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The chains rattle as Tal lets his arms go limp where they're stretched out across the stone. His wrists and ankles ache where the metal's rubbed him raw, and the sun beats down across his bare back and shoulders, the skin gone tight and prickling. The only relief is the touch of solidity against his toes where they dig into the sand and the blessed coolness where the tide's rising, covering his bent legs and crawling higher.
He drags in a deep breath, chest expanding as much as it can against the stone altar. For a moment, he considers lifting his head where it hangs to see the villagers gathered farther up the shoreline, but the cramping ache in his shoulders and neck let him know it would be unwise.
Since he's sure to die once the sea god comes ashore to claim his sacrifice, why spend his last moments in pain?
Tal shifts again, as much as he's able to, hissing as the harsh lip of the stone digs against his soft cock. The villagers stripped him naked and positioned him with his face towards the shore and his legs in the surf, no doubt to better see the terror and panic on his face once the god comes, but there's a small blessing in that they don't get to see his cunt. He can feel himself twitching as the water licks at it, practically winking his untouched holes at the god that will devour him, and the shame heating his cheeks is as potent as the sun.
A murmur from up the beach, and the priest's reedy voice: "Behold!"
Tal's whole body strings taut. With an immense effort that has his back and shoulders screaming, he raises his head. The villagers' attention has turned from him, fixed on something out beyond his back, and the priest waves his carved staff of coral and pearl, chanting prayers for the god to look favorably upon their sacrifice, to return the fisheries to their plenty. Several of the women cover their mouths, their eyes rolling and white.
The waves have stopped.
The waves have stopped, and Tal is going to die.
He digs his knees against the rock, the scrape of volcanic stone just one more hurt among thousands, and rears back as best he can, twisting to see as much as he can of the god who will kill him.
His death is beautiful. The sea god's hair shines black as deep waters, lifting and tossing in invisible currents; his bronzed skin glistens with the spray of the surf and the scales of fish. His streaming raiment is the shine of a pearl itself, the gray of a storm cresting the horizon. The waves mount about his knees and throng at his waist like adoring animals.
The god meets Tal's wild gaze. His eyes eat the light in the world, a black as pitiless and implacable as an abyss. His ageless face twists into something almost human as he smiles, his teeth the vicious serrated threat of a shark's mouth. Then he lifts his hands to push his cloak from his broad shoulders, and it flutters back into the waves and rejoins the sea.
Tal can't hear anything over his own rapid breathing, the rattling of his chains as his entire being strains to escape and gets nowhere. His blood pounds at his temples, and with another thrill of horror he feels his exposed cunt tighten at the cool air.
The god's endless black gaze drops, physical as any caress, from his face, to the twist of his spine, to his spread legs and the secrets laid open there. He steps forward, water shedding from his skin, and his cock rises: long and dripping white seafoam, the base swollen, ridged and moving like the arm of an undersea beast.
Before Tal can cry out, the god is on him.
"I could smell your ripe cunt an ocean away," he snarls against Tal's ear, breath humid and cool. His broad hand wraps about Tal's throat, hauling him up until his back presses to that wide chest, and the other hand seizes the chains holding Tal's arms and breaks them in one sharp twist.
Tal snatches at the hand grasping his throat, but might as well try to catch a wave; his scrabbling nails slip from the god's skin. No, no- the sacrifice can't be-
The hand not holding him by the throat cups one side of his chest, thumb flicking at a nipple drawn taut, and Tal shudders.
"Too small," the god says against his ear, and something sparks blue-silver across Tal's chest like lightning arcing across sky. "You'll need more than that to feed our young."
Their young-?
Tal's mind quails from the knowledge, and he can only gasp against that restraining hand, head forced back, his gaze met with only darkness and the god's fanged smile. The god bends low.
It isn't a kiss, but a devouring. The god steals the breath from him, cool tongue forcing its way between his lips, teeth scraping raw against his skin, and Tal thrashes. It's only the sudden ache at his chest that draws his attention away from the cramping in his lungs of denied breath.
"Lovely," the god breathes, drawing away. Saliva, tinged with red, strings out between their mouths, and breaks as Tal glances down, panting.
His chest, pale and abraded by the stone, bulges in the god's cupped grip. But there's a pressure there, a firmness that wasn't there before, and then his knees buckle as the god squeezes in a slow, rhythmic motion, and then again.
"No."
"Yes," his god murmurs against the top of his head, against his sweat- and salt-stiff hair. He releases Tal's bruised throat and drops his other hand to cup the other side of his chest, repeats the-
The milking motion.
Tal rasps out a sound, half-horror, half-pleasure, as the pressure eases within him. Creamy yellow beads of fluid collect at the tips of his stiff nipples, trembling with every terrified beat of his heart, and grow with each slow and steady press and pull of the god's rough hands against his tender skin. His cunt shudders.
A bead of milk breaks apart, slicks down over his heaving chest to meet the side of the god's palm. He makes a noise then, lower than all the seas, hungrier than the deeps, and lifts the liquid to his mouth.
