Chapter 112: Chapter 112- A Sex Slave

SMACK.

His palm landed on her ass with a crack that echoed. The flesh rippled, bounced, jiggled magnificently before settling.

“’’Aaahh~!!’’”

“Not tonight,” Raven said quietly. “You’re my bitch.” His thumb pressed harder against her ass. Not entering. Just reminding. “And afterward—” he leaned down, his chest skimming her spine, his free hand sliding beneath her to grab her breast like a handle— “a sex slave.”

His fingers dug into her tit. Gripped it the way you’d grip a steering wheel.

He grabbed her hair with his other hand. Gathered the dark, carefully styled length of it into his fist.

And ’pulled.’

Her back arched. Her neck craned. Her eyes went wide as the angle forced her to stare at the ceiling with his cock still buried halfway inside her.

“’’HNNGH~!!’’”

She felt him shift. Felt his hips draw back. Felt every single inch of his cock drag along her inner walls on the withdrawal—felt the obscene suction of her own pussy trying to keep him inside—and had exactly one second to process the sensation before he drove forward.

Balls deep.

’’PAAH!’’

The sound the room made was enormous. Skin on skin. The wet, devastating slap of his hips meeting her ass, flesh bouncing, the impact reverberating through the floor.

Veronica’s cry resonated off every wall.

“’’AAAAAAAAHHHHHNNNNGGGGHHHH~~!!♡’’”

The pitch of it—that involuntary upswing at the end, that broken, plaintive note—woke people up.

On the bed, Priya’s eyes flickered open. Confused. Overwhelmed. She lay on her side, cum still leaking from her ruined pussy, and blinked at the ceiling as that sound bored into her skull.

Clara stirred. Rolled slightly. Her hand moved to her throat, feeling the soreness there, and her eyes opened to slits.

Sophia remained unconscious. But even her face twitched.

Yuna sat with both hands pressed over her mouth. Her eyes were enormous above her fingers. She stared at the point where Raven’s cock disappeared into Veronica, at the way Veronica’s entrance had been stretched so dramatically that the skin there had gone tight and pale.

’She’s taking all of it’, Yuna thought. ’She’s actually taking all of it.’

Her thighs pressed together. Her pussy leaked onto the mattress.

Raven established his rhythm.

’’PAH! PAH! PAH!’’

Not fast. Not yet. Deep and deliberate. Each stroke withdrawn almost fully before driving back home, maximizing the stretch, the drag, the devastation on every withdrawal and every return.

’The depth’, Veronica’s mind kept circling back to it between screams. ’None of them reached there. Not one. The gang leader who’d been so proud—he’d never touched her womb. The minister who’d paid for her apartment—he’d been adequate, nothing more. The CEO who’d promoted her and called her his—she’d felt nothing real with him, had performed everything.’

’This man was hitting places she hadn’t known she had.’

His cock churned into her with each thrust—tilted, angled deliberately, his cockhead pressing against her womb in a rotation that made her vision strobe.

“’’HNGH~!! AAAHH~!! OOOHH♡~!!’’”

Her whole body jolted with every impact. Her tits—still gripped in his hand—bounced as much as his grip allowed, the flesh overflowing between his fingers. Her hair was still wrapped in his fist, keeping her back arched, keeping her open.

She felt herself getting wetter.

Impossibly, shamefully wetter.

Because beneath the pain—beneath the tears still streaming freely down her face, beneath the cry she couldn’t stop making—there was something building. Something she’d chased through twenty years of strategic fucking and never quite caught.

’The fullness.’

’Complete, absolute, total fullness.’

Every other man had left spaces. Had reached some of her but not all of her. Had touched pieces of her interior but left large portions untouched, unaccounted for.

Raven touched everything. Simultaneously.

Her pussy walls pressed against his shaft on all sides. Her cervix kissed his cockhead with each thrust. Her womb felt the pressure from the outside and the inside simultaneously. Nothing was untouched. Nothing was left alone.

“’’HAAAHH~!! FUUUCK~!! NNNGH♡~!!’’”

The pain was becoming something else. Was transforming in real time, the neurons that carried agony repurposing themselves, beginning to transmit a different signal entirely.

He let go of her breast.

Let go of her hair.

And wrapped both arms around her instead—pulling her body up off the floor, lifting her completely, transitioning to a mating press without breaking his rhythm.

Her back slammed against his chest. Her legs were lifted, spread, held in the crook of his arms. He was kneeling, she was folded against him, and his cock drove into her from below in a new angle that punched a different sound from her throat.

“’’HNNNNGH♡~!!’’”

’’PAH! PAH! PAH!’’

The position put his cock at a direct upward angle into her womb. Every thrust lifted her hips. Her tits bounced freely now—shaking, jiggling, swaying with each brutal impact.

Priya had pushed herself up on one elbow. Stared with hollow eyes at the scene across the room. At Veronica—’Veronica Dalton’, the woman who moved markets with a phone call—folded like paper in a stranger’s arms, crying openly, being fucked with a thoroughness that made Priya’s ruined pussy throb in sympathetic memory.

Clara was sitting up. Glasses gone, eyes unfocused, but watching.

Raven’s mouth found Veronica’s neck. Bit down.

“’’AAAHH♡~!!’’”

His teeth dragged to her shoulder. Then he shifted his grip—released one of her legs just long enough to pull her nipple into his mouth from the side.

’The gang leader had sucked her breasts once’, Veronica’s mind offered hysterically between waves of sensation. ’Roughly. It had been graceless. She’d felt nothing.’

’The minister had been too nervous to do it at all.’

’This man was drawing her nipple back through his teeth like he was consuming something precious and knew exactly how to ruin it.’

“’’OOOOHHH♡~!! AAAHH~!! NNNNGHH♡~!!’’”

’’PAH! PAH! PAH! PAH!’’

He picked up speed.

The sounds in the room became something else entirely. The wet slap of hips meeting ass. The obscene squelch of her pussy around his cock with each withdrawal. Her cries layering over each other, each one cutting off for a breath before the next one started.

The women watching pressed their thighs together almost in unison.

Yuna’s hand had found its way back between her legs without her noticing.

Priya was sitting fully upright now, her destroyed pussy leaking onto the sheets, watching with wide eyes and one hand pressed flat against her lower stomach as if trying to remember what it felt like to be full.

Clara had her knees drawn up to her chest. Her fingers were pressed between her thighs.

None of them were conscious of doing it.

Two hours later.

The positions had cycled.

Doggy. Missionary with her legs on his shoulders. On her side, one leg hiked over his hip. Reversed, her back to his front, both of them reflected in the dark window glass. Standing, her body pressed against the wall, his hands hooked under her knees.

Every position was devastating in a different way. Every angle found a new depth. A new angle of pressure. A new way to make her voice break.

Veronica had stopped counting her orgasms somewhere around the fourth.

Had stopped thinking in coherent sentences sometime after that.

’He is going to ruin every man who comes after him’, was the last fully formed thought she managed. ’There won’t be men after him. I’ll try and I’ll just feel—nothing. This is what ruination feels like. This is the thing I never understood.’

’’PAH! PAH! PAH! PAH!’’

“’’HNNGH♡~!! AAAHH♡~!! FUUUCK~!! MORE~!!’’”

The last word surprised her. She hadn’t meant to say it.

Raven’s chest rumbled against her back in something like satisfaction.

He thrust harder.

’’PAAH! PAAH! PAAH!’’

“’’AAAAAHHHHHNNNNGGGGHHHH♡~!!’’”

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