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

Chapter 690: Chapter 690- Feeding and Fucking both Together

He placed her on the ground.

Not gently. Not roughly. Simply. His hands released her ass. Her body slid off his cock— the shaft emerging, wet, bloody, slick. She hit the ground. Her back hit the grass. Her legs fell open. The left one spread naturally.

The right— the stump— fell to the side. The gap between her thighs was wide. Wider than it should have been. Because of the missing leg.

Because the stump did not reach the ground. Because her body, without the right leg, was asymmetrical. Unbalanced. She looked like a doll. A fuck doll. A toy that had been arranged on the grass with its legs spread and its pussy leaking and its breasts bare and its mouth open.

He spread her thighs.

His hands found her knees. He pushed them apart. The left knee hit the grass. The right stump— he pushed it. It rested on his thigh. The gap was enormous.

Her pussy was exposed— completely. The hair was dark. Wet. Matted with blood and seed and juice.

The lips were swollen. Red. The inner lips were visible— pink, raw, freshly torn. The clit was swollen— engorged, red, peeking from its hood. The opening was gaping— the hole that his cock had made, the hole that was still stretching, still closing, still leaking the white fluid that he had deposited inside her.

He pushed in.

PAH—

"AAAHH—!!" Latina screamed. Her back arched. Her hands went to the grass— gripping, tearing, the blades coming loose in her fists. Her breasts heaved on her chest— the heavy flesh swinging upward, the nipples pointing at the sky, the pink tips catching the green light. Her tongue was out. Her eyes were rolled back. "It is— it is too deep— you are— AHH—!!"

He fucked her.

Harder than before. His hips slammed forward. His cock plunged into her— twelve inches, the head hitting her cervix, the shaft stretching her walls. The sound was wet— SCHLUK SCHLUK SCHLUK— the sound of a cock in a bloody, wet, tight pussy. The sound of flesh on flesh. The sound of a man fucking a woman on the grass beside a pond in a forest.

PAH PAH PAH PAH—

"AAAAHH—!! HNNNGHH—!! Please—! Slow—! It is— AHH—!! My body—!! I cannot—!!"

Her breasts were jiggling. Up and down. With each thrust. The heavy flesh rippling— the weight shifting, the nipples tracing arcs, the mounds spreading and reforming with each impact. Her back was arching— the spine curving, the ribs visible, the stomach tensing. Her hands were in the grass— tearing, pulling, the green blades scattered around her head like a halo.

PAH PAH PAH PAH PAH—

"HAAIYAANGH—!! NIEENGHHT—!! AAANGHH—!!"

She grabbed the grass. Her fists closed. The blades tore. She pulled. Her body jerked— her boobs swinging, her nipples pointing, her tongue hanging. Her pussy was clenching— the walls gripping his cock, the muscles spasming, the juice running. She could feel him against her cervix. Against her womb. The head punching forward with each thrust, the shaft grinding against her clit.

Her pussy was bleeding. The virgin blood— thin, red— mixed with the juice. The pink fluid ran down her ass, onto the grass, staining the green blades dark. Her pussy was tight— virginally tight. The walls were narrow. Unstretched. Unused. The cock was too big. Too thick. Too long. But her body was taking it. Her body was accepting it. Her body was responding to it.

She squirted.

The juice erupted— not a trickle. A spray. Clear, thin, forceful. It came from her pussy— from around the cock, from the urethra, from the glands that had been stimulated beyond endurance. It sprayed onto his stomach.

Onto his thighs. Onto the grass. Her body convulsed— her back arching, her legs kicking, her stump twitching, her hands tearing the grass.

"AAAAHH—!! I am— I am— cumming—!! AHHH—!!"

Her eyes rolled. Her mouth was open. Her tongue was out. Her face was contorted— the ahegao expression. The expression of a woman who has been broken and rebuilt and broken again.

Raven did not stop.

He continued. His hips moved. His cock slid in and out. He fucked her through the orgasm. Through the squirting. Through the convulsing. Through the screaming.

PAH PAH PAH PAH PAH PAH—

He pulled out.

Latina gasped. The emptiness. The sudden, devastating emptiness. Her pussy was gaping— the hole open, the walls visible, the blood and the juice and the seed running out. She looked up at him. At his face. At his cock— twelve inches, hard, wet, bloody, slick. At his hand— reaching into his coat. Pulling out something.

A piece of chicken.

Roasted. Golden. The skin crispy. The meat steaming. The scent— warm, savory, rich— cut through the forest air. Through the smell of sex and blood and urine and pheromones.

He placed it in Latina’s mouth.

Her teeth closed around it. Her eyes widened. The taste— salt, fat, herbs, the crisp skin, the tender meat— flooded her tongue. She had not eaten. Not since yesterday. Not since before the dungeon.

Not since before the illusion. Not since before the fucking. Her body was starving. Her stomach was empty. Her mouth was watering.

She chewed.

She cried while she chewed. The tears fell. The chicken was in her mouth. The taste was in her brain. The cock was on her body— resting on her stomach, hot, heavy, leaking. She was being fed.

By the man who had just fucked her. By the man who had taken her virginity. By the man who had destroyed her guild and her life and her body and who was now putting food in her mouth.

He poured juice.

From a flask. Apple juice. Golden. Cold. He poured it over her body. Over her breasts. The liquid ran— warm now, from her skin, from the sun— down the slope of her chest. It pooled in the hollow of her collarbone. It ran between her breasts. It reached her nipples— dripping from the stiff pink tips, the golden liquid catching the light.

He leaned down.

He sucked.

His mouth found her breast. His lips sealed around the nipple. His tongue traced the stiff peak. He sucked— the juice, the skin, the flesh, all of it. The taste of apple and salt and woman. He sucked the other breast. The same. The juice. The nipple. The flesh.

Latina cried.

She chewed the chicken. She swallowed. She felt his mouth on her breasts. She felt the juice running down her body. She felt his cock on her stomach. She felt everything.

From across the pond, the princess watched.

Her green eyes were wide. Her mouth was open. Her emerald hair hung around her face. She was kneeling in the mud.

Her torn dress was barely covering her. Her bare foot was bleeding. Her lip was split. Her body was wounded.

She watched Raven feed Latina. She watched him pour juice on her body. She watched him suck her breasts. She watched Latina chew and cry and swallow. She watched the transaction— the food for the fucking. The feeding for the taking. The exchange.

Her belly growled.

The sound was loud. Louder than the forest. Louder than the pond. Louder than the birds and the wind and the water. A deep, prolonged, unmistakable growl. The sound of an empty stomach demanding food.

She was hungry.

Not slightly hungry. Very hungry. She had not eaten since yesterday. Since before the attack.

Since before the carriage. Since before the demons. Since before the running and the falling and the crawling and the casting and the bleeding.