Villain's Breeding System: Evolving 999+ Harem into an SSS-Rank Legion

Chapter 689: Chapter 689- Latina Getting Rough Fuck

Her tongue was out.

Her mouth was open. Her tongue hung from the corner of her lips— pink, wet, the tip resting on her chin. Her eyes were rolled back. The whites showing. Her face was contorted— the ahegao expression.

The expression of a woman whose body has been pushed past the point of endurance, past the point of pleasure, past the point of pain, into a realm where the only response is the involuntary, the animal, the involuntary surrender of a body that has been overwhelmed.

The man was fucking her.

His hips moved. His cock slid in and out. The sound was wet— SCHLUK SCHLUK SCHLUK— the sound of a cock in a wet, bloody, tight pussy. The sound echoed off the water. Off the trees. Off the canopy.

PAH PAH PAH PAH—

His thighs were visible. The muscles were— they were not human. They were too thick. Too defined. Too powerful. The muscles were cords— visible, striated, the fibers visible through the skin. The skin was pale. Dark-haired. The hair on his thighs was coarse. Dark. The muscles moved with each thrust— contracting, relaxing, the power visible in every movement.

He was a beast.

Not a man. Not a demon. Something in between. Something that wore a human shape and moved with human motion but that was fundamentally, essentially, irreducibly other. His body was lean. Muscled. His stomach was ridged— the abdominal muscles visible, the obliques cutting, the V of his hips sharp. His chest was broad. His arms were thick. The hand on her ass was large enough to cover the entire cheek.

His other hand was on her breast.

Groping. Squeezing. His fingers sank into the heavy flesh. The nipple pressed against his palm— stiff, dark, aching. He pinched. He pulled. The breast stretched. The nipple elongated. The woman cried out.

"Ah—! Ahhh—! Please—! No more—! I cannot—! My body—! It is— ahhh—!!"

The Princess watched.

She was on her knees. At the edge of the pond. Her hands in the water. Her emerald hair hanging in wet ropes around her face. Her green eyes— wide, so wide— staring up at the scene above the water. At the woman. At the man. At the cock. At the blood. At the juice. At the swinging breasts. At the spread legs. At the missing leg. At the hairy pussy. At the ahegao face.

She recognized the woman.

The dark hair. The brown skin. The round face— contorted now, twisted with pleasure and pain, but still recognizable. The missing leg. The Information Guild. The woman who knew everything. The woman who had been the most powerful information broker in the capital.

Latina.

The Princess’s mouth opened.

"Latina—?" she whispered.

But the word was lost. Lost in the sound of the fucking. Lost in the wet, obscene, relentless sounds of a cock in a pussy. Lost in the screaming. Lost in the moaning. Lost in the PAH PAH PAH PAH— and the SCHLUK SCHLUK SCHLUK— and the "AHH—! HNNNGHH—! KYAAANGH—!" that filled the forest and bounced off the water and echoed through the trees.

Latina urinated.

The Princess saw it. The moment it happened. The yellow fluid— warm, thin— sprayed from Latina’s pussy. Not from the urethra— from around the cock. The pressure of the fucking, the angle of the penetration, the overwhelming, all-consuming sensation of a twelve-inch cock in a newly-deflowered pussy— had forced it out.

The urine sprayed onto the man’s balls. Onto his thighs. Into the pond water. The yellow mixing with the clear. The drops spreading. The smell— sharp, acrid, musky— rising from the water.

Latina screamed.

"AAAAHH—!! I am— I am— peeing—! Why—! Why am I—! AHHH—!!"

Her body convulsed. The orgasm hit— simultaneous with the urination, simultaneous with the fucking, simultaneous with everything. Her pussy clenched around the cock. Her walls spasmed.

Her anal twitched— the ring clenching and relaxing, clenching and relaxing. Her body shook— the muscles in her back, her stomach, her thighs, her arms, all contracting at once. Her breasts heaved. Her nipples leaked— not milk, but the clear fluid of extreme arousal, beading at the tips, dripping onto the water below.

Her tears fell.

From her face. From her rolled-back eyes. From her open mouth. They dropped— clear, small— into the pond. Into the urine. Into the juice. Into the water that was no longer clear but was a mixture of fluids— hers, his, the yellow, the white, the red, the clear.

The man tilted her face.

His hand left her breast. It went to her chin. He turned her head. He tilted her face toward his. He looked at her. At her rolled-back eyes. At her open mouth. At her hanging tongue. At her tears.

He kissed her.

His mouth found hers. His lips sealed over hers. His tongue pushed in— deep, thick, invasive. It found her tongue. It tangled. It probed. It swallowed her screams. It swallowed her moans. It swallowed her urine-scented breath and her tear-salted lips and her ahegao expression.

The Princess coughed.

The water she had drunk— the water that was now contaminated with Latina’s urine, with the juice, with the seed, with the blood— came up. She coughed. She gagged. She spat. The water hit the mud. She looked at the pond. At the yellow. At the white. At the red.

She looked up.

"Are they animals or what?!"

Raven looked at the princess.

His black eyes found her green ones across the pond. She was kneeling in the mud, her emerald hair hanging in wet ropes, her torn dress barely covering her body. His cock was still inside Latina. Still buried. Still hard. The warmth of her newly-deflowered pussy was wrapped around him, the blood and the juice coating his shaft.

"She has finally arrived," he said.

His voice was calm. Conversational. The voice of a man who has been waiting for someone and who has just seen them appear. He was not talking to Latina. He was talking to himself. Or to the air. Or to the green-eyed girl kneeling in the mud whose belly was growling.

Latina bit her lower lip.

Her teeth sank into the flesh. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Her body was trembling—still in the air, still held by his hand on her ass, still impaled on his cock. She could feel him inside her. The thickness. The length. The heat. The thing that had torn through her hymen and filled her womb and was now resting there, pulsing, alive, inhuman.

His fingers found her clit.

He pinched.

Not gently. Not softly. A sharp, deliberate pinch. His thumb and forefinger closed around the swollen nub. He squeezed. He twisted.

"AAAAHH—!" Latina screamed. Her back arched. Her breasts heaved—the heavy flesh swinging, the pink nipples stiff, the areolas wide. Her legs kicked—the left one, the intact one, her foot pointing, her toes curling. The right stump twitched. Her mouth was open. Her tongue was out. "No— it hurts— wait— please— WAIT—"

"Do you see it?" Raven said. His voice was low. Close to her ear. His breath was warm. His lips brushed the shell of her ear. "She is there. Looking at you. Looking at us."

Latina’s eyes opened.

She turned her head. She looked across the pond. At the princess. At the green eyes. At the emerald hair. At the torn dress. At the muddy knees. At the girl who was watching her being fucked in the air like a doll.

"She— she is here," Latina gasped. Her voice was broken. Shattered. The voice of a woman who has just realized she is being watched. "But my body— stop— it is my first time— what are you doing—"