"Ahhhh!"
I pushed my hips forward, burying myself inside her with one slow, deliberate thrust.
Eleanor's fingers clamped violently into the heavy bedsheets next to her head. Her face, usually so pale and composed, flushed a brilliant, feverish red as she writhed beneath me. "Aah! What is... what is happening?! I've never... it's so full! Victor, it's pushing me completely open! Ahhh!"
I paused, bracing my weight on my forearms to let her adjust. I analyzed the physical feedback. There was no tearing, no structural damage. Her natural lubrication—the thick, slick nectar I had just spent twenty minutes coaxing out of her—acted as the perfect coolant and slip agent. The fit was insanely tight, a perfect pneumatic seal, but completely accommodating.
"Relax, Eleanor," I murmured, my voice strained from the sheer effort of holding myself back. "Does it hurt? Tell me the truth."
"N-no... ugh, it doesn't hurt at all," she gasped, her amethyst eyes wide and hazy. "But it's just... so much...!"
I gripped her waist, digging my thumbs into the soft flare of her hips, and drove myself in the rest of the way, bottoming out completely. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her sweat and arousal as the head of my cock pressed firmly against her cervix.
The heat inside her was astronomical. It felt like my dick was clamped inside a boiling, velvet vice.
"I'm all the way in," I whispered, biting lightly at her collarbone. "Give me the feedback. How does it feel?"
"Oh, Victor..." she whimpered, her fingernails scraping lightly down my back. "I can feel... every inch of you inside me. It's so hard, so unbelievably hot. I can feel my own insides throbbing around it..."
Holy shit. The internal pressure was unreal. Her vaginal walls weren't stiff or dead like the Church claimed a "barren" woman's would be. They were soft, violently alive, and twitching with tiny, involuntary spasms that milked the shaft of my dick. If I started pumping like a madman right now, I'd blow my load in thirty seconds. I had to manage the thermal limit.
I clamped down on my pelvic floor muscles, forcing myself to hold off. I needed a distraction.
"Eleanor," I grunted, slowly pulling back a few inches before sinking deep again. "Stop thinking of it as a 'tool of duty' or whatever clinical garbage the priests call it. This is a dick. And this incredible, dripping wet sheath wrapped around me? It's a pussy."
"A... dick? A pussy?" she repeated, stumbling over the raw, unfamiliar words. Her face burned even hotter, but the dirty vocabulary seemed to act as an accelerant. "It sounds so vulgar... Unnh! But Victor's dick is stretching my... my pussy so much... I can feel it all the way in my stomach!"
Oh no. I had just handed a loaded weapon to a woman who didn't know how to use the safety. Hearing my elegant, aristocratic wife use those words while whimpering beneath me nearly shattered my control.
But then, something even better happened.
Without thinking, driven entirely by the newly awakened nerve endings and raw biological instinct, Eleanor's hips tilted up. She pushed back against my next thrust, actively seeking the friction.
"Look at that," I smirked, quickening my pace just a fraction, letting our slick skin slap together. "The Church says women are supposed to lie still like corpses. But your hips are grinding against me all on their own. Are you a little slut, Eleanor?"
"A slut...?" she moaned, her head tossing side to side on the pillow.
Right. A world without a concept of sexual desire wouldn't have a word for that, either.
"A slut," I growled, sliding my hands up to perfectly cup her heavy, bouncing breasts, "is a girl who is addicted to this exact feeling. A girl who loves having a dick slide in and out of her dripping wet pussy, who begs for it to go deeper. You're wiggling your hips right now, showing me exactly what a dirty little slut you are. And I absolutely love it."
"Ahhh! Victor...!" The realization washed over her, completely destroying the last remnants of her aristocratic pride. "Then... then I am! I must be! I can't get enough of this... of you rubbing my pussy... Ahhhhh!"
The logic circuits in my brain shorted out.
I abandoned the slow calibration. I gripped her thighs, pulled them wider, and started piston-fucking her with everything I had. The room filled with the wet, obscene sounds of slapping flesh and squelching juices.
It was a perfect synchronization. The male driving the rhythm, and the female instinctively adjusting her geometry to take every inch. It was pure, unadulterated kinetics.
"God, it feels so good," I groaned, sweat dripping from my forehead onto her chest. "Eleanor, you're squeezing me so damn tight. I could fuck you forever."
"Mmm, yes... Victor..." she sobbed out in pure pleasure, her internal muscles clenching rhythmically around my shaft. "You're throbbing... wait, you aren't going to pull out right away?"
The original owner of this body had been a one-minute pump-and-dump failure. Without the numbing effects of the Church's "breeding salve," I was actually feeling everything, and I was going to make sure she felt it all, too.
She reached up, wrapping her arms securely around my neck, pulling my face down to hers. "Spoil me," she begged, her amethyst eyes hazy with tears of euphoria. "You called me your wife earlier... but I want you to say my name. Claim me."
I captured her lips in a deep, bruising kiss, our tongues tangling as violently as our lower halves. The taste of her was intoxicating. The boundaries between us were completely dissolving in the heat and the friction.
"My darling Eleanor," I muttered against her swollen lips. "I'm never letting you go. You're mine."
"Yours! I'm yours, Victor!"
Suddenly, she shifted. She lifted her long, pale legs and wrapped them tightly around the back of my waist, crossing her ankles to lock me into place.
System locked. Critical pressure achieved.
The physical sensation of her entire body clamping down on me, begging me to fill her, shattered my remaining endurance.
"Eleanor! Take it!"
I slammed my hips forward, burying myself to the absolute hilt as my orgasm ripped through me.
"Ahhhh!" Her back arched violently off the bed as my cock pulsed, jetting thick, boiling loads of cum deep into her womb.
I groaned, my entire body shuddering. Her vaginal walls were spasming wildly as she rode out her own secondary climax, the muscles literally milking my dick, extracting every last drop of my seed. It was the most intense, soul-draining release I had ever experienced in either of my lives.
"It's so hot..." she wept softly, her legs still locked around me, refusing to let me pull out. "There's so much... it's filling me completely... it feels so wonderful..."
Even completely spent, she kept her hips tilted, her internal muscles weakly twitching to squeeze the last bit of heat from my softening shaft. It was terrifyingly beautiful, like watching a perfectly designed machine run exactly as it was meant to.
I collapsed onto her chest, wrapping my arms around her waist, completely drained. We stayed locked together in the dim candlelight, the only sound in the room our heavy, synchronized breathing. The system had been successfully recalibrated. And I knew, without a doubt, I was going to spend the rest of my life maintaining it.