Chapter 203: Chapter 203 – Unforgiving Invasion

My hands gripped Isabel’s slender thighs tightly, my fingers digging into her soft yet muscular flesh. With a strong grip, I pulled her body towards me while thrusting my hips forward, forcing my cock deeper into her tight, resisting anus.

“NNNGHH! NO—!” Isabel’s scream was cut off by a sharp, stabbing pain as I breached her tight sphincter muscle. She could feel every centimeter of my rough skin scraping against her virgin inner walls, tearing, stretching, violating.

“Stop! Please! Take it out!” her cries became desperate shrieks, her voice hoarse and full of suffering. “You’re going to destroy my ass! I can’t take it!”

Each of her screams only stoked the flames of sadism inside me. My dark, vengeful spirit roared, savoring every pained moan that escaped her lips.

’This is what I wanted,’ whispered a voice in my heart. ’Not just sex. Not ordinary pleasure. I want to see you suffer. I want to hear your sobs, your screams, your pleas.’

“Isn’t this what you wanted, Isabel?” I hissed, my voice ragged from my growing heavy breaths. “You who always enjoyed seeing others suffer? Who relished your condescending looks? Now feel what it’s like to be the one looked down upon. To be the one in pain.”

My hips kept pushing forward, mercilessly. I could feel the tight muscles of her ass continuously trying to reject me, trying to expel my cock, but I was too strong. Her narrow, virgin anus was forced open, adjusting to a size far larger than it was ever designed for.

“Stop! Please, stop! Pull it out! You’re going to split my asshole open!” she wailed, her voice hoarse and panicked. “It’s too big! I can’t! I’ll tear!”

Isabel felt every centimeter of the invasion with painful clarity. Her head throbbed from crying and the pain, but amidst it all, a realization dawned: This was retribution. This was punishment for every wrong she had ever done to Adam. And she could do nothing but accept it.

With one final, dominating thrust, I buried all nine inches of my cock fully inside her ass. I felt the base of my shaft press tightly against her now hot and sweat-dampened buttocks.

“AAAAAAH! IT HURTS! IT HURTS SO MUCH!” Isabel’s scream shattered the silence, her voice filled with pure agony. Her still-rigid body shook violently, as if electrocuted. Her tears flowed freely, flooding her already sweat-soaked face.

“MONSTER… YOU FUCKING MONSTER… BASTARD…”

She cursed me, but her words were broken by repeated groans of pain.

“It hurts… it hurts so much… please… take it out… I’m begging you…”

Seeing her in this state—her pretty face contorted in pain, her slender body convulsing, her beautiful eyes filled with tears and despair—something stirred inside me.

But it wasn’t pity. Nor was it regret. It was pleasure. A deep, dark, satisfying pleasure.

My cock throbbed powerfully inside her hot, tight ass, responding to the sight and sensation before me. Every throb made Isabel wince, drawing small, pained gasps from her.

“Ah… nngh… stop… moving…” she begged, but her body was beginning to show contradictory reactions.

Even though pain still dominated, the [Lustful Touch] I kept active in that area began to show its effects. A strange, warm tingling sensation started to mix with the pain. The muscles of her buttocks, which had been clenched tight from pain and fear, began to soften and adapt slightly.

Isabel felt this contradiction and panicked even more. Why… why is there another sensation besides pain? Why is warmth spreading? Why is her body starting to react in such a disgusting way?

She looked around, searching for help, but all she saw were two things: me above her, with a cold, satisfied expression, and Delilah Socheron standing a few meters away, phone in hand, recording every second of her humiliation without a trace of emotion on her beautiful face.

Despair flooded Isabel like a tidal wave. She was trapped. Tortured. Raped. And even her one hope for intervention from authority was actually the perpetrator’s ally. She was utterly alone. No one would save her.

Meanwhile, I began to move.

Slowly, I pulled my hips back, feeling my cock—lubricated by a mix of her bodily fluids and my spit—slide against the tight inner walls of her ass.

Isabel felt a sharper, stabbing sensation as I slowly withdrew my cock. A burning, raw feeling seemed to follow every centimeter I pulled back. “Ouch… i-it hurts…” she hissed, her voice almost inaudible, broken by sobs.

