging up the column of her neck, leaving her skin flushed and slick.
Another deep growl.
It nudged at her cheek, breath steaming against her flushed face. Then its tongue was there too, lapping across her jaw, her parted lips.
Ysábella whimpered. Shaking.
Villanueva tilted his head back slightly, enough that his breath brushed over the hollow of her throat. “Tell me, chiquita…”
The mastiff shifted, growling low. A broad, greedy tongue dragged rough across her belly. Lapping at the slick mess Villanueva had spilled there, lick after lick, cleaning her, claiming her.
"Ohhhh... Ahhn..." Ysábella moaned, her muscles locking.
But the mastiff wasn’t done. It shoved lower, muzzle pressing between her thighs, breath scorching.
A heavy paw dragged over her leg. Claws snagging, forcing her thighs open. The beast’s tongue lashed again, lower now, tasting the heat rising from her slit.
Villanueva smirked, watching her shudder.
“Are you his?”
Ysábella didn’t answer. Her mind fracturing under the mastiff's intrusive tongue. The mastiff’s tongue lashed again and again, teeth grazing against her clit.
Her spine arched violently, hands reaching up Villanueva’s shoulders, her hips convulsing against the mattress. A thick, hot spray spilled from her body, slick and shocking, a flood of her own release.
Her breath came ragged as the mastiff let out another growl as if proud of what it did to her body.
Ysábella trembled under the weight of her climax. Each breath was harder to resist. She clenched her jaw, refusing to respond.
Villanueva’s smirk didn't falter. "Your body answered for you, chiquita."
Ysábella barely had time to breathe before the mastiff barked again. Louder, sharper, frenzied.
"He's impatient," Villanueva mused, voice rich with lazy amusement. His hands lingered on her hips a moment longer before slipping away, dragging down her sides as he pushed himself up and off her.
The mattress shifted as his weight left her. For a breath, Ysábella lay weak in the lingering heat, lost in the pulse pounding between her thighs. The air was thick, suffocating. The sharp, sweet tang of her own release rose, mingling with feral musk of the mastiff, creating an intoxicating mix.
The mastiff’s breathing came heavy and uneven, a heavy, ragged pant as it began to circle her. Ysábella watched him. Its massive body shifted with a deliberate, muscular grace. The mattress dipped where its paws pressed down, sending faint tremors through her body.
Her gaze dipped lower, breath faltering to the thick, wet head pressing free from its sheath, gleaming crimson where it throbbed. The heavy sway of its sack beneath its flank made her stomach tighten, the sight raw and indecent, yet something in her refused to look away.
“Like what you see, chiquita?” Villanueva murmured near her ear, his breath thick in the musky air. “Can't blame you. He’s proven to be potent. Sired plenty of litters."
A deep nudge from her side. A hot, eager breath against the curve of her hip roused her further. The mastiff’s need radiated, pressing into her.
Without thinking, she bit her lower lip and let herself move. Rolling her hips, sliding her knees beneath her until she was on all fours, head turned to the side, hair spilling over her shoulder.
The sheets pooled around her thighs, the mattress cool against her knees. Her movements were slow, liquid, shaped by hunger and the raw ache building low inside her. She felt the beast’s presence everywhere. The air, the bed, the way her body opened without thought.
Villanueva’s laughter drifted behind her. "That’s it, chiquita," he drawled. "Show him what you are. How much you want his cachorros."
Another bark. Sharp, wild, and triumphant split the air. The musk closed in, drenching every breath.
The mastiff wasted no time. Its muzzle wedged hungrily between her thighs, broad tongue lapping at her aching heat. A heavy paw dragged up over the curve of her ass, claws curling against her skin as it nudged her wider. Eager, insistent, unstoppable. The musk was overwhelming, drenching her, claiming her, every breath thick with animal need.
She arched for him, hips hitching higher in willing surrender. Her submission clear, offered, desperate. Ysábella shivered, the heat of his touch searing through her as she let herself be claimed, yielding to the fevered connection binding them.
The weight of the beast shifted, as it mounted her. Its heavy front paws hooking around her waist, adjusting and preparing. A deep growl rumbled from its chest, vibrating against her spine. Pressing its massive body down on hers, drowning her beneath it.
Ysábella gasped, and yet she welcomed it. The musk consumed her, thick and suffocating, but still, she breathed it in deeper, letting it fill her entirely.
A thrust. His thick tapered cock nudged her slick folds, probing until she yielded. He was ejaculating already, a hot flood of cum pulsing inside her with the first wild pumps. His heavy sack smacked against her skin, echoing her building moans.
Slick heat coated everything, pain and pleasure tangling as she whimpered, her body opening inch by inch. Shame flickered through her, fleeting and powerless against the pulse of raw, animal need taking hold.
Pinned beneath his weight, her own hips rolled helplessly, drawn to the relentless rhythm. She could feel the thick shaft throb inside her, every pulse stirring new hunger, each spasm wringing another gasp from her lips.
She felt it. The thick bulge of his knot swelling at the base, not yet able to lock inside, but pressing and grinding insistently around her entrance, threatening to lock them together. Each motion was primal, mechanical, driven by instinct. Rutting, relentless, hungry.
The heat inside her flared. Hotter, deeper, and stronger than anything Villanueva had ever given her. This... this was better. The beast was better.
Ysábella’s body convulsed with each movement. Her breath escaping in desperate gasps, her body helpless beneath the pounding rhythm. The heat of him filled her completely, slick and throbbing, every inch of her body alive to the sensation. The beast’s flanks trembled against her, as he worked himself deeper. His knot bumping, swelling, stretching her with every demanding thrust.
