100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids

Chapter 704: Chapter 703 - A Priestess Caught Them Red-Handed?!

The impact was direct. The cock, the full weight and density of twelve inches of enhanced tissue, hit her pussy. The lips compressed. The clit, engorged and exposed, took the brunt. The nerve endings, already overstimulated from the fucking, overloaded.

SMACK. SMACK.

"AAAAHH—!!♡♡!! NO—!!♡♡!! NOT THERE—!!♡♡!!"

His cock slapped her pussy again. And again. The head, the thick, crimson, cum-covered head, struck her clit with precision. Each slap was targeted. Each impact was direct. The flesh-on-flesh SMACK was loud. Sharp. The sound of a man using his cock as a paddle on a woman’s cunt.

Her eyes widened. Her tongue extended. The ’I-am-being-slapped-by-a-cock’ expression, the mixture of shock and arousal and ’what-is-happening-to-me’, was visible on her face.

SMACK.

The last slap hit. The clit, battered and overstimulated, sent the final signal. Her body, the commander’s body, the body that had endured battle and war and death, gave out.

She pissed.

The yellow stream, warm and thin, erupted from her urethra. The fluid arched. Hit the floor. Splashed. The sound, the thin, ’hissing’ stream of a woman losing control of her bladder, filled the bathroom. The yellow liquid ran down her thighs, over the lips of her pussy, mixing with the cum and the squirt.

Her tongue was out. Her eyes were wide. Rolling. Her hands, on the wall, slipped. Her body slid downward. The ’I-just-pissed-myself’ realization, the shame and the relief and the ’I-cannot-control-my-own-body’ devastation, was visible on her face.

"AAAHH—!!♡♡♡!!"

"What a pervert you are," Viktor said. The words were warm. Amused. The ’you-just-pissed-yourself-from-getting-your-pussy-slapped’ observation delivered with the same tone one might use to comment on the weather.

He slammed back in.

PAAAH—!!

"AAAAAAHH—!!♡♡♡♡♡!!"

Twelve inches. One thrust. Full depth. The cock, still hard, still ready, drove through the piss-soaked, cum-filled, squirt-drenched canal. The friction was intense. The fluids, mixing, created a slick, warm, ’everything-is-wet’ environment.

His tail found her ass. The prehensile appendage, scaled and responsive, pressed against her anus. The sphincter, the tight ring of muscle, resisted. Then yielded. The tail pushed in. The scaled surface, ribbed and textured, scraped the anal walls. The vibration started.

BZZZZ—!!

"AAAAAAHH—!!♡♡♡♡♡♡!! WHAT—!!♡♡♡!! IS—!!♡♡♡!! THAT—!!♡♡♡!! IN MY—!!♡♡♡!! ASS—!!♡♡♡♡♡!!"

The dual stimulation. Cock in cunt. Vibrating tail in anal. The two points of penetration, the two sources of sensation, merged. Her body, already overwhelmed, went into overload. The walls clenched. The anal muscles gripped the tail. The vaginal muscles gripped the cock. The double grip, the ’everything-is-squeezing’ response, made Viktor groan.

He fucked her harder.

PAH PAH PAAH PHACK—!!

"AAAAHH—!!♡♡♡!! I’M—!!♡♡♡!! CUMMING—!!♡♡♡!! AGAIN—!!♡♡♡!! I CAN’T—!!♡♡♡!! STOP—!!♡♡♡!! CUMMING—!!♡♡♡!!"

He came. The load, thick and heavy, erupted inside her. The cum, hot and molten, flooded her canal. The walls, clenching, absorbed. The fluid, trapped by the tight seal of her entrance around his shaft, filled her. The overflow, the excess, leaked around the shaft. The cum, white and thick, mixed with the yellow piss and the clear squirt. The combined fluids ran down her thighs.

He kept fucking. Through the orgasm. Through the ejaculation. His hips didn’t stop. The PAH PAH PAAH continued, each thrust pushing his own seed deeper into her canal, forcing the cum past her cervix, into her womb. The ’I-am-using-my-cock-as-a-plunger-to-push-my-cum-deeper’ motion that ensured every drop reached its destination.

