Torment, Telelapathy, and Tentacles

Meanwhile, Alan threaded microscopic fibrils through the blood vessels in her brain and directly stimulated her pleasure centers. He was, literally, fucking her mind. Then, he began squeezing up and down her body. Firm, pressured waves rippled inward from her scalp, fingertips and toes and they converged on her impossibly sensitive clit. Lyssa convulsed wildly. If Alan hadn't been there, forcing her in place, she would've seriously injured herself. Her muscles spasmed against each other, every fiber radiating orgasmic bliss.

As her body transformed into a conduit of total pleasure, Lyssa's mind struggled to cope. One thought held fast in her consciousness: she wanted more! However, Alan chose that precise moment to detach himself. He reformed his normal shape and slowly withdrew his tentacles from Lyssa's holes. With one last stroke to her clit, he slid off of the table. He removed the clamps to let her move freely.

"Get up, Whore," he commanded.

Delirious with craving, all she could do was obey.

"Good girl," he slid across the room, "Now, get on your knees and crawl to me."

The floor against her hands and knees made her sensitized body tremble with orgasm but it was nothing compared to the alien's touch. Gazing at her lover with wild, longing eyes, Lyssa crept toward him.

"That's a good slave," he lifted her chin with a soft tendril, "You know, you're beautiful when you're desperate."

When Alan pressed the feeler to her lips, she slurped it down and drank his fluid as if it were the essence of life itself. It felt so good sliding down her throat. She had to have more! Taking pity on his earthling fuck toy, Alan jammed a second tentacle up her soaked, twitching love hole. The thick, rippling appendage slithered against her walls and massaged her g-spot. Once again, hyper-intense orgasms forced untold pleasure through the torn fragments of her mind. Lyssa endured wave after wave of magnificent, agonizing ravishment. Her muffled screams vibrated the tendril down her throat. For what seemed eons, Alan shredded her soul with unendurable bliss. Then, finally, he dragged the tentacles from her holes.

Alan embraced her gently in his many limbs. Yet Lyssa, still mindless with desire, continued to hump his slick body with frantic abandon. Alan held her steady and locked eyes. "Please," he reached deep through the mind link, "hold still. I... want my Lyssa back."

Understanding dawned in her wild eyes, "Okay," she answered in a hoarse, unsteady whisper.

Alan carried her to his flowery sleep pod while she struggled to restrain her lust. Even then, her body trembled with orgasm everywhere Alan touched.

"It's okay, Sweetheart," he set her inside the pod, "This will bring you back to normal." The transparent leaves enfolded Lyssa when her lover turned a dial. For a moment, her sensitized skin tingled at the contact but soon her lustful frenzy ebbed. She could think clearly again. She could touch her skin without spasming in ecstasy.

All at once, a flood of weakness overcame her. She almost collapsed when the pod unfolded. "Whoa," she steadied herself, "I didn't realize how exhausted I was."

"I know. That took a lot out of you. Just close your eyes and get some rest."

"Hold me," she purred.

Alan obliged, gently coiling his soft, tentacled form around her. The pod walls enveloped the pair. Though they remained upright, the alien bedding supported them in perfect comfort. With a dreamy smile on her face, Lyssa drifted off to sleep and Alan soon followed. Together, they dreamed peacefully of love, affection and tentacle sex.