ebookslot Chapter 597 - 596- The Doubts for the Two
Chapter 597 - 596- The Doubts for the Two
Both of them — his mouth pulling one nipple while his hand twisted the other. The wet, greedy, devouring sound of a man feeding on flesh while his cock destroyed her womb.PAH PAH PAAH PHACK!
"AAANNNH~!!♡♡♡!! NGH~!! HAAIYAANGH~!! HIEKKK~!!"
Her juices coated everything.
The bed beneath her was soaked — a spreading puddle of her fluid, his seed, her sweat, running off the edge of the mattress and dripping onto the floor.
He increased his pace.
Faster.
Harder.
The bed slamming against the wall with each thrust, the headboard cracking, the frame groaning under the combined weight of their bodies.
"Forget everything," he growled.
His mouth on her nipple, his cock in her womb, his tail in her anal.
"Forget the world."
PAH PAAH!
"NGH~!! I— I can’t—"
"You can."
He pulled her tit with his mouth — the dark, stiff, aching peak stretching outward, the flesh following, his teeth grazing.
"Be with me."
His hands grabbed her thick thighs.
Spread them further.
Pulled them apart.
He increased the blood flow to her pussy — commanding the blood to rush, to engorge, to swell her walls, to make her cunt more sensitive than any woman’s body had ever been.
She hit orgasm.
The climax was volcanic — her cunt clenching around his intruding cock, her womb contracting, her anal spasming around his tail. Her whole body convulsed, her back arching, her heavy tits heaving.
"AAANGHH~!!♡♡♡!! I’M— I’M COMING~!!♡ MY WOMB~!! MY WOMB IS COMING~!!♡♡!!"
And she pissed herself again.
The warm, yellow stream shooting from her urethra, hitting his stomach, running down between their bodies, soaking the bed further. The shame of it — the animal, uncontrollable, total loss of function — made her cry harder.
"Ah," Viktor said.
He pulled out.
His cock emerged wet, glistening, covered in her fluid. He looked down at the puddle of urine on the bed, at the soaked sheets, at the spreading stain.
"What a mess," he said.
He looked at his cock.
Still hard. Still full. The incubus bloodline demanding more.
"I also need something to empty myself," he said.
He grabbed her hair.
His hand closed around the thick, dark, sweat-damp strands at the back of her head. He pulled her — dragging her across the bed, her heavy body sliding through the wet sheets, her tits scraping the fabric.
He pulled her to the edge.
Stood before her.
His cock — thick, veined, twelve inches of royal, half-demon flesh — was pointed at her mouth.
She looked at it.
At the head, dark and swollen.
At the slit at the tip, already leaking.
She opened her mouth.
Not because she wanted to.
Because her body knew what was expected.
The yellow stream hit her tongue.
Hot.
Bitter.
Salty.
His piss — the warm, yellow, acrid fluid — poured from his cock into her open mouth. Her eyes overflowed with tears, the liquid filling her faster than she could swallow, running from the corners of her lips, down her chin, onto her heavy tits.
"Ah, come on," he said.
His voice was mild.
Amused.
"Aim is missing. Shouldn’t you take it in depth?"
He pushed.
His cock entered her mouth — past her tongue, into her throat, the stream of piss flowing directly into her gullet. She gagged, her throat convulsing, her eyes bulging.
He held her there.
Both hands on her head, his cock buried in her throat, the stream continuing. He looked at the ceiling.
"Ah," he breathed.
The sound of a man who had found relief.
"Now I am empty."
He pulled out slowly.
His cock emerged dripping — piss and spit and the remnants of his seed. She coughed, gasping, her face a ruin of tears and fluid.
He looked at her.
At the mess of her.
And pushed back in.
He fucked her mouth.
PAH PAH!
"GLKK~!! MMMPH~!! HNNGH~!!"
His hips snapped forward, driving his cock into her throat with the same brutal rhythm he had used on her ass and her cunt. Her throat bulged with each thrust, the outline of his cock visible through her skin.
He came.
The thick, final load — hot, bitter, overwhelming — pumped directly into her throat, filling her belly with his seed. She swallowed convulsively, her body accepting it, her eyes rolling back.
A cum dump.
She had become a cum dump.
He pulled out.
His cock hung heavy, finally softening. He looked down at her — at the woman on the bed, covered in piss and cum and tears, her heavy tits heaving, her thick thighs spread, her hairy cunt dripping, her anal gaping, her mouth swollen.
She was his.
Completely.
He turned toward the door.
Two women stood there.
Helviana and Dara.
They had arrived silently — drawn by the sounds, by the smell, by the instinct that told them their master was finished. They wore tight, strip-like dresses that barely covered their tits and asses, the fabric thin and dark. Robes hung open over their shoulders.
One of them — Helviana — held a big horse riding scabbard.
The leather strap hung from her hand, the end trailing on the floor.
They looked at him.
At the naked, cum-covered, still-half-hard devil.
At the ruined woman on the bed behind him.
Viktor smiled.
The devil’s smile.
He looked at the scabbard.
At the two women.
At the matching collars they wore — thin, leather, the kind that clipped to leashes.
"Aren’t you all evil?" he said.
His voice was warm.
Amused.
The voice of a man who had just spent the night and morning destroying a woman and was now looking at two more.
Helviana smiled.
Dara trembled.
And Naro — behind him, on the bed, in the ruins of everything she had been — whispered into the wet sheets:
"Anything to kill those people."
"Anything."
The rope hung from the ceiling beam.
It was thick — the kind used for binding cargo on merchant wagons, the kind Naro had used in her army days to secure supply crates. It had been repurposed now, threaded through iron hooks embedded in the beam above the bed, the ends dangling with the patient, loose readiness of things waiting for their purpose.
Viktor tied her.
Her wrists first — together, above her head, the rope binding them in a firm, double-looped knot that held without cutting. He pulled the slack through the ceiling hook, drawing her arms taut, her heavy body stretching upward, her blouse tearing as the tension lifted her tits.
Then her legs.
He spread them.
Wide.
Each ankle bound to a separate rope that ran to the lower bedposts, the knots tight enough that her thick thighs were forced apart, her feet suspended, her weight distributed between her wrists and her ankles in a suspension that left her hovering — her heavy body open, available, presented.
The horse riding scabbard was placed beneath her.
The long, flat, leather-covered wooden scabbard that Helviana had carried — it was positioned lengthwise, running from the head of the bed to the foot, the smooth leather surface pressing directly against Naro’s bare cunt and the cleft of her thick ass. Her skirt had been removed. Her panty had been cut away. Her blouse hung in tatters, her heavy tits exposed, the dark nipples stiff and aching in the cool air.
Her pussy rubbed against the leather.
The hairy, swollen lips of her cunt pressed against the smooth surface, the friction of the scabbard against her engorged, blood-manipulated flesh creating a constant, maddening, inescapable sensation.
Every movement — every breath, every twitch — made her cunt slide against the leather, the pressure stimulating her clit, the roughness of the hair catching and pulling.
"What— what is happening?" she gasped.
Her eyes were wild, darting between the three figures in the room — Viktor, standing behind her, his cock already hard, pressing against the stretched, exposed cleft of her ass; Helviana, standing by the door in her strip-like dress; Dara, beside her, holding the collar and leash.
"Why are these two here?"