Chapter 660 - 659- Helena got her Cervix Rammed

Chapter 660: Chapter 659- Helena got her Cervix Rammed

Eight inches. Her cervix. The head of his cock pressed against the tight, muscular barrier — the last protection of her womb. The panty fought. The elastic stretched, pulled, the fabric straining to hold him at eight. But the pressure was immense. Each thrust now ended with his cockhead battering her cervix — the impact making her body jolt, her eyes widen, her mouth open.

"I — I can feel — he’s hitting — my cervix — AAHH~!!♡♡!!"

The stars. She was seeing stars. The morning light through the window was turning into bursts of white and color behind her eyes. Each cervix-impact produced a flash — pain and pleasure and something else, something ’deeper’, a sensation that was connected to her womb, to the child inside her, to the contractility of her uterine walls.

Her eyes rolled. Her expression — the maternal, composed, nanny face — was gone. Replaced by the slack-jawed, drooling, tongue-out, eye-rolled ’pig’ face. The face of a woman being fucked stupid.

Tears fell. Down her cheeks. Over her temples. Into her brown hair.

And through the glaze, through the tears, through the rolled-back eyes — she saw the maids.

They were watching. All three of them. The baby — wrapped, warm, held by Clara — was momentarily forgotten. Petra stood with a towel in her hands, her eyes locked on the scene. Sera had both hands pressed against her own crotch, her fingers curling, the fabric of her dress bunched between her thighs.

Their eyes were wide. Their faces were red. Their mouths were open.

’His cock — it’s — look at it — going in and out — the panty is stretching — how is it not breaking—’

’The mistress’s face — she’s — I’ve never seen a woman look like that — is that what it feels like? When a man — when a cock that big—’

’My husband — five inches — and he lasts two minutes — and this man — this cock — twelve inches — and he’s been going — how long? How long has he been—’

Their pussies were wet. All three. Clara — the virgin — was soaked through her undergarment, the moisture visible on her inner thighs. Petra — the married mother — was clenching her thighs together, the pressure sending pulses through her cunt. Sera — the guard’s wife — was openly rubbing herself, her fingers moving in small circles through her dress.

Helena saw them.

Her maternal instinct — buried, overridden, but still present — surged. Not protectively. Possessively.

"STOP — DON’T LOOK — YOU BITCHES—!!"

Her voice cracked. The words came between moans, between thrusts, between the wet PAH PAH PAH sounds that filled the chamber.

"AAAHH~!!♡♡!! STOP LOOKING — AT MY HUSBAND — AAANGH~!!♡♡♡!! HOW DARE YOU — RUB YOURSELVES — HE’S MINE—!!"

Her hand found Viktor’s head. She grabbed his black hair. Pulled his face harder against her tit. The milk sprayed — into his mouth, over his face, the warm fluid running down his chin.

"MINE — AAHH~!!♡♡!! MY HUSBAND — MY COCK — HAAAH~!!♡♡♡!! DON’T LOOK AT THEM — LOOK AT ME — FUCK ME—!!"

PAH PAH PAAH PHACK!!

"AAAAHH~!!♡♡♡!!"

The maids flinched. The authority — even through the fucked-stupid haze, even through the anal and vaginal destruction, even through the rolled-back eyes and the hanging tongue — the Voice of Dominion carried. Helena’s command hit them like a physical force.

But they couldn’t look away.

’The mistress — she’s — she’s possessive — she’s claiming him — while he’s inside her — this is — I’ve never—’

’His cock — look at it — the shaft — the veins — the way it goes in and out — the panty stretching — I want — I want to feel—’

’If my husband was half that size — if he could last half that long — if he could make me look like that — make me sound like that—’

The room was filled with sound. The PAH PAH PAAH PHACK of flesh on flesh. Helena’s moans — loud, broken, the maternal voice destroyed and replaced by the sound of a woman being fucked past her limits.

"AAAHH~!!♡♡!! SLOW — PLEASE — MY CERVIX — IT’S HITTING — AAANGH~!!♡♡♡!!"

