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

Chapter 743: Chapter 742- Pounding the Short Maid like a Hooker

The impact, the full ten inches driven in by gravity, was a punch. Her body, small and compact, absorbed the force. Her breasts, heavy, swung upward and came down. The milk, from both nipples, sprayed.

He fucked her. Lifting and dropping. The rhythm, the ’I-am-using-your-body-weight-to-fuck-you’ rhythm, was relentless.

PAH. PAH. PAH.

"AAAAHH—♡♡♡!! YOUNG—♡♡!! LORD—♡♡♡!! PLEASE—♡♡♡♡!! SLOW—♡♡♡♡!! DOWN—♡♡♡♡!!"

He did not slow down. His hands, on her hips, controlled the pace. Up. Down. Up. Down. The PAH of impact, the AAAAHH of screams, the SQUELCH of cock in cum-filled pussy, filled the bathroom.

"How much?" he asked. His voice, steady despite the rhythm, was conversational.

"What—♡♡!!?" she gasped, her voice broken by the thrusts.

"How much have you embezzled?" he asked. Each word, delivered with a thrust, was a question and a pound.

"I—♡♡!! Don’t—♡♡!! Know—♡♡♡!!" she screamed.

He groped her ass. The thick cheek, in his hand, was squeezed. His finger, the free one, found her anus. The tight ring, the untouched entrance, was pressed.

"How much?" he repeated. The finger, pushing against her ass, was a threat.

"TWENTY—♡♡♡!! GOLD—♡♡♡!! COINS—♡♡♡♡!!" she screamed. The confession, the ’I-will-tell-you-anything’ confession, was forced out by the combination of pleasure and fear.

He pushed the finger in. The ass, the tight dwarven ass, clenched. The intrusion, the ’something-is-in-my-ass’ intrusion, made her scream anew.

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

He fucked her. In the pussy. In the ass. The cock, driving in and out of her cunt. The finger, pushing in and out of her anus. The dual stimulation, the ’he-is-in-both-my-holes’ dual stimulation, was destroying her.

PAH. PAH. PAH.

"AAAAHH—♡♡♡♡!! I’M—♡♡♡♡!! CUMMING—♡♡♡♡!! AGAIN—♡♡♡♡♡!!"

He came. The load, thick and hot, erupted inside her. The cum, the incubus-enhanced seed, filled her canal. Overflowed. The white fluid, leaking around his shaft, ran down her thighs and into the bath water.

She fell. Forward. Off his lap. Her body, limp, hit the water. The splash, the displacement of her small frame, sent water over the rim. She lay in the tub. Face up. Her body, trembling, was twitching. The aftershocks, the orgasmic aftershocks, made her limbs jerk.

"I’m sorry," she gasped. Her voice was barely audible. "Young lord. Forgive me."

She lifted her head. Looked at him. At his face. At his cock, still hard, still ready.

"It is over?" she whispered. The hope, the ’please-let-it-be-over’ hope, was in her eyes.

Viktor turned. His cock, the twelve inches that had been ten, was fully hard. The shaft, thick and throbbing, stood upright. The head, dark and swollen, dripped.

His tail, swaying behind him, was also ready. The scaled appendage, the one that had been in her pussy, was glistening with her fluids.

The butler, on the floor, was crying. His single eye, watching his wife being fucked, was wet. His cock, the four inches, was limp. Unresponsive. The Cocklock ability, the permanent impotence, was in full effect.

Viktor lifted Meg. His arms, under her back and knees, scooped her from the tub. Her body, dripping, was carried. Out of the bathroom. Down the hall. To the bedroom. The same bedroom where he had told her to prepare a bath. The same bed where he had taken a nap.

He threw her. On the bed. Her body, small and wet, hit the sheets. The impact, the ’he-is-not-done’ impact, made her cry out.

He looked at Dorin, who had followed on shaking legs.

"Prepare the food," Viktor said. "I will check how your wife is."

The words, the ’I-am-going-to-fuck-your-wife-while-you-cook’ statement, were delivered with the same casual tone as everything else. The ’this-is-your-life-now’ declaration that was not a negotiation.

Dorin, his face grey, bowed. The motion, the slave’s reflex, was automatic. He turned. Walked. On shaking legs. To the kitchen. The sound of his footsteps, the heavy dwarven tread, retreated.

