noveltune Chapter 646 - 645 - Demon General Got Generational Trauma
Chapter 646 - 645 - Demon General Got Generational Trauma
The lying-back position. Missionary. Her on her back, legs spread, his cock in her ass instead of her cunt. Her pinned hands above her head. Her tits bouncing — the heavy, long-nippled flesh jumping with each thrust, the milk spraying in thin arcs each time her body seized. Her legs flailed — kicking at nothing, her heels scraping the stone, her toes curling.Her face.
The pig-like, broken, drooling expression. Tears. Snot. Saliva. Her mouth hanging open, her tongue out, her eyes rolling between wide-open and rolled-back. The face of a woman being fucked in the ass for the first time, whose body was betraying her, whose mind was splitting between the pain of anal destruction and the unwanted pleasure of demon bloodline activation.
"IT HURTS — WHY — WHY DOES IT FEEL — AAAHH~!!♡♡!! NO — NO — MY BODY — HAAANGH~!!♡♡♡!!!"
Her cunt was squirting. Not from clitoral stimulation — from anal. The pressure on her internal walls, the cock pressing against the barrier between her anal canal and her cunt, was stimulating her G-spot from behind. Fluid sprayed from her pussy with each thrust — clear, thin, hitting the stone, mixing with the cum still leaking from her.
She cried.
The tears fell on her tits. On her bitten nipples. On her collarbone. Her whole body was wet — sweat, tears, milk, cum, squirt. A cathedral of fluids produced by a body that had been pushed past every limit.
PAH PAH PAAH!!
"AAAHH~!!♡♡!! I CAN’T — IT HURTS — BUT IT FEELS — NO — HAAAH~!!♡♡♡!!!"
Her anal walls were loosening. The initial resistance was fading — the tissue adapting, stretching, accepting. The pain remained but the pleasure was growing. Each thrust now hit a nerve cluster that made her body jolt. Each withdrawal pulled a moan from her throat.
She was being trained. Right now. In this moment. Her ass was being trained to take cock. Her body was being trained to convert pain into pleasure. Her mind was being trained to associate Viktor with sensation.
"No — please — I don’t want — I don’t want to feel good — AAAHH~!!♡♡!! HAAANGH~!!♡♡♡!!"
He thrust deep. Held. His cock throbbed in her ass — the pulse of imminent climax. His balls tightened against her cunt. His hands released her wrists and found her hips, gripping, holding her in place.
He came.
Hot. Thick. The load flooded her anal canal — the first rope hitting deep, the second following, the third overflowing. She felt it. Felt the heat. Felt the fullness. Felt her ass being pumped full of cum by a cock that had already filled her cunt, already filled Evriana, already filled everything it touched.
Her body reacted.
The orgasm — anal-induced, unwanted, violent — ripped through her. Her back arched. Her legs locked. Her cunt sprayed. Her tits leaked. Her mouth opened in a scream that was half agony, half ecstasy, all surrender.
"AAAAHHH~!!♡♡♡!!! IT — IT FEELS — AAAAHHH~!!♡♡♡!!!"
She collapsed.
Limp. Her arms falling to her sides. Her legs splayed. Her ass still full of cock, still full of cum. Her eyes open. Vacant. The rolled-back pupils, the slack mouth, the ’nothing-left’ expression of a woman whose body had been pushed past its final limit.
He pulled out.
The cum gushed. From her ass this time — thick, white, pouring from her stretched, gaping anal entrance. It ran over her cunt, over her taint, pooling on the stone beneath her. The mixture — ass-cum, cunt-cum, blood, squirt — created a slick, obscene puddle.
He looked at his work.
The demon woman. On the ground. On her back. Both holes ruined. Both leaking. Her body trembling with aftershocks. Her mind — wherever it was — gone.
Evriana. Nearby. On her hands and knees. Watching. Her heavy tits hanging. Her hairy cunt dripping. Her eyes — clearer now, the incubus energy fading enough for thought — fixed on his cock. On the cum. On the destruction.
Her mouth was slightly open.
Her tongue was touching her lower lip.
Viktor smiled.
"Now then," he said. "Where were we?"
The demon realm. The edge post.
The northern border of the demon territory — a vast, black-stoned fortress that sat at the threshold between demon lands and the human frontier. Humans held the border grounds on their side. Demons held theirs. The tension was eternal. The standoff was ancient. The post had stood for three thousand years without falling.
Nora appeared.
Not walked. Not stepped through a portal. She ’appeared’ — her body reconstituting from ash-grey particles that materialized inside the war chamber, directly before her throne. The summoning had been involuntary — the unsummoning even more so. She had torn herself apart to escape a cock.
She collapsed.
Her body hit the throne. Her back arched over the armrest. Her hands clawed the armrests — fingers digging into the ancient black stone, her nails cracking. Her chest heaved. Her barely-contained tits — the strips of dark fabric doing nothing to hide the swell — rose and fell with ragged, panicked breathing.
"My lady!"
The commanders moved. Lower-ranking demons — generals, lieutenants, the chain of command that served under one of the five heavenly demons — dropped to their knees. Heads bowed. Eyes lowered. The posture of subordinates addressing a superior who was, very clearly, in distress.
"My lady — what happened? Were you summoned by some higher demon? Did someone sacrifice his life to—"
"DAMN IT!"
Nora’s fist hit the armrest. The stone cracked. Her crimson eyes were wide — not with rage, though rage was there. Not with fear, though fear was there. With something worse.
Taste.
She could still taste it. On her lips. On her tongue. Against the roof of her mouth. The taste of cock. His cock. The thick, veiny, cum-and-blood-slicked shaft that her tongue had been forced to lick — from base to ridge, one long, slow, involuntary stroke. The taste was burned into her palate like a brand.
"Damn it — who WAS that bastard!"
The words left her mouth before she could stop them. Not thought. Not whispered internally. Spoken. Out loud. In front of her commanders. In front of the lieutenants. In front of the crow that had been perched on the windowsill of the war chamber — a scout crow, trained to observe and report, its beady eyes fixed on the scene.
"Did that human just — make me — lick his cock?"
Silence.
The war chamber went dead. The commanders — demons who had served Nora for centuries, who had seen her destroy armies, who had watched her single-handedly annihilate an entire human battalion — were frozen. Kneeling. Heads still bowed. But their eyes had widened. Their mouths had opened.
Nora realized what she had said.
Her face — pale, demon-white — flushed. The pink spread from her cheekbones down to her jaw. Up to her ears. Across her collarbone. The blush of a heavenly demon who had just admitted, out loud, in front of her entire command structure, that a human had made her lick his cock.
"I — that is — I did not —"
She tried to correct it. The words wouldn’t form. The taste on her tongue was overriding her thoughts. She kept licking her lips — involuntary, the ghost of the sensation returning, her tongue remembering the ridge of the vein, the salt, the musk, the copper—
"Did that human just make me lick his cock," she repeated.
Louder this time. Her mouth was moving on its own. The memory was so vivid, so visceral, that her brain was looping — replaying the moment, the feeling of her tongue extending past her lips, reaching toward that thick, hard—
"Did that human just make me lick his cock."
"Did that human just make me lick his cock—"
"My LADY!"