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"Oh gods," I gasp, falling back against the pallet as one hand moves unconsciously to tangle in his hair. "I can't—you shouldn't?—"

My protests die as he continues with devastating precision, that rough tongue finding exactly the right spots to send waves of pleasure crashing through my system.

The dual stimulation of heat symptoms and deliberate attention creates feedback loop of sensation that rapidly pushes me toward edge of completion.

I should be horrified by this new intimacy, should resist this deliberate attempt to forge conscious pleasure rather than mere biological relief. Instead, I find myself arching into his touch, hips rising to meet each stroke of that wicked tongue as pressure builds toward inevitable release.

When Fritz focuses his attention on the sensitive bundle of nerves at my center while simultaneously sliding one clawed finger carefully inside me, I shatter completely.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me, more intense than anything I've experienced during previous heat claimings, clarity of sensation unobscured by desperate need.

As I lie there gasping in the aftermath, Fritz moves up my body with predatory intent. His eyes have gone almost black with expanded pupils, the fur along his spine bristling visibly with arousal he no longer attempts to disguise as mere tactical necessity.

"Remember that it was feline tongue that brought you pleasure," he growls, positioning himself between my thighs. "Feline alpha making you come apart. Not your dragon fantasies."

The reminder of my former dreams sends painful jolt through post-orgasmic haze. "You don't need to mock me," I whisper, turning my face away as tears threaten. "I know what you are. What this is."

Fritz catches my chin, turning me back to face him with gentle firmness that allows no escape. "Do you? Do you truly understand what happens now, little omega?"

The question carries weight I don't comprehend, something beyond the usual clinical detachment with which he approaches our encounters. Before I can question further, he enters me in single powerful thrust that tears gasp from my throat.

Despite three days of repeated claiming, the initial penetration still creates burning stretch that walks line between pleasure and pain. His size still feels impossible, his barbs already beginning to extend along his length as he seats himself fully inside me.

"Look at me," he commands, waiting until I comply before continuing. "I want you to see who claims you this final time. Want you to remember with perfect clarity when heat fades."

The vulnerability of direct eye contact during such intimate moment creates unexpected emotional intensity I'm not prepared to handle. I try to turn away, but his hand remains firm, holding me in place with inescapable gentleness.

"You will know it was feline cock filling you," Fritz continues, voice dropping to register that seems to vibrate through my very bones. "Feline barbs reshaping you from inside. Feline seed flooding your womb. Not dragon fantasy, but reality."

He establishes rhythm different from our previous encounters—slower, more deliberate, clearly designed to maximize sensation rather than simply provide biological relief. Each thrust drags his partially extended barbs against inner walls in ways that build pleasure with devastating precision.

"Fight it if you must," he murmurs, pace increasing as my body responds with eager welcome despite continued mental resistance. "Your body knows the truth your mind refuses to accept."

He's right, though I hate to admit it. My channel grips his barbed length with perfect tension, inner muscles contracting to draw him deeper with each thrust. What began as pain has transformed into pleasure so intense it threatens to consume me completely.

"Not like this," I whisper, tears flowing freely now as pleasure builds toward inevitable peak. "I never wanted it like this."

Something flickers across Fritz's expression—almost like pain before it's quickly masked. "Yet here we are," he responds, voice roughening as his own control visibly frays. "Your body yielding to mine perfectly, taking everything I give you."

I feel his knot beginning to swell, the base of his cock expanding with each thrust against my entrance. The sensation triggers pavlovian response—inner muscles relaxing to accommodate final expansion that will lock us together, prepared by previous claimings to accept what once seemed impossible.

"This time will be different," Fritz says, his rhythm becoming more forceful as control slips further. "This final claiming will mark you completely."

Before I can process his meaning, he slams forward with powerful thrust that pushes expanding knot past initial resistance.

It slips inside before swelling to full size, locking us together more thoroughly than ever before.

The pressure is immediate and overwhelming—fullness that presses against every sensitive spot simultaneously, barbs fully extended within me, creating pleasure that tears broken cry from my throat.

