Chapter 382- Taming the new Slut
The pulse of him inside her — the first thick wave of his seed, flooding the deepest place his cock had reached, the warmth of it spreading through her anal passage and through the wall that separated it from the rest of her body — and then another, and another, his hips still driving forward through each pulse, pushing the load inward with the same determined thoroughness he applied to everything.
She shook.
The full-body tremor of a woman receiving something in a place she had not known could receive it, and her pussy — which had been running continuously for the last hour — chose this exact moment to send its own signal, the walls fluttering, the fluid running in a fresh, warm rush down her thighs to the kitchen floor.
She was coming.
She was coming from anal, with her son asleep three feet away, with the kitchen table shaking under her, with the evidence of everything she’d cooked for him scattered across the floor and the broken pieces of her good cup somewhere in the wreckage.
"’Mmmhh~—’" The sound came out of her without permission. Small. Broken. Honest in a way she hated. "’Hngh~—’"
He bit her ear.
"’There you are.’"
She pressed her face into the wood and did not answer.
The hour after was quiet in the way the aftermath of things is quiet.
He had moved only to pull out — the slow, obscene withdrawal that felt like being emptied of something her body had been restructured to hold — and she had remained on the table because the table was there and remaining somewhere seemed preferable to any alternative.
She heard him move.
The sound of him picking up his phone from the counter where he’d set it.
The dial tone.
"’Hello.’"
His voice, warm and easy, the voice of a man making a casual call.
"’Hey there.’"
A pause.
"’Yuna.’"
Jennifer’s eyes opened.
She lifted her head from the table.
The name arrived with the specific, targeted precision of something that had been aimed at her.
Yuna.
The name she had known for eleven years — the girl who had grown up two streets over, who had been Gareth’s closest friend since they were seven, who had been ’more’ than his closest friend for the last two of those years in a way that Jennifer had been quietly, carefully happy about because Yuna was—
"’No.’" She pushed herself upright. Her arms shook with the effort. Her ass was still leaking. She did not care about her ass. "’That’s — you are not—’"
His palm landed on her ass.
CRACK.
"’IIAAANGHH~!!’"
The cry tore out of her and down the phone line and into whatever room Yuna was in, and she heard it happen — heard the sound of her own broken, undignified voice carrying through the speaker.
Yuna’s voice on the other end. Young. Familiar. The voice Jennifer had heard at her kitchen table for eleven years:
"’Wait — is that—’"
"’Yeah.’" Raven’s voice, smooth and warm. "’It’s your auntie.’"
Jennifer looked at him.
She tried to speak.
His hand pressed against her anal opening — the fingers settling over the stretched, gaping ring that had spent the last hour being educated — and ’pushed.’
Two fingers.
Entered immediately.
Her inner walls closed around them with the same devoted, learned grip that had been trained into the passage over the last hour, and the sound she made was not the sound she had intended to make when she’d opened her mouth to speak.
"’Mmnngh~—’"
"’Have you two become close?’" he said, into the phone, conversational, his fingers moving slowly inside her. "’Her and you.’"
Yuna’s voice: "’Yes, I — we became — but what are you doing with her? Why does she sound like—’"
His fingers curled.
Jennifer’s head dropped.
"’MMPH~—’"
"’The same thing,’" Raven said, warm and final and entirely certain, "’that I’m going to do with you. My lady.’"
The silence on the other end of the phone was the silence of a young woman processing a sentence that had several meanings and had understood at least one of them.
Jennifer lay on her kitchen table.
Her ass was being fingered over the phone.
Her son slept in his chair.
The pussy that had been running all evening chose this moment to run harder — the walls clenching, the fluid releasing, the long, full spasm of another orgasm arriving without being summoned, her body operating entirely outside any framework she had left for managing it.
She squirted.
Hard. The warm flood of it hitting the underside of the table and running down her thighs simultaneously, pooling on the kitchen floor — not an orgasm with edges, not the kind that arrived and departed cleanly — but a continuous, rolling release that seemed to have no end point, her inner walls fluttering around nothing while his fingers worked her anal passage with the slow, deliberate patience of a man who had nowhere to be.
"’Please.’"
She said it to the table.
To the phone.
To the kitchen floor.
To whatever remained of the version of herself that had been reading dough temperature this morning and believing that was what her day would contain.
"’I can’t.’" Her voice, finally, completely stripped. "’I can’t think clearly. Please. I can’t—’"
Raven ended the call with Yuna without another word, simply pressing the red button while his mother trembled and leaked on the kitchen table. The phone clattered onto the counter.
He withdrew his fingers slowly, letting her feel every inch of the exit, then wiped them casually on her ass cheek.
"Get up."
His voice was calm. Not angry. Not particularly loud. Just... final.
Jennifer’s legs barely held her when she tried to stand. Cum and her own juices ran freely down her inner thighs. Her knees buckled once. She caught herself on the edge of the table, breathing hard, eyes glassy.
Raven watched her for a moment, then stepped forward, grabbed a thick fistful of her hair right at the scalp, and yanked.
Her whole limp body pitched forward.
She fell heavily onto the kitchen floor with a dull thud, landing on her hands and knees before collapsing onto her side, then her front. A broken sob tore out of her immediately.
"Ah—! Raven... please..."
He didn’t answer with words.
Instead, he stood over her, cock still hard and glistening from their earlier acts, and used the grip on her hair to drag her head roughly toward him. Her cheek scraped against the cold tile for a second before he pulled her face upward.
Her eyes were wet, red, unfocused.
He tapped the heavy head of his cock against her trembling lips once, twice.
"You don’t need to think," he said simply, voice low and even. "Just keep pleasing me. Now clean the mess."
And with that, he pushed his cock slowly into her mouth.
Jennifer’s eyes rolled back immediately as he stuffed her. The thick shaft stretched her lips wide, sliding over her tongue, pressing toward the back of her throat. She gagged wetly around him, but he didn’t stop — just kept feeding her more until her nose was nearly buried against his pelvis.
He held her hair like a handle, tight and controlling, using it to keep her exactly where he wanted.
For a long moment, he simply stood there, looking across the kitchen toward Gareth — still asleep and slumped in the chair just a few feet away, completely unaware.
Raven’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile.
’See?’ he thought, a dark wave of triumph rolling through his chest. ’This trash just got his hands on your mommy’s titties, pussy and thick ass which I can clap everyday... Gareth’