Chapter 544- Plump Bossom Sect
His other hand came down, wrapped around her wrist, and guided her palm to his balls.
She felt their weight settle against her hand — dense, warm, shifting slightly with a biological weight that made her palm instinctively cup them. She worked her fingers in a slow, rolling pressure, massaging the way he’d placed her hand to massage, and heard the faintest exhale from above.
She opened her mouth wider.
Her jaw cracked faintly with the effort of accommodating the girth even laterally. She took the head between her lips, her cheeks pulling in with suction, her tongue pressing flat against the underside.
Her jaw hurt.
Already. Genuinely. The stretch of it pulling at the hinge muscle behind her ear, the corners of her mouth aching with the spread.
’He is the size of my face,’ she thought, with the strange, dissociated clarity of a mind working around the edges of overwhelm. ’The length of him is the length of my face. And I am taking just the head.’
She sucked.
Tears gathered in her inner corners — not grief yet, just the automatic response of stretched jaw muscles and a stuffed throat, her eyes watering at the pressure of it.
The firelight caught the moisture on her lashes.
"Now tell," he said.
His voice arrived from above her, calm and even, the hand in her hair doing nothing more than resting. Waiting.
She swallowed around him.
The memory arrived when she called it — sharp-edged and ugly, the way bad memories always are when you have been successfully not thinking about them for exactly long enough.
"We were returning," she said.
The words came out wet and muffled, her lips still around the head, her tongue still working slowly even as she spoke. The sounds blurred at the edges — her M’s softened by the obstruction in her mouth, the consonants blunted.
"’Mmphm’ — flying back from the hunt. All of us. There was..." She paused. Her eyes dropped. Her throat worked around the grief and around him simultaneously. "There was a young man. Wei Jiushan. He — he had been following our senior sister Suyin for weeks."
She felt the cockhead press against the inside of her left cheek.
Her cheek bulged outward visibly, a rounded protrusion pushing through the soft skin of her face, the outline of the head visible from outside.
Her free hand came up instinctively and pressed against her own cheek, feeling the shape of him through her skin from the outside.
She kept talking.
"He came up on a wooden sword. Cheap, outer-city. He was — he was nervous. His ears went pink." Her voice caught. "He asked her to be his Dao companion for the Ascending Summit competition. She — she laughed. She grabbed his hand. She was happy."
The tears came now. Mixed in with the jaw-ache and the saliva running down her chin, they fell freely, dropping onto the cave floor.
"’Schlk’ — we landed in the forest. They went to a tree. We waited. And then we heard her scream, and — and when we ran toward her —"
His hand pressed her head slightly forward.
Not deep — not yet. Just enough. Her lips were forced down an inch, then two, the shaft pushing past her tongue and touching the back of her mouth. Her eyes rolled slightly at the corners. Her throat convulsed once.
"’Nnghk —’"
He held her there.
Not cruelly. With the patience of a man who was listening.
She breathed through her nose, adjusted, and kept going.
"The demon was — he was behind her. He had already — ’ngh’ — already done it, she was against the tree and he was — and at her feet —" Her voice broke into a sound that was half-sob, half-gag, her whole frame shaking. "Wei Jiushan. They had cut him. He was — he was in pieces. His eyes were still open and he —"
She pressed her forehead against the shaft.
Cried silently for a moment, her shoulders moving.
His hand stroked her hair once. Brief. Impersonal. The way a hand moves over something it is acknowledging.
She steadied.
"The demon — the leader — he ordered the others. They came from nowhere. Four of them. We could not form a defensive position, our senior brothers were already —" A wet inhale. "Meiren’s sword was crushed bare-handed. Liufen’s wrist was broken. Fenxu —" Her voice dropped to nothing. "’Schlk’ — Fenxu fought. They cut her."
She was sucking and crying and talking, the sounds merging into each other in a way that had no dignity and did not pretend to. Her saliva ran freely down the shaft now, slicking the length of him, dripping from the base onto the cave floor in slow, heavy drops.
"I ran," she said.
The two words arrived stripped of everything.
"I ran and I do not know if any of them — I do not know if —"
She pressed her eyes closed. Fresh tears squeezed out.
His hand tightened once in her hair.
He guided her head in a slow, shallow motion — not deep-throating, not forcing, just a gentle pull back and forward, using her mouth the way one uses a cloth to polish something — unhurried, thorough. Her lips dragged the length of the shaft and returned, her tongue maintaining contact throughout, her cheeks hollowing with the suction she was applying almost automatically now.
He was working her like an ice cream, pulling her head back so just the tip remained between her lips, letting her tongue lap at the slit, then pressing forward again until the shaft filled her mouth entirely and her jaw ached with it.
She took his balls into her mouth one at a time.
Each one barely fit. Her jaw stretched to its absolute limit, the egg-weight of it filling the space of her mouth completely, her tongue pressing up beneath it. She sucked with the effortful concentration of a woman applying every cultivated muscle control she had to the task, her cheeks pulling in.
Above her, he watched.
The firelight painted the scene in warm orange — this young woman’s face, flushed and tear-streaked, her dark hair loose over her shoulders, her heavy chest pressing against the torn ’dudou’ as she breathed hard through her nose, her mouth worshipping a cock that was the length of her own face with the devoted, broken earnestness of someone who was grieving and aroused and ashamed of both simultaneously.
He was satisfied.
"Your sect," he said.
She made a sound of acknowledgment around his balls.
"What is it called again."
She pulled off with a soft, wet release.
"The Mount Hua Plum Blossom sect," she said, wiping her chin with the back of her wrist. "Our foundational technique channels spiritual energy through —"
"Plump Blossom."
She blinked. "...Plum —"
"I heard Plump Blossom." His expression did not change. "Named for the disciples, presumably."
Her face went red from the hairline downward.
"That is — that is not — the sect is named for the —" She gestured vaguely at the embroidered crest on her ’dudou’, the motion pulling the fabric tight across her chest and making the point somewhat counterproductively. "The flower. The ’plum’ flower. It is an ancient and honorable —"
His hand closed in her hair and pushed.
Slowly. With control. Down.
The shaft entered her throat.
Her words dissolved instantly into a thick, gurgling choke, her eyes flying wide, the whites showing as the length of him pressed past the back of her mouth and into the column of her throat. The outline of him bulged visibly in her neck — a long, obscene protrusion moving down her throat as he pressed her head lower, the skin of her neck distending around the shape.
"’NNGHK — GLKK — NGHHHK —’"