The nest pulsed like a living heart around him. Every strand of silk clung to his skin, tightening, drinking in the heat of his flesh. His cock, still hard and dripping, twitched helplessly in the cool air before another wave of fever washed through his veins. The venom wasn't done with him—it was never done. It coursed like molten gold under his skin, making every nerve scream for release even as his body sagged against the bindings.
The spider-women weren't satisfied. They never would be.
The first one slid down from above, upside down, her face inches from his. Her fangs grazed his lip, drawing a bead of blood before she licked it slow, like savoring honey.
"Still awake, pretty prey," she whispered, voice soft as silk, sharp as venom. Her long tongue curled under his chin, tracing the sweat dripping down his neck. "Good. We want you aware when the rest come."
