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

Chapter 735: Chapter 734- Trade Route Offer

The name, the first time she said it, came out in pieces. Broken by the thrusts. Each bounce, each descent onto his cock, drove the air from her lungs and the words from her mouth.

He turned her. In the air. The rotation, the spinning of her body on his cock, was disorienting. Her face, which had been toward him, was now away. Her back, wet and pale, was against his chest. Her ass, the thick mature cheeks, was against his pelvis. His cock, still inside, was now hitting from behind. The angle, the ’from-behind-while-standing’ angle, was deeper.

He pressed her forward. Her hands, tied, found the edge of the tub. She leaned. Her breasts, heavy and swinging, hung over the marble rim. The nipples, stiff and sensitive, scraped the cool stone. The friction, the ’my-nipples-are-rubbing-against-marble-while-I-am-being-fucked’ friction, was maddening.

PAH. PAH. PAH.

"AAAAHH—♡♡♡!! STOP—♡♡♡!! THE—♡♡!! MARBLE—♡♡♡!! MY—♡♡!! BOOBS—♡♡♡!!"

His hands found her breasts. From behind. Both of them. He gripped. The flesh, heavy and wet, filled his palms. He used them. As handles. The grip, the ’he-is-holding-my-boobs-like-handles-while-fucking-me’ grip, was bruising. His fingers, sinking into the soft tissue, pulled. Her body, driven back onto his cock by the breast-grip, was a pendulum. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. Each swing, each arc, drove his cock deeper.

The milk. Not from her. From the residual on his hands. From the other women. The fluid, still on his palms from hours of sucking, mixed with the bath water on her skin. The slip, the milk-and-water lubrication, made her breasts slide in his grip. He squeezed harder. Compensated.

PAH. PAH. PAAAH—!!

"I’M—♡♡♡!! CUMMING—♡♡♡!! AGAIN—♡♡♡!!"

The squirt, the fluid that erupted from her pussy, hit the bath water. The clear stream, thin and warm, mixed with the lavender-scented water. Her body, convulsing, shook in his grip. Her breasts, held by his hands, were squeezed by the orgasmic contractions. The milk, the small amount that had been induced by the pheromones, beaded on her nipples.

He held her. Through the orgasm. His cock, still hard inside her, kept her impaled. The walls, clenching, milked him. The ’I-am-cumming-and-his-cock-is-still-inside-me’ sensation, the extended orgasm, lasted longer than any she had experienced.

Then he did something that broke her.

He pissed.

Inside her.

The stream, hot and yellow, hit her cervix. The fluid, the ’he-is-urinating-inside-my-pussy’ fluid, was warm. Warmer than the bath water. The sensation, the ’something-is-filling-me-from-the-inside’ sensation, was unlike anything she had ever felt. The pressure, the ’his-piss-is-filling-my-canal’ pressure, built. The fluid, with nowhere to go, was forced deeper by his cock. The seal, the tight fit of her walls around his shaft, trapped it.

Her eyes rolled. The whites showed. Her mouth opened. The ’this-is-happening-and-I-cannot-stop-it’ reality, the ’a-man-is-pissing-inside-my-pussy’ reality, was too much.

"AAAAHH—♡♡♡♡♡!!"

The heat. The warmth, spreading through her canal, into her womb. The ’his-piss-is-in-my-womb’ realization that made her body convulse. The orgasm, a new one, hit. Not from pleasure. From the overwhelming, ’my-body-is-being-used-as-a-toilet’ sensation that was so degrading, so absolute, so ’I-am-his-property-now’ that it short-circuited her brain.

Her pussy, clenching around his cock and his piss, was a seal. The fluid, trapped, filled her. Her belly, the soft pale belly, swelled slightly. The pressure, the ’I-am-full-of-his-piss’ pressure, was visible. A small bump, barely noticeable, appeared below her navel.

He fucked her. Through the piss. His cock, moving in the warm yellow fluid, thrust. The sound, the ’squelch-squelch-squelch’ of cock in piss-filled pussy, was wet. Obscene. The yellow fluid, leaking around his shaft with each thrust, ran down her thighs. Into the bath water. The water, tinted faintly yellow, swirled.

PAH. PAH. PAH.

"AAAAHH—♡♡♡♡!! PLEASE—♡♡♡♡!! STOP—♡♡♡♡!! I—♡♡♡♡!! CAN’T—♡♡♡♡!!"

He came.

The load, thick and hot, erupted inside her. The cum, mixing with the piss, filled her. The combined fluid, the white and yellow, was a warm flood. Her canal, already full, overflowed. The fluid, leaking from her entrance around his shaft, ran in thick streams. Into the water. The cloud, white and yellow, billowed in the lavender-scented bath.

"AAAAAAHH—♡♡♡♡♡♡!!"

Her body went limp. The orgasm, the final one, was not a peak. It was a void. A blackness. The ’my-body-has-shut-down’ response to overstimulation. Her arms, tied above her head, went slack. Her legs, around his hips, unlocked. Her head, falling forward, hung. Her hair, wet and tangled, covered her face.

