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

Chapter 700: Chapter 700- Queen’s Services Hidden from Public Eyes

Her small hand over her mouth. Her green eyes wide. Her body trembling. She was confused. She was frightened. She did not understand what she was seeing. She did not understand why the men were putting their mouths on her mother’s chest. She did not understand why her mother was crying. She did not understand why her father was watching and stroking himself.

M’baku pulled back.

He looked at the king. He smiled. His lips were wet— wine, saliva, the sheen of a woman’s skin.

"Shit, king," he said. His voice was appreciative. Warm. The voice of a man who has just tasted something delicious. "She is the most delicious woman in your harem? You were not lying. She is sweet. The skin is sweet. The tits are sweet. Even her tears are sweet."

The other black man pulled back. He wiped his mouth. He looked at the king. He nodded.

"The nipples are perfect," he said. His voice was smooth. Quiet. The voice of the predator. "Dark. Stiff. They respond to the tongue. They stiffen when you suck them. They leak— not milk. Not yet. But the clear fluid. The fluid of a woman whose body is responding even though her mind is saying no."

They laughed.

The sound was deep. Full. The laugh of men who are enjