Chapter 200: Yessira(18+)
Allen drove into her again—harder this time. Her gasp turned into a guttural moan, and her knees buckled, but she didn’t fall. Queens don’t fall. They cling. Her royal grip trembled against the throne’s gilded arms, knuckles white, arms shaking as Allen’s hips clapped against her bare ass over and over, the sharp slap-slick echoing like a new anthem in the throne room.
Fina stepped forward, heels clicking against marble, slow and teasing. Her hand gently stroked Elira’s head, who whimpered with her face still down near the floor, thighs wet and trembling from the sounds alone. Rinni sat herself on the steps beside the throne like it was a front-row seat to a sacred desecration, tail flicking lazily as she licked a finger and dragged it down her own thigh.
Yssira moaned again, louder this time, throat raw with surrender. Her pride was melting with every thrust. The enchantments tattooed along her spine flared like candlelight with each slap of Allen’s hips, pulsing brighter when he bottomed out—then dimming with each slow withdrawal like they were syncing to his rhythm. Magic couldn’t shield her now. It could only light the way to her downfall.
"Deeper," she gasped suddenly, her voice strangled and breathless, like the command was ripped out of her against her will.
Allen grinned, lips brushing her ear. "That’s not a request."
She shook her head, panting. "No. It’s a plea."
That earned her a brutal thrust that sent her jerking forward, tits smashing against velvet, legs kicking involuntarily. Slick leaked down the inside of her thighs in trails, coating Allen’s cock in royal juices that made a fresh schlorp with every stroke. Her back arched like a broken bowstring, and her fingers clawed the throne like it was the only thing anchoring her to reality.
Fina giggled. "Your Majesty’s got some lungs on her."
"She’ll need them," Allen growled, picking up pace.
He didn’t fuck her like a man claiming a prize. He fucked her like a god reclaiming tribute. His cock pounded her dripping pussy with the relentless rhythm of thunder—wet, hard, and unmerciful. Every time she moaned, it was louder. Every time her hips bucked, it was wilder. Her royal composure cracked, then shattered, until she was nothing but sweat, sounds, and spread legs.
A particularly deep thrust made her eyes roll back, and she bit the throne’s arm so hard it left a smear of lipstick and spit. She came—violently. Her cunt clenched and squirted around Allen’s cock, soaking his balls and the velvet beneath them. Runes along her spine blinked like a failing ward, magic sparking before fading with a weak fizzle.
"You’ve never been fucked like this," Allen said, yanking her hair back, making her eyes snap open.