6. Isla

Isla

6

Ivaguely remember that night after the last competition. Dad was so reluctant to tell me the news, but it's a small town and I found out anyway. I mean, someone pissing in the sand was the best gossip this place had seen in a long time, so I don't entirely blame them. But I did blame my dad for ruining the memories we worked so hard to build together.

I'd come to the beach to pour out my heart to the only thing I thought would understand, the raging tides. How was I supposed to know the very grains of sand beneath my feet were listening, watching, and waiting for the moment to come alive and…do what exactly?

The beach has always been my sanctuary, a place where the waves can wash away my worries and the salty breeze can cleanse my soul. But now, it feels like the very elements I trusted have turned against me. The water that once soothed me now churns with an intensity that mirrors my inner turmoil, and the sand that cushioned my steps now shifts unpredictably in front of me.

He said that he wants to care for me, but in the same breath he forced me onto my knees and claimed my mouth. Now he desires more of me, and while I'm not protesting, I'm also not sure how much of myself I'm willing to give.

I'll easily let him take my body. Hell, he's so hot I'd let him do just about anything to me—especially if it results in an orgasm like the ones I just had. But I'm scared I'll get burned, like walking barefoot across the beach on a blistering day. He can have me in any way, position, whatever. But trust? My submission and faith in him? That's a different story. I don't know if I have that to give.

Every touch he's bestowed, every kiss, ignites a fire within me that's both exhilarating and terrifying. It's like standing at the edge of the ocean, feeling the pull of the current and knowing that if I let go, I could be swept away. He's a force of nature, and I'm caught in his undertow, torn between the desire to surrender and the instinct to protect myself.

I came to the beach seeking solace that night. Instead, I found him. A storm in human form, capable of both destruction and beauty. But he claims he can soothe the tempest raging within me if I just give him full control. So I say the words and seal my fate.

"Okay. Let's take this one step at a time."

Perhaps I should have realized that "one step at a time" could mean something different to a man who can cross the beach with just a few flicks of his tentacles. As he wraps one of those tentacles around my wrist, pulling me closer, I can't help but wonder what exactly I'm getting myself into. I'm dealing with forces beyond my comprehension. He vows to care for me, yet his methods are anything but gentle.

"You come here for release, so let me give it to you." His voice skitters along my curves like a breeze, whispering through the dunes, teasing and tantalizing.

Graceful and firm, his tentacles strip off my jean shorts, momentarily leaving me in my bikini bottoms. Despite the material being made to get wet, I feel like I've pushed the limits of the fabric with my dripping desires.

"My girl is wet for me." His tentacle teases my clit through the slick fabric. "Fuck, I can't wait to soak up all of your juices as you come around my cock."

Perfect touches seduce my core. It's as if he knows exactly what I need, reading the longing in my eyes, the tension in my muscles. Every word he speaks surges anticipation through me. I'm keenly aware of the space between us, and crave a closeness that goes beyond simple touch.

His tentacles trace patterns along the waistband of my swimsuit bottoms, teasing me as he winds across my skin. My breath hitches as he locks his suckered appendage around the fabric and rips it from my body. There's a wildness in his eyes, and it holds a promise of pleasure.

I want to surrender to the moment, to let go of the doubts and fears that cling to me like seaweed. But there's a part of me that hesitates. This monster before me is crafted from ancient sand, roaring tides, and raw lightning, and I'm about to trust him with my most intimate flesh.

"I see your mind churning, little island." His voice cuts through my thoughts with startling clarity.

His presence, so commanding and otherworldly, stirs up a response as primal as the forces that created him. My anxieties ebb from my mind the moment he parts my folds with his slick tentacle.

"Don't fight it," he continues.

Try as I might, my muscles refuse to relax.

His eyes bore into mine. "Surrender, Isla. Or do you want me to make you submit, to overpower that pretty little brain so you can't overthink this? Is that what you need?"

"Yes," the word is a sigh, a longing I never knew I had. I'm always overthinking everything. Always ruminating and recounting my choices and sorrows. For a moment, I want to drown in sensation instead of thought.

"By the time I'm through with you, you will be nothing but a puddle melting into the ground around me." As his tentacle sinks in, I feel a shift within me. My knees buckle when he finds that tender spot, and I nearly topple over. His laugh is raw and heated when he catches me around the waist. More tentacles wrap around me, smothering me in his existence, dragging me away from thought like a ship being sucked into the deep by a monster of the sea.

His touch is a heady mix of power and possessiveness. It's as if he's claiming every part of me, merging our beings into one the deeper he shoves himself inside my aching, swelling reservoir.

