The Trial of the Mother-in-Law. (Epilogue Final)

"Wait, wait! Time out, time out!" Selas cries, her nails tearing through her floor stones, futilely trying to get to her door, only for you to drag her back in by her ankle and throw her onto the bed again.

It's pretty often that you manage to keep up with Selas, and less common still that she gets bored enough to play submissive to you, so it leads you to believe that this may be the first time in a very, very long time, that she's been effectively manhandled by any-being.

In practical terms, because of how much power you've collected to survive your audience with her mother, you are effectively a walking, talking, fucking, nuclear power plant, on the verge of a cataclysmic meltdown. And all that energy has got to go somewhere.

Thus began your six-month long fuckathon in her room's pocket dimension. The first month, she was ecstatic and overjoyed at being able to have you all to herself, and gave as good as she got. The two of you had such wild, frantic, frenzied sex that no one could even dream of.

The second month, the two of you got really into roleplay and costume. Doctors, nurses, teachers, librarians, students, lawyers, janitors, pirates, pharaohs, kings, queens, emperors, peasants, police officers, government officials, engineers, mech pilots, mech engineers, slaves, ruffians, bandits, witches, knights, and more. Think of an outfit and/or profession, you've fucked as them.

Month three is where things started to get a little weird. Fingers, toes, tails, wings, horns, hair, armpits, kneepits, thighs, underboobs, that tiny space between the neck and shoulder when people shrug, more body parts, less body parts, more yous, more hers, etc. Anything that isn't an orifice gets a chance to become a new sexual science experiment.

For month four, it got even weirder. You both decided to take advantage of your shape-changing abilities, and explore the physical limitations and sensations of all the sentient and mostly humanoid monster bodies she knows. Selas does however take a hard stance and bans satyrs. You abide by her ruling, naturally, but you do file away in the back of your mind that you'd like to see how Nanny Mara would take to you being a Minotaur with her, the next time the two of you can sneak away together.

When month five came around, it dawned on Selas that she may be starting to be in trouble, so she decided to pull out all the stops and use every trick in the book on you. And though a voluminous tome it may be, she finds that she has to come up with new ideas and techniques to even get you to crack. And when those didn't seem to work, she went back to basics.

In month six, she had only one goal. Escape. There was real, genuine fear in her eyes, as the gravity of the situation pressed down on her, and the great danger that awaited her if things continued like this. And you have been a real asshole about it. Every time she made a run for it, for whatever possible exit she's closest to, in whatever form she may take, you always let her get right on the border to it, before pouncing on her, forcing your magic on her to turn her back to her usual self, and having your way with her.

Which brings you back to now, the eve of your seventh month together in this room. Pinning her hands above her head, you take up your position on top of and between your purple-skinned seductress' legs, and push forwards. She lets out a small timid moan as her trembling, sodden pussy welcomes your steely, burning cock, molded into the perfect sheathe from your months long efforts. You look into her eyes and past them, deep into that which she might call a soul, and she does the same. She swallows hard, and the terror within is clear. Everything she can do to you, you have returned to her ten-fold. You have done something she would have not thought possible in a million million years.

You have rendered her powerless against you.

She knows what is about to happen. You know that it must. And more importantly...

You've never wanted it more than anything else in all the worlds.

Releasing her hands, you feel them wrap around your back. Her legs around yours. Her tail around your calf. Her wings envelope you both. Her aura, her very essence surrounds the both of you, the final layer of her defense laid before you.

Your expand and exert your own aura, essence, and will beyond hers, far greater and more powerful, ready to smash down on her cocoon, and break her, but instead, you encircle it. Poking and probing it gently, you let it linger on hers before she reaches out and takes it with her own, joining with yours.

You both gasp at each other's mouths as an impossible wave of unimaginable pleasure, so agonizingly beautiful that you want it to last forever, but also for it to pass so that you can chase after it again, threatens to wash over the both of you. With a shaking hand, Selas waves it over your face, cleaning it of all the mucky and grimy grossness, as well as the facial hair that grew while you were in here with her, so that she can see you clearly again. She gives you a tiny, demure, and soft smile, resting her hand on the back of your head, and says in the quietest voice, so quiet that you have to struggle to hear it, "Cum with me."

Even though you feel like you're at the edge of existence, you take all the time you need, to wave her face clean too, and to move aside each individual hair, so that you can see her clearly too. She has a hard time keeping your gaze, and her face turns gold. The same embarrassed gold she was when you retook her virginity. Brushing her burning cheek with your finger, you take it in your hand, look into her eyes once more, and say back, in a slightly louder but still quiet tone, "Cum with me, what, Selas?"

Her lips move, but there is no sound. But you know that she said it. You know what she called you.