Chapter 350- Merciless Fuck
He pulled out in one long, deliberate drag.
The sudden hollow left by his cock made her sob — relief crashing against grief at the same time, her stretched, raw pussy fluttering around nothing, desperately clenching at the absence like a mouth that just lost its words.
A thin thread of her slick and his pre-cum stretched between her trembling folds and the glistening, darkened head before snapping, dripping hot on the inner slope of her thigh.
He moved her before she could breathe.
Strong hands — not Kenji’s careful hands, not the hands from her daydreams — gripped her hip and shoulder and flipped her sideways with the casual authority of someone rearranging a pillow, her body weightless to him, her blindfold still sealed tight over her eyes.
The ruined scraps of her training uniform — shredded cotton, a broken tie of fabric, barely clinging to her hip like a widow’s goodbye — were seized and hurled across the room without a word.
They hit the far wall with a soft, forgettable slap.
Gone.
He settled behind her. Chest pressed to her back, furnace-hot, one thick arm sliding beneath her neck, the other hooking up under the back of her top knee — and he ’lifted’.
Her leg pulled up and wide, spread open like a book cracked spine-first, the dark hair of her pussy glistening and matted in the dim light, swollen folds still trembling from everything they’d already been forced through.
’Kenji...’ she thought, not spoke. ’You feel so big still. Why does it still hurt?’
"Kenji..." she whispered anyway, voice stripped raw from screaming, the name slipping out like a prayer she didn’t mean to say out loud.
Raven’s jaw locked.
His cock — still stone-hard, veins like rivers along the shaft, flushed darker than before — dragged up the crease of her ass, slow and deliberate, teasing the puffed, bruised lips of her entrance.
"Shut up with that name." Low. Controlled. Pissed in a way that hummed beneath the surface like a current. But then his lips found the curve of her ear and his voice dropped into something almost velvet. "It’s just you and me right now, baby. Just feel me."
He pressed the thick head back inside her.
The angle was different.
Deeper somehow — the curved ridge of his cock dragging against her front wall in a new, ruinous way, scraping a place that made her fingers curl and her toes point.
She gasped, body jerking, a short mewling sound escaping her before she could swallow it.
And then — he ’twisted’.
Not his hips alone. His full torso rotated against her back, forcing her upper body to turn while her lower half stayed pinned beneath him, and his cock ’corkscrewed’ inside her pussy — a slow, grinding spiral, the thick ridge of his head raking every inch of her inner walls in a circle.
The stretch was obscene.
Her tight, still-raw channel clenched around the rotating intrusion, walls rippling frantically — caught between pushing him out and pulling him deeper — both at once, her own body failing to pick a side.
’What— what is that—’ Her thought splintered. ’It’s going around inside— he’s— why does it feel like he’s— reaching—’
"Ah—! What— what are you—"
Her voice cracked and dissolved into a loud, broken moan as the twist hit bottom, his balls pressing snug against her clit, the slave mark on her mound flaring vivid pink — brighter than before, almost pulsing through the dark curls like something alive.
Raven chuckled. The sound rolled down her spine.
"Feel how I fit you." He held the twisted position — one full, merciless second — letting her feel every inch of him like a screw sunk into wood. Then he reversed it. Slowly. Then faster. Each reversal dragging a fresh gush of her slick — and a thin, dark thread of blood — down the slope of her inner thigh onto the ruined sheet.
Her lifted leg trembled in his grip, knee nearly kissing her own shoulder, pussy lips stretched so wide around him she could ’feel’ the air on her stretched entrance even as he filled it.
The slave mark burned hotter. The symbol scored deeper, like ink pressed at high temperature, sending sparks directly to her clit that she couldn’t separate from pain.
Then he stopped twisting.
And started ’plunging’.
Long strokes. Powerful. Pulling back until just the fat, flushed head remained inside her entrance — then ’slamming’ home.
PAH!
Her whole body lurched forward with it.
PAH!
"Haahn~!! Ahh—!!"
PAH! PAH!
"It hurts— ’Kenji’, please—!!"
His open palm cracked against her ass — sharp, stinging bloom of heat — before his hand gripped the cheek hard.
"Don’t." Each word bitten clean and separate. "Say. That. Name."
A pause. Then his voice slid back into silk. "I’m right here. I’ve got you. Just feel ’me’, baby."
He twisted mid-thrust.
His cock corkscrewed at full depth — grinding against her cervix in a slow rotation while she ’wailed’, the sound torn from somewhere that wasn’t lungs, wasn’t throat, was somewhere older and more honest.
Her pussy was gushing.
Clear, hot squirts mixing with blood, soaking the sheet in a dark spreading map beneath them. His hips blurred now, pace building beyond her ability to count — each thrust punching air from her lungs, each wet, slapping impact throwing a sound through the room that bounced off walls and came back.
PAH! PAH! PAAAH!
"Hieekk~!! NNgh~!! HAANGH~!!"
It was like drilling into earth — boring down through stone and clay, forcing the body to yield water it didn’t know it had.
’It hurts—’ The thought ran inside her skull in a loop, half-sob. ’Kenji, why are you being so merciless — you were so gentle in my dreams — you never — this isn’t—’
She didn’t know.
The man behind her — the one whose cock was rearranging her insides stroke by stroke, the one whose callused thumb was now digging into her lifted knee to keep her leg wide — was Raven. The same man who had ground Kenji’s balls to ruin under his boot not twenty minutes ago. Kenji was somewhere on the floor, possibly still breathing, certainly not fucking anyone.
She was blindfolded. Spell-drunk. Too far gone.
She had no idea.
Her heavy breasts swung with every impact, milk leaking from the nipples in thin, warm streams that ran down the underside of each breast and dripped to the sheet in a steady rhythm.
Raven’s hand shot around her body and ’grabbed’ one — fingers sinking into the soft, leaking flesh without ceremony, not cupping, not caressing — gripping like dough, a full rough fistful of her breast that made milk jet from the nipple against his palm.
His other hand hooked her elbow from behind, using the joint like a door handle, hauling her backward onto his cock with every forward snap of his hips.
PAH! PAH! PAH!
"Oungh~!! Mnh—!! AANGH~!!"
The searing intensity climbed past a place she could name. Her whole body began to shake — not the small trembling of overstimulation but full-body convulsions, boobs jiggling wildly, milk spraying in faint arcs from her nipples with each brutal hip-strike, nipples hard as pebbles and leaking like wounds.
She cried. Not politely. ’Loudly.’ The sound filled the room and had nowhere to go.
’Why does it hurt so much and still feel—’ She couldn’t finish the internal sentence. Her own body wasn’t cooperating with her horror. Her hips were pushing back. Small, instinctive rolls — moving toward him — toward the thing destroying her — because the slave mark on her mound pulsed in time with his thrusts and wired pain and pleasure to the same switch.
’That long, thick thing inside me keeps hitting somewhere that makes my legs stop working—’
She didn’t have the vocabulary for cervix. She didn’t need it.
She just knew it was ’deep’. Too deep. Kenji-deep. Mercilessly, carelessly deep.
"AAHH—!!"