The baby cried.

"WAAAAH—! WAAAH—!"

Clara bounced the baby. Automatically. Her eyes still on the scene. The baby cried louder.

"M-MISTRESS — the baby—"

"AAAAHH~!!♡♡!! I — I CAN’T — RIGHT NOW — HAAAH~!!♡♡♡!!"

Helena was crying. Through the moans. Through the pleasure. Through the shame and the possessiveness and the overwhelming, mind-melting sensation of a cock battering her cervix through a panty that was the only thing standing between her and destruction.

Her internal thoughts collapsed.

’He was so small. I held him in my hands. I washed him. I dressed him. I sang him to sleep. And now — now he’s inside me — inside the woman who raised him — his cock is inside me — hitting my cervix — the cervix that protects his child — and I — I want him to break it — I want him to break through — I want—’

’No — I’m his nanny — I’m his nanny — I shouldn’t — this is wrong — but it feels — it feels—’

’It feels so good—’

PAAH!!

"AAAAHH~!!♡♡♡!! CUMMING — I’M CUMMING — AAANGH~!!♡♡♡!!"

Her body seized. Her cunt clamped down on his cock — the walls squeezing, pulsing, milking. The orgasm — G-spot induced, cervix-battered, panty-protected — ripped through her. Her back arched off the bed. Her tits lifted. Milk sprayed from both nipples in thick, white streams — hitting Viktor’s chest, his face, the bed, the maids who were standing too close.

Fluid gushed from her cunt. Around his cock, around the panty, the clear, thin liquid spraying outward, hitting his thighs, the bed, running onto the floor.

"AAAAHH~!!♡♡♡!! MASTER — VIKTOR — HAAAH~!!♡♡♡!!"

Her tongue was out. Her eyes were gone — rolled back, the brown irises disappeared. Her face was the face. The pig face. The broken, drooling, cum-drunk, fucked-stupid face that every woman Viktor fucked eventually wore.

The maids watched. Their hands were on their crotches. Their thighs were wet. Their mouths were open.

’I want that,’ Petra thought. ’I want to be fucked like that. I want to look like that. I want—’

’I want to know what that cock feels like,’ Clara thought. ’I want to know what it — what he — what—’

’I want my husband to fuck me like that,’ Sera thought. ’I want — I want — but he can’t. He can’t. He’s not — he’s not Viktor. He’s not—’

The room was a cathedral of sound.

PAH PAH PAAH PHACK — the flesh slapping, rhythmic, relentless.

"AAAHH~!!♡♡!! SLOW — PLEASE — MY CERVIX — HAAANGH~!!♡♡♡!!" — Helena’s moans, broken, begging.

"WAAAAH—! WAAAH—!" — the baby, crying, confused.

’Mine — mine — mine’ — Helena’s internal chant, the possessiveness overriding everything.

’Wet — so wet — I’m so wet—’ — the maids, their bodies betraying them.

And above it all — Viktor’s voice. Calm. Amused. Warm.

"Good girl," he said. "Good bitch."

"AAAHH~!!♡♡♡!! I’M — I’M YOUR BITCH — YOUR BITCH WIFE — HAAAH~!!♡♡♡!!"

The panty held. Barely. The elastic was stretched to its limit — eight inches of cock buried in her cunt, the fabric groaning, the threads starting to fray. It was the only thing saving her cervix from the full twelve-inch battering ram that had destroyed Mira.

But it was failing. Thread by thread. Strand by strand. The 100x Divine Tailor enhancement was strong, but Viktor’s enhanced cock was stronger.

One more thrust would break it.

"COME OUT LITTLE CHAMP!!" Viktor pulled out his hips, his cock coming out till the edge, her pussy fluttering as he tried to hold his cock head, making her forget her tears. Her eyes began to water as she tried to lift her hand, but he simply humped her hips, and this time it was devastating.

PHAAAACKKK!!

"NEEEIYAAAAAANGHHHH~~~!!!!"