Carson Evolved Ch. 05

"Don't do it, Carson," she pleaded. "This isn't right. Don't do this." If he hadn't been in her head moments earlier, that would've broken his heart. He hoped he never heard real words like that. Ever.

Instead, he whispered into her ear, "You want this, but more importantly, I want this. I need your cunt to be wet when I slam my cock into you. I don't want you to be hurt, after all. I won't damage my property." Even without mind-reading, he could see the effect his words had on her. Her struggle against the progress of his hand faltered momentarily as she uttered the tiniest of groans. That pause allowed him to slide his hand between her legs.

He could feel that she wasn't bare, but from what he could tell, she only had a sparse covering of fine pubic hair. With the slightest of resistance, his fingers continued inexorably towards her slit. Upon arrival, Carson received confirmation that Tilda was very much enjoying this game. Her crotch was sopping wet. Her slippery folds were fully flowered, and at his gentlest caress of her clit, her body tensed as if by an electric current.

Much as she wanted to give in to Carson, she wasn't ready for the game to end. As he began stroking her clit and labia, she began to twist and shift as much as she could to avoid his touch, saying, "No, don't do it. Please. Stop!" Her efforts were hampered by how good his cock felt as her ass cheeks slid over it from side to side. All the motion allowed her to dislodge his hand from her neck, which made her left arm available again. She brought both arms to bear against his invading hand, stopping his progress.

Carson decided to shift tactics. He pulled his hand from her pants and immediately grabbed her shoulders. With a twist, he was able to roll her back onto her stomach, their legs still entwined. Tilda had her arms and hands under her chest, and for a moment, Carson wasn't sure what direction to go next. Then, he disengaged his legs and, with his hands pressing into her upper back, forcing her into the mat, he moved until he was sitting astride her back, this time facing her feet. This time, there was no way for Tilda to stop his progress when he grabbed the back of her pants and tore them down the seam, baring her ass and crotch.

He wasted no time plunging two fingers into her steamy cunt, which elicited an "Unh," followed by a much-weaker-than-before "No." He began to cycle in and out, and her hips began to move to meet his thrusts, despite her best efforts. She tried to clamp her thighs together once, but he tickled her with his off hand and the distraction allowed him to capture her leg by wedging his arm and shoulder around her thigh. She was unable to prevent him from plundering her with his fingers. And the closer she got to orgasm, the weaker her protests and resistance was. Carson could feel just how close she was, and just before she peaked, he pulled his hand from her.

It took a moment to register what had just happened. Tilda was dazed as she said, "Whuh? No! Why?" before she clamped down on her responses. Gathering the last of her reserves, she hissed at Carson. "You done, you bastard? Feel like a big man, assaulting a woman who trusted you? I'll bet you're reeaal proud of yourself."

Despite knowing what she was doing, Carson had to grit his teeth to keep from snapping back at her that he was only doing this for her, that he would never force himself on anyone. Straining his acting abilities to the max, he smirked at her and said, "Please. A slut like you is just begging for a real man to take charge. Your cunt wouldn't be sopping wet if you weren't waiting for me to jam nine inches of thick, hard cock into you and pound you flat."

Try as she might, Tilda couldn't stop the little moan that escaped her as Carson painted that image.

"To answer your question," he continued, "No, I'm not even close to done with you yet." With that, he began to work to roll her onto her back. As she struggled to prevent that action, their grappling caused her torn pants to begin to work themselves over her hips, a fact that neither noticed until Carson sat up in frustration. Despite his size and strength advantage, Tilda was still a strong adversary, and he was having difficulty getting her over onto her back. Looking her over, he was surprised to see that her ruined pants had managed to work themselves down to her thighs. With a smile, he said, "Fine. You want to be on your stomach? I can work with that."

Before Tilda had a chance to consider his possible meaning, Carson shifted himself until he was straddling her thighs. He reached down and pulled the front of his shorts down to free his cock. With barely a pause, he began to rub the head against her slippery opening, lubricating himself for the plunge.

Unseen by Carson, Tilda's eyes went big. "No! Carson, don't do it! This isn't you! You're not like this. You're uunnnnhhh..." She trailed off as Carson plunged into her completely in one stroke. He leaned in and softly growled, "Shut up and take it. You and I both know you want this. I'm gonna make you my bitch tonight."

With that, he braced himself with one hand on the mat, and the other hand pressed against her back at the junction where her neck was joined, and he began to methodically stroke into her. He wasn't pounding her yet; he sensed that there was still a threshold she needed to cross, and he was determined to force her to make that choice. Settling into an easy rhythm, he took another peek into her mind.

The setting of the scene was the same, but the participants were behaving very differently. Tilda A was no longer pleading with the jailer. Instead, she was straining with everything she had against her restraints. As she did so, she was hurling invectives at Tilda B. "You have no right to keep me here! My master wants me, and he needs me! Let me go!"

