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

Chapter 694: Chapter 694- Foot Play

She looked at him. At his face. At his black eyes. At the calm. At the smile. She looked at his body. At the chest— broad, muscled, the pectorals defined, the abdominal muscles ridged. At the arms— thick, the forearms corded with vein. At the cock— still hard, still erect, twelve inches, resting against his stomach.

She moved.

Her legs moved. Both of them. She sat on him. On his hips. Her legs— her new legs, her long legs, her complete legs— went on either side of his body. She was straddling him.

Her pussy— healed, tight, virgin— was against his cock. The shaft was between her labia. The head was against her clit. The blood— the new hymen’s blood, the virgin blood— was not there yet. Because she had not been penetrated. Because the hymen was intact.

She used her hand.

Her right hand went down. She found his cock. Her fingers wrapped around the shaft— they did not meet. The thickness was too much. She stroked. Slowly. Up. Down. The skin moved beneath her fingers. The pre-cum leaked from the head— clear, slick, running down the shaft, over her fingers.

"Just take it again," she whispered. Her voice was shaking. Her eyes were wet. Her face was flushed. "Take it. Everything."

She sank down.

Her hips lowered. Her pussy— the tight, virgin, healed pussy— opened. The lips spread. The hymen stretched. The head of his cock pressed against it. She felt it— the membrane, the barrier, the thing that he had broken and healed and was now breaking again.

She cried out.

Pain. Sharp. Sudden. The hymen tore. The blood came— thin, red, running down the shaft, over his balls, onto the grass. Her pussy was tight. Tighter than before. The healed flesh was new. Fresh. Unstretched. The walls gripped his cock like a fist.

She kissed him.

Her mouth found his. Her lips pressed against his. Her tongue pushed in. She kissed him— deeply, desperately, the kiss of a woman who is giving herself. Not being taken. Giving. She lowered her hips. His cock slid in. Inch by inch. The shaft stretching her. The head pressing against her cervix. The fullness. The completeness.

She trembled.

She cried. The tears fell on his face. She was in pain. She was grateful. She was overwhelmed. Her body was on fire— the new nerve endings, the fresh flesh, the sensitive walls, the stretching, the filling, the taking.

Raven chuckled.

He grabbed her hips. His hands— large, warm, the fingers rough— found her ass. He gripped. His fingers sank into the flesh. Both cheeks. Both hands. He held her. He guided.

Her hips moved.

On their own. Not his rhythm. Hers. She moved— up, down, up, down. Slowly at first. Then faster. The sensation was building. The pain was fading. The pleasure was coming— warm, spreading, radiating from her pussy to her stomach to her chest to her brain.

She fucked herself on him.

Her hips swung. Up and down. Forward and backward. She found the rhythm. She found the angle. She found the spot— the place inside her where his cock head pressed against something that made her vision blur and her breath catch and her body shake.

PAH PAH PAH PAH—

"Hahh... ah... it is... it is good..." she moaned. Her voice was soft. Wet. The voice of a woman who is discovering something. "Your body... your cock... it is so hard... so warm... hahh... I can feel it in my stomach..."

Her boobs were bouncing.

Dropping. With each downward thrust. The heavy flesh falling— the weight shifting, the nipples pointing down, the mounds spreading on his chest. She looked down at them. At the way they moved. At the way the nipples dragged across his pectorals. At the way the flesh rippled with each impact.

She fell.

Forward. Onto her hands. She was on all fours— on her hands and her knees, her legs spread, her hips raised. She was on top of him but in a different position— her face near his cock, her ass near his face. She was flexible. Her new leg was flexible. She could feel it— the muscle, the tendon, the joint, all of it responding, all of it working.

She looked at his cock.

From this angle— close, inches from her face. It was enormous. Thick. Dark. The head was purple. The shaft was veined. The blood— her blood— was on it. She stroked it. Her hand moved— up, down, the skin sliding. She looked at his body. At his abs. At the ridged muscle. At the V of his hips.

Her foot moved.

Her right foot— her new foot, her healed foot, the toes that had been gone for three years— went to his stomach. She placed it on his abs. She felt them. The muscle. The ridges. The warmth of his skin beneath her sole. She flexed her toes. They curled against the muscle. She traced the lines— the diagonal, the horizontal, the V. She could feel every ridge. Every definition. The hardness of the muscle beneath the skin.

"Oh..." she breathed. Her eyes were half-closed. Her face was flushed. "It is... your stomach is like stone... I can feel every... every line... with my toes..."

Her foot moved down.

From his abs to his hip. From his hip to his thigh. She traced the muscle— the quadriceps, the abductor. She felt the coarse hair beneath her sole. She felt the warmth. She pressed. Her toes curled. She gripped the muscle with her foot— the way a hand grips, but different. Softer. The arch of her foot against the curve of his thigh.

"It is so warm..." she moaned. "Your body is so warm... I can feel the blood in your muscles... the way they move when you breathe..."

Her other foot moved.

Her left foot— the original, the one that had been there all along— went to his cock. She placed it on the shaft. The sole of her foot against the underside of his cock. She could feel it— the heat. The pulsing.

The veins. She stroked. Up. Down. The skin moved beneath her arch. Her toes found the head— the purple, swollen head, the slit leaking pre-cum. She traced it. Her big toe pressed against the slit. The pre-cum spread— slick, warm, on her toe.

"Hahh... it is so hot..." she whispered. Her brown eyes were on his cock. On her foot. On the way her toes were moving over the head. "Your cock is... it is like iron... but warm... and the head... it is leaking... I can feel it on my toes..."

Raven laughed.

The sound was genuine. Warm. The laugh of a man who is being pleasured by a woman’s feet and who finds it amusing and arousing in equal measure. He looked at her. At her face. At her concentration— the furrowed brow, the parted lips, the focused eyes of a woman who is exploring a cock with her feet.

"You are quite creative," he said.

She looked at him. Her brown eyes were bright. Wet. Her face was flushed. She was smiling— a small, trembling smile. The smile of a woman who is in pain and in pleasure and in gratitude and who is choosing to focus on the part that feels good.

"I have not had legs for several years," she said. Her voice was quiet. Honest. The voice of a woman explaining herself. "I want to feel everything with them. Everything. Your body. Your muscles. Your cock. I want to feel all of it with my feet. With my toes. With my skin."