Chapter 770- The Revocation of Daughter to her Mother
He lifted her. Her body, the thick, wet, naked frame, was carried. Out of the lake, through the garden, into the house. Through the halls, past the servants — who bowed, who did not look, who did not see — to the master bedroom.
The bedroom. The bed. The silk sheets. The pillows. The space where she and her husband had slept. Where her husband was now recovering, in another room, healed but weak.
He threw her on the bed. Her body, the thick frame, bounced on the silk. Her enormous boobs, bare, heaved. Her hairy pussy, swollen, leaking cum, was there. Her thick ass, the heavy cheeks, pressed into the silk.
He removed her clothes. The remnants, the torn dress, the soaked fabric, were pulled. She was naked. Completely. Her thick body, her enormous tits, her wide hips, her hairy pussy, her mature, maternal, beautiful body, was bare.
He pounced.
His body, golden, muscular, was on her. His cock, hard again, twelve inches, was against her thigh. His mouth, on her nipple, sucked. His hand, on her other boob, kneaded. The milk, the warm, sweet fluid, flowed.
He pushed his cock inside her. The pussy, the swollen, well-fucked, cum-filled cunt, was there. The walls, stretched, loosened, still gripped. The friction, the heat, the divine qi, was there.
PAAAH!
"AAANGH~!!"
He fucked her. The rhythm, the pace, was relentless. His hips, driving, blurred. The sound, the flesh slapping, the wet, obscene, continuous sound of divine fucking, filled the bedroom.
Pah pah pah pah pah pah!
"OUNGH~!! HNNNGH~!! AAANGH~!! NIEENGH~!!"
"You are tighter than your daughter," he said. His voice, the observation delivered mid-fuck, was casual.
Her eyes, beneath the bandage, widened. The words, the revelation, the confirmation that her daughter had been fucked by this man, hit.
"No," she whispered. Her voice was broken. The horror, the realization, the mother’s horror, was there. "My daughter too? You... you fucked my daughter?"
"I collect payment," he said. His voice was flat. The statement, the transactional, cold statement, was there.
She begged. Her voice, the broken, desperate, mother’s voice, was there.
"Please," she whispered. "Please. Do not do this to my daughter. She is... she is young. She is innocent. Please. I will do anything. I will take everything. Just... please. Not my daughter."
He slammed. His cock, deeper, harder, drove. The head, against her cervix, pressed.
PAAAH!
"AAANGH~!!"
"Then you have to take the burdens of your daughter," he said. His voice was low. The terms, the negotiation, the transaction, were there.
Her body trembled. The weight, the impossible, overwhelming weight of the choice, was there. Her daughter’s body or her own. Her daughter’s anal or her own. Her daughter’s soul or her own.
"I will take it," she whispered. Her voice cracked. The tears, beneath the bandage, fell. "I will take everything. Please. Just... just not my daughter."
He slammed. His cock, full, twelve inches, buried.
PAAAH!
"What a good mother you are," he said. His voice was soft. The compliment, the genuine, warm, approving compliment of a man who appreciated maternal sacrifice, was there.
He fucked her. Through the night. In every position. Against the wall. On the bed. On the floor. In the air. Doggy. Cowgirl. Reverse cowgirl. Missionary. Spoon. On the chair. On the table. Against the window. Her pussy, her anal, her mouth. All three. One after another. His cock, twelve inches, the divine organ, was everywhere. In everything.
He fucked her mouth. Brutally. His cock, twelve inches, in her throat. His hand, on her head, held. His hips, driving, moved. The bulge, the outline of his cock, was visible on her neck. She gagged. She choked. She cried. The saliva, the drool, the continuous flow of a throat being fucked, ran. Down her chin. Onto her enormous tits.
The night fell. The darkness, the moonlight through the window, filled the room.
She lay on the bed. Like a frog. Her arms, limp, at her sides. Her legs, spread, bent at the knees. Her ass, the thick cheeks, raised. Her pussy, the hairy mound, the swollen, raw, well-fucked cunt, was leaking. The cum, the thick white divine seed, ran. Her anal, the sphincter, the stretched, trained, ruined hole, was gaping. The cum, the seed, was there too.
He stood. Over her face. His cock, hard, was there. He lined her face. His hand, on his shaft, stroked. The cum, the divine seed, erupted. Onto her face. Onto her bandage. Onto her lips, her cheeks, her hair.
She gasped. The cum, the thick, warm, white fluid, was on her face. Her mouth, open, received some. The taste, the divine essence, the masculine flavor, was there.
A voice. From outside. From the hallway. Young. Female. Desperate.
"Mother!" the voice called. "Mother, are you alright?"
The door opened. The daughter, Lady Han, her dark eyes wide, her face pale, stood in the doorway. Her body, the full frame, the brown dress, was there. Her eyes, her dark, terrified eyes, took in the scene. The naked, cum-covered, well-fucked body of her mother. The golden, muscular, naked body of the Emperor. The bed, the silk sheets, soaked with cum, with sweat, with fluids.
She screamed. The sound, the raw, primal, horrified scream of a daughter seeing her mother violated, filled the house.
"Mother!" she cried. She ran to the bed. Her hands, her brown hands, found her mother. "Mother! What... what did he... oh gods. Oh gods. Mother!"
The blind mother, her face covered in cum, her body trembling, reached for her daughter. Her hand, the small, soft hand, found her daughter’s arm.
"Han," she whispered. Her voice, the broken, raw, cracked voice, was there. "Han. It is... it is fine. I am... I am making him satisfied. So he does not... so he does not do this to you."
The words, the mother’s sacrifice, the mother’s lie, the mother’s desperate attempt to protect her daughter by claiming she was choosing this, were there.
Lady Han trembled. Her dark eyes, wet, streaming, were on the Emperor. The man she had already served. The man whose cock she had sucked in the carriage. The man whose cock was now in her mother’s bedroom, covered in her mother’s cum.
"Please," Lady Han whispered. Her voice was desperate. She fell to her knees. The bow, the prostration, was there. "Please. Immortal Master. Please leave my mother. She is... she is old. She is blind. She cannot... I will... I will serve you. I will do anything. Please. Just... just leave her alone."
The blind mother, her hand on her daughter’s arm, squeezed.
"Daughter," she whispered. Her musical voice was gentle. Maternal. "It is fine. I am doing this for you. For your father. So you do not have to."
"No!" Lady Han cried. Her voice was raw. "No! Mother, you should not... you do not have to... I am the one who... I already..."
She stopped. The confession, the admission that she had already been fucked, was there. The mother, beneath the bandage, felt the pause. The silence.
"You already what?" the blind mother whispered. Her voice was careful.
Lady Han, her face, the crimson flush, the shame, was there.
"I already... served him," she whispered. Her voice was barely audible. "To save father. I... I paid. With my body."
The blind mother trembled. The revelation, the confirmation, the knowledge that her daughter had already been violated, was there. Her hand, on her daughter’s arm, gripped. The anger, the pain, the grief, the helplessness, was there.
"Then," Tianlong said, his voice cutting through the emotional scene, "why not you both join?"