Chapter 775 - 774 - Love for their LORD RUNS DOWN THEIR PUSSIES

Chapter 775: Chapter 774 - Love for their LORD RUNS DOWN THEIR PUSSIES

Her eyes darted around the room. The shelves. The crates. The herbs scattered on the floor. The dim light. She was disoriented — waking from unconsciousness to find herself being fucked by something she couldn’t see. Because I was still invisible.

"WHAT — what is happening?!" She tried to sit up. I pushed her back down — one hand on her chest, between her breasts, holding her flat. Her eyes went wider. She could feel the hand. But she couldn’t see it.

"A ghost," she whispered. Her voice shook. "A ghost is — it’s — something is inside me —"

Her eyes found the doorway. Mira and Helena stood there — visible, calm, watching. Relief flooded her face.

"Lady Mira! Lady Helena! Please — something is — there’s something —"

Mira said nothing. Helena said nothing. They watched.

Rosalind’s face crumpled. "Please — why won’t you — it’s inside me — something is — AAANGH~!!"

I thrust. Deep. Her pussy was devastatingly tight — the walls gripping me, the friction intense, every ridge and fold of her untouched interior dragging against my cock. I could feel her fluttering — the involuntary contractions of a pussy that had never been penetrated, the muscles not knowing whether to clench or release.

|| What is happening to me — something is inside me — it’s huge — it’s tearing me — I can feel it moving — my body — why does it feel —||

Her thoughts were chaos. I could hear them through the bond — faint, unformed, a stream of panic and confusion and something else. Something deeper. The pheromones were working. Her body was responding despite her terror — the walls were slickening, the resistance fading, her hips tilting.

"Something is happening," she sobbed. "A ghost is assaulting me — Lady Mira, please — please help me —"

I leaned down. Took her nipple in my mouth. Sucked. Her body seized — her back arching, her tits pressing up against my face. Milk hit my tongue. She was lactating — induced by the pheromones, by the overwhelming stimulation. Her body, confused, was producing everything it could.

Her eyes rolled. Saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth. Her hands — still clawing the sheets — found my head. Felt my horns. Her fingers traced the curves — amethyst, smooth, real.

"There’s — there’s someone —"

I twisted her. Flipped her onto her stomach. Her face pressed into the pillow — muffled screaming, her thick ass in the air. I grabbed her hips and drove back in. The angle changed — deeper, harder, the head of my cock grinding against her front wall.

Pah Pah PAH!

"MMMPH — MMF — HMMMPH~!!"

Her screams were muffled by the pillow. Her thick thighs trembled. Her ass — round, full, the almond skin rippling with each impact — bounced against my hips. I could see her anal — the tight, puckered opening, darker than the surrounding skin, clenching with each thrust.

I spread her cheeks. Looked at it. Touched it with my thumb. She flinched. Her pussy clamped.

I kept fucking her. Her face in the pillow. Her ass in the air. Her thick body shaking with each impact.

Mira appeared beside me. She looked down at the point of entry — my cock pistoning in and out, the blood mixing with juices, the frothy white of arousal building at the base. She raised an eyebrow.

"Daylight cock," she said. Casually. Like commenting on the weather. "Making women get fucked for anal. But now — cry."

Rosalind had hit orgasm three times already. I could feel each one through the bond — the walls clenching, the fluid gushing, her body convulsing. Each time, her screams intensified. Each time, the muffled sounds became more desperate, more broken.

"It hurts," she sobbed into the pillow. "It feels strange — who is this — what is —"

I pulled her up. One hand on her arm — yanking her backward, lifting her torso off the bed. Her breasts swung — heavy, full, the nipples dark and leaking milk. Her head turned. And she saw me.

Not invisible. Not anymore. I’d dropped the enchantment — let her see. Her eyes — wide, wet, streaming with tears — found my face. My violet eyes. My horns. My tail. My naked body. My cock buried inside her.

"Lord Viktor," she breathed.

She was taken aback. Her mouth fell open. Her eyes — already glassy from the orgasms — widened further. He was gorgeous. Close. Real. The face she’d seen in portraits, heard in rumors, felt in the ambient magic of the town. The Lord of Millbrook. The man whose name was whispered with reverence and terror.

"It’s you," she whispered. "You’re — you’re real."

I kissed her. My lips met hers — soft, tasting tears and saliva and desperation. My tongue pushed into her mouth. She responded — slowly at first, then with increasing urgency. Her tongue found mine. Her hands went to my face. Her body — still impaled on my cock — pressed back against me.

"Can I come inside you?" I murmured against her lips.

She cried harder. "My Lord —"

I kissed her again. Deeper. My hips moved — slow, grinding, my cock pushing against her walls. She moaned into my mouth. Her eyes rolled. Her breasts pressed against my chest, the milk smearing between us.

|| He’s kissing me — the Lord — he’s inside me — I can feel him — I’ve never — I never wanted — but —||

I pinched her clit. Lightly. Just enough.

