The Little Sacrifice

Nari

"No," I murmur, truly exhausted.

He doesn't stop.

I push his head away, using precious resources. It barely moves him. He keeps running his tongue over me, enjoying my exposed and mostly undefended chest, but I'm so spent that my response is minimal.

These last few weeks have been extreme. Extreme pleasure. Extreme pain. Extreme joy. Extreme frustration. Extreme fun. Extreme mortification.

My lifemates did not realize how much upkeep a human requires. Neither believed me when I said humans eat a minimum of three meals a day. After they ignored me and set out to prove me wrong by another round of amazing sex, they learned their lesson. It was a lesson learned at my expense. Their anger as they tried to rouse me from my weakened heap on the floor was tinged with worry. Eventually I was able to convey to them through our link that I needed sustenance. They haven't allowed me to miss a meal since.

Neither of them believed me when I said I needed an interlude so that I could relieve my bladder. That was horrific. I've never been so mortified in my entire existence.

When I complained during a "magic training" session about a headache, my Demon increased the intensity and my Beast demanded more focus. They relented only after my pain grew so great that my eyesight left me. Now each session is strictly timed.

So for weeks it has been trial and error. For weeks I've been speaking, but no one has been listening.

And yet again, my words and actions fall on deaf ears.

But what am I to do? They really do try hard to take care of me. A werewolf and a demon, being sweet? Never going to happen. But I really do need some sleep.

I haven't gotten a solid eight hours of sleep in weeks. In fact, I doubt I've gotten longer than a two hour stretch. And they've used me so thoroughly and so often. Even with their magically healing saliva and jizz, I've reached my limit.

Don't get me wrong, I love their attention. I love them. But I cannot keep this pace. They've been doing well feeding, cleaning, and relieving me, since those are the main key requirements to my survival. But they just can't seem to keep their damn paws off me long enough for me to get some decent sleep.

I need that deep REM cycle. I crave it. Even with my eyes open I've been imagining slipping into the recharging abyss of dreamland. I can't even lift my eyelids, much less focus my vision.

I miss seeing their faces. I miss my Brecht's flaming eyes and dark lips. I miss my Arctos' piercing golden eyes and predatory smirks. It feels like it's been ages since I've had the energy to open my eyes.

The muted, drugged feeling of silky wetness manipulating my usually sensitive nipples is not pleasant. For the first time ever, I truthfully do not want him to touch me. I do not want either of them to touch me. I do not want to be touched, at all.

I want to sleep.

His persistent tongue keeps fondling me. A groan mixed with anger and frustration is the only response I'm capable of.

He snarls. It's terrifying. But I can't even react. I just want him to leave me alone.

His elongated paws join in, kneading and pinching, adding to the unpleasant sensations pinging through me. I huff, feeling my conscious slipping down into sleep despite his efforts.

He sends his expectations through our link, demanding obedience, forcing his dominance into my soul.

My heart shrivels, hating this.

I love him.

But no means no.

And he isn't listening.