The world outside fades away. I can feel the heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his breath, and the powerful beat of the rain pounding down upon us, but nothing else exists to me.

"That's it, little wave," he whispers. "Give yourself over to me. Drench me with your pleasure."

As his tentacles tighten their embrace, I surrender to my Daddy. His touch is everywhere, a constant reminder of his dominance and my willing submission. The storm inside me quiets, replaced by a profound sense of being where I'm meant to be. The wind howls its approval at the way I go limp in his grasp, and I join its untamed song with moans of my own.

Sweeping me up in his arms, he carries me over to his throne while still keeping a steady rhythm inside of me. The throne of sand and shells now looks as though it's carved from ancient rock. As he lowers me onto the cool, smooth surface, his eyes never leave mine, their intensity piercing through the haze of pleasure.

"Look at me," he commands softly, and I obey, meeting his gaze. He lowers to his knees in front of me, wrapping his tentacles around my legs and pulling them apart so I'm splayed before my king. I'm not usually one for sex in public, but being on display out in the open air is incredibly erotic.

The salty spray and stray drops of rain coursing over my curves wets my skin perfectly for the wind to come and lick me with its cooling breath. The waves clapping on the beach and the rolling thunder overhead applaud my boldness as I spread wide and get fucked by Poseidon.

But what really makes this special is that even though I'm fully exposed, I feel completely shielded by the sand-man in front of me. Not just physically, though his intimidating form is blocking my nakedness from any curious eyes, but emotionally as well. He's so undeniably protective. I know he won't let anyone hurt me, no matter how vulnerable I am right now.

If I were to hook up with a human on the beach, I'd be too in my head to enjoy it. But with my Deity Daddy, I can just lay back and bask in every bit of pleasure he gives to me.

"Let me be your Daddy, Isla," he says, as though reading my thoughts. "Now and always."

Before I can answer, he dips his tongue along my slit. Thrusting into my sea cave, the sensation of both his mouth and his tentacle playing with me forces out a moan so violent that my back arches up, begging for more. His touch is relentless, each caress and movement designed to drive me to the edge of that perfect cliff.

He seems to take delight in my reaction, his eyes darkening with satisfaction as he watches me writhe beneath him. His tentacles cover my body like the waters cover the earth, their suction cups placing gentle kisses along my flesh that flood my tide pool.

"Be mine, little island." His grip tightens, tentacles wrapping around me with renewed fervor. "My harbor. My home. My Queen."

With those words, he intensifies his movements, driving me higher and higher, until I'm lost in a sea of pure sensation. His tongue laps at my clit before he pauses to suck my hood between his lips. He massages the sensitive bud as he hums against my pussy, the delicate "mmm" making me say "Oh!"

As my body trembles, I feel the storm within me reaching its peak, ready to break free. His eyes hold mine, grounding me even as I'm swept away by the tidal wave of pleasure that crashes over me. In this moment, I'm completely his, surrendered to the raw, elemental power of my king.

The most pleasure I've ever experienced before is from winning the sand sculpture competition, but my castle creation has me squirting like a cuttlefish and feeling like a champion as I come.

Still trembling from my high, my body falls limply in his arms as he lifts me so he can take his rightful seat upon his throne. He sits down, pulling me onto his lap.

His cocktacle swirls inside me as I reposition to straddle his hips. It swells as I sink deeper, the tip stroking a place no one has ever been. It pulses and throbs against my g-spot, eliciting shocks of pleasure that light every nerve in my body on fire. I'm too sensitive, swollen like a blowfish after being thoroughly fucked. I whimper and squirm, trying to get away from the overwhelming sensation.

"None of that." A tentacle binds my hands behind my back and pulls them down, forcing my chest up so my sensitive breasts press against his rough chest. He tilts my chin and his lips meet mine, stealing my breath.

This kiss is a storm. Teeth scrape lips, lips suck tongues, tongues tangle in a dance as primal as the night. Raw and animalistic, he conquers me, and my body surrenders to his will. I become pure sensation, simmering ecstasy, unquenchable thirst.

When we break apart, he grips my throat right above the collar. "Now, you're going to ride your Daddy like a good girl and come all over my cock. And when that tight little pussy squeezes me, I'm gonna flood you so full of my cum you're going to taste it. "

His filthy words make my core clench and we both groan in unison. I start to ride him like a wave, lifting and lowering myself on his cocktacle as he uses it to caress my insides.

The loving way he pets my hair and kisses my neck are incongruent with the harsh grip he has on my wrists and the punishing way he teases my nipples. He may be made of sand, but he's an ocean, wild and tranquil all at once.

And I'm adrift in his current.