Tilda B wasn't saying anything. She was staring dumbfounded at her counterpart. To her horror, she could see that the anchors were pulling free from the dungeon wall. She began inching away, but seemingly in an instant, Tilda A ripped herself free from the wall and grabbed Tilda B by the throat through the bars.

Tilda A dragged the jailer close, and in a low, menacing growl, she said, "Let...me...out." Tilda B nodded nervously, and with a trembling hand, fit the key to door's lock and turned it.

"Harder," she said so softly that Carson wasn't sure at first that Tilda had spoken.

"If you want something, bitch, you better speak up," he said as haughtily as he could.

Tilda, aggressive, loud, brassy Tilda, was in an unfamiliar place. She'd made her mind up long ago that it would take a special man to take his place at her side. The man who would father her children would be able to captivate her in spirit and dominate her in love. She longed to find a man who wanted her so fiercely that he took her just the way Carson was because he could no longer contain his passion for her. She knew this wasn't Carson's way, and truthfully, it wasn't usually her way. But there was a symbolism involved that had to be understood without explanation.

With a trembling voice, Tilda said with increasing volume and venom, "I said, if you want me, you better fuck...me...harder."

Carson smiled, because he knew that they were at the precipice. The next few moments would be the culmination of months of flirting, innuendo, and dancing. He withdrew his cock and pulled her hips up until she was in a sun-worshipper position. Taking a moment to completely remove his shoes and shorts, he repositioned himself at her entrance. It took everything that he had not to slam back into her, but they had one more hurdle to cross.

"What do you want?" he asked her.

The timber of his voice expressed his longing to take her. It was intoxicating, and Tilda was quickly going into overload. "I want you to fuck me," she said.

"No," he said with a hint of irritation. "What do you want?"

Tilda shivered, because suddenly she knew what he was asking. He wanted her to admit her secret desires to him. He wanted her to say it out loud. Exposed and vulnerable, she laid herself bare before him, metaphorically. Quietly, she said, "I want you. I want you to take me, to make me yours. Fuck me hard, fuck me soft...do what you want with my body, because it's yours. Make me your bitch and..." she swallowed hard, "breed me."

Carson stopped what he was doing and made his way to his feet. Tilda didn't move or look at him, afraid of what she might see. Carson knelt in front of her and leaned down to speak softly into her ear. "Tilda." When she didn't move, he said it again. "Tilda, please look at me."

Slowly, she raised her eyes. The look on his face brought tears to her eyes. Underneath the warrior maiden was a princess who had longed for her prince to someday come. Today, that day had come. Carson smiled and stroked her cheek gently. He took her hands and helped her to an upright sitting position. Tilda simply watched him with a smile on her face, almost timid in her expression. It was cute, and it seemed so out of character for the woman he'd come to admire and love.

Softly, he said, "You will never have anything to fear with me, my sweet warrior princess." He gently grasped her sports bra and eased it from her body. Softly, he kissed her cheek and whispered, "You are magnificent. So powerful, so beautiful, and yet, I know inside that you have a vulnerable place, a place that you don't let most people see." He looked into her eyes and said, "Thank you for trusting me. I won't let you down."

Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. Any lingering doubts she'd had about Carson were gone with the wind.

He eased her to her back, and she lay passively as she watched him move to remove her shoes and ruined leggings. Lying nude before others, Tilda might have felt a little shy. She'd always had a bit of a complex about her body. Begin so much taller than most women, and of course, having a bust that dwarfed all but a handful, she'd built the brassy, self-assured façade to protect herself in her insecurity. With Carson, she felt none of that. She basked in the warmth of his gaze like a warm summer sun.

Carson removed his shirt, leaving the both of them nude. Like a jungle cat stalking his prey, Carson crawled over her body until he was staring down into her eyes with an intensity that made her heart race. "You have been my friend, my trainer, and my employee. Tilda, I want more. I want you to be my lover, mother of my children, and to share in my life. I've fallen in love with you these past few months, and I hope you feel the same way about me."

Tilda couldn't speak, so she smiled and nodded through happy tears.

He smiled again, this time the feral grin of the predator. "I'm going to take you now, my beautiful warrior princess. I'm going to put my cock in you, and I'm going to fuck you so hard that your legs may never close properly again. And I'm going to fill your womb to overflowing. Do you want that?"

As he described what he was going to do to her, Tilda's heart rate had picked up and she was beginning to breath heavy. With wide eyes, she nodded at him and softly said, "Take me."

So he did. Over and over again he plunged that thick cock into her steaming depths, forcing her to take him deep. By the time they finished, Tilda had lost track of the number of orgasms she'd had. She also had no voice left. She was normally a talker, loudly urging him to fuck her harder, to breed her, to make her his bitch. But Carson was not like any lover she'd ever had, and the intensity of the orgasms he wrung from her body again and again had her screaming and begging until in the end she was almost crying as she pleaded with him to fill her with his cum.

When Carson finally came, he spewed everything from his reservoir. True to his word, even Tilda's proportionally larger pussy was filled to overflowing.

In the aftermath, Tilda snuggled in against him. As she rested her head on his chest, tears silently leaked down her cheeks to wet his skin. When Carson felt the moisture, he was concerned. "What's wrong?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "Absolutely nothing is wrong. I'm just incredibly happy right now. I waited a long, long time to find you. I'd begun to despair that there was something wrong with me, or maybe I was asking too much. But I kept hoping that one day I'd find a man who would conquer me completely. That first day in your office, I was attracted to you, but I really didn't think you'd be the one. I hoped though. Now, I know that I set my sights too low, because you're beyond what I dreamed."

Carson smiled and said, "You're an amazing woman. I had my doubts about whether I could be what you wanted, too. But I couldn't let it go. Something about you kept drawing my attention, and I just had to solve the riddle. I'm glad I did." Then he kissed her softly.

Tilda laid her head back on his chest, idly stroking his skin. Then she smiled as a new thought came to her mind. "Carson?" she said.

"Hmmm?"

"I hope you've got room for another Lioness, because I'm at my peak fertility right now."

The thought of placing that ring on her finger made him smile. More than that, he felt called to pump more sperm into her womb to make sure the job was done. Instead, he said, "How about we go pick out your room and let the rest of the Pride know you'll be moving up from the bunkhouse?"

They dressed themselves as best they could. Her ruined leggings went in the trash, so she borrowed his shorts and he wore only underwear with his t-shirt. They held hands as they walked up the stairs. Tilda felt giggly and giddy, like a schoolgirl.

Most of the Pride was sitting in the living room when they topped the steps. Sam was at her folks' house, making plans to fulfill their suggestion. Quinn was on nights at the hospital and wouldn't be home for several hours yet.

Mila glanced up from the holoreader that contained all her parenting advice and reference books. She took one look at the two of them and exclaimed, "It's about time!" At eight months along, she was not moving as quickly as she once was, but she managed to roll herself to her feet and make her way over to them. The other women stood as well, helping each other as they could. The sight of all those pregnant bellies swelled Carson's ego just a bit. Those are my babies in there, he thought.

Hugging Tilda's neck wasn't a huge challenge for Mila, as she was within half a foot of the Valkyrie's height, but Tilda stopped nevertheless out of understanding the awkwardness of the motion on a pregnant body. The other ladies hugged her as well, while Mila fixed her gaze on her husband. "I thought you were never going to claim her."

Carson had thought he'd done well in figuring out Tilda's needs, so he was surprised to hear this criticism. "What do you mean?"

Mila rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Men."

Helena linked her arm with Carson's and said, "Dear, Tilda's been sending some pretty strong signals your way for a while now."

"Hold on," he said. Looking around at the assembled women, he asked, "You all knew she wanted me?" Every head bobbed.

Even Thurston seemed aware. "I thought you knew but were keeping her at a professional distance for some reason."

Carson rolled his eyes. "Okay, let's set some ground rules around here. If I'm making a mistake, I need people to back me up. I've told you all time and again that I'm nothing special, and this just makes it clearer. When it comes to women, I have some tools that I can use, but I don't like to because it feels invasive. So, how about you all try to help me out if I seem oblivious? Okay?"

His words were met with general agreement, so he turned as said to Tilda, "I'm sorry if you thought that I was not interested or something. I'm not always great at picking up on cues anyway, but when it's outside my normal comfort zone, I can be even more oblivious. Can you forgive me?"

Tilda stroked his cheek tenderly. "There's nothing to forgive. I don't think they know just how difficult it was for you to do...what I needed. I do. And I love you for it." Then she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Tilda spent the next few nights in Carson's bed at the insistence of the rest of the Pride. Sure enough, confirmation of her pregnancy came a few weeks later. When Carson presented her with her Lioness ring, the stone for her eye was a polished piece of fire agate. "Agate is considered a protective stone, and I see the same fire inside of you that I see in that stone," Carson explained.

*****

Jordan van Heuval was brooding. He'd made some headway with a couple of girls from golden lines but hadn't consummated their relationships with babies. Out of curiosity, he'd made the mistake of checking on his rival. Clicking on the link for Carson Jayne, Jordan had been stunned to see golden links to Mara and Mila Livingstone, Samantha Cross, Helena Livingstone, Elsa Lund—that one stung, because Jordan had been this close to reeling her in until Carson came along, he was certain of it—Quinn Pruitt, and now there was a new connection to Tilda Grimaldi.

"Fuck!" he yelled in frustration. "What's so special about this guy?"

Jordan started looking over some of the secondary options in the golden lines. These were women who were still within the same generation, but at the other end of the age range, meaning they were 10-15 years older than him in some cases. Jordan shook his head. Maybe he needed to look a little harder at what this Carson guy was doing. He must be doing something right, to be have these women in his stable. At least Jordan could look forward to the match his father had arranged with Aria Clemonte. She was the twin of the girl who'd been married off to a Grimaldi after the last council meeting. Only 19, Jordan was looking forward to breaking her in. She'd be the first to carry his legitimate baby. At least it would be a start.