The frantic rhythm of Lyssa’s hips began to decelerate, grinding tembo of her ride slowing. Her muscles were a trembling, liquid mess. The ride had drained every ounce of her strength.
She leaned forward, her hair, a tangle curtain of sweat-slicked strands, fell around Kian’s face as she sought his mouth. The kiss was deep and tasting, a lingering connection after the violence of their coupling. Slowly, with deliberate control, she lifted her hips.
The sensation of him sliding out of her was exquisite, a long, dragging friction that made her inner muscles clench in protest. As the thick crown of his cock popped free from her swollen entrance, her body reacted before her mind could catch up.
A sharp, electric jolt seized her spine. Her muscles seized violently, locking tight as a sudden gush of fluid erupted from her pussy. She cried out, the sound muffled against Kian’s neck, as it flowed hard. The clear, hot liquid sprayed over his still-hard shaft, coating his length in a glossy sheen before trailing down to saok into the dark hair at his base.
Her entire frame shook and twitched in the aftershocks, the pleasure bordering on pain as her cunt pulsed around nothing, releasing wave after wave of cum onto him.
She forced her trembling limbs to move. She rose up from his face, bracing her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. She took hold of his face, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. A gentle satisfied smile curved her lips as she looked into his eyes, the adrenaline fading into a warm haze. She let her forehead rest against his chest, listening to the hammering of his heart, needing a moment to just breathe and feel the solid reality of him beneath her cheek.
A second passed. Then another
She knew. She knew when awakening the beast. She knew the beast would not be put to sleep that easily. Kian’s breathing hadn’t slowed. His hands, which had been resting on her hips, began to tighten, his grip turning from supportive to possessive.
She braced herself.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on as the ground seemed to tilt. With a display of effortless strength that sent a fresh thrill through her veins, Kian stood.
He didn’t just stand. He lifted her, hauling her up against him as if she weighed nothing at all. He turned, pressing her against a tree.
Her stunned reaction was a silent gasp as he held her aloft, her back pressed against the rough bark of the tree. The tree’s trunk scraped her skin through the thin fabric of her gown, but she barely noticed, her legs dangling uselessly in the air. They were face to face, his breath hot against her cheek, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her heart race.
He gripped her firmly with one arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her lifted off he ground. With his free hand, he reached down and lifted her gown again, bunching the material inward around her waist to secure it there, making sure it wouldn’t slip and fall this time. The other hand gripped and lifted her thigh slightly, keeping her legs parted for him. And he moved.
His hips shoved forward, driving his cock back into her with a deep, perfect thrust. The angle was different, vertical, intense. Each penetration felt like he was spearing her upwards, filling her from below in a way that made her head swim. The bark scraped her back, a rough counterpoint to the smooth, slick invasion inside her. Her arms tightened around his neck, her face buried against his shoulder.
The rhythm was relentless, each thrust measured and deep, hitting a spot inside her that made her toes curl. She could feel every inch of him, every ridge, every pulse. Her stunned reaction melted into a moan of pure, shocked delight.
How…?
Her mind tried to form the question, but her body was already answering with a violent, shuddering clench around him.
He was not finished.
Without breaking his rhythm, he shifted his grip. He took a hold of her thighs… both of them… and lifted her higher. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, locking her to him. Now she was fully off the ground, suspended, held aloft by his strength alone, her entire body supported by his arms and her grip around him.
And he continued.
More intense than before. The depth was unimaginable. With her weight settled against him, he could drive even deeper, each thrust a full body impact that rocked her against the tree. The friction was exquisite, a constant, perfect grind that sent sparks of pleasure shooting up her spine. She felt owned, possessed in a way that made the previous frenzy seem tame. He was moving her body with his, controlling every inch of the join.
She tried to talk to him. Her voice was scraped raw. “You… you didn’t… lie…?” she gasped between thrusts, her eyes searching his. “These skills… not… practiced… with someone else…?”
But the words never finished. Her head lolled back against the bark, her mouth open in a silent cry. Her core convulsed in a sudden, violent orgasm that ripped through her with no warning. Her body seized around him, milking his cock as she peaked, a wash of fresh wetness soaking them both.
He didn’t stop. His thrusts became deeper. Faster.
A minute later, another wave hit her, a second climax born from the relentless, perfect stimulation. She cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders.
Back in the manor.
The two girls… Lady Anya and the servant girl…were arched on their hands and knees before Barlon on the wide bed, a pair of pale, trembling offerings. He moved between them like a man sampling delicacies.
He’d start with Anya. His massive dick, glistening with her moisture, would slide into her familiar depths with a smooth, deep groan from both of them. Anya had gotten used to his size, her moans were soft, intimate whispers, her hips pushing back to meet him with practiced ease. He’d fuck her for a dozen thrusts, the sound wet and rhythmic.
Then, with a grunt, he’d pull out and shift to the servant girl.
His cock, slick from Anya, would slam into the girl’s unprepared tightness with a force that made her gasp and cry out. Each thrust was a deep, shocking invasion. The girl’s body would tense, her back arching in pain-touched pleasure. Lady Anya, beside her, would reach out and hold the girl’s hand, her grip firm and calming.
“Breathe, little mouse,” she’d murmur. “Take it. He’s giving you a gift. Let him open you up.”
Eventually, the servant girl finally got used to it. Her cries softened into hiccupping whimpers. Then, as Barlon continued his alternating rhythm, her whimpers turned into something else. “Please…” she whispered, after he’d slammed into her particularly deep. “More… don’t stop…”
Out on the outskirts, on the muddy road south, inside Lord Corvus’ moving carriage, the air was thick with the smell of sweat, old wine, and unwashed flesh.