He pulled out. The cock, emerging from her pussy, was followed by a gush of fluid. The cum, the piss, the arousal, all mixed, poured from her entrance. The yellow-white stream, thick and warm, hit the bath water. The cloud, billowing, spread.

He washed. His hand, scooping bath water, cleaned his cock. The shaft, slick with fluids, was rinsed. The head, the dark crown, was wiped.

His hand, the clean one, found her pussy hair. The dark, wet, matted hair that covered her mound. His fingers, threading through the coarse strands, gripped. A fistful. Pulled.

"AAAAHH—♡♡!!!" The scream, sharp and high, was pain. The ’he-is-pulling-my-pubic-hair’ pain that was also, God forgive her, pleasure. The pull, the direct stimulation of the nerve endings in her mound, sent a jolt through her.

Her body arched. Forward. Out of the water. Her back, bent, made her belly concave. Her breasts, heavy, swung. Her pussy, exposed, was vulnerable.

And then she pissed.

Not him. Her. The pressure, the ’her-bladder-was-full’ pressure that the fucking and the stimulation had built, released. The yellow stream, thin and warm, erupted from her urethra. The fluid, arcing outward, hit the bath water. The stream, steady, lasted five seconds. Six. Seven.

"Stop—♡!! It hurts—♡!!"

He kissed her. The kiss, sudden, sealed her mouth. The taste, the combined flavor of her pussy and his mouth, was on her tongue. She moaned into the kiss. The piss, still flowing, was hidden by their joined bodies.

He broke the kiss. His hand, on the back of her neck, pushed. Down. Her face, pushed underwater, hit the surface. The warm water, closing over her face, muffled her cry. Her eyes, open underwater, saw the marble bottom of the tub. The swirl of fluids. The yellow-white cloud of their combined waste.

His hand, on her cheek, turned her head. She surfaced. Gasping. Coughing. The water, having entered her nose, burned.

His cock, the same cock that had been inside her, that had pissed inside her, that had cum inside her, was in front of her face. The shaft, thick and wet, hung at eye level. The head, dark and swollen, dripped.

SMACK.

The slap, his cock against her cheek, was wet. The sound, the ’wet-flesh-on-wet-flesh’ sound, echoed in the bathroom. The impact, the ’his-cock-just-slapped-my-face’ impact, left a red mark on her pale skin.

"Suck it," he said.

She looked at the cock. At the shaft, slick with cum and piss and her arousal. At the head, the dark crown, which was inches from her lips. The smell, the combined musk of their fluids, was strong.

"It smells," she whispered. Her voice was ruined. Hoarse. The ’I-have-been-screaming-for-an-hour’ voice. "Stop. Please."

He pushed. His hand, on the back of her head, guided. The cockhead, pressing against her lips, demanded entry. She opened. The habit, the ’I-must-obey’ response that the pheromones and the fear had installed, was automatic.

Her teeth, grazing the shaft, made him wince. The slight pain, the ’her-teeth-are-touching-my-cock’ pain, was enough to make him grip her hair harder. He pushed deeper. The cock, passing her teeth, past her tongue, hit the back of her throat. The gag reflex, the ’I-am-going-to-throw-up’ reflex, was triggered. She suppressed it. Barely. The cock, pushing past the gag point, entered her throat.

The bulge. The shaft, visible through her neck, showed the outline. The length, the ten inches that he pushed in, was a straight line from her lips to her throat. The thickness, the girth that stretched her jaw, made her cheeks hollow.

He humped. His hips, driving forward, pushed deeper. The rhythm, the ’face-fucking’ rhythm, was steady. Not brutal. Not gentle. The ’I-am-using-your-throat’ pace that was about his pleasure, not hers.

"Gah—♡! Gah—♡! Gah—♡!" The gagging sounds, rhythmic and wet, came with each thrust. The saliva, thick and copious, ran from the corners of her mouth. Down her chin. Onto his shaft. The lubrication, the ’drool-on-cock’ lubrication, made the thrusting smoother.

Her eyes, watering, rolled. The ’I-am-being-throat-fucked’ expression, the tears and the drool and the rolled-back eyes, was complete. Her hands, tied above her head, pulled against the bra. Her body, suspended from the tub’s edge by her bound wrists, was held in position. Her breasts, hanging, swung with each thrust.

"Now," Viktor said. His voice was calm. Conversational. The ’I-am-fucking-your-throat-and-discussing-business’ tone that was insane. "That we should talk about the trade route."

"Gah—♡! Gah—♡!" The gagging, the only sound she could make, was his answer.

"I am going to open the doors," he continued. His hips, still thrusting, maintained the rhythm. "Of Millbrook. To you. You are going to directly sell things from Millbrook to this place. No middlemen. No guild markups. Direct."

"Gah—♡! Gah—♡! Gh—♡!"