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

Chapter 318: Chapter 318- Unconscious of It

PHACK. PAAAHH.

"Hnngh~... s... something... is... haah~..."

Her fingers found the stone wall. Pressed. Her hands flattened against it, the first voluntary movement her body had produced.

PHACK. PHACK. PHACK.

"Haah~... hnngh~... w... what... is... happening to... me..."

Her voice was a ruin. Cracked from unconsciousness, slurred from disorientation.

He drove deep. Held.

His cock pressed fully into her womb — the head seated against the back wall, the shaft stretching her entire canal. Her clit, swollen and engorged, was crushed between his pelvis and her pubic bone.

Her eyes opened.

Not slowly. Not gradually. Her eyes snapped open — wide, pupils dilated, the irises dark — and for one second she saw the cave wall in front of her and felt the stone against her tits and felt the cock inside her and felt everything converge into a single, crystalline instant of total comprehension.

Her body seized.

Every muscle. Simultaneously. Her back slamming against the wall, her spine arching, her legs kicking outward, her hands clawing at the stone, her mouth opening in a scream that started in her womb and traveled upward through her belly and her chest and her throat and came out of her mouth as —

"HAAAANGHHT~!!!!"

The orgasm hit her like a cultivation breakthrough.

Her pussy clamped around him in full, crushing, rhythmic contractions — the walls closing in waves from the entrance to the cervix, each wave stronger than the last, milking his shaft with the desperate, involuntary thoroughness of a body experiencing its first full orgasm from penetration.

Her bladder released.

Hot urine sprayed from her urethra — hitting his cock, his stomach, running down both their thighs — mixing with the blood and the arousal.

"AHH~!! AHH~!! WHAT — WHAT IS — I’M — SOMETHING IS — I CAN’T STOP — HAANGHH~!! — I’M PEEING — I’M — I CAN’T — MY BODY — I CAN’T CONTROL — HIEEKK~!!"

Her eyes were open. Her tears were flowing. Her body was jerking in short, arrhythmic spasms against the wall.

"Who... who are you... what did you... to my body..."

"Cang Wuhen," he said.

Her grip on his forearms tightened. Her mind recognized the name. The void in the qi field. The man from the Lin delegation.

"No... no you can’t... be..."

He didn’t stop.

Phack.

"HAAAANGHHT~!!"

He kept fucking her through the orgasm — the same relentless, absolute pace, twelve inches driving into her spasming pussy while her walls clenched and unclenched around him in waves she couldn’t control. Her eyes were rolling upward, the whites showing, her tongue pressing past her lips in the particular expression of a woman whose brain is processing more sensation than it can organize.

Phack. Phack. PHACK.

"Mngh~!! ...haah~!! ...please... I just woke up... I can’t... my body hasn’t... AAAAHNGHHT~!!"

Her face was — the word that would have occurred to anyone watching was destroyed. Her eyes were open but unfocused, the pupils blown wide. Her mouth was open, her tongue out, saliva running freely from the corner of her lips down her chin. Her cheeks were flushed dark red, the blush extending down her throat to her chest. Tears ran in continuous streams from both eyes.

The ahegao was complete.

Her face had abandoned every pretense of composure, of dignity, of the sharp-jawed determination she’d worn at the arena. What remained was the raw, unfiltered expression of a nineteen-year-old woman whose body was being pushed past every threshold it possessed simultaneously, and whose face had simply stopped trying to manage the output.

"HIEEKK~!! ...CANG... ...MASTER... ...HAAIIYAANGHH~!!"

He pulled out.

Her body slid down the wall. Her ass hit the stone floor. Her legs splayed open, her pussy gaping, cum and urine and blood pooling beneath her. She sat there for three seconds, her chest heaving, her tits rising and falling with each ragged breath, her hands on the floor behind her, holding her upright.

Her eyes focused.

The fog lifted. The orgasmic haze cleared just enough — not fully, not completely, but enough — for the part of her brain that was Elder Wei’s daughter, that was a sword cultivator, that was a woman who had trained since she was seven and who had been angry about everything for three weeks and was now exponentially angrier — to assemble itself into a coherent intention.

She lunged.

Her sword was three feet away. She didn’t go for the sword. She went for him — her hand striking out in a palm technique that her father had drilled into her since she was twelve, qi condensing in her palm, aimed at his sternum. Fast. Desperate. Carrying every ounce of Early Nascent Soul cultivation she possessed.

He caught her wrist.

Phack.

He drove into her mid-lunge. His cock — still hard, still wet, still twelve inches of absolute, patient authority — entered her in a single upward stroke as he pulled her onto him by the wrist he’d caught. Her forward momentum became penetration momentum, her own body weight driving her onto his shaft.

"KYAAANGHHT~!!"

Her palm technique discharged into his chest. It did nothing. The qi dispersed against his skin like water against stone.

"LET — GO — OF — HAANGHH~!!"

Phack. Phack.

"YOU — BASTARD — I’LL — MNNGH~!! — KILL — YOU — HIEEKK~!!"

She swung with her free hand. He caught that wrist too. Both arms pinned, her body suspended by his grip on her wrists, her legs dangling, her pussy impaled on his cock. She kicked. Her feet connected with his thighs, his stomach — solid, unmovable, the impacts registering as nothing.

He bounced her.

Phack. Phack. Phack.

Using her own body weight — her wrists as handles, gravity as his ally — he lifted her and dropped her, her pussy sliding up and down his shaft in long, full strokes. Each drop drove his cockhead into her cervix. Each lift pulled her almost entirely off him before the next drop seated her fully.

"STOP — HAANGHH~!! — LET ME — GO — I’M — MNNGH~!! — FIGHTING — YOU — HIEEKK~!!"

Her tits bounced with each drop — the heavy flesh swinging in violent arcs, the nipples hard and swollen, the inner surfaces slapping together on each impact. Her stomach clenched and unclenched. Her thighs trembled around his hips.

She headbutted him.

Her forehead connected with his nose. It should have hurt. It would have staggered any cultivator at her level. He didn’t blink.

"Haah~... you... you don’t... even feel it... do you..."

"No," he said.

PHACK.

"HAAAANGHHT~!!"

She twisted. Her wrists rotated in his grip — a joint-lock escape technique, one of the six her father’s combat instructor had taught her, designed to break free from superior-strength holds. Her right wrist slipped. She wrenched free.

Her hand went for his eyes.

He tilted his head. Her fingers grazed his cheek. His hand released her other wrist — both hands free now — and grabbed her hips. He turned. Drove her forward. Her back hit the cave wall again.

PHACK.

"KYAAANGHHT~!!"

Both her hands were free. She swung — a full qi-charged fist aimed at his temple. He caught it. His fingers closed around her fist. Squeezed. Not enough to break — just enough to stop it entirely, her cultivation-grade strike arrested mid-motion by a grip that treated Early Nascent Soul output as a minor inconvenience.

He fucked her against the wall.

Phack. PHACK. PAAAHH.

"STOP — HITTING — ME — AND — HAANGHH~!! — FIGHT — BACK — PROPERLY — MNNGH~!!"

She spat in his face.

He wiped it with his free hand. Looked at it. Looked at her.

"This is the third time," she said, her voice wrecked, tears and sweat running down her face, "you’ve — ah — fucked me against — HAANGHH~!! — this wall..."

"Fourth," he said. "You were unconscious for one."

PHACK.

"HIEEKK~!!"