Tiffani Wilson, Interstellar Bride Processing Center, Earth

      He lifted me and my full breasts pressed into the smooth, cold surface of the wall as his cock entered me from behind. I could feel his chest looming over my back, which was a shock to my system. I was tall, just over six foot, and not one lover I’d ever had, even when I was thin, had ever been able to dominate me, manhandle me, make me feel… small. Never. Not like this.

      He was massive, his presence behind me like a giant. I glanced at the huge arm that held my wrists trapped to the wall above my head. The biceps on that arm were easily the size of my thigh, and rock hard. Just like the cock stretching me open, filling me up to the brink of pain.

      “Mine.” The word was a barely recognizable growl but it made my pussy clamp down around him in answer. There was no doubt in his claim, only raw need, lust.

      Lust? No one ever lusted for me; I was too tall, too big, too much for a man to handle. But this? Him?

      He pushed up with a fast stroke of his hips, his hard body slamming into mine like a conqueror. Again and again. My whole body shook with the impact, my fingers trying to gain purchase on the wall, but failing. Only his hands on my wrists, his cock deep inside me, held me up. And I loved every minute, my mind in a haze of pleasure and need, of surrender. I would give over to him. He would not relent until I did so.

      Yes. I was his. I knew it somehow, knew he was mine. I had yet to see what he looked like, and I didn’t care, not with his hands on my body and his hard length between my legs.

      “Stay.” The order was a deep rumble of sound and I looked up as he released his hold on my wrists. How had I missed him placing strange metallic bands about each of them? They were about four inches wide