Chapter 75 - Seventy-Five: Charm

Chapter 75: Chapter Seventy-Five: Charm

The silence after Vesper’s stormy exit was thick with unspent energy. I looked down at my plate, the rich food suddenly seeming too heavy. My gaze drifted to Rina. She was still in her dogeza, trembling slightly, her ass glowing a fierce, angry pink in the lamplight, the abandoned carrot lying near her knee. Her fluffy tail twitched with little nervous jerks.

I let out a long, weary sigh. The bone-deep exhaustion from Kestra was still there, but layered over it now was something else...a dark, idle curiosity. A need to assert some kind of control, however small.

I pushed my chair back, the legs scraping on the floor. I walked over to where Rina lay prostrate. She flinched as my shadow fell over her, but didn’t look up.

I knelt behind her. I reached out and placed a hand on one of her hot, punished cheeks. The skin was scorching to the touch, smooth and soft over the firm muscle beneath. I rubbed it gently, feeling her tremble increase. Then I leaned down and picked up the discarded carrot. It was cool, slightly damp from her juices.

Without a word, I pressed the thick tip back against her puffy, winking asshole. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath.

"M-Master Noel...?" she whispered, her voice muffled against the floor.

I pushed. The carrot slid back into her with less resistance this time, aided by the lingering wetness and the aftermath of Vesper’s violent insertion. I pushed it in to the hilt, the leafy green top tickling the small of her back. Then I slowly pulled it out.

Squish.

I pushed it back in. Schloop.

Out. Pop.

In. Slurp.

I fucked her ass with the carrot, a slow, methodical rhythm that was both absurdly clinical and intensely lewd. The wet, squelching sounds filled the quiet room. Rina began to moan, low and helpless, her hips rocking back minutely to meet each thrust of the vegetable.

After a dozen pumps, I pulled the carrot out one last time. It was slick and glistening. I tossed it aside, where it rolled under the table.

My dick, predictably, had taken an interest. It was half-hard, responding to the sight, the sounds, the sheer power of the scene. I shuffled forward on my knees until I was level with her face.

I grabbed a handful of her long pink hair and her silky rabbit ear, pulling her head up from the floor. Her face was a mess...tear-streaked, lip trembling, but her eyes were wide and dark with a deep, conflicted lust. She’d been humiliated, punished... and now her ass was freshly fucked with a carrot. Her mind was probably a jumble of submission and need.

"Open," I commanded, my voice low and rough.

She obeyed instantly, her pink lips parting. I didn’t guide her. I shoved my hardening cock straight into her open mouth, driving deep, bypassing her tongue and hitting the back of her throat in one motion.

"GLK!" she gagged, her eyes watering.

I held her head steady by her hair and ear, and started fucking her throat. Roughly. There was no tenderness here, no play. This was about release and dominance. I used her mouth like a hole, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in.

Glurk. Gag. Hrk.

Each thrust choked her. Spit and pre-cum leaked from the stretched corners of her lips. Her hands, which had been resting palms-down, clenched into fists against the floor. Her moans were guttural, wet, and completely muffled by my cock filling her airway.

I looked down at her face, at her tear-filled eyes looking up at me, at the complete, utter submission. Vesper had broken her pride. I was just using the broken pieces. I fucked her throat until my own climax built, sharp and fast...a simple, physical response to the tight, convulsing heat. I held her down, buried to the root, and came, pumping another load directly into her stomach.

When I finally pulled out, she collapsed forward, coughing violently, strings of saliva and semen connecting her lips to my softening tip. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ

I stood up, my legs wobbly again, feeling drained in a new, different way. I looked down at the sobbing, cum-choked bunny matriarch, then walked back to my unfinished meal. I sat down and picked up a piece of bread, chewing slowly. The taste was ashen. The spectacle was over. All that was left was the mess.

I stayed standing over her, watching her cough and gasp. Then I knelt again, this time not behind her, but beside her prostrate form. The fury and the clinical detachment were gone, replaced by a darker, more curious hunger. I reached out and pulled her up by her shoulders, turning her to face me. She didn’t resist, her body limp. Her tear-streaked face was a mess, but her eyes held a weirdly clear, sharp light now. The scared, apologetic mask was slipping.

I guided her to sit back on her heels. My hands, almost of their own volition, began to explore her body. Not with lust, but with a strange, tactile fascination. I ran my palms over the heavy swell of her breasts, thumbed her dark nipples. I traced the line of her ribs, the dip of her waist. Then my hands drifted lower, to the slight, firm bump now noticeable in her lower belly. The bump from the countless loads I’d pumped into her.

"This..." I said, my voice quiet, my fingers splaying over the taut skin. "This is mine?"