“Adam… Adam, I’m sorry!” she suddenly cried out, her voice full of genuine panic. “I’m truly sorry for everything I’ve done! I know my words mean nothing now, but I swear, I’ll change! I’ll become a better person! So please… no more. Don’t destroy my ass any further. I’m begging you!”

Her tears streamed down, her expression truly earnest this time. No longer an act or a tactic. This was the pure desperation of someone experiencing physical pain and mental devastation simultaneously.

But me? Fuck, I didn’t care. In fact, her genuine pleas only ignited the flame of my sadism brighter. There was something profoundly satisfying about seeing someone usually so arrogant whimper like a child, begging for mercy, hoping her tears could move my heart.

My heart? Haha. A heart is for those who possess mercy. And for someone like Isabel Mercedes? There is none.

So, instead of stopping, I began moving again. Slowly at first—a deep thrust in, followed by a slow pull out. Every movement made Isabel wince, gasp softly, and let out pained groans.

“Don’t… not again…” she begged between ragged breaths. “I don’t want to feel this anymore… please… forgive me…”

Her hands, still forced to grip her own ankles in this position, trembled violently. Her body was slick with cold sweat, mixed with the tears that kept flooding her face.

The only thing she could do now was beg. Plead for mercy. Apologize over and over. Hoping futilely that her streaming tears, her shattered voice, her total surrender could stir something within me, make me forgive her and stop this torture.

But her pleas were nothing more than passing wind to me.

I increased my speed. My thrusts became faster, more brutal. My large, hard cock now assailed her still-tight asshole with an increasingly merciless rhythm.

“Ah! Ah! AAH! IT HURTS! STOP! PLEEEASE!” Isabel’s screams grew louder, more panicked. The pain she had initially just endured now exploded with each of my rough thrusts. She felt as if her ass would truly tear apart, be destroyed, be shredded by the cruelty of my assault.

Her pleas began to weaken, not because she gave up, but because her breath was being used up to withstand the pain. Her voice became hoarse, broken, reduced to short gasps and groans between her unceasing tears.

“Please… don’t… I… can’t…” she whispered, almost inaudible, her glazed eyes looking at me with a blank, suffering stare.

The sight would have been cruel to any other observer. A pretty girl, naked, in a deeply shameful and vulnerable position, being brutally anally raped by a man who showed not a shred of pity. The expression of pain and despair on her face would haunt anyone who witnessed it.

Unfortunately, the only other person witnessing this scene was not someone with normal empathy.

Delilah Socheron, the Star Witch, Guardian Council member, my stepmother, still stood there with her phone recording continuously. But something had changed.

The cold, graceful expression on her face was slowly melting. Her cheeks began to flush. Her breathing, initially calm, now became slightly heavier. Her golden eyes no longer just observed with objective detachment—now there was a fire in them. A fire of lust.

While still holding the phone with one hand, ensuring the camera remained focused on my huge cock brutally entering and exiting Isabel’s ass, her other hand began to move.

She slipped that hand under her elegant dress. The dress rode up slightly, revealing a glimpse of her smooth, white thigh. Her hand disappeared beneath the fabric, and from the movement of her arm and her shoulders beginning to sway gently, it was clear what she was doing.

She was pleasuring herself.

Delilah watched with intense focus as my cock continued to ravage Isabel. Every brutal thrust, every pained groan from Isabel, every drop of sweat running down my body—she observed it all with eyes growing ever brighter.

Her red lips parted slightly, and a soft sigh escaped.

“Ah… Adam… darling…” she whispered almost inaudibly, her voice husky with arousal.

She was aroused. Aroused by the sight of her stepson brutally raping a girl. Aroused by the absolute power I displayed. Aroused by Isabel’s total destruction.

Her hand under her dress moved faster. Her shoulders trembled. The expression on her usually dignified face had transformed into that of a woman consumed by wild lust.

She didn’t even try to hide it. As if, in this stopped world, in the presence of her stepson and his rape victim, there was nothing to conceal.

There was only power, lust, and dark satisfaction.

Isabel, amidst her ocean of pain and humiliation, briefly caught the change in Delilah. Seeing the woman who should have been her savior instead masturbating while watching her rape. It was the final blow to what remained of her self-respect.

She closed her eyes and surrendered. No hope. No savior. Only pain, humiliation, and the terrible reality that even the most respected people were monsters just like her assailant.

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