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I’m playing the highest stakes game of my life. One slip of my mind, and he’ll be on me. He’s consumed with the Mating Rage, his body so inflamed that I am his only need. The pants of the three men fill the room, their eyes focused intently on me.

“You asked for this,” I whisper up at him, and slowly shift the floor below me, moving me upwards, so I am at eye level with the prince. “Did you really think I would lose control? You’ll see, Doman, that I am stronger than you could have imagined.”

I slide my hand down, running it over my pussy, until it is covered with my juices. Then I place my finger in front of his nostrils.

He breathes in, and his eyes roll back. He roars out in agonizing need, echoing in the pleasure room, and I get a rush of power, knowing how close I was to succumbing to the same lust that fills him. He slides out his hot, wet tongue, tasting myarousal, and my body begs for him, my pussy tingling, so empty, so needing to be filled.

I exult in my power, lowering to the floor, and kneel in front of him. I press the room into the shape I imagine, creating a black throne for the prince, binding him to it. Then, wickedly, I imagine the crown, and the tendril slides down from the mirror ceiling, pressing down on his head.

“Can you handle it, Doman? Or do you want me to stop?” I look into his eyes, my heart pounding. This game ends when one of us breaks, when one of us is too consumed by torturous lust to stand another second…

Or when my mind breaks, and the aching need for them to ravage me overpowers all my doubts and fears.

His hands clench into fists. His forearms cord, the veins full, his cock torturously engorged. It looks like it’s about to explode with a single touch.

I look up at the alien prince and run my tongue from the bottom of his shaft all the way up to the oversensitive head. It throbs in response, and he groans in pleasure as I taste his salty seed. I open my mouth as wide as it can go, barely fitting the huge head of his cock into my mouth. It should make my jaw sore, but as his cock spurts again, his seed soothes my mouth, making me ache for more.

I want to make him unleash, to lose control, and I swirl my tongue around his cockhead.

My body is begging for his touch, my nipples so desperate, and I reach up, stroking them, teasing myself as I drive the alpha wild. I’m giving him only a fraction of what he craves. Every instinct in his body is telling him to break free of the vines, to grab my hair and force every inch of his massive cock down my throat, to spread my legs and plunge himself inside me. It’s a delicious, dark pleasure to know that one slip of my mind and I’llbe chased down, forced to watch in the mirrors as the triad hunts me and takes me.

The thought is so intense I can’t think. The vines break, falling like a thousand droplets to the floor, and the triad is free.

I panic, imagining the floor rising up, and it throws them back as Doman reaches for me. My heart pounds in exhilarating panic and need as the three Aurelians stand, their nostrils flaring, three sets of hard, hungry eyes fixed on me. They sprint, and I try to throw them back again, but they climb the floor as it rises above them. I can barely think, but I imagine a wave, and the floor rears up, throwing them to the side of the room as I sprint towards the door.

In the mirrored wall, I see myself, my cheeks flush with lust, my eyes wide in fear and aching need as they gain on me, so much bigger than me. I’m five feet away from the door when Doman grabs me, his hands rough against my hip as he forces me down on all fours and pulls me towards his huge, throbbing Aurelian cock.

Vines shoot from the walls, obeying my mind as I desperately force the room to grab him, and he and his triad are wrapped up tight. I turn my head, panting. His cock is an inch from my sopping wet slit, and I ache to press back, to feel that huge, marble rod press me open, to impale me. It’s an urge so feverish it drives me insane, but I keep control of myself, just barely, holding the room to my will.

I turn and lay on my back, catching my breath. My skin is slick with sweat. The three Aurelians roar, throwing their heads back in a battle-cry of pure lust, their muscles tensing and flexing, their eyes too wild and wide, the hunger so deep it is torturing them.

I know I should stop this. I know I should use the vines to grab the rings and place them over their fingers, but I have never felt anything so exhilarating, so intense.

I was an inch away from him pulling my hips back and impaling me. If I lost my mind for an instant longer, the alien prince would be inside me, ramming his huge dick into me over and over, melting my mind into a pool of submission. I would never have been able to regain control of the room until all three of them had been sated inside me.

“Do you want this game to stop?” My words come out broken and panting. I don’t know if they can even understand me in this state.

Gallien’s eyes focus, and he stares at me with such intensity I know he’s going to make me pay. That one day, he’s going to get his revenge for this torture…

And that I’m going to enjoy every second of it.

To my shock, Doman smiles. It’s a wolf’s grin. “Every second of this is… agony,” he snarls out. “I love it. Let me taste you, my Mate. Let me taste your nectar.”

I imagine that huge, hot tongue sliding up and down my slit, the crown prince of the Aurelian Empire worshiping me. It’s a terrible idea. It will be so deliciously good, I won’t be able to think.

“Does it hurt? Being so hard?”

“More than you can imagine.”

I create the lounge from the black material of the floor once more, leaning back, and I run my fingers over my body. The three men groan as they stare at my slick, wet slit.

I spread my legs open, and slide my fingers over my clit, wishing it was the alien’s tongue, knowing that if he got his mouth on me, I would snap, and moments later the three of them would breed me.

With a thought, the vines securing Doman and Titus’ right wrists disappear. Doman reaches forward, his hand an inch away from my toes as I lean back in the chair I created from the floor of the pleasure room. His hand grasps only air, desperateto touch me, but Titus slowly bring his hand down to his cock, drooling as he stares at my naked, soaking slit, his nostrils flaring as he tastes my arousal and runs his hand up and down his seed-covered cock.

Unable to reach me, Doman can’t resist. He is unbearably hard, and he strokes with his tongue out, wanting to taste me, aching to bury his head between my legs.

I turn my attention to Gallien, still bound, his perfect body unable to move an inch. His eyes are hot, his jaw clenched, the vein in his neck twitching with exertion. Sweat drips down his brow, a river of it running down his chest.