Chapter 376- Level 3 Sex Slave
He climbed further.
His knees reaching her shoulders. The cock descending toward her face.
She pressed her lips together.
"’No.’" Clear. Flat. The most clear and flat she’d sounded in hours. "’That is — you are not — I am not opening my mouth for—’"
His fingers found her nose.
She lasted six seconds this time before her mouth opened for air.
He entered.
Slowly.
The cockhead pressing past her lips, settling on her tongue, and she tasted everything it had gathered tonight — herself, all of herself, every location it had visited — and the sound she made around it was broken and muffled and completely past pride.
"’Mmmpphh~... Nnghff~...’"
He rubbed the head against her teeth.
She felt the ridge of it drag across the back edge of her teeth — the graze of enamel against warm, taut flesh — and her tongue, moving automatically, found the slit at the tip and tasted the seed there and ran across it.
He exhaled.
"’How does it taste.’"
She pulled off enough to speak.
"’It’s filthy.’" Her voice. Wrecked. Honest. "’Dirty. You’re a bastard.’"
He reached down.
His thumb found her cheek — the wet, tear-tracked skin — and he swiped it, gentle, gathering the tear on the pad of his thumb.
Lifted it to his own mouth.
Tasted it.
"’Not as salty as your tears,’" he said, mild and considering. "’Right?’"
She glared at him.
The glare of a woman who has been through everything he has put her through tonight and still has this left — this small, intact, furious core that had survived nineteen years in Division Six and was not going to stop surviving now.
"’You will never break me.’" She said it quietly. "’When this is done, I am going to make sure that you—’"
His hand moved.
Down.
Past her stomach, past the pink insignia he’d left there, past the wet, matted dark hair of her pussy — and his fingers ’grabbed.’
A fistful.
The coarse hair between her thighs, his fingers tangling into it, and he ’pulled.’
"’AAAHH~!! KYAAANGHH~!! STOP— LET GO— THAT HURTS—’"
The tears came instantaneously, the sharp, needle-specific pain of hair being pulled at the root flooding her eyes before the thought had time to arrive.
"’PLEASE — RAVEN — STOP — IT HURTS — IT HURTS—’"
He stuffed his cock back into her mouth.
Full. Nine inches. His hips settling over her face, the shaft pressing her tongue flat, the head at the back of her throat — and he pulled the pussy hair again as the cock went in, the two sensations arriving simultaneously.
Her eyes rolled.
Both at once — the involuntary bilateral roll of a woman whose nervous system had received instructions from too many directions at the same time and had voted for vacancy.
He began to move his hips.
Slowly.
The agonizing slowness of someone with complete control choosing to use none of it for mercy — each inch of withdrawal dragging against the roof of her mouth, each forward push pressing the head into her throat — and with each forward push, his fist in her pubic hair pulled ’upward’ as the cock went ’down’, the opposing forces finding her body between them like a rope pulled from both ends.
"’Mmmpphh~!! NNNGFF~!! HHMMPPHH~!!’"
"’Come on,’" he said, looking down at her face with the cock buried to his balls, his fist wrapped in her hair, the balls pressed against her nose. "’Do you really think your mind will still be sane when I’m done with you?’"
She couldn’t answer.
The cock was in the way.
Her hands were behind her back.
Her knees were tied.
Her body was — she felt it happening, felt the long, building pressure that had no right to be building again, no right at all, her body completely past the point where this should have been possible — building anyway, the heat climbing her inner thighs and gathering in the overworked place where his fist still gripped her hair and ’pulled.’
"’MMMPHH~!! NNGHFF~!! MMF~!!’"
"’AAANGHFF~!!’"
The orgasm broke.
Not gently. Nothing about tonight had been gentle.
Her body ’seized’ — the complete, full-body convulsion of a woman whose systems had been overwhelmed and had stopped managing and simply ’reacted’ — her bound knees pulling inward, her hands straining against the rope, her throat closing around his cock with the involuntary strength of her own spasm.
She squirted.
Hard. The warm, forceful flood of it — more than she’d had left, more than she’d thought was possible, running down her thighs and soaking the sheet below her and continuing, the release that had been building through the pulling and the cock and everything before it all arriving at once.
He pulled his cock from her mouth.
She gasped.
The sound she made — the first full breath of open air hitting her lungs — was the sound of a woman who has been underwater.
Her whole body was still twitching.
Both thighs. Both hands. The muscles of her abdomen firing in long, helpless waves that she could neither direct nor stop.
She looked at the ceiling.
"’No,’" she said.
Very small.
"’My body.’"
The twitch rolled through her again.
"’Did I just — ’"
"Pfft..."
He chuckled.
The low, dark sound rumbled out of his chest as he looked down at her wrecked form, his eyes slowly traveling over the curves of her body, taking in the way her heavy breasts rose and fell with each ragged breath, the milk and cum still streaking her skin, the pink insignia glowing faintly on her lower belly.
Jennifer’s eyes flicked up to him at the sound, dazed and glassy, but the chuckle made something in her stir — a fresh wave of humiliated awareness cutting through the fog.
His gaze dropped lower, lingering on her chest before flicking to her nipple. Without warning, he reached down and flicked it sharply with his finger, the sensitive peak still leaking a thin trail of milk. She cried out sharply, her body jerking.
"Ah—!"
He looked down further, his hands moving to her tired thighs. He parted them wider despite the ropes, the bound frog position making her completely open to him.
Her exhausted muscles trembled as her hairy pussy was fully revealed — dark curls matted and glistening. His earlier seed had long since dried on her skin, but her own pussy juices had flowed freely, making the entire hairy cunt look slick and soaked, the lips puffy and parted.
He chuckled again, deeper this time, as his eyes took in the sight of the ruined bed beneath her — dark wet patches spreading across the sheets from her repeated squirts and leaks.
"Look at this mess," he murmured, almost amused. "One day and you’re already flooding everything."
He simply placed his finger over her pussy, rubbing slowly along the wet, hairy slit. The pink insignia on her belly glowed brighter, shifting and updating right before his eyes — clearly now displaying Level 3.
In a single day, he had brought the slave, sex slave marking from zero to level 3.
His fingers moved with deliberate precision, pinching her swollen clit between thumb and forefinger. Jennifer cried out again, her voice hoarse and broken.
"Please... don’t stop... I cannot move..."
But he didn’t answer with words. Instead, he took his limp cock in hand, rubbing the soft, heavy length against her slick, hairy pussy lips, teasing the entrance. She whimpered, trying to protest.
"Wait... you already did—"
He plunged in anyway.
The sudden stretch made her cry out sharply, her heavy boobs bouncing upward with the force of it. He slowly leaned over her body, his cum-smeared chest pressing against her milk-stained breasts, the mess mixing between them.
One hand came up to cover her mouth firmly, tilting her head as he leaned close to her ear.
"Let me clean the womb from where that bastard is born," he whispered, his voice low and venomous.
And then his hips snapped forward in a sudden, blurring frenzy — like a rabbit in heat — the flesh-slapping sounds filling the room instantly.
PAH! PAH! PAH! PAAAH! PHAAACK!
"’HIEEK~!! AAANGHH~!! LET GO — I CAN’T— MMMPPHH~!! HHMMF~!!! AAAaaNnnGggHhhh~!!!’"