Tal can't help but follow the motion, as if compelled. He stares, wide-eyed, as the god's fanged mouth seals over the side of his own hand, throat working. As he drinks Tal's milk, the sign of his fertility.
The god's black eyes flutter shut, then open anew, pinning Tal in place. He releases his hand with an obscene sucking sound, tongue flicking out to gather the last drops where they've wound towards his wrist. "Delicious," he says, low, and then releases Tal's chest and shoves him down towards the stone.
Tal trips, falls, but before he can smash his face the god's caught both his wrists in one hand behind his own back, leaving him caught as surely as if he were in chains. His heavy nipples release another pulse of milk, dripping to the volcanic stone altar beneath him.
"Will your cunt be just as sweet?" the god says, and steps between Tal's chained apart legs. The angle's wrong, the altar too low, and for a mad instant Tal feels hope.
It's snuffed out. The god says something, some spell or incantation, and the sand itself rises beneath Tal's altar, lifting him higher. His other hand wraps around one of Tal's thighs, thumb smoothing against the soft inside, before he bends his knees and notches his cock between Tal's thighs.
His cock drips coolness against Tal's skin, leaving him slick. It undulates, as if searching, and Tal's whole being revolts as the spade-shaped tip slides up alongside his thigh, a shark catching blood in the water.
"So pink," the sea god muses, his hand slipping to Tal's cunt, rough fingers sliding between his lips and spreading them wide. "Dripping for my cock. For my seed."
"I'm not," Tal manages, but his voice dies into a terrible moan as the god's cock finds him. He jerks onto his toes, as if the extra few inches will save him, and the god merely laughs at him, catching his clit between forefinger and middle finger and rolling him until he shudders.
The god's cock slips into Tal, cooler than his own blood, opening him, making untried muscles quiver and clench in a futile attempt to expel the invasion. A thin whine breaks between his teeth as a sharp pinch radiates from his cunt, and with horror that radiates across his skin he realizes-
He's wet. He's straining away and getting nowhere, and the god's only response is to laugh and tug him back onto his cock, where he'll be fucked full of the god's spend-
Bred, like a beast.
"Your cunt clutches at me like the most willing of lovers," the god says, his voice a rumble. "Tight and hot and sweet."
Tal can only moan, the sound reedy and pressured by his weight hanging off his arms, the steadily growing heaviness in his chest. His body strains against the insidious weight of the god's cock, pressing steadily deeper, and every twitch and shudder only makes the god rasp in gluttonous pleasure.
The ache in his cunt and chest spread, grow sharper, meet at his navel, and then, then the sea god draws his hand around Tal's side to press against the flat of his belly. Then he plants his feet into the black sand, and draws his hips back - Tal sobs as the ridges on his cock bully his untried walls open, stoke nerves to new and trembling life -
"My treasure," the sea god snarls, and snaps his hips forward, forcing Tal wide.
Tal throws his head back from where it hangs between his arms, entire body convulsing, and cries out, ragged and raw and too vulnerable. His milk spatters the stone, new pulses spilling forth from his chest with each relentless grind of the god's body against his.
The sea god's cock lashes within him, coiling, filling, working him so wide he half-wonders if the whole world can see his loose cunt, fighting in vain against divine power. Then, a new ache of dull pleasure-pain, deep in his belly-
"No," he manages, "please, not there-"
Not in his womb itself-
"The best treasures are those stolen," the sea god murmurs. His little finger strokes at Tal's clit, rougher than he's ever been with himself, and he makes a satisfied noise at Tal's thick sob, the steady tremble rising up his legs, increasing in tempo.
The pressure grows at the gate to his womb. Tal squeezes, helpless, as if he could control a thing. He yanks at his wrists where the god's kept them caught, uncaring of how it aches in his shoulders, and he might as well try to part the seas. No, no, ple-
The sea god sheaths himself fully into Tal, cock forcing his cervix wide, and as he does so, he plucks and rolls at Tal's clit.
Tal comes on a sobbing moan, tightening about the sea god's cock in great waves of unwanted pleasure. Even his forced-wide cervix tries vainly to clutch, and the climax lances down his spine, wipes his mind clean. His knees buckle anew.
Oh. He's- he's literally held up by the god's cock and hands, by the thick knot seated just beyond his pubic bone, spreading him wide. Every sensitized nerve in him shudders as the sea god strokes at his clit.
"You are fertile," says the god, and his palm presses deep, makes Tal squirm and cry out, some sharp pleasure point in him caught between the unyielding pressure of the hand and the width of the cock. "You will beg for my seed, for the pleasure I can bestow upon you."
Tal lets his head hang, stares at his milk-heavy nipples. Twin streams of milk drip to the sacrificial altar. Beyond, he almost imagines he can see that alien cock moving within him, a slight bulge to his belly as more divine seed fills him to bursting.
Remade, reborn. A divine vessel for the god of the sea's cock, for his progeny. His mind searches for a different life, the one he once lived, and finds nothing.
"Yes," he says, soft. "More, please, my lord."