Ultimate Villain's Return as a Doctor in the Cultivation World

Chapter 316: Chapter 316- Taking theSleeping Beauty

Blood.

Thin, bright red, it appeared at the junction of their bodies — running from where her hymen had been, around the shaft of his cock, down the crack of her ass. The virginal seal, broken cleanly, the tissue parting under the pressure with the particular wet sound of something that was not designed to stretch being made to stretch anyway.

’Phack. Phack.’

"’PLEASE — SLOW DOWN — JUST A LITTLE — MY PUSSY — IT’S TEARING — I CAN FEEL IT TEARING — MASTER — HAANGHH~!! — TOO DEEP — YOU’RE HITTING MY CERVIX — AH — AH — AAAAAHNGHHT~!!’"

The word came out without her deciding to use it. ’Master.’ The same way it had come out of Yan Shu. The same way it came out of all of them eventually.

He didn’t slow down.

’Phack. PHACK. PAAAHH.’

"’HIEEKK~!! AAAAHNGHH~!! — PLEASE — SLOWER — I BEG YOU — MY BODY — IT CAN’T TAKE — THE SIZE — HAANGHH~!! — I CAN FEEL EVERY VEIN — EVERYTHING — INSIDE ME — STOP — DON’T STOP — WHAT IS — AAAAAHNGHHT~!!’"

Her body arched backward with each thrust — the spine bending in a curve that the paralysis should have prevented and couldn’t, the sheer force of his twelve inches driving into her virgin pussy producing motion that the toxin’s grip on her nervous system was not strong enough to override. Her tits — small, firm, nipples hard — bounced with each impact, the flesh jiggling in quick, sharp oscillations.

’Phack. Phack. PHACK.’

Her pussy, stretched around his girth, was visibly pulled outward with each withdrawal — the inner lips gripping his shaft, dragged along by the suction, the pink flesh turning red from the friction. Blood and arousal mixed in a thin, pink foam at the junction.

"’HAAAIYAANGHH~!! — IT HURTS — IT HURTS — BUT — MY BODY — SOMETHING IS — I’M GOING TO — NO — I DON’T WANT TO CUM FROM THIS — NOT LIKE THIS — NOT — AAAAAAHNGHHT~!!’"

She came.

Her first orgasm from penetration. Her first orgasm from anything other than her own hand. Her pussy clamped around him in a full, crushing contraction that her virgin walls had never produced before, the sensation arriving with the particular violence of a body discovering something it had no framework for.

’Phack. PHACK. PAAAHH.’

"’AAAAHNGHHT~!! — MASTER — CANG — I’M — MY PUSSY IS — HIEEKNGHH~!! — TOO BIG — TOO DEEP — I CAN’T BREATHE — HAAIIYAANGHH~!!’"

He fucked her through it.

The same relentless, absolute pace. Twelve inches. Full depth. Each thrust pressing through her cervix and into her womb with the same casual certainty.

He fucked her for an hour.

Her begging went from words to sounds to silence and back to words again. The tears never stopped. The arousal never stopped. The contradiction of her body producing both simultaneously — the crying and the wetness, the terror and the clenching — continued without resolution, the two responses occupying the same body without reconciling.

’Phack. Phack.’

"’Mnghh~... haangh~... please... slower... master... I can’t... my pussy is... it’s going to break...’"

Her voice, by the end, had gone hoarse.

He pulled out.

The withdrawal left her pussy gaping — the virgin tightness gone, replaced by the open, swollen, red-flushed entrance of a body that had been thoroughly and comprehensively opened. His cum — thick, white, abundant — poured from her in a slow, heavy pour that pooled on the stone beneath her ass. Blood traced thin lines down her inner thighs.

He looked at her.

Then at Yan Shu, still trembling on the cave floor.

Then at Sun Mei, still unconscious, still breathing, her robes still parted at the chest, her round face slack.

His cock, still hard, twitched.

He moved toward the third woman.

Sun Mei breathed.

Slow, even breaths — the respiratory rhythm of a body in deep unconsciousness, her chest rising and falling beneath the parted blue robes. Her dark hair, cut blunt at the chin, fanned across the stone floor around her round face. Her lips were parted. Her sword hand, even unconscious, had curled into a loose fist at her side.

Cang knelt between her legs.

He looked at her the way he looked at everything — with the complete, unhurried attention of a man who had never needed to rush because rushing implied the possibility of missing something, and he did not miss things.

She was nineteen. She was Early Nascent Soul. She was Elder Wei’s daughter, sent here as a political gesture she hadn’t consented to, and she had run toward the sounds of violence with her sword drawn and her jaw set, prepared to fight something she couldn’t fight, and she had been dropped by a single chop to the neck and was now lying unconscious on a cave floor with her robes open and a man between her thighs whose cultivation she couldn’t have read if she’d been awake.

He pulled her robes open.

The allied-family blue parted, the sash untying with a single tug. Beneath it — standard cultivator underlayers, white silk, functional. Her body beneath the silk was the body of a young woman who had trained hard and eaten well and carried the glow of someone whose cultivation was advancing faster than almost everyone her age. The skin was smooth, flushed with the warmth of healthy circulation, her figure full through the chest and hips in the way of a body that had decided early that it was going to be generous and hadn’t changed its mind.

He removed the underlayers.

Her tits came free — full, round, heavy for her frame, the nipples a deep rosy pink, soft in unconsciousness, the areolas wide and slightly puckered from the cave’s cool air. They settled to either side of her chest with the gravity-assisted spread of a woman lying flat, the inner surfaces pressing together into a line of cleavage that ran from her collarbone to her sternum.

Her stomach was soft — not lean like Hua’s, not taut like Yuxi’s, just ’soft’ in the way of a nineteen-year-old whose body hadn’t yet decided between athlete and woman and was compromising by being both. Her navel was shallow. A thin line of dark hair trailed from below it toward her pubic area.

He pulled her underpants down.

Her hips lifted slightly as the fabric passed — the unconscious body’s reflexive response to being undressed, the muscles doing what muscles do when fabric drags across sensitive skin. Her pussy was revealed — covered in a neat triangle of dark hair, the outer lips full and plump, pressed together in the relaxed state of unconsciousness. No arousal. No swelling. Just the clean, closed architecture of a body that had no idea what was about to happen to it.

He looked at it.

Then he positioned himself and pushed in.

’Phack.’

Her body reacted before her mind knew anything was happening.

Her back arched — a slow, involuntary curve that traveled from her tailbone upward through her spine, her abs clenching beneath the soft skin of her stomach, her ribs expanding, her chest lifting. Her mouth opened. A sound came out — not a word, not a scream, just the unconscious exhalation of a body receiving input it had no framework for.

"Nghh~..."

Twelve inches. The full length, seated in one stroke. Her pussy — virgin, tight, untried — parted around his girth with the wet, reluctant sound of tissue being asked to accommodate something it was not designed for. Her hymen broke on the third inch. Blood appeared at the junction — thin, bright — and her body produced a full, unconscious flinch that traveled from her hips to her shoulders.

Her head rolled to one side. Her lips parted wider.

"Mnghh~... haah~..."