Chapter 77 - Seventy-Seven: Charm III

Chapter 77: Chapter Seventy-Seven: Charm III

The weight of the stories...her commodified life, the lord’s casual horrors...settled over me like a lead blanket. The intellectual curiosity drained away, leaving only a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. I’d been running on lust, shock, and rage. Now there was just... nothing.

I let go of her and pushed myself to my feet. My legs felt like jelly. "Eh? Noel? What happened...?" Rina’s voice was a confused, horny chirp from the floor.

"I’m just not in the mood," I muttered, not looking at her, and started walking stiffly toward the door.

Behind me, there was a moment of stunned silence. Then, a noise of pure, indignant disbelief.

"Not... in the mood?" she repeated, the words dripping with incredulous scorn.

"Yes." I reached for the door handle.

The air shifted. There was a blur of pink and pale skin. A weight slammed into my back, driving me face-first into the heavy oak door. Strong hands gripped my shoulders, yanking me around and shoving me down onto the floor. I was too tired to fight it effectively.

Rina straddled my hips, her face a mask of furious, lustful betrayal. The cheerful facade was gone, replaced by the primal, possessive Matriarch.

"The fuck you mean we are not gonna fuck?!" she snarled, her voice a low, dangerous growl. She pinned my wrists above my head with surprising strength. "After you teased me, fingered me, made me talk about all my secrets? After you pumped enough cum into me to drown a puppy? You think you can just go, ’Nah, I’m good’ and walk away, Noel? Oh, hell no." She leaned down, her breath hot on my face. "I’m squeezing every last drop out of you, you teasing little shit. You’re mine to use right now."

"Let me go," I grunted, struggling weakly. "I’m tired because someone locked me with a harpy for a full day."

She laughed, a sharp, unkind sound. Her free hand went to my trousers, yanking them open. "Let’s make sure you get your energy back, then," she purred, her anger morphing back into that predatory hunger. She positioned her soaking-wet pussy over my semi-soft cock and started grinding against it, the slick, hot friction a ruthless demand.

"Do you even know how crazy that harpy slut is~?" she cooed, her voice dripping with faux sympathy as she worked her hips. "They don’t think, they just take. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d actually survive the whole day. I thought you’d pass out after eight hours and I’d have to drag your sorry ass out." She laughed again. "But you... you kept going. You must be made of iron and pure, unadulterated lust. Which is perfect for me."

I was hardening under her relentless, skilled grinding, my body betraying me even as my mind screamed in protest. "Let me go," I repeated, my voice harder. "Or I’ll tell Vesper."

Rina stopped grinding for a second. She looked down at me, and a slow, chillingly cunning smile spread across her face. Her pink eyes gleamed.

"Tell her~" she singsonged, her tone sweetly mocking. "Go ahead. Tell the Mistress her bunny was naughty. And I’ll tell the old lord you were mean to me."

The words, so casually spoken, sent a jolt of ice through my gut.

She leaned down until her lips brushed my ear. "He still visits, you know. In the dead of night. I feel him. He whispers. He loves to hear about what happens in his house. Especially to his little Rina. He’d be so upset to hear a new, disrespectful stud was being cruel to his favorite. Who knows what a grieving, powerful lord might do?"

It was a bluff. It had to be a bluff. But in this house of sluts and whores, I couldn’t be sure. The threat was insane, perfectly pitched, and terrifyingly effective.

She sat up, resuming her grinding with renewed vigor, feeling me stiffen fully under her. "Now," she whispered, her voice thick with victory and lust. "Are we going to have a nice, energizing fuck like a good stud and his Bunny? Or are we going to have to involve the big guys?"

She had me. Trapped between her physical hunger and the threat of a jealous, insane lord. My body was responding, my dick hard and trapped against her slick heat. My mind was a swirl of exhaustion, fear, and a dark, resigned anger.

I stopped struggling. I just looked up at her triumphant, beautiful, monstrous face.

"Fine," I breathed, the word tasting like ash. "Make it quick."

Her smile was beatific. "That’s my good boy." She lifted her hips and sank down onto me in one smooth, engulfing motion, taking me deep into her greedy, claiming warmth. "But nothing about this," she moaned, starting to ride, "is going to be quick."

I was inside her, trapped by her body and her blackmail. The resignation burned away as her hot, tight cunt squeezed around me, replaced by a sudden, violent clarity.

I looked at her face...really looked. The cascade of pink hair, the large, intelligent eyes now glazed with lust, the delicate line of her nose, the full, smirking lips. The faint laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. She was beautiful. Not just pretty or attractive, but truly, classically beautiful in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to register before, too distracted by the horror of her personality. A face to launch ships, attached to a soul to sink them.

