The cock went deep. Not all the way. Half. Six inches. The shaft — thick, veined — stretched the walls. The muscles — the vaginal muscles, the ones that had been torn by the wine bottle, the ones that had been scarred — stretched. Not tore. Stretched. The way they were supposed to. The way the king had never bothered to make them.
"Hahh... hahh... HAAH...!!" she gasped. Her breath was ragged. The fog — the visible breath, the condensation of her heat against the cold air of the throne room — hung before her lips. White. Dense. The exhalation of a woman whose body is being invaded and whose body is responding.
He moved.
His hips. Forward. Backward. The cock slid in and out. Not fast. Not yet. The rhythm was slow. Deliberate. The rhythm of a man who is savoring. Who is tasting. Who is taking his time.
PAH... PAH... PAH...
The sound was soft. The flesh on flesh. His hips against her thighs. His cock in her pussy. The wet, slick sound of a cock moving in a wet, willing pussy.
"Hahh... y-you... how... dare you..." she moaned. The words were broken. Between the thrusts. Between the moans. "Hahh... I am... the first... queen... AAANGH...!!"
He lifted her.
In the koala position. His arms went under her thighs. He lifted. Her feet left the ground. Her legs went around his waist. Her arms went around his neck. The gown — bunched at her waist, the fabric trapping between their bodies — rustled. Her thick body was pressed against his. Her large breasts — flattened against his chest, the nipples stiff through the bodice — heaved with each breath.
He fucked her.
Standing. Holding her. His hands on her ass. His fingers — digging into the thick, heavy flesh of her cheeks — gripping. Squeezing. Spreading. The cock went deeper. The angle changed. The head pressed against the cervix. Against the womb.
PAH PAH PAH PAH—
"AAAAHH—!! HNNNGHH—!! KYAAANGH—!!"
Her body jiggled. The thick flesh — the ass, the thighs, the breasts — moved. Up. Down. With each thrust. The flesh rippling. The waves traveling from the point of impact — his hips on her ass — through the thighs, through the hips, through the torso, through the breasts.
She cried.
The tears came. Not from pain. From the pleasure. From the overwhelming, devastating, annihilating pleasure. The pleasure that the king had never given her. The pleasure that no man had ever given her. The pleasure that this man — this devil, this monster, this thing — gave her with every thrust.
’Gods... his cock... it is... hitting my womb... every thrust... right there... right there... I cannot... I cannot think...’
Her internal thoughts were shattered. Fragmented. The mind of a woman whose body has taken over. Whose brain has surrendered to the pussy. Whose last coherent thought was ’more’.
"Hahh... p-please... s-slow... down... AAANGH—!!"
He did not slow down.
PAH PAH PAH PAH PAH PAH—
"AAAAAHH—!! HNNNGHH—!! KYAAANGH—!! HAAAAANGHH—!! NNGHH—!!"
The juices.
Her pussy was leaking. The clear, thin fluid ran from the opening. Around the shaft. Down her thighs. Down his hips. Onto the floor. The drip — the steady, constant drip — formed a puddle. On the marble. The gold veins in the stone absorbed it.
The cock head hit the womb.
Each thrust. The head — the thick, dark, swollen head — pressed against the cervix. The opening. The entrance to the womb. The impact — the pressure, the force — sent shockwaves through her body. From the womb. Through the stomach. Through the chest. Through the brain.
"AAAAHH—!! H-He is... h-hitting... my womb... AAANGH—!! E-Every... thrust... r-right... there... HAAANGH—!!"
She screamed.
"You need to be cautious!" she cried. Her voice was high. Desperate. The voice of a woman who is being fucked and who is trying to deliver a warning. "The family behind the king—! They will not forgive you—! HNNNGH—!!"
He did not respond.
He fucked.
PAH PAH PAH PAH—
"The family—! HAAH—!! The king was not— was not from the five nations—! Not originally—! AAANGH—!!"
Her words came between the thrusts. Between the moans. Between the screams. The information — the intelligence, the secrets of the royal family — spilled from her mouth the way the juice spilled from her pussy. Involuntarily. Uncontrollably. Because the cock was hitting the womb and the womb was hitting the brain and the brain was spilling everything.
"When the empire—! HAAH—!! When the empire separated—! Into the five kingdoms—! One lineage—! NNNGH—!! One lineage separated—! Went away—! AAANGH—!!"
Raven felt it.
The push. Not from her body. From somewhere else. From somewhere higher. The mention of the upper floors — the floors above the demon realm, the floors that he had been climbing, the floors that were his destination — registered. The lineage had gone up. Above the demon realm. To the upper floors.
He did not care.
He slammed her down.
PAAH—
"AAAAAHH—!!"
The thrust was deep. The cock went to the hilt. The head pressed against the cervix. The shaft stretched the walls. The balls slapped against her ass.
"T-The family—! HAAH—!! They are very possessive—! Of their descendants—! AAANGH—!!"
She was close. The orgasm was building. The pressure in her womb. The heat in her stomach. The tingling in her clit. The muscles tightening. The walls clenching.
"Not because—! Hahh—!! Not because they appreciate them—! But because—! AAANGH—!! Because those who kill the candidates—! Get marked—! By a strange energy—! HNNNGHH—!!"
Her body was shaking. The orgasm was there. Right there. At the edge. The cock was hitting the spot. The spot that the king had never found. The spot that Raven found every time.
"You would naturally—! Go up—! They would sense—! HAAH—!! Sense that you killed—! One of their descendants—! AAANGH—!! P-Please—! They will hurt you—!"
He slammed her down.
PAAAH—
She orgasmed.
"AAAAAAAAAHHH—!!"
The scream tore through the room. Her body convulsed. Her back arched. Her legs — around his waist — locked. Her arms — around his neck — tightened. Her pussy — the walls, the muscles — clamped. The juice erupted. The clear fluid sprayed — around the shaft, down his hips, onto the floor. The walls spasmed. The contractions — rhythmic, powerful, the muscles milking the cock — gripped him.
"HAAANGH—!! HAAANGH—!! HAAANGH—!!"
The orgasm was long. Ten seconds. Fifteen. The waves rolling through her body. From the womb. Through the stomach. Through the chest. Through the breasts. Through the brain. Each wave — a contraction, a spasm, a surge of pleasure — was accompanied by a moan. A scream. A cry.
"Ahhh... ahhh... hahh..." she whimpered. The aftershocks. The small tremors. The body coming down. The mind returning. Slowly.
Raven held her.
In the koala position. Still inside. His cock still hard. Still deep. He did not move. He let her recover. He let the aftershocks pass.
"You have confidence in me," he said.
His voice was low. Amused. The voice of a man who has just been warned of a threat and who finds it entertaining.
Revaone’s eyes — wet, dazed, the pupils dilated — found his.
"Of course," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse. The voice of a woman who has just screamed through an orgasm. "You are very strong."
He smirked.
The smile — the thin, confident, knowing smile — crossed his lips. The smile of a man who enjoys praise. Especially from a woman whose pussy is still clenching around his cock.
He threw her.
Onto the throne. The stone throne. The seat. Her body hit — the thick flesh absorbing the impact, the ass spreading on the cold stone. She fell forward. Her face went to the seat. Her cheek on the stone. Her ass in the air. Her gown — bunched, tangled — rode up. Her thighs were bare. Her panty — pulled aside — was visible. Her pussy — wet, swollen, the lips parted — was exposed.