Page 37 of The Hornet’s Hucow Pet

Zyren removes his cock from my mouth, then cleans the cum that overflowed down my chin, neck, and chest.

“You should rest now,” he says.

Drowsiness rises around me, but I cling to wakefulness. “I don’t want to… It feels so nice when you touch me…”

He caresses my cheek. “And I’ll touch you again as soon as you wake.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Zyren threads his fingers through my hair, stroking gently and humming a lullaby that sends me back into the respite of sleep.

True to Zyren’s promise, I wake to his hands on me—massaging my breasts and circling my clit as he slides his cock through me.

His to be used, even in sleep—the greatest pleasure yet rises through me. Zyren works me into a froth, then pumps me full of his heat.

The craving for release doesn’t entirely go away this time. It gradually builds through the day as Zyren feeds me, then bathes me, then settles me down at his workbench.

He works two fingers through me, circling his thumb over my clit as he flips through the tome he supports with two of his legs.

I eagerly await his cock, but Zyren remains focused on his work. He doesn’t even glance up from the book as he licks off his hand and goes to process more herbs at the workbench.

I lie there, dizzy with arousal. I can’t even clench my inner muscles, but my mind isn’t bound. It shimmers with memories and fragments, making my body tingle and thrum.

My cunt is beyond wet, dripping down my thighs and soaking the blankets beneath me.

Fantasies continue to swirl through my head. With the vividness of a dream, I imagine Zyren’s mouth on my cunt, his cock ramming through me, his fingers kneading my muscles.

My breasts and belly are equally taut and swollen, and every breath sends tingling warmth through them.

The sensation builds and builds—then sharpens with finality.

“Oh, fuck…”

The orgasm catches me completely off-guard, and each wave is ecstasy as my muscles contract around the eggs.

Hot fluid pours from between my legs, and I assume it’s my own arousal until the scent of Zyren’s venom hits my nose.

More or less, my water just broke.

“Zyren!” I scream between gasps of pleasure, not even sure if he’s in the room or not, only certain that I’m desperate for his touch. “Oh, god, I’m cumming again…”

As the next orgasm tears through me, Zyren’s hands envelop mine.

“That’s it,” he purrs against my ear. “Let me hear the pleasure my eggs bring you…”

His fingers work into my overfull breasts, and electric pleasure zings through my taut belly.

My breath quickens and my inner muscles tense as another wave builds. The crest is a lingering moment of pure ecstasy, tumbling into pulsing waves of heat.

It’s as if all the orgasms I was denied over the past two days have been banked, and my body is going to process them all in a row.

I feel a strange inner stretch, and the next climax shifts an egg through my cervix—which feels far, far better than it should. The egg fills me like Zyren’s cock does, caught behind the muscles of my entrance.

As the next climax works through me, that stretch deepens. My desperate grasping and clenching makes it even harder for the egg to move through.

With clinical precision, Zyren’s fingers slip between the egg and my muscles, prying me open.

The stretch tips me into a powerful orgasm, and I scream with pleasure as each wave sends another egg moving through me, sliding onto the blankets between my legs.