He lifted her leg.
His hand left her clit. He hooked her right leg over the rim of the stone tub. Her knee bent. The water splashed. Her pussy was exposed—ruined, swollen, still gaping from the earlier claiming, the small lips dark and puffy and leaking his seed in thin white streams that mixed with the water.
His cock was hard.
It emerged from the water like a pillar. Twelve inches. Thick. The head was swollen and blunt and the veins ran along the shaft like ropes. It looked bigger in the moonlight. Bigger than it had been before. She looked at it and her child’s memory overlapped with the present. She remembered the cocks she had seen through the keyhole. The size. The brutality. This was the same. This was the same thing that had destroyed her sister.
"No," she sobbed. "No. I don’t want to— I don’t want to be like her— I don’t want—"
He positioned the head.
He pressed it against her entrance. The swollen lips parted. The seed from earlier made it slick. The head began to sink. One inch. Two. The walls of her recently deflowered cunt stretched around him. The pain was fresh. The tearing was still recent. Every inch of his advance reignited the damage.
"Ah—! Ah—! It is too big—" she cried. "It is as big as— as the ones she took— I don’t know— I don’t remember— but it is—"
"Shh," he said. He kissed her forehead. "You will remember. Your body remembers. It is returning. All of it. The truth. The strength. The power."
He pushed deeper.
Four inches. Six. Her belly began to bulge. The shape of his cock was visible under her skin—a thick, intrusive column distorting her abdomen. She looked down at it. Her eyes were wide. Her mouth hung open. Saliva dripped from her lower lip. Her pussy dripped around his shaft. She was a leaking, broken fountain.
He lifted her.
He stood in the tub. The water cascaded off him. He lifted her with his cock still buried inside her—six inches deep, her weight settling onto him, gravity driving her down. He held her under her thighs. He spread her legs. She was in the air. Suspended. Her legs spread wide like a frog. Her arms hung limp. Her head fell back. Her wet hair clung to her shoulders and breasts.
"Look at you," he said. "A frog. A little fuck-frog. Suspended on my cock. No weight. No will. Just a wet hole taking what it is given."
He began to move.
Not slow. Hard. He lifted her and dropped her. He used her body as a sleeve. The cock slid out six inches and then he let her fall back onto it. The impact drove the air from her lungs. Her belly bulged with each descent. Her tits—heavy, young, marked with his teeth—shuddered against her chest.
PAH PAH PAH—
"AAAAAANGHH~!! HNGHH~!! KYAAANGH~!!"
"Please—" she cried. "Please— be gentle— it is too much— I am— I am tearing—"
He slammed harder.
PHAAACK—
"KKKKHAAAAAAANNGHHHHHH~!!"
He rotated his hips.
The cock twisted inside her. It ground against her front wall. It pressed against her cervix. It found angles that made her scream in a pitch she had not known she could produce. He was fucking her with deliberate cruelty. He was making sure every thrust was visible. Every bulge. Every drop of saliva from her hanging mouth. Every tear from her streaming eyes.
Not far from the tub, in the shadows of the old ruin, a figure stood.
Vess.
The guild commander. The thick mercenary. The woman who had been fucked by nobles years ago. She was there. She had followed the sounds. She had come looking for her sister. She had found them.
She could not move.
Raven’s magic held her. Invisible bonds wrapped her wrists behind her back. A band of mana sealed her mouth—her lips were pressed together, her jaw forced shut, the sound of her screams reduced to muffled, frantic grunts behind the gag. Her legs were spread by the spell. Her feet were planted apart. Her sword was in her hand, gripped by the magic, pointed uselessly at the ground.
Her eyes were wide.
She saw everything.
She saw her sister—naked, suspended, legs spread like a frog—being impaled on a cock that was distorting her belly. She saw the young, innocent face that had turned eighteen yesterday. She saw the tears. She saw the saliva. She saw the pussy—swollen, dark, dripping—being used with the same brutal efficiency that had been used on her.
Trauma returned.
It did not creep. It crashed. The memory of that night—the four fat nobles, the cucumber, the bath, the doggy position—slammed into her mind with the force of a physical blow. She had buried it. She had built a wall of command and authority and hardness to keep it out. But watching her sister endure the same thing shattered the wall.
She tried to scream.
"MMNPH! NNNGH! MMM!"
Nothing. The magic held her mouth. The sound was trapped. She strained against the bonds. Her wrists pulled. Her sword arm trembled. The muscles of her thick body stood out in rigid cords. She wanted to run. She wanted to kill. She wanted to cut that man into pieces.
She couldn’t.
She was forced to watch.
Raven saw her.
He didn’t look directly. He kept his eyes on Lena. But he smiled. He knew Vess was there. He had planned this. He had waited for her. Every thrust he delivered to Lena was angled for Vess’s viewing. He rotated his hips so the moonlight caught the cock sliding in and out. He made sure Lena’s face was toward her sister, even if Lena’s eyes were rolled back and didn’t see.
He slammed.
PAH PAH PAH—
"AAAAAANGHH~!! HNGHH~!! HAAAAANGHH~!!"
"Your sister," Raven said to Lena. His voice was loud enough to carry. "You hate her, don’t you?"
Lena’s head lolled. Her eyes were half-open. "Wha— what—"
"She slapped you. She controls you. She calls you a child. She overshadows you. She never let you grow. She took everything. She became the commander. She became the strong one. While she left you small. Weak. Ignorant."
"Please—" Lena sobbed. "I don’t— I don’t want to think about her—"
"She hates you," Raven said. He slammed harder. "She hates you for being young. For being soft. For having what she lost. She wants you to stay small forever. So she can feel big. So she can feel powerful. Isn’t that right?"
"I—" Lena gasped. "I don’t—"
He rotated his hips. The cock twisted inside her. He pressed his thumb against her clit. He rubbed it in cruel, tight circles while he fucked her.
"Tell me," he said. "If you had to choose. Between staying with her. Or coming with me. Who would you choose?"
Lena’s mind was breaking.
The pleasure from her clit. The pain from her cunt. The manipulation in his voice. The memory of the slap. The memory of her sister’s contempt. The memory of being called a child. The memory of the door. The keyhole. The cocks. The understanding—finally—that her sister had been destroyed and had rebuilt herself into someone who could never be gentle.
She looked at Raven.
His face. His beautiful, demonic face. The face of the man who was destroying her and making her feel everything.
"I would choose you," she sobbed. "I would choose you. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her!"