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

Chapter 746: Chapter 745- Do you want hubby or Master?

The name, spoken without looking, was a command. The pink-haired dwarven maid, who had been on her knees beneath the desk for the past hour, surfaced. Her mouth, wet with saliva and pre-cum, was red. Her lips, swollen from the extended service, were parted. Her blue eyes, which had been focused on his cock, found his face.

"Yes, young lord?" Her voice was hoarse. The ’I-have-been-sucking-for-an-hour’ roughness that she had grown accustomed to.

He stood. His chair, pushed back, scraped the floor. His cock, the full ten inches, was hard. The shaft, slick with her saliva, stood from his body like a mast. The head, dark and swollen, dripped.

"Bend over the desk."

The command was flat. The ’I-am-working-and-I-need-something-to-fuck-while-I-think’ command that had become routine over three days. Meg, whose body had been conditioned to respond, moved. She stood. Her legs, the thick dwarven legs, carried her to the desk. She bent. Her upper body, the torso that was heavy with her massive breasts, lay across the ledger. Her face, pressed against the wood, was near the pages. Her hips, the wide and thick hips, were presented. Her ass, the heavy cheeks that strained against her maid’s uniform, was raised.

He lifted her uniform. The fabric, bunched at her waist, exposed her lower half. Her panties, white cotton, were soaked. The fabric, clinging to her, showed everything. The dark hair of her mound. The outline of her lips. The wet spot that had been growing since she started sucking.

He pulled her panties aside. Not down. Aside. The cotton, stretched, exposed her pussy. The hair, wet and matted, covered her mound. The lips, thick and swollen, were visible. The entrance, red and slightly gaping from three days of regular use, was wet.

He reached. His hand, finding the wet cotton of her panties, pulled. Not off her body. Off her hips. The fabric, gathered in his fist, was a bundle. He brought it to her face. Pressed it against her mouth. The wet cotton, soaked with her own arousal, was shoved between her lips.

"Don’t disturb," he said.

The words, muffled by the panty gag, were a whimper. ’Mmph.’ The ’I-understand’ sound that was also the ’I-cannot-speak-anyway’ reality. Her mouth, stuffed with her own underwear, was sealed. Her teeth, biting the cotton, held. Her eyes, which had been on the ledger, closed. The ’I-am-about-to-be-fucked-while-he-reads’ acceptance that had become her existence.

He placed a page on her back. The paper, a separate sheet from the ledger, was a list. The names of Circien’s contacts. The dates of transactions. The amounts stolen. The ’I-am-using-your-back-as-a-desk-while-I-fuck-you’ multi-tasking that was Viktor’s nature.

His cock, the shaft that had been in her mouth, was positioned. The head, the dark crown, was at her entrance. The wet, swollen lips yielded as he pushed.

PAH.

"MMMM—!!" The moan, muffled by the panty gag, was a gurgle. Her body, bent over the desk, lurched. Her breasts, the massive mounds, pressed against the wood. The nipples, stiff through the uniform, scraped the surface. Her hips, the wide and thick frame, absorbed the impact.

He started to fuck. The rhythm, the steady PAH PAH PAH of his hips against her ass, was mechanical. Not the brutal pace of punishment. The ’I-am-thinking-and-my-body-is-on-autopilot’ pace that was the incubus at work.

PAH. PAH. PAH.

Her tears fell. The ’I-am-crying-while-being-fucked-and-I-cannot-even-voice-it’ tears that ran down her cheeks and onto the desk. Onto the ledger. Onto the name that was circled in ink. Her muffled moans, the MMMM and NNGH that escaped the panty gag, were the background music to his reading.

He read. The page on her back, the list of Circien’s crimes, was scanned. His eyes, moving across the text, absorbed the details. The transactions. The amounts. The contacts. The ’this-man-has-been-busy’ assessment that was also the ’he-is-going-to-suffer’ promise.

PAH. PAH. PAH.

"MMMM—!! NNGH—!! MMM—!!"

The door opened.

Dorin, the butler, entered. His body, the stocky dwarf frame, was trembling. His hands, which had been carrying a tray, were shaking. The cups, on the tray, rattled. The ’I-heard-my-wife-moaning’ realization that had brought him to the door. The ’she-is-being-fucked-again’ sight that met his eyes.

He saw her. Meg, bent over the desk. Her uniform, bunched at her waist. Her ass, the thick cheeks, presented. Her mouth, stuffed with her own panties. Her face, wet with tears. Her body, jerking with each PAH of Viktor’s hips.

The sight, the ’my-wife-is-being-fucked-in-front-of-me-again’ sight, made his hands clench. The tray, which he had been holding, was set down. The cups, which had been rattling, were still. His face, which had been pale, went gray. The ’I-cannot-do-anything’ helplessness that had been installed three days ago by the slave mark and the impotence.

He bowed. The ’I-must-do-my-duty’ bow that was also the ’please-let-me-speak’ plea.

"Young lord," he said. His voice, shaky and quiet, carried the weight of a man who had lost everything. "Some guests have arrived to meet you."

The thrusts did not stop. The PAH PAH PAH continued. Viktor, whose eyes were on the page, did not look up.

"Yeah," he said. His voice was calm. The ’I-expected-this’ tone that was also the ’I-know-who-sent-them’ certainty. "I knew you were going to call some idiots."

The word ’idiots’ was not directed at the guests. It was directed at Dorin. The ’you-could-have-warned-them-to-leave’ implication that was also the ’you-are-trying-to-save-your-wife’ accusation.

Dorin trembled. His hands, at his sides, clenched. "I just... I’m trying to save my wife."

The confession, the raw and desperate ’please-stop-fucking-her’ plea that he could not voice directly, was pathetic. Viktor, whose cock was still inside Meg, paused. The thrusts stopped. The PAH ceased.

He looked at Dorin. The green eyes, cold and appraising, found the dwarf’s face. The ’I-see-your-pain’ acknowledgment that was also the ’I-don’t-care’ dismissal.

His hand found Meg’s hair. The pink locks, gathered in his fist, were pulled. Her head, lifted from the desk, was raised. Her face, wet and gagged, was presented. Her blue eyes, which had been half-closed, opened. The ’what-is-happening’ question in her gaze.

"Do you want to go to your husband?" Viktor asked.

The question, the ’choose-your-master’ question, was a test. Meg’s eyes, which had been on Viktor’s face, found Dorin’s. The dwarf butler, whose face was gray and desperate, looked back. The ’please-choose-me’ plea in his eyes. The ’I-am-your-husband’ reminder.

Meg’s eyes, rolling back, returned to Viktor. Her mouth, the panty gag muffling her words, produced a sound. The ’mmph’ that was also a ’no’.

She spat the gag. The wet cotton, falling from her lips, hit the desk. Her voice, hoarse and broken, was clear.

"No," she said. Her eyes, which had been empty, were focused. On Viktor. On the man who had destroyed her and remade her. "I want to go with the master."

Dorin’s face, which had been gray, crumbled. The ’she-chose-him’ reality that was also the ’I-have-lost-her’ certainty. His mouth, open, produced no sound. The ’what-do-I-say’ silence of a man whose world had just ended.

Viktor smiled. The ’good-girl’ smile that was also the ’you-made-the-right-choice’ approval.

He slammed. The cock, which had been still inside her, drove deep. One thrust. The PAAAH was loud. Meg’s body, bent over the desk, lurched. Her breasts, pressed against the wood, were flattened. Her mouth, freed from the gag, opened.

"AAAAAH—♡♡!!"