The door closed. The bedroom was quiet. The bed, the silk sheets that had been replaced with clean linen, held Meg.

She was on her stomach. Her face, pressed into the pillow, was hidden. Her ass, the thick dwarven ass, was in the air. The position, the ’I-do-not-want-to-see-what-is-coming’ position, was instinctive.

He positioned himself. Behind her. His cock, the twelve inches, was at her entrance. The pussy, the cum-filled, well-fucked pussy, was leaking. The white fluid, his seed from the bath, ran down her thighs.

He entered.

PAAAH—!!

"AAAAHH—♡♡♡!!"

The mating press. From behind. His body, covering hers, drove the cock deep. The angle, the ’from-behind’ angle, was deeper than the lap position. The head, driving past her cervix, entered her womb. The bulge, the outline of his cockhead through her belly, was visible.

PAH. PAH. PAH.

"AAAAHH—♡♡♡♡!! FORGIVE—♡♡♡♡!! ME—♡♡♡♡!! YOUNG—♡♡♡♡!! LORD—♡♡♡♡♡!!"

Her face, pressed into the pillow, was muffled. The screams, the ’I-am-being-destroyed’ screams, were absorbed by the fabric. Her ass, the thick cheeks, were pressed against his hips. The impact, each PAH, made the flesh ripple.

He fucked her. In the doggy position. The pace, relentless and deep, was the same machine-gun rhythm he had used on the five women. The 100x stamina, the incubus regeneration, the pure physical enhancement, drove his hips.

PAH. PAH. PAH. PAAAH—!!

"AAAAAAHH—♡♡♡♡♡!!"

He changed positions. Flipped her. Missionary. Her legs, pushed to her chest, were held by his hands. The angle, the perpendicular penetration, drove straight down into her. The head, hitting her womb with each thrust, was a punch.

PAH. PAH. PAH.

"AAAAHH—♡♡♡♡!! I—♡♡♡!! CAN’T—♡♡♡♡!! ANYMORE—♡♡♡♡♡!!"

He changed again. On her side. One leg held up. The angle, the sideways penetration, hit different walls. Different nerves. Different sensations.

PAH. PAH. PAAAH—!!

"AAAAAAHH—♡♡♡♡♡♡!!"

He changed again. Lifting her. Her back against the wall. Her legs around his waist. The standing position, the ’he-is-holding-me-up-while-fucking-me’ position, was the most demanding. Her body, small and light, was a toy in his hands.

PAH. PAH. PAH.

"AAAAHH—♡♡♡♡!! PLEASE—♡♡♡♡!! STOP—♡♡♡♡♡!!"

An hour. The positions changed. The pace did not. The stamina did not flag. The cock, twelve inches, drove in and out with the same relentless rhythm that had broken five women the night before.

The moans, the screams, the PAH PAH PAH, filled the mansion. The gardener, in the yard, heard. The butler, in the kitchen, heard. The neighbors, in the street, heard. The ’the-young-lord-is-fucking-the-maid’ understanding that would be the gossip of the neighborhood for weeks.

Finally, the call came. From the kitchen. The butler’s voice, shaking and hoarse.

"Young lord. The food is prepared."

Viktor, his cock still inside Meg, pulled out. The shaft, slick with cum and arousal, emerged with a wet sound. The cum, the thick white fluid, gushed from her entrance. The overflow, the result of multiple loads deposited in her canal, ran down her thighs and onto the sheets.

"Come down," Viktor said. His voice was calm. Conversational. "Wearing panty and bra only. Let’s eat. And then, after, we are going to do it again."

The words, the ’we-are-not-done’ declaration, made Meg’s body twitch. The ’there-is-more’ horror that was also, God forgive her, the ’there-is-more’ anticipation.

The dining table. The food, simple and well-prepared, was laid out. Bread. Cheese. Soup. Porridge. The fare of servants, prepared by a butler who had been cooking for himself and his wife for years.

Viktor sat. At the head of the table. His plate, full. His appetite, healthy. He ate. The bread, torn and dipped in soup. The cheese, sliced and chewed. The porridge, spooned.

He laughed.

The sound, sudden and sharp, made Meg and Dorin freeze. Their eyes, finding his face, saw the amusement. The ’I-just-noticed-something’ amusement that was not good for them.

He snapped his fingers.