This observation cracked something in me. If she was going to use me, I would use her right back. Not just as a hole, but as the beautiful, monstrous thing she was.

I brought my hand to her mouth, pressing my middle finger against her lips. "Suck it," I ordered, my voice low and devoid of its earlier weariness.

Her pink eyes widened, not in fear, but in surprised delight. She opened her mouth and took my finger inside, swirling her tongue around it, sucking with lewd, exaggerated wet noises. Schlorp. The look on her face was pure, slutty obedience, a mocking pantomime of submission.

Then I moved.

In one violent motion, I pulled my finger from her mouth, gripped her shoulders, and reversed our positions. I slammed her onto her back on the polished floor, the impact knocking a gasp from her lungs. I didn’t give her a moment to adjust. I pulled my hips back and then slammed them forward, driving my cock back into her pussy with a single, deep, brutal thrust.

She cried out, a sharp "Ah!" of surprise and pain-pleasure.

"NNNGGGHE~!!"

I started fucking her. Not letting her ride, not lying back. I fucked her. Roughly. With a focused, angry intensity that made the tableware on the nearby sideboard tremble. Each deep, powerful stroke jolted her entire body. I held her down by her shoulders, my eyes locked on her beautiful, now-shocked face.

"You want my energy?" I growled, my rhythm punishing, relentless. "You want my fucking seed? You’ll get it. But you’ll get it when I decide. How I decide."

She blinked up at me, the mock submission gone, replaced by genuine, breathless surprise. Then her expression melted into one of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. This...the sudden violence, the total physical domination...was apparently the secret button to her true bliss.

"Yes!" she screamed, her nails raking down my back, her legs wrapping around my waist to pull me deeper. "Fuck me! Punish your slut! Use that beautiful body! NNNNGGH~! It’s so deep! So rough!"

Her moans became a filthier, more broken torrent, praising the very roughness I was inflicting. I ignored her words, focusing only on the feel of her tight cunt milking my cock, the sight of her perfect face contorted in pleasure, and the savage satisfaction of turning her blackmail into a raw, physical lesson. If I was going to be fucked, I’d get myself fucked on my own terms, into the beautiful, treacherous slut who’d dared to try and blackmail me. And I’d make sure she felt every inch of it.

My hips pistoned into her with a brutal, driving rhythm, each thrust a punctuation to my simmering anger. The logical part of my brain, the part not screaming with a mix of pleasure and fury, surfaced a question.

"The hell are you gonna do with more fucking anyway?" I grunted, slamming into her depths, the wet slap of skin echoing. "Aren’t you already fucking pregnant?"

The answer wasn’t verbal. Her pink eyes rolled back, showing only the whites. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, drool trailing down her cheek. And as another screaming orgasm ripped through her, triggered by the violent fucking, her heavy breasts, swollen with early pregnancy, began to spray. Twin streams of warm, sweet milk arced into the air, catching the lamplight, before pattering down on her own stomach and my heaving chest.

She couldn’t form words. Her entire being was a vessel for sensation. "Nnnngh... shoooo... gooood~" she managed to slur, her body convulsing around me, the milky spray continuing in spurts with each clench of her cunt.

The sight, the smell of warm milk mixing with sweat and sex, the feel of her impossibly tight channel spasming around me... it pushed me past anger, past thought, into a pure, feral need to claim, to flood, to win.

"Nnngggh~! Nghnn~! NGHNNS~!!"

I fucked her harder, deeper, using her body like a toy designed for nothing but this. Her moans were continuous now, a high, reedy wail of unending ecstasy. She came again, her milk-spraying breasts jerking with the force of it.

Finally, with a guttural roar that tore from my throat, I buried myself to the hilt and came. I pumped a deep, heavy load into her already-filled womb, adding my seed to the potent cocktail already brewing inside her. The pulses of my release seemed to trigger yet another climax in her, her back arching off the floor, a final, desperate gush of milk soaking us both.

I collapsed on top of her, breathing like a bellows, spent. My face was buried in the crook of her neck, the smell of milk and sex overwhelming. Her arms came up, wrapping around me weakly, her fingers stroking my sweat-damp hair.

"Good... stud..." she whispered, her voice utterly shattered but filled with a deep, sated satisfaction. "So good to your... breeding slut..."

We lay there on the floor, a sticky, milky, cum-soaked mess. And as the adrenaline faded, the bone-crushing exhaustion returned, pulling me down into a darkness far deeper than sleep.