Chapter 657 - 656 - Taking the Strong Independent Woman Raw

Chapter 657: Chapter 656 - Taking the Strong Independent Woman Raw

Not the cock-addicted pervert who had been sucking his balls three minutes ago. Not the teary-eyed MILF who had been trembling with fear in the war room.

This was something else. Her posture was straight — spine aligned, shoulders back, chin level.

Her naked body — still thick, still heavy-titted, still wide-hipped — carried itself with an authority that radiated outward like heat from a forge. Her green eyes were sharp. Focused. Not on his cock. Not on the baby. On the window. On the distant horizon where an army waited.

The power transfer had done more than give her abilities. It had given her ’purpose.’

Viktor felt it — a flicker, brief, instinctive. The faintest sense of inferiority. Not submission. Not fear. Just the recognition that the woman standing before him was no longer just his wife. She was something else. Something that had been sleeping inside the perverted MILF and had been awakened by the combined power of every woman he had ever fucked.

Mira’s gaze moved from the window to him. Then down. To his cock. His hand. The twitching balls. The shaft, held in a death grip, the cum fighting to escape.

"I can’t let that precious thing fall on the floor."

Her voice had changed. The pitch was different — deeper, richer, carrying a resonance that vibrated through the chamber. The Voice of Dominion — Rihana’s siren ability, 100x multiplied — was already active, woven into her speech like thread in fabric. Every word she spoke hit the ear differently. Melodious. Commanding. The sound made his balls twitch — an involuntary, biological response to a voice that was designed to make bodies obey.

She turned.

Her body moved — and it was different. The healing had done more than repair. The Genesis Saint Authority, combined with the World Tree Sovereign’s regeneration, had enhanced her physically. Her ass was fuller. Tighter. The skin smoother, the flesh firmer, the thick cheeks round and heavy but lifted. Her waist was narrower — the post-birth deflation giving her an hourglass that was more dramatic than before. Her legs were longer-looking, the thighs thick but toned.

She leaned against the wall.

Her hands found her ass. Both palms flat on her own cheeks. She spread herself — the thick flesh parting, revealing the tight, puckered entrance of her anal hole. Below it, her freshly-healed cunt — still swollen, still pink, the lips puffy and glistening. The entrance was slightly open — the birth having stretched her, the healing not yet fully closing the gap. The pink flesh was visible, wet, inviting.

She tiptoed. Her heels left the ground, her calves flexing, her ass lifting. She looked over her shoulder. Her green eyes found his. The sharp, authoritative gaze — now with a flicker of the pervert beneath it. Just a flicker.

"You can fuck my other hole," she said. The siren resonance made the words land in his chest. "Fill it. And make sure to be fast."

Her eyes hardened.

"I want to go."

Viktor chuckled.

He released his cock. The shaft sprang upward — twelve inches of vein-bulging, cum-heavy, iron-hard flesh, swaying briefly before standing straight. The pre-cum dripped from the head, hitting the floor with a soft ’pit.’

He walked toward her.

The maids were still in the room. Three of them — two tending to the baby, one gathering the soaked towels. They had been moving with the efficient, heads-down focus of servants trained to ignore their lord’s activities. But now they stopped. Because their lord — the man they had served for months — was walking toward their mistress with his cock swinging between his legs, and their mistress was bent over with her ass spread and her asshole exposed.

The head maid — a woman named Petra, thirty-four, married, mother of two, whose husband was a carpenter with a five-inch cock — looked up. Her eyes found his cock. The shaft. The head. The veins. The sheer, impossible, ’how-does-that-fit-in-a-woman’ length and girth of it.

Her hand twitched at her side.

’That’s — that can’t be real,’ she thought. Her eyes tracked it as he walked. The sway. The weight. The way it hung when he moved, then stiffened when he stopped. ’My husband’s is — that thing is more than double. Triple. How did Mira-sama — how does she—’

Viktor reached Mira. His hands found her hips. His fingers dug into the thick, pale flesh — the grip firm, possessive, the hold of a man who was about to destroy the authority his wife had just gained. His thumbs spread her ass wider. The anal entrance — tight, puckered, the ring of muscle clenched — was presented to him.

The maids could see everything. The angle — Mira bent over, Viktor behind her, the position fully visible to anyone standing in the room. His cock, aligned with her asshole. Her shaved, swollen pussy beneath, still wet. Her big belly — deflated now but still rounded — hanging slightly.

He slammed.

PAAAH!!

"AAAAAHHH~~~!!!♡♡♡!!!"

The scream shattered the authority.

Mira’s entire body bucked. Her hands slipped from her ass. Her face hit the wall — her cheek pressing against the cold stone, her mouth open, her tongue extending. The twelve inches drove into her anal canal — the tight, never-penetrated passage forced open in one brutal, complete, ’I-am-in’ thrust. The walls stretched. The sphincter tore — a thin ring of muscle giving way under the force. Her body seized.

All of it. Every drop of authority, every ounce of commanding presence, every flicker of the sharp, focused, ’I-could-conquer-a-kingdom’ woman — gone. Shattered. Replaced by a screaming, crying, tongue-lolling, anal-destroyed MILF whose husband had just turned her back into his bitch with one thrust.

"TONGUE — IT’S OUT — AAHH~!!♡♡♡!! IT HURTS — MY ASS — IT’S TEARING — HAAANGH~!!♡♡♡!!!"

His hands found her tits. Both of them — reaching around, his palms closing over the heavy, milk-swollen mounds. He squeezed. Milk sprayed from her dark nipples in thin, white streams that hit the wall, ran down the stone. His fingers found the stiff peaks and pinched.

"AHHH~!!♡♡!!"

He leaned forward. His mouth found her neck. His tongue traced the line of her throat — tasting salt, sweat, the faint remnants of perfume she had put on this morning in anticipation. His teeth grazed her pulse point. He could feel her heartbeat — racing, 140 bpm, the body in full crisis mode.

"Now you look like a strong, fuckable, independent woman, right?" he whispered against her neck.

Mira’s head lolled. It fell backward, onto his shoulder. Her green eyes — no longer sharp, no longer focused, no longer commanding — were glazed. Rolling. The pupils dilated to the edge of the iris. Her mouth hung open. Saliva ran down her chin, onto his chest.

"I — I was — AAHH~!!♡♡♡!!"

His hips blurred.

Not fast. Not the rapid piston-fuck. ’Blur.’ The 100x-enhanced physical speed from Evriana’s Catorian bloodline made his hips a smear of motion.

Each thrust was a full-length stroke — twelve inches out, twelve inches in — at a rate that made the individual impacts blend into a continuous, machine-gun, ’there-is-no-pause-between-thrusts’ barrage.

PAH PAH PAH PAH PAH PAH PAAH!!

"AAAAAHH~!!♡♡♡!! F-FUCK — FUCK — IT’S TOO FAST — AAHH~!!♡♡!! HAAANGH~!!♡♡♡!!!"

The sound — flesh on flesh, his hips slamming her thick ass with a force that made the cheeks ripple and redden — filled the chamber. Each impact produced a sharp, wet PAH that bounced off the walls.

Between the impacts, the sloppy, wet, ’schlick-schlick’ of his cock moving in her ass. And above it all, Mira’s screams — continuous, unbroken, rising and falling with the rhythm of his thrusts.