She urinated. The warmth hit my thigh — hot, sudden, uncontrollable. Her body seized, her walls clamped, and a broken, humiliated moan escaped her throat. The fluid ran down both our legs, pooling on the cot.

I came.

The orgasm hit me like a wave. Thick, hot, massive — rope after rope of cum pumping into her. Her walls clenched around me, her body convulsing, her eyes rolling back. She screamed against my mouth. Her pussy milked me — every pulse, every contraction, drawing more seed from me.

"My Lord," she gasped. "My Lord — I am blessed —"

I groaned. The last spurts emptied into her. I held her — my arms around her thick body, her face against my chest, her pussy still clenching. I kissed her hair. Her forehead. Her lips.

I pulled out. Slowly. Her pussy made a wet, obscene sound — the suction releasing, followed by a thick gush of cum and virgin blood. It dripped from her entrance, running down her thighs, staining the cot.

I lifted her. Turned her. Wrapped her arms around my neck. Her legs — shaking, weak — wrapped around my waist. My cock, still semi-hard, hung between us. Blood and cum dripped from the tip.

She moaned. "Lord — please — bless me with your seed. I am your woman. I am so blessed."

Her eyes were glassy. Devoted. The look of a woman whose entire worldview had just been rewritten in the span of ten minutes. A woman who had chosen books over men. Who had devoted her life to education and career. Now reduced to a cum-drunk, devoted believer, her virgin blood on my cock.

I chuckled. Looked at Mira. "What have you been telling these women in the village?"

Mira laughed. The sound was light. Genuine. She waved her hand dismissively. "That’s not me. That’s Olivia."

"Olivia?"

"She’s been teaching the women. Telling them you’re a god." Mira shrugged. "I didn’t stop her."

I looked at Rosalind — her thick body in my arms, her eyes devoted, her pussy leaking my seed and her virgin blood. I snapped my hips forward. My cock — still semi-hard — slipped back inside her. She gasped. Moaned.

"You’re — again — my Lord —"

I fucked her. Standing. Holding her weight with one arm, the other on her hip. Her thick body bounced with each thrust — her ass rippling, her tits pressing against my chest. She was tight — still virgin-tight, the walls not yet adjusted to the intrusion.

Pah Pah Pah Pah PAAAH!

"My Lord — OUNGH~!! — I am — HAAANGH~!! — blessed — AH~!! — your woman — HIEEENGH~!!"

I came again. The orgasm was smaller — but still thick, still hot. She felt it. Her walls clamped. Her eyes rolled. Her body convulsed.

"My Lord — my Lord — I am blessed —"

I pulled out. Cum gushed from her. She trembled in my arms, her head lolling, her tongue out.

The door opened.

A young woman stood in the doorway. Young — maybe twenty. Her hair was dark, pulled back in a practical ponytail. She wore pants — simple, brown, work-appropriate. A short tunic. And glasses — round, wire-framed, perched on a small nose. Her appearance was average. Not beautiful. Not ugly. The kind of face that blended into a crowd, that disappeared in a room. But her eyes — behind the glasses — were sharp. Intelligent.

She held a bucket. Dried herbs filled it — lavender, sage, the same ones Rosalind had been carrying. Her hand was raised, mid-knock, her mouth open to speak.

The bucket fell.

Herbs scattered across the floor. The sound was loud in the sudden silence. The young woman stood frozen — her eyes taking in the scene. Her aunt — Rosalind — naked, thick-bodied, leaking cum and blood, in the arms of a man. A handsome man. Horns glowing. Tail swaying. Cock visible — thick, wet, still dripping. Three other women in the room — Mira, Helena, Elara — all watching.

The young woman’s mouth worked. No sound came out.

I looked at her. Assessed. Pants. Short tunic. Glasses. Average build. The posture of someone who spent her life with her nose in books. A younger version of Rosalind, perhaps. A niece. A student.

I smiled.

"Hey there." My voice was casual. Warm. The voice of a man who had just deflowered a virgin and was not remotely embarrassed about it. "Your aunt’s kind of getting knocked up right now."

The young woman’s eyes went from my face to my cock to Rosalind’s leaking pussy to the three other women to the scattered herbs on the floor. Her glasses steamed. Her knees wobbled.

A system window appeared in my vision — translucent, blue-edged, the text crisp:

[IMPREGENATED: Commoner — Rosalind Weaver. Herb Supplier, Pill Tower. Status: Fertile. Conception: Confirmed. Gestation Period set to 3 months.]

I read it. Nodded. Looked at the young woman in the doorway, whose mouth was still open, whose herbs were still scattered, whose world was still collapsing.

I tilted my head. Smiled.

"Want to come in?"

PAHHH!!

"Angghh~ Come in me.... Lord...."