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I take in a deep breath. The stink of them fills my nostrils. Beastly, primal, so different than their royal nobility. Only Gallien seems to be somewhat in control, his jaw clenched, while Titus’s biceps are bulging, every muscle in his body flexed. He steps forward, and I force the room to comply, vines wrapping around his legs and stopping him in his tracks.

“I want to see you. All three of you. I want to see how you really are. How it would be if we…” I lick my lips, the nervous anticipation rushing through me. I still haven’t truly let the possibility of a future with them enter my mind. It wouldn’t just be a lifetime with them. It would be centuries, eons by their side, the only outlet for their ravenous desires.

Titus pulls off his ring first. He breathes in, nostrils flaring, and my scent is his drug, his ecstasy, his torment. It drives him mad. In an instant, his barbaric features turn animalistic, his lips drawing back, his nostrils widening, desperate to taste me. His eyes roll back.

I thought he was rock-hard before. His cock strains upwards, filling with more blood than should be possible, the veins running down the side and base so full they look like they will burst. It almost vibrates rather than throbs, a rod of steel so huge it could never fit inside me…

So hard and virile that my body would have no choice but to accept it, all my resistance nothing to the brute. It is fully coatedin his seed, slick and gleaming. Each beat of his heart, each throb, and it spews Aurelian pre-cum, pearly liquid that drips down his marble shaft.

I swallow as the fever of lust rushes through me. One slip-up and he’ll be free, and nothing will stop him. He would press me down against the floor and rut me like a beast, or his battle-brothers would lift me up and drive me down, impaling me on their enormous cocks.

Fuck, but it’s intoxicating. I can’t imagine craving him more than in this moment, but Gallien told me that the Bond would make my need a thousand times more potent. I’d be nothing more than a bitch in heat for the triad. Titus growls, low and deep, and strides forward, the vines tightening around his legs, and he reaches down, fighting with them, his biceps bulging as he strains to get free. I imagine more wrapping out from the walls, and they shoot out, encircling his arms until he is trapped, struggling, the rage of the beast held back by my mind.

Doman and Gallien look over at their battle-brother. They can see—and feel, through the Bond—how the Mating Rage has overwhelmed him. They know that taking off the rings will make them snap, and they know the pain he must be in, the agony of pure need.

The two aliens remove their rings in unison, tossing them towards the door.

They change in an instant. They lose control, their eyes rolling back. Gallien rushes forward, and I make the vines shoot up from the ground, wrapping around them. Doman is in the middle, the other two on either side, writing and fighting against the bonds, unable to escape.

“You’re playing… a game you don’t understand,” snarls Doman, his voice deep and growly, fighting to make himself understood. I can barely make out his meaning, his voice nolonger suited for conversation, only for growling and roars of rage.

My body is begging for his touch, and my skin is too sensitive, the dress constraining me. I focus on the room, creating a black reclining chair that molds out of the floor, and lean back in it as more vines whip out, thin and nimble, pulling my dress from me as if I am being attended to by servants.

I kept my pussy bare since they first saw me. It was my private victory against them, that even though they had seen me nude, they no longer knew my body exactly.

Now, in the mirrors, I can see how soaking wet they’ve made me, and I spread my legs open. The way they stare, entranced, drives me wild. Nothing in the world could tear their eyes from my naked slit. They go mad, fighting against the vines, their legs flexing like tree trunks, pressing forward, trying to get to me.

I exult in this strange sense of vulnerability and power, mixing in an intoxicating brew. I’m tiny compared to even one of them. Doman could press me down with a finger.

But I control the three alien princes, reducing them to animalistic, savage lust. No one other woman in the universe could drive them wild, no one else could turn the noble princes into brutes, their minds consumed by the Primal Mating rage. I get a pang of guilt—they must be in agony from the need, but they asked for this, they allowed it, they wanted it.

Fuck, but they are hard, their cocks throbbing and pulsing, dripping seed down the shafts, covering their huge balls, pooling on the floor. Drool drips from Doman’s lips as he stares at my slit, his huge tongue sliding out as he imagines tasting me for the first time.

I moan as a wave of lust goes through me.

All I need is to lose control, for a single moment, and the three beasts would be on me. Those huge sweaty bulks, pounding me against the floor, fighting with each other to get tome first, breeding me one by one until I am stretched and filled with their seed.

The image of the three aliens on top of me makes me gasp in shock, my mind roiling in need as I run my hand down my body, unable to resist touching myself, my sensitive nipples, my soaking wet slit. I lose control for a moment, and the vines around them loosen. They fight against them, like they are walking through quicksand, pressing forward. They roar out in need, and panic grips me. I force myself to focus, tightening the bonds once more, and I let out a breath of relief.

I’m still in control.

And I need to know that I can keep my mind. Because if I can’t control this room…

Then I won’t have a chance when they are Bonded to me.

Either I come out of this room their Bonded pet, consumed by lust, or I keep my mind. Doman thinks I do not know the stakes of this game. But I do, and I fight down my fear, standing up from the seat I created.

I walk towards the three trapped titans. Doman is enormous. He towers over me, a living statue of marble strength, and I run my eyes over every line of his hard body, every ridge of his abs. His frame is built for war. For breeding. I reach out, feeling as if I am touching a demi-god, and his skin is hot to the touch as I run my fingers over the ridges of his sweat-soaked abs.

He shivers at my touch. Just my fingers, and he groans in need, his cock spurting a wave of pre-cum that drips to the ground. Doman stares down at me, his blue eyes so intense they seem to glow, wide as he breathes in again, tasting my lust. His masculine stink fills my nostrils, my senses overwhelmed by the Aurelian, and my fingers slide down, lower and lower, until I cannot resist tracing them over his sweaty, huge balls that dangle beneath his manhood. They look bigger than when we swam nude, swollen up huger than grapefruits, and the stink ofhis musk intensifies from them. I pull my hand away, and my fingers are coated with his potent sweat. His balls waft his scent, pumping him full of more testosterone than a dozen bulls, so full of his seed that aches to shoot deep, deep inside me.

I can’t help myself. It’s like I’m possessed. I bring my fingers to my lips, tasting his sweat, his seed, and a moan escapes my lips.

I want to drive him wild. I want to drive him insane with need for me.

“Release me,” Doman orders me, his voice hard and authoritarian, a voice that demands obedience. The command is so powerful it floods my mind, and I lose control, the bonds that hold him a foot away from me weakening, dripping their black material to the floor, and I panic, fighting for control. He growls as he presses his hands towards me, and I force my mind to refocus, tightening them once more.

I shiver at how close that was.