Corvus was on top of a girl of his own… not one of his many wives. A slave girl he specifically brought with him every time he travelled far, a plain-faced young girl with weary eyes. She lay flat on her stomach on the carriage bench, her face pressed into the velvet cushion. His fat, jiggling body pressing down like a heavy sack of grain, loomed over the girl. His hands added to the the pressure. He pinned her shoulders down, his meaty palms splaying across her back like iron clamps, making it hard for her to draw a full breath.
As he thrust brutally into her, his enormous belly slapping against her lower back with each thwack thwack thwack , he reached around clumsily to grope her breasts. He squeezed them hard, his thick fingers digging in, twisting and mashing the soft flesh without rhythm or care.
“Worthless tart? I’m owning every inch of you!” he snarled, his voice a savage, guttural command, laced with the frustration of a man who mistook brutality for seduction. The pain shot through her chest, her nipples pinched and abused, but her face remained impassive.
“Feel that, whore?” Corvus grunted again, his breath labored, his sweat dripping onto her back. “Feel my royal seed planting deep? Tell me I am the best you’ve ever had .”
The girl, her face pressed into the seat cushions. She felt nothing but the dull, repetitive thud of his weight. Not a spark of pleasure, not even a twinge. Her body was a hollow shell, mechanically absorbing the assault while her mind wondered.
“Oh…mmhh… yes, milord…so good… So… big!” she cried out, her voice a theatrical trill.
Her breaths steady and unaffected. She wasn’t even wet. It was all dry fiction, a chore she endured for the security of her life.
To hurry him along, she tensed her muscles, forcing a stream of urine to spray out, mimicking a frantic climax
“Ahh! Ohh, gods, I’m…I’m cumming, my Lord!” she cried out, her voice cracking with feigned ecstasy.
Corvus let out a triumphant roar, his delusion fueling his ego, thinking he had shattered her world.He yanked his cock out, the thick, veiny shaft glistening with a mix of his precum and her deception. Hot ropes of cum spurted across her buttocks.
“By the gods… that was… magnificent,” he muttered between breaths, his voice a wheezing whisper of self-congratulation.
He had lasted Fourteen seconds.
“Enough,” he commanded, shoving her hard off the bench. “Stop!” he yelled out the window. The lumbering vehicle creaked to a halt..
“You. Outside. Walk with the others. I need my rest.”
The girl scrambled out, her expression dropping into one of bored exhaustion, the moment she hit the dirt. She felt the cum drying on her skin, tacky and irritating. One slave, a lanky man with a sly grin, stepped forward with a rag in hand, while another, a girl with tired eyes, hovered nearby. They helped her wipe the mess from her buttocks.
The lanky man leaned in close, teasing. “Rough ride again, eh? Look at you all marked up… bet that fat oaf didn’t even get you close again, did he?” He chuckled lightly, his tone playful but probing, like sharing a secret joke over ale.
The other slave girl nodded, her voice a soft, conspiratorial murmur. “Poor thing…if you’re still aching for a proper finish, I could lend a hand later…?”
The girl smiled at them moving away from them. The warm sun kissed her bare skin, highlighting the bruises on her breasts and the slickness between her thighs from earlier deception, but a new urgency gripped her.
Her bladder was aching fiercely, swollen and heavy from the urine that had built up after her deception. It pressed against her lower abdomen, sending jolts of discomfort.
Stepping off the road silently, she hurried unseen toward a nearby bush. The caravan pressed on, fading into the distance, leaving her alone amid the wild bushes.
“I’ll... catch up.” she muttered to herself.
The ground was soft under her bare feet, grass and dirt brushing against her soles, heightening her senses as the ache in her bladder intensified. She squatted down, her knees parting wide, exposing her swollen pussy further to the open air, the cool breeze teasing her sensitive folds and making her shiver. She groaned softly to herself, her voice a mix of relief, as she relaxed her muscles and let the stream flow.
The urine came fast…a powerful jet shooting out from her urethra, golden and steaming. It arced through her, the pressure building and releasing in a rush that made her knees buckle slightly. The stream hit the bush with a soft hiss, splattering leaves and soaking into the soil, flowing strong and uninterrupted, warm liquid cascading down her inner thighs before she adjusted her stance.
As it poured out of her, she felt a spark ignite in her belly. The sensation was electric… the way the liquid gushed through her, fast and forceful, vibrating against her sensitive folds. Each pulse tugged at her clit, sending jolts straight to her core. She bit her lip, one hand drifting down to spread her pussy wider, letting the flow spray freer.
Her breaths quickened, nipples hardening, as the stream tapered but kept coming, a steady flow now that soaked the bush thoroughly, droplets clinging to her pubic hair like dew.
Warmth spread through her limbs, a flush creeping up her neck…this act, so raw and animalistic, was undoing her more than the Fat Lord’s cock ever could.
As the stream cooled off…drip, drip… her body betrayed her further, the emptiness in her bladder amplifying the ache in her pussy. She felt a surge of heat, her folds slick and pulsing, the urination’s rhythm having teased her like a lover’s touch.
“Mmmh…” she moaned softly, her voice breaking into a breathy, guttural sigh, as she lingered in the squat, brushing her entrance, fingers dipping into the newfound wetness.
But it wasn’t enough… not nearly enough… to quench the fire still raging inside her.
But she had to move. Otherwise they would find out that she had left the caravan.
Back in the orchard, Lyssa had given herself completely to Kian. She lay her head on his shoulder, muffling her cries, but the sensations were etched on her face... a blissful agony, her eyes rolling back, her entire form convulsing as hot waves of release gushed from her every now and then. He was holding her, moving her, fucking her with a strength that seemed infinite. She was in a completely different world now. This was not just possession. This was ascension. His movements were not frantic, they were certain, a rhythmic, profound claiming that was rewriting her soul with every deep, perfect thrust.