She could feel the slickness, the heat, the raw animal insistence as he rutted into her. Each motion drew her closer to that moment when his knot would finally catch, locking them together with no escape.
The potion had started it all. She didn’t know when, she didn’t know how. But it was there. A slow, creeping pull she couldn’t resist, couldn’t ignore.
The potion, the musk, and the mastiff.
The Triad of Corruption.
It was moving through her, pressing against her, claiming more of her with every thrust.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The musk thickened, filling her, saturating her, twisting the heat inside her into something unbearable. He knew. He knew she was his.
The bed creaked loudly beneath its weight as he settled over her, surrounding her, taking her completely. Her breath rose, quick and shallow. And then a tightness, a pulling lock, holding her in place. Ysábella’s fingers twitched against the sheets, barely registering it at first. The knot. His knot. Irresistible.
Unable to resist the call any longer, the beast thrust forward. The warmth of his swelling knot pulsed inside her. Pleasure convulsed through her core, her pussy clenching around his throbbing cock. Her moans dissolving into ragged gasps. She could feel the hot flood of his seed mixing with her own. Even as the knot swelled and locked, the pulses didn't stop. Warm seed filling her fuller, the tie holding it all in.
Her mind, still hazy and muddled, registered only the suffocating weight of heat, fullness, and stillness. The unbearable sense of being held, trapped, stretched beyond reason.
Villanueva's hand was petting her head, slow and possessive. A deep, involuntary shudder rolled through her, a sensation so visceral it sent ice lacing through her veins.
Ysábella’s breathing skipped. Something was wrong. The fog in her mind was lifting, unraveling strand by strand, and with it came the full, unfiltered realization of where she was, what was happening.
Her body. Helpless. Locked. Was no longer drunk on the potion’s haze. The warmth that had once drowned her in an inescapable fog of compulsion was waning, dissipating like mist under the morning sun.
She felt everything. Every slow, dragging pulse. Every inch of her body that was too full, too stretched, too bound. The moment dragged on, time twisting into something slow, suffocating, unrelenting. Her limbs refused to obey her, caught between instinct and the reality she didn’t want to face.
The mastiff’s body shifted above her, thick muscles rippling as it tried to turn. The knot wrenched inside her. White-hot pain stole her breath, forcing her hips to jerk back on instinct.
She was fully aware now, every nerve stretched to breaking, yet her walls continued to contract around the tie binding them, milking every last drop of seed he had to offer.
The beast grunted and twisted, instinct urging it to break away, but her body held tight, the ache blooming with every tug.
A deep, rich chuckle vibrated through Villanueva as his fingers swept through her damp hair. Stroking, soothing... mocking.
"Ahhh, there it is," he murmured, low and indulgent. "I was waiting for that."
The mastiff shifted again, easing into a deeper, more possessive press. Its thick, muscular frame molded against Ysábella’s back, the knot still locked tight inside her. Swollen, pulsing, stretching her around it with every subtle grind.
Ysábella let out a sharp, broken whimper. Her body rebelled. Against him, against itself, against the unbearable pressure that refused to ease.
"Shhh, hush, little dove," Villanueva soothed, but his tone was cruel, savoring. His palm swept slowly over her trembling waist, savoring every little shudder, every futile pulse of muscle straining to resist.
Another slow, deep pull from inside her sent pain lancing through her body. She choked on a breath, her nails scraping against the sheets, fingers curling into fists as a deep, unbearable ache tore through her. Her stomach twisted, her limbs locking up in a desperate attempt to endure.
Villanueva sensed it. The way she tightened, the way her body shuddered in raw reaction, the way her breath broke into something between a gasp and a silent sob.
"Does it ache, palomita?"
Ysábella’s throat was too tight to answer. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying, desperately trying, to will it to stop. But it wouldn’t.
It throbbed deep inside her. Buried, unmoving, radiating heat.
She bit her lower lip, forcing herself to stay silent, to endure. But he knew. He always knew.
Villanueva hummed, lazily dragging his fingers along her waist.
"You’re trembling, chiquita," he murmured, his voice laced with something mockingly affectionate. "Is it too much? Too deep? Too big?"
Ysábella’s breath came in uneven gasps, her entire body straining against the overwhelming pressure.
Villanueva? The bastard only chuckled, shifting just enough to make her shudder.
"Mmm, so tight. So stretched." He sighed in deep satisfaction.
She clenched the sheets in both fists, blinking hard against the sting of tears as the truth of what she’d done settled like iron in her chest.
Then, a sharp itch flared low in her groin. Her fingers twitched uselessly, pinned beneath the beast, a whimper caught in her throat as she felt it. A tick burrowing into tender flesh.
"Be still, palomita," he whispered. Mocking, indulgent, savoring her helplessness. "The more you fight it, the worse it’ll feel."
The beast shifted again, a slow, deliberate grind that threatened to dislodge the knot keeping them locked together.
A fragile whimper slipped from her lips as a sharp jolt of pain lanced through her tender heat.
"I’ll leave you to him," he muttered with a venom-laced grin. "Looks like he’s the only one you ever needed anyway."
He stepped back, watching her with that same indulgent cruelty that had haunted her since the day he took her. He turned toward the door.
“Oh, that alchemist I mentioned?” His hand lingered on the door knob. A smile curved his mouth. “He questions the possibility of breeding an abomination.”
The door creaked open.
“Honestly,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper, “so do I.”