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I run my eyes down his body, and they fix on his cock.

I can’t pull my eyes away. It is so hard it curves upwards, thicker than my wrist, this terrifying thing that would stretch me and rip me in two.

After him and his triad, no human man would ever seem like anything more than a joke.

Every pounding beat of his heart makes his cock throb and drip pre-cum steadily, like a faucet, wave after wave of it coating his entire shaft with seed and pooling down against the floor.

The smell of it, salty and warm, makes my mouth water.

Doman disrobes, completely unashamed in his nudity, unashamed by how his arousal is painted on his body.

As he takes off his clothes, he never takes his eyes off me.

He is a Viking God of a man, and if I was on Old-Earth so long ago, before we took to the stars, he would be the being that I feared the most, staring out at violent seas that his kind had tamed, knowing that one day, he may appear at my lands and take me.

I stop picturing the leash around Gallien’s neck, and the material becomes like black water, cascading to the floor and merging with the black base of the pleasure room.

He strips, his cold, gray eyes filled with haughty arrogance, never taking them off me as he watches my eyes forced to slide down his gorgeous physique.

His body is so taut, so lean, like a chiseled statue.

I can’t help but imagine running my hands all over the ridges of his abs, running my tongue over his body, tasting his sweat.

It's this strange mix of emotions, the power over them, the way I make them react, the ache to surrender, to give myself in to the three.

“Imagine mirrors,” commands Doman, his voice hard and stern.

The way he speaks is more direct than words, his voice so obviously used to being obeyed that despite it being me who controls the room, the image flickers into my mind before I can stop it.

Every surface of the room gleams, the ceilings, walls, and floors reflecting us in all directions, so I am surrounded by the shapes of the alien conquerors.

Their legs are flexed, their buttocks taut, ready to press forward and thrust into me.

I let the wall between us fall, rejoining the floor, but the three aliens do not cross. They stand, waiting, barely controlling their bodies, their chests heaving with each breath as they fight to control the Mating Rage.

Neither of us wants to snap first. We’re playing a game with each other, testing each of our control, but I want to even the stakes.

“The rings. Take them off. I want you to be as you truly are.”

Doman’s eyes narrow into glowing blue slits. “Careful, Adriana. If I take the ring off, I won’t be able to control myself. Not here. If I get my hands on you… I will Bond you to me.”

This game is more dangerous than I had imagined... but I can’t stop now. I’m pushing forward by instinct, unable to stop myself.

I imagine vines coming from the mirrored walls. As they stretch out from the mirrors, they become black and slick, wrapping around his legs, keeping him planted to the floor. “I’m in control,” I say, my chin up, meeting their challenge.

“I’m warning you, Adriana. One little slip of your mind… and you’ll lose control of yourself, and this room.”

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 coated in 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 no longer 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 to me 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.