A slow, wicked smile spread across Rina’s face. All traces of the whimpering, punished slave vanished. This was the real her. A calculating, amoral, utterly horny creature who viewed the world through a lens of pure transaction and pleasure.

"Mmm, could be, could be~" she purred, her voice husky and full of dark amusement. She placed her hand over mine, pressing it harder against her womb. "Feels like strong seed. Better than most I’ve had." She leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. "But you’re not the first handsome stud to fill this bunny, you know."

She began to talk. It was a stream-of-consciousness catalog of debauchery, delivered with a cheerful, bragging pride.

"My last ’hubby’ was a visiting merchant lord," she giggled. "Fat, old, but rich. He kept me in silk and jewels for a whole season just to fuck me in his carriage. He’d cry when he came, it was hilarious. Before him, there was a tavern worker from the northern woods. And before him was a blacksmith. And before them..." She listed them off, a dizzying parade of faces and bodies, her memory sharp and her descriptions lewd.

"And the babies!" she said, her eyes gleaming. "Oh, the litters! So many strong, beautiful daughters. My pride and joy." The pride in her voice was palpable, but it wasn’t maternal. It was the pride of a master breeder. "Of course, Mistress Vesper sells most of them. Off to noble houses as exotic servants, or to brothels in the capital city. They fetch a very high price, you know. A purebred, first-generation rabbitkin from a fertile matriarch like me? People pay fortunes." She puffed her chest out. "My daughters are my greatest achievement. Their value is a testament to my quality."

She said it with no hint of remorse, no sadness. It was a simple fact of her existence. Breed, sell, profit, enjoy the process.

’This bitch is. By all means, crazy.’

I’ve met many beastkin but this one may be the craziest.

As she talked, her hands grew restless. She began rubbing her body against my kneeling form, her bare skin sliding against my clothes. Her hips rocked, her swollen pussy grinding against my thigh, leaving a damp smear. The submissive posture was gone. Vesper’s punishment and my throat-fucking had broken something loose in her, and the true Rina...the shrewd, lustful, utterly mercenary matriarch...was fully in control now.

"But you..." she whispered, nipping at my earlobe. "You might be a keeper. So strong. So... thorough. Look what you did to me." She took my hand from her stomach and guided it between her legs. She was soaked, hot, and swollen. "All that cum... and I’m still so empty for you, Master Noel. I think you broke something in me. And I love it."

She pressed a wet kiss to my neck, her tongue darting out. "We should do it again. Soon. Now, maybe. Let’s make another litter. I bet they’d sell for even more."

Her mask was off, and the face beneath was a chilling, horny blend of raw sexual desire and cold, pragmatic cruelty.

’Let’s just change the subject...’

My gaze dropped from her cunning pink eyes to the bold, black script tattooed across her lower abdomen.

BREEDING SLUT.

My fingers traced the raised letters, feeling the smooth skin stretched taut over the firm bump beneath. "This," I said, my voice flat. "Tell me about this."

Rina’s reaction was immediate. She threw her head back and laughed...a rich, delighted sound that filled the small room. It wasn’t a nervous giggle or a seductive purr. It was genuine amusement, as if I’d asked about a favorite, inside joke.

"Oh, this?" she chuckled, patting the tattoo herself. "This was Master’s... little fetish. His gift to me."

She settled back on her heels, a fond, almost nostalgic smile on her face. "After his wife died... That jealous bitch... he became... obsessed. With life. With creation. With me." Her fingers stroked the words. "He said I was the most fertile, beautiful thing he’d ever known. That my body was a temple of life in a house of death. That he wanted everyone to see it. To know what I was."

Her smile turned wicked. "He designed the script himself. Had a special inksmith from the city come in, under cover of night. Said the magic in the ink would... enhance my fertility. Tie my nature to the words." She shrugged. "Maybe it worked. My litters did get bigger after he marked me."

She looked down at the tattoo with something like pride. "He loved to look at it while he fucked me. Would trace the letters with his fingers, with his tongue. Would tell me what a perfect ’breeding slut’ I was. It wasn’t an insult to him. It was the highest praise. A title." Her eyes lifted to meet mine, sparkling with dark mirth. "Vesper hates it. Thinks it’s vulgar. Common. She doesn’t understand. It’s not vulgar. It’s true. It’s my purpose. Written right here on my skin by the man who loved me for it."

She leaned forward, taking my hand and placing it firmly over the tattoo, over the swell of her womb. "And now you’re adding to it, Master Noel. Filling the temple he blessed. Isn’t that poetic?"

"..."

Once again, I repeat.

This bitch is fucking crazy.