Dual Cultivation: Gathering SSS-Rank Wives in the Cultivation World

Chapter 720: Chapter 720- A Mother’s Sacrifice

The table was oak. Spirit-forged oak, taken from the ship’s supply, the surface rough and unpolished. It had been placed in the center of the master cabin, the silk sheets stripped away, the bed pushed to the wall.

The table was three feet high, four feet long, two feet wide. Enough for a woman’s body. Enough for what he wanted.

Madam Yueying was on it.

Her wrists, bound with silk rope, were tied to her ankles. Her legs, spread, were secured to the table legs. Her thick body, naked, the enormous tits pressed against the wood, the nipples raw and stiff, was bent over the surface. Her thick ass, the cheeks full and round, was raised.

Her anal, gaping, swollen, was exposed. Her pussy, hairy and swollen, the lips puffy and red, was visible from behind. The lips, stretched from hours of use, did not close. The pink interior, glistening with arousal, was visible.

Her mouth was stuffed. The panty, the white silk that he had pulled from her hips hours ago, was balled and pushed between her coral lips. The fabric, soaked with her saliva, muffled her sounds. The moans, the cries, the whimpers, were reduced to wet, guttural noises that barely escaped.

Her dark eyes, half-closed, rolled. The whites showed. The pupils, dilated, were unfocused. Her dark hair, long and loose, hung across the table. The strands, matted with sweat, stuck to her back, her neck, her shoulders.

Her body was on fire. Not metaphorically. The divine qi, coursing through her meridians, through her dantian, through every cell, burned. The sensation was not the burn of injury. The burn of stimulation. Of overstimulation. Of a body that had been pushed past every limit, every threshold, every boundary that a mortal form could endure.

Ten hours. Five hours of fucking. Then five more. The first five, the initial session, had broken her. The second five, after she had tried to take initiative, after she had crawled to him and sucked his cock with desperate, begging hands, had remade her.

Her boobs bore teeth marks. The dark nipples, large and stiff, were ringed with impressions. His teeth, blunt and firm, had sunk into the areolas, the flesh, the sensitive skin. The marks, red and angry, throbbed with each heartbeat. Her inner thighs, the pale skin, were bruised. Handprints, fingermarks, the evidence of grip and force, decorated the flesh. Her ass, the thick cheeks, was red. The skin, pale naturally, was flushed from the waist down. The slaps, the impacts, the repeated striking of pelvis against flesh, had turned the surface crimson.

Her pussy, the mature, hairy cunt, was swollen. The lips, puffy and engorged, were twice their normal size. The clit, exposed, stiff, was hypersensitive. The vaginal canal, fucked for hours, was raw. The walls, the muscles, the spiritual tissues, were inflamed. Her anal, gaping, the sphincter stretched, was swollen. The ring of muscle, trained by five hours of divine cock, was loose. The interior, the rectal walls, were raw.

But he had not come. Not once. In ten hours of fucking, of sucking, of every position, every orifice, every stimulation, he had not ejaculated. His cock, twelve inches, divine, remained hard. Ready. Unsatisfied.

She moaned through the panty. The sound, wet and muffled, was the cry of a woman whose body had been used as a vessel for ten hours and had failed to fill it.

"Mmmph... mmph... mmph..."

Tianlong stood behind her. His naked body, golden, muscular, gleamed with sweat. His dark hair, loose, fell across his shoulders. His gold-crimson eyes, looking down at her thick ass, at the swollen pussy, at the gaping anal, held the calm assessment of a man examining his work.

His hand, large and pale, found her hair. His fingers, threading through the dark strands, gripped. He pulled. Her head, yanked back, lifted. Her neck, arched, exposed. Her dark eyes, wide, the panty stuffed in her mouth, found the ceiling.

He fucked her from behind. His cock, twelve inches, positioned at her anal, drove in. One thrust. The sphincter, already loose, offered no resistance. The walls, raw, gripped him. The friction, the heat, the divine qi flowing through their joined bodies, was overwhelming.

Pah! Pah! PAAAH!

"Mmmph~!! Mmmph~!! Mmmph~!!"

Her moans, muffled by the panty, matched his thrusts. Each impact, each slam of his pelvis against her thick ass, drove the air from her lungs. The sound, the wet, guttural exhale through silk, was the only noise she could make.

His hips, driving, blurred. The rapid, mechanical pace, the piston-like assault, was relentless. His cock, the full twelve inches, slid in and out of her anal. The walls, the raw muscles, clenched. The divine qi, flowing, stimulated her nerves. The pleasure, mixed with pain, mixed with the overwhelming burn of overstimulation, drove her mind into a white, blank haze.

Her enormous tits, pressed against the table, were flattened. The nipples, raw, scraped the wood. The friction, the rough surface against her sensitive flesh, sent jolts through her body. Her thick ass, the cheeks full, rippled with each impact. The flesh, soft and warm, deformed under his pelvis. The sound, the flesh slapping, echoed in the cabin.

Pah pah pah pah pah!

"Mmmph~!! Mmmph~!! Mmmph~!!"

Her dark eyes, rolling, found nothing. The ceiling, the wooden beams, the spirit-candles, were blurs. Her mind, overwhelmed, could process nothing but sensation. The cock in her anal. The hand in her hair. The wood against her tits. The divine qi in her blood.

He reached. His free hand, the one not gripping her hair, found something on the table beside them. A collar. Leather, dark, the band wide and thick. A metal ring, silver, was attached to the front. A leash, a chain of silver links, hung from the ring.

He placed the collar around her neck. The leather, cool against her sweat-slicked skin, settled. The band, snug, pressed against her throat. The buckle, the metal clasp, clicked. The collar was secured.

He pulled the leash. The chain, taut, drew the collar tight against her throat. Her airway, constricted, narrowed. She coughed. The sound, choked, wet, the cough of a woman whose breath was being controlled, escaped around the panty.

"Hkk... mmmph... hkk..."

He fucked her harder. The leash, pulled taut, held her head up. Her neck, arched, the veins visible, was strained. Her dark eyes, bulging slightly from the pressure, were wide. Her enormous tits, lifted by the position, hung beneath her. The nipples, stiff, pointed at the table.

PAAAH! PAAAH! PAAAH!

"Mmmph~!! Mmmph~!! MMMMPH~!!"

Her body, the thick frame, the mature curves, was his. Completely. The collar, the leash, the bonds, the stuffed mouth. She was a pet. A vessel. A body for his use. And the use was relentless.

He pulled out. His cock, slick, emerged from her anal. The sphincter, loose, gaped. The interior, raw, was visible. He shook her head. The leash, the chain, rattled. Her head, pulled by the chain, turned. Her dark eyes, wet, unfocused, found him.

He reached. His fingers, large and pale, found the panty. He pulled. The silk, soaked with saliva, emerged from her mouth. The fabric, balled, was wet. It fell to the table.

She gasped. Her lungs, free, expanded. The air, the cabin air, thick with the scent of sex and divine qi, filled her. She coughed. The sound, raw, the cough of a throat that had been stuffed for hours, was rough.

"Please..." she whispered. Her rich voice, her aristocratic voice, was gone. What remained was the raw, broken whisper of a woman who had been screaming through silk for ten hours. "Please... have mercy... on my son..."