Third round (R-18)

"Good choice," Oliver's voice was low, almost a purr, as he retracted his tentacles momentarily, only to wrap them around her limbs one by one. His movements were deliberate, and quick, and Boscha could feel the strength in those tentacles as they slid against her with an almost possessive ease, over her thighs and waist. She was immobilized before she could even process what was happening.

Oliver chuckled, his pink eyes shining with amusement as he watched her struggle. "For the third, we'll find out whether you value momentary desire or your virginity more," he murmured, his voice soft as velvet as he stepped closer to her.

The writhing tentacles explored Boscha's quivering flesh, their silken caresses igniting forbidden desires. She shivered as one curled possessively around her breast, the other two sliding higher to brush the slick folds of her aching cunt. Gasping harshly, she arched into his touch.

Ahnn…ahhh… — Boscha bit her lip, stifling the desperate sounds rising in her throat as the tentacles caressed her most intimate places. Liquid heat pooled in her belly, overcoming her fear with a deep ache of need. She bucked her hips involuntarily, seeking more of that maddening friction. What was happening to her? How could something so wrong feel so incredibly right? Shame burned her cheeks, even as she inwardly begged for more…

"The rules are simple," Oliver said, his voice firm and authoritative. "The tentacles will tease you for ten minutes. If by then you haven't asked me to penetrate you, you win. But if I win…" He leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, "I will fill you with my cum for more than just ten minutes."

A fierce blush stained Boscha's cheeks as the tentacles caressed her most sensitive places, her body shaking with a mixture of embarrassment and something else—something she couldn't name. But a look of grim determination hardened her features. Leaning closer to Oliver, her voice was steady despite the situation. "Do your worst."

Oliver's smile widened, a dark chuckle escaping him as he stepped back. "Then let's see how long you can take," he said, his words thick with defiance.

The tentacles began to move in earnest, their exploration becoming bolder. One slid up her inner thigh, the smooth surface brushing against her sensitive skin. Another wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to Oliver, while a third teased her, slipping beneath the fabric to trace patterns along her stomach.

Boscha gasped as a tentacle pressed insistently against her clitoris, rubbing in firm circles. Another wrapped itself around her breasts, kneading the soft mound as if to claim them as its own. A third wrapped itself loosely around her throat, applying enough pressure to constrict her airway. 

Panic and unwanted arousal warred within her as the appendages worked in concert to overwhelm her senses. She writhed uselessly in her bonds, a strangled moan escaping her bruised lips. "Ten minutes…" she thought as she bit her lip until it bled, having to endure ten torturous minutes without breaking. But with each passing second, it became increasingly difficult for Bosch to remember her own name, much less maintain his rapidly crumbling resolve. 

her chest rising and falling with each touch. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to maintain her composure. But the tentacles were relentless, their movements deliberate and maddening.

"Ah! S-stop…" she gasped, though her voice held no conviction. Her body was betraying her, every touch sending jolts of pleasure through her that she couldn't ignore. Her legs trembled, her womb contracting as the tentacle between her thighs pressed closer, teasing her most sensitive spot.

Oliver watched her closely, his eyes shining with desire. "You know the only way to end your torment," he murmured, his voice low and soft. "But I can see it in your eyes—you want it."

"I-I don't," Boscha began, but her words were cut off as a moan escaped her lips. The tentacle on her thigh had moved, its tip brushing against the entrance to her vagina, while the other sped up its work on her clitoris, the sensation sending a shockwave through her body.

"You can't lie to me," Oliver said, his tone almost teasing. "Your body is telling me everything. You're wet for me, aren't you? You want to feel my cock inside you. Even if your pride won't let you admit it."

Boscha's face burned with humiliation as the tentacles continued their relentless assault. She hated how right Oliver was—her body betrayed her, responding to their touch in ways she couldn't control. Every caress, every silky touch against her fevered skin drove her closer to the edge.

 She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to endure, to resist the siren song of pleasure that threatened to consume her. Boscha's face burned with humiliation as the tentacles continued their relentless assault. She hated how right Oliver was—her body betrayed her, responding to their touch in ways she couldn't control. Every caress, every silken touch against her fevered skin drove her closer to the edge. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to endure, to resist the siren song of pleasure that threatened to consume her.

"Uh… please…" she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Please what?" Oliver asked, his voice low and teasing. "You'll have to be more specific."

Boscha's eyes met his, her gaze filled with a mixture of desperation and submission. "Please…do it," she breathed, though her words lacked conviction.

Oliver laughed, a dark, seductive sound that sent shivers down her spine. "We both know that's no way to ask for something," he said, his voice smooth as butter. "But if you want me to stop…all you have to do is say the word."

Boscha's breath hitched, her body shaking as the tentacles continued their relentless exploration. She could say it. She should say it. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, a soft moan escaped her lips as the two tentacles between her thighs pressed harder, teasing her entrance.

"That's what I thought," Oliver murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "You're not as strong as you think you are, Boscha. But that's what makes this so… exciting."

Boscha's eyes closed, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She wanted to deny it, to push him away, but her body was betraying her at every turn. The tentacles were everywhere, their touch maddening and intoxicating. She could feel herself losing control, her resolve crumbling under the weight of her own desire.

"Let's see how much longer you can hold out," Oliver whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. "Tick-tock, Boscha."

The tentacles moved faster now, their actions more purposeful. One teased her nipples until they hardened beneath his touch. Two tentacles in synch fought against her entrance, their smooth surfaces teasing her folds, while the fourth wrapped itself tighter around her neck, not tight enough to suffocate her, but enough to make her gasp.

Boscha's body arched involuntarily, her back pressing against the tentacles as pleasure coursed through her. She could feel herself teetering on the edge, her control slipping further with each passing second.

"Ah… Oliver…" she moaned, her voice shaking with need.

Oliver's eyes darkened, his lips curling into a wicked smile. "Yes?" he asked, his voice low and soft.

She shook her head, her pride battling with the overwhelming need building inside her. "I can't," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I can't…"

Oliver leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. "Yes, you can. Just say the words, Boscha. Say them, and I'll give you anything you want."

"Oliver…" she moaned, her voice shaking with desperation. "Please…"

"Please what?" he requested, his breath hot against her ear. "Tell me what you want."

She hesitated for a moment longer, but the relentless assault of the tentacles left her no room for denial. Her three eyes were watering. "I… I want you," she admitted, in a

tone of desperation. "I want you to fuck me!"