As my inner walls contract around his locked length, Fritz bends to the vulnerable junction of neck and shoulder. His breath is hot against sensitized skin, teeth grazing the spot that has throbbed with phantom sensation after each previous claiming.

Realization dawns with horrifying clarity just as pleasure crests within me. Not just final heat claiming but permanent bonding—the claiming bite I'd noticed was conspicuously absent from our previous encounters.

"No—" I gasp, but it's too late.

Fritz's teeth break skin as his release begins, my own climax hitting simultaneously in perfect, terrible synchronicity. The claiming bite sends shock of connection through my system—neurochemical bond forming in real time as his seed floods my womb in powerful jets.

The sensation is unlike anything I've experienced—transcendent pleasure mingled with violated rage as permanent link forms between us. Each pulse of his seed triggers aftershock of pleasure that prolongs the connection, the biological imperative overriding my desperate mental rebellion.

"What have you done?" I sob once speech becomes possible, body still convulsing around his knotted length despite my horror. "You had no right!"

Fritz licks the claiming bite with gentle attention, his textured tongue both soothing the sting and ensuring proper neurochemical transfer. "It was always going to end this way," he murmurs against my throat. "From the moment you presented in my territory."

Tears stream down my face as reality crashes through pleasure-haze.

Not temporary arrangement until facility transfer becomes viable, but permanent bonding to feline alpha whose very existence represents everything I've spent years avoiding.

The grief for dreams lost mingles with rage at choices stolen without warning or consent.

"You said facility transfer," I manage through tears and lingering aftershocks as his knot keeps us locked together. "You never said claiming bite."

"Tactical decision," Fritz replies, shifting our joined bodies to more comfortable position without withdrawing his still-pulsing length. "Your reaction would have introduced variables best avoided."

Even now, after violating me in most permanent way possible, he speaks of tactics and variables rather than emotions or consent. The detachment makes violation somehow worse—not even personal desire or alpha instinct, but cold calculation about most efficient way to secure asset.

"I hate you," I whisper, voice breaking as claiming bite throbs with each heartbeat, phantom sensations extending throughout my body as bond establishes itself. "I will always hate you for this."

Something flickers across his expression—regret? Pain? Whatever it is vanishes quickly beneath commander's mask. "Sentiment noted and irrelevant," he says, voice controlled once more. "The claiming is complete. You are mine by Conquest Law and biological bond alike."

The finality of his declaration brings fresh flood of tears I can't suppress. Not from physical pain—the claiming itself brought pleasure I can't deny despite myself—but from grief for future that will never be, for choices permanently narrowed by biological chains I can never break.

"How long?" I ask, voice barely audible through tight throat as his knot shows no signs of subsiding. "How long until you release me?"

"Approximately forty minutes," Fritz answers, misunderstanding my question. "The final claiming knot persists longer to ensure proper bond formation."

Forty minutes trapped beneath him, locked together in most intimate way possible while permanent connection forms between us. I close my eyes against fresh wave of despair, only to snap them open when his fingers begin tracing patterns along my sides.

"What are you doing?" I demand, trying to squirm away despite our locked bodies.

"Ensuring continued arousal during bonding period," he explains with clinical detachment that belies the intimacy of his touch. "Neurochemical release enhances bite effectiveness."

Before I can protest further, his fingers find their way between our joined bodies to the sensitive bundle of nerves above where his knot stretches me open. The touch sends jolt of pleasure so intense it borders on pain through my oversensitized system.

"Stop," I gasp, even as my body betrays me with eager response. "I can't take any more."

"You can," Fritz counters, continuing his ministrations with devastating precision. "And you will. The stronger the pleasure response during bonding, the more complete the claim."

His other hand slides beneath my hip, tilting me to angle that drives his knot against spot inside that sends stars bursting behind my eyelids. The dual stimulation quickly rebuilds pressure I thought impossible after such intense release.

"Why are you doing this?" I sob as pleasure mounts against my will. "Haven't you taken enough?"