The Countess screamed. The sound was piercing. The sound of a woman whose pussy has just been filled completely. Whose cervix has just been hit. Whose womb has just been pressed.
Her body went white.
The tension. The shock. The impact. Her whole body went rigid— every muscle contracting, every nerve firing, every cell screaming. Her eyes went wide. Her mouth went open. Her tongue came out.
Jiro— her eyes rolled. The whites showed. The irises vanished.
The loud cry filled the air.
"AAAAHH—!! HNNNGHH—!! AAAHH—!!"
PAH PAH PAH PAH—
He fucked her.
His hips moved. His cock slid in and out. The sound was wet— SCHLUK SCHLUK SCHLUK— the sound of a cock in a tight, wet, married pussy. The table creaked. The mirror shook. The Countess’s body— bent, spread, used— jerked with each thrust.
Her moans filled the air.
"HAAH—!! HNNNGHH—!! KYAA—!! AAANGHH—!!"
She cried.
She begged.
She moaned.
"Hahh... p-please... i-it is... t-too... AAANGH—!!"
PAH PAH PAH PAH PAH—
The Duchess watched.
From the bed. Her ass in the air. Her face in the pillow. Her eyes— over her shoulder. Watching. The Countess— her fellow noblewoman, her fellow collared servant— being fucked on the table. The cock going in and out. The screams. The moans.
Her hand went to her collar.
The black leather. The metal ring. Her fingers found the ring. She pulled. The collar tightened. Her breathing— "Hahh... hahh..."— quickened. She pulled the string. The collar pulled her head back. Her neck arched. Her mouth opened.
She was presenting.
Her ass. Her pussy. Her body. To the man who had saved her. To the man who had killed the King. To the man whose cock was inside another woman but whose attention she wanted.
PAH PAH PAH PAH PAH PAH—
"AAAAHH—!! HNNNGHH—!! KYAAANGH—!!"
The Countess screamed. The Duchess watched. The Baroness— on her knees, her mouth on his balls, her tongue working— sucked and licked and cried.
He fucked.
The Countess. On the table. Hard. Fast. Deep. His hips slamming. His cock plunging. His balls— the Baroness’s mouth— slapping against her chin.
He talked.
"Do you know," he said. His voice was steady. Unhurried. The voice of a man who is fucking and who is conversing. "Why the shape of a cock is like this? Like an arrow?"
The Countess moaned.
"I— I do not— HAAH—!! I do not know— why a man’s cock— is like— AAANGH—!!"
Her words were broken. The thrusts breaking them. Her face was in the mirror. Her eyes— rolled, white— met her own reflection. She saw a woman she did not recognize. A woman with a collar. A woman bent over a table. A woman being fucked by a cock that was bigger than her husband’s. Bigger than the King’s. Bigger than anything she had ever—
"Because," Raven said. His hips did not stop. The rhythm did not change. "To pull out the semen of another man."
PAH—
"AAAAHH—!!"
His cock slammed. Deep. The head against the cervix. The shaft stretching the walls. The angle— the arrow shape, the ridge, the design— scraping. Pulling. The coronal ridge catching the fluid. The other man’s fluid. The husband’s fluid. The King’s fluid. Pulling it out. Drawing it out. Removing the seed of the man who had claimed her first.
"And then," Raven continued. His voice was the same. Steady. Conversational. "To plunge the one claiming the woman."
PAH PAH PAH PAH—
"AAAAHH—!! HNNNGHH—!! KYAAANGH—!!"
"Impregnating them," he said. "With their own seed."
He slammed.
PAAAH—
The thrust was deep. Deep. The cock went to the hilt. The head pressed against the cervix. The opening. The entrance to the womb. The cock throbbed. The shaft pulsed. The head swelled.
He came.
Thick. Heavy. The load— pulse after pulse— filling her. The seed— hot, white, thick— flooded the vagina. Filled the channel. Pressed against the cervix. The excess— the overflow— ran out. Around the shaft. Down the thighs. Onto the table. The white fluid— his seed— replacing the fluid of the other man. The King’s seed. The husband’s seed. Flushed out. Replaced.
As if spoiling the semen of the King.
Whose genetics were stronger.
The King’s seed— the royal seed, the seed of a bloodline that had ruled for a thousand years— was being flushed out by the seed of a man who was not a king. Who was not human. Who was something else.
He pulled out.
The cock emerged. Wet. Slick. The seed and the juice and the other man’s fluid— all of it— on the shaft. On the head. Dripping.
He turned.
To the Baroness. To the Duchess. To the others. To the women who were waiting. Who were collared. Who were naked. Who were his.
He fucked them.
All of them.
The Baroness— on her back. On the floor. Her legs spread. Her large breasts heaving. Her stretch marks visible. Her pussy— used, stretched, filled. Her screams— "AAAAHH—!! HNNNGHH—!!"— filling the room.
The Duchess— on the bed. On her knees. Her ass in the air. The position. The same position. The position that the King had used. But the cock was different. The man was different. The seed was different.
He fucked them.
One after another. The Countess again. The Baroness again. The Duchess again. Each one bent. Each one spread. Each one filled. Each one— impregnated. The seed— his seed— replacing the seed of their husbands. Of the King. Of the men who had claimed them first.
The room was filled with the sounds.
The PAH PAH PAH— of flesh on flesh. The SCHLUK SCHLUK SCHLUK— of cock in pussy. The screaming— "AAAAHH—!! HNNNGHH—!! KYAAANGH—!! HAAAAANGHH—!!" The crying. The begging. The moaning.
"Hahh... p-please... i-it is... t-too... m-much... AAANGH—!!"
"AAAHH—!! M-My... b-body... i-it... c-cannot... HAAH—!!"
"HNNNGHH—!! T-Thank... y-you... t-thank... AAAHH—!!"
He fucked them.
Until they were scattered.
On the floor. On the bed. On the table. The women— the Duchess, the Countess, the Baroness— lay where they had been left. On their backs. On their sides. On their stomachs. Their legs spread. Their pussies leaking. The thick, white seed— his seed— running from their holes. Pooling on the silk. On the stone. On the wood.
He turned.
Toward the princess.
Vivian stood.
In the corner. By the wall. Her hands at her sides. Her torn dress still on. Her emerald hair still tangled. Her green eyes— wide, wet— fixed on the scene. On the women. On the floor. On the seed. On the man.
She was trembling.
Her whole body was shaking. Her knees were weak. Her hands were shaking. Her lips were trembling. She had watched. She had watched him fuck three women. She had watched the screaming, the moaning, the begging. She had watched the seed. The thick, white fluid. On the bodies. On the pussies. On the thighs.
She had watched and she had not looked away.
His hand went to hers.
He grabbed. Her wrist. Her slim, pale wrist. He lifted. He pulled. Her body came— forward, toward him, the momentum carrying her. Her feet stumbled. Her body bumped against his. His bare chest. His muscled stomach. His hard cock— still wet, still slick, the seed on the shaft.
She gasped.
"W-Wait—" she stammered. Her voice was high. Small. The voice of a virgin. "This is— I—"
He leaned.
His mouth went to her neck. The side. The place where the pulse was. The place where the blood was closest to the skin. He kissed. His lips pressed. His teeth grazed. She shivered.
"So," he said. His voice was low. Close. Against her skin. "My queen."