"AAAAAAHH—!!♡♡♡♡♡!! IT’S—!!♡♡♡!! GOING—!!♡♡♡!! INTO—!!♡♡♡!! MY—!!♡♡♡!! WOMB—!!♡♡♡♡♡!!"

The door opened.

The sound was small. The click of a lock. The creak of hinges. The marble bathroom, which had been a private chamber of flesh-slapping and screaming and pissing and cumming, was no longer private.

The woman stood in the doorway. Her body was covered in black. A robe. Formal. The kind worn by priestesses of the Holy Order. The fabric was dark, almost black, with silver embroidery along the hems. The hood was pulled back, revealing a face. Young. Pale. The eyes, large and violet, were wide with shock. The mouth, small and pink, was open in a scream that was building in her throat.

She saw.

The scene. The bathroom. Berenga, bent over. The thick ass, raised. The commander’s body, limp and shaking. The cum leaking from her pussy. The piss on the floor. The man, standing behind her. His cock, twelve inches, buried inside the woman. His tail, visible, scaled, buried in the woman’s ass.

The priestess screamed.

"AAAAHH—!!"

The sound was instinctive. The natural reaction of a woman of faith encountering something profane. The ’this-is-a-demon-fucking-a-woman’ scream that came from the depths of her training. Her hand went to her chest. Her fingers found the silver pendant, the holy symbol of her order. She gripped it.

"A DEMON—!!" she started.

Viktor moved.

The distance between them was ten meters. The bathroom was large. The priestess was at the door. Viktor was at the far end, his cock still inside Berenga.

He covered the distance in a blink.

Not walking. Not running. Not even sprinting. The 100x-enhanced speed, the Ktorian bloodline’s physical enhancement multiplied beyond human limits, carried him from one end of the bathroom to the other in less time than it took the priestess to finish her sentence. The air displaced. The sound, a soft ’whoosh’, was the only evidence of his passage.

His hand found her mouth.

The palm, large and warm, pressed against her lips. The fingers, spread across her cheek, sealed the sound. The scream died. The violet eyes, above his hand, were enormous. The tears, forming, ran down her cheeks and over his fingers.

Her back hit the wall. The impact was gentle compared to what it could have been. He had controlled it. Pushed her against the marble without hurting her. But the ’pinned’ sensation was absolute. Her body, small and light, was pressed against the wall. Her chest, the modest breasts beneath the black robe, were against his bare chest. Her hips, narrow beneath the fabric, were against his.

His cock pressed against her.

The shaft, still hard, still slick with Berenga’s cum and piss and his own seed, was between them. The twelve inches, vertical between their bodies, pressed against her pussy. Through the fabric of her robe. The thickness, the heat, the wetness of the fluids covering it, was transmitted through the cloth. She could feel it. The length. The girth. The ’this-thing-was-just-inside-another-woman’ awareness.

She trembled. Her violet eyes, wet and terrified, found his face. Looked into his eyes.

"Wait," Viktor said. His voice was quiet. Controlled. The ’I-am-thinking’ tone that was more frightening than any shout. "Aren’t you Priestess Myra?"

The name landed. The ’he-knows-who-I-am’ realization that made her blood run cold. Her body shook. Her hands, which had been pushing against his chest, went still. Her violet eyes, already wide, somehow widened further.

"Please don’t defile me," she whispered. The words came out muffled by his palm. The sound was thin. Desperate. The ’I-am-a-holy-woman-and-you-are-a-demon’ plea of a priestess confronting something she had been trained to fear. "I am a holy priestess."

Viktor smirked. The expression was small. Knowing. The ’I-have-heard-that-before’ smirk that had greeted every woman who had ever said those words to him.

"Are you going to tell anyone what happened here?" he asked.

The question was quiet. Conversational. The tone of a man asking about the weather while pressing a woman against a wall with a cum-covered cock. His hand, still over her mouth, prevented any answer except a nod or a shake.