It felt so strange, this thing her husband was doing to her, unbelievably, unspeakably strange. Ardan had imagined what it might feel like to make love with another person: she knew the mechanics of it from her work with Mistress Izun and felt no shame in experimenting with it herself. But her brief forays into sex had been nothing like this, like coupling with another. This was submitting her body to another being, another entity whose thoughts she could not know and whose actions she could not predict. She lay still and stiff on the altar, on this forced bed of rituals she could not understand to a being that she could not trust, and felt her most vulnerable parts bared to him.
She tensed as husband thrust in, the muscle of her straining against unaccustomed pressures. There was a weight on top of her, it pushed her against the stone of the altar; her entrance clenched around him. As he pulled out the pressure was released, her muscles relaxed - only for him to thrust in again. It did not hurt, exactly, not enough to make her gasp or cry out. It ached, a vague, flat pain inside of her as she stretched around the intrusion. It felt strange, felt wrong, like a seal had been broken, like the boundaries of her body had been invaded. Her hips rocked slowly against the polished stone beneath her; the nails of one hand bit hard into the tentacle it was still unconsciously gripping. She took deep breaths against the rhythm - expand her chest and inhale as he entered her, exhale as he pulled away. Inhale - and exhale, inhale - and exhale.
And then a new sensation was growing inside of her, a gentle deflating that had nothing to do with her breathing. It was as if something was trickling out of her body, not air, but -
- But then it was back again. Some reserve inside of her had been topped up again, something indescribable had been put back together. The invasion of her body had not stopped, but something else...
Another rush of pressure, a strain, an ache. He was pushing in farther, her body was yielding to more of him. A withdrawl, a contracting. Another thrust -
"A-ah!"
Her hips jumped; her heart stuttered in its beating from the pain as her hymen broke. She shut her eyes, though this did not change the quality of the utter darkness around him. She must relax, relax and breathe through it. Her husband would not want her to cry out.
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She tensed as husband thrust in, the muscle of her straining against unaccustomed pressures. There was a weight on top of her, it pushed her against the stone of the altar; her entrance clenched around him. As he pulled out the pressure was released, her muscles relaxed - only for him to thrust in again. It did not hurt, exactly, not enough to make her gasp or cry out. It ached, a vague, flat pain inside of her as she stretched around the intrusion. It felt strange, felt wrong, like a seal had been broken, like the boundaries of her body had been invaded. Her hips rocked slowly against the polished stone beneath her; the nails of one hand bit hard into the tentacle it was still unconsciously gripping. She took deep breaths against the rhythm - expand her chest and inhale as he entered her, exhale as he pulled away. Inhale - and exhale, inhale - and exhale.
And then a new sensation was growing inside of her, a gentle deflating that had nothing to do with her breathing. It was as if something was trickling out of her body, not air, but -
- But then it was back again. Some reserve inside of her had been topped up again, something indescribable had been put back together. The invasion of her body had not stopped, but something else...
Another rush of pressure, a strain, an ache. He was pushing in farther, her body was yielding to more of him. A withdrawl, a contracting. Another thrust -
"A-ah!"
Her hips jumped; her heart stuttered in its beating from the pain as her hymen broke. She shut her eyes, though this did not change the quality of the utter darkness around him. She must relax, relax and breathe through it. Her husband would not want her to cry out.