Chapter 771 - 770- Town Is in Good Hands

Chapter 771: Chapter 770- Town Is in Good Hands

I grabbed her hair. Pulled. Her head came back, her neck exposed, her mouth open. I kissed her — deep, messy, our tongues clashing. She tasted like iron and tea and need.

My tail tightened around her thigh. My other hand found her pregnant belly — supporting it, cradling it, feeling the taut skin and the life beneath. Her pussy was a furnace. The walls were slick, hot, clenching with every thrust. I could feel every ridge, every fold, the texture of her inner walls massaging my cock as I drove in and out.

She was close. I could feel it through the bond — the tension building, coiling, the pressure in her lower abdomen. Her pussy was getting tighter — the contractions coming faster, harder, rhythmic. Her clit was swollen, grinding against the leather strap with each thrust.

"I’m going to cum inside you," I said. "Right now."

Her eyes went wide. "Wait — not — Viktor — the baby — I can’t — if I cum — I’ll — HAAANGH~!!"

I slammed forward. All nine inches. The leather strap snapped — the buckle breaking, the fabric tearing away, and suddenly there was nothing between us. My cock buried to the hilt, my balls slapping against her clit, my pelvis against her ass.

I came.

Thick. Hot. Massive. Rope after rope of cum pumping into her — flooding her walls, filling her, the heat spreading through her core. She screamed. Her pussy clamped down — crushing force, her muscular walls contracting with the strength of a woman who could bend steel — and she came with me. Her body arched. Her belly lifted. Her eyes rolled back, showing white.

"AAANGH~!! HAA — HAA — HAAANGH~!! VIKTOR — OUNGH~!! I — I — HIEEKK~!!!"

Her pussy squirted. Juices spraying around my cock, running down both our thighs, dripping onto the forest floor. Her legs gave out. I caught her — one arm around her waist, the other on her belly — holding her up as her body spasmed through the aftershocks.

I pulled out slowly. Her pussy made a wet, obscene sound — the suction releasing, followed by a thick trickle of cum. It dripped from her entrance, mixing with her own juices, running down her inner thighs. The torn leather strap hung from one hip, useless. Her pussy gaped — swollen, red, well-fucked, leaking.

She gasped. Her hands found the tree, bracing herself. Her legs were shaking. Her ears — she didn’t have cat ears, but the way her head twitched, scanning for witnesses, was pure prey-animal instinct.

I kissed her temple. Tilted her chin. Kissed her lips. Slow. Gentle. Her mouth was slack, her tongue barely responding. Tears ran down her cheeks. Not from pain. From the overwhelming cascade of sensation, emotion, relief.

"I missed you," I whispered.

Her lip trembled. Fresh tears. "I missed you too." Her voice was small. Nothing like the warlord who had been commanding troops minutes ago. "I missed you so much. Don’t — don’t leave again."

"I won’t."

I held her for a moment. Her breathing steadied. Her heartbeat slowed. Then I stepped back. My cock — still half-hard, slick with cum and her juices — swung free. I looked at her. Leaking. Disheveled. Armor hanging off one shoulder. One tit out. Pussy dripping. Face tear-streaked.

Beautiful.

I slapped her ass. The muscular cheek rippled — thick flesh absorbing the impact, the reddened skin from earlier flaring warm again.

"Come on. Don’t be a bitch."

Her eye twitched. The fire returned to her gold-green eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Walk it off. You have a wall to finish."

She stared at me. Her jaw dropped. Then her face went red — not from arousal this time. From fury. "You — you just — you fucked me against a TREE — in front of the CONSTRUCTION CREW — came inside me — and you’re telling me to walk it off?!"

I was already walking away. My tail swayed behind me. Rusty swooped down from the canopy, landing on my shoulder, the slime-dragon compacting itself into a smaller form — about the size of a large dog now — and pressing its gelatinous body against my neck.

"Viktor! VIKTOR! Get back here! I’m not done with you! VIKTOR!"

I laughed. The sound echoed through the trees. Behind me, I heard her stomping — armor clanking, cum dripping, cursing in at least three languages.

Mira and Helena were waiting at the edge of the construction zone. Both watched me approach — naked, smiling, Rusty on my shoulder. Their eyes went to my cock — still wet, still dripping with Kaida’s juices and my own cum.

Mira’s eyebrow arched. Helena’s lips pursed.

"Kaida?" Mira asked.

"Kaida."

"How is she?"

I glanced back. Through the trees, I could see Kaida — re-fastening her armor, wiping her thighs with a cloth, her face a portrait of humiliated rage and reluctant satisfaction.

"Walked it off," I said.

Helena covered her mouth. Her shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. Mira rolled her eyes — but her hand went to my cock again, her fingers wrapping around the shaft, stroking slowly, feeling the slick residue.

"Disgusting," she murmured. Her thumb traced the head. Her tongue darted across her lower lip.

"Later," I said. I removed her hand. Kissed her knuckles. "Show me the state of my town first."

The town was unrecognizable.

I walked barefoot down the main thoroughfare, Mira on my left, Helena on my right, Rusty compacted into a small blob riding my shoulder like a gelatinous parrot. My invisibility enchantment still held — to the townspeople, the street appeared empty. Only Mira and Helena were visible, flanking nothing, their hands reaching into empty air to hold arms that weren’t there.

I didn’t care. Let them wonder.

The market district had transformed. Where once there had been a handful of desperate stalls selling dried meat and broken tools, there was now a sprawling commercial quarter.

Stone buildings lined both sides of the street — proper structures, two and three stories tall, with glass windows and enchanted signage that glowed softly in the evening light.

The scents hit me in layers: roasting meat from a butcher’s shop, fresh bread from a bakery, the sharp tang of medicinal herbs from an apothecary. Women moved between the stalls — buying, selling, negotiating. Laughter echoed. Children ran between legs. The atmosphere was alive in a way it hadn’t been when I’d left.

"You did all this?" I asked.

Mira’s grip on my arm tightened. Her crimson eyes swept the street with the possessive pride of an architect surveying her blueprint made real. "We did all this. Helena handled the infrastructure. I handled the economy. Kaida handled the defense. Bella handled the domestic affairs."

"The trade routes opened three months ago," Helena added. Her voice was warm, lecturing — the tone of a nanny reporting progress to her charge. "Once the tower was operational, adventurers started arriving. That brought gold. Gold brought merchants. Merchants brought supplies. The loop fed itself."

I looked up. There — rising from the center of the town like a needle piercing the sky — was the tower.

My tower.

It was enormous. Obsidian-black stone, spiraling upward, its peak lost in the low clouds that hung over Millbrook like a permanent crown.

Enchanted runes spiraled up its surface, glowing violet and gold, visible even in daylight. The base was wide — wider than the mansion — and I could see the entrance: a massive archway radiating magic so dense that the air around it shimmered like heat distortion. Adventurers clustered near the entrance — groups of armed women, mostly, their equipment ranging from crude to professional, all waiting for their turn to challenge whatever lay inside.

"Your name for this tower helped bring in greedy idiots," Mira said. Her voice carried the satisfaction of someone naming their masterpiece. "Forty-seven floors. Each one harder than the last as we added mechanical dolls more. The rewards scale with difficulty — enchanted items, rare materials, skill crystals. The top floor has never been cleared because no strong players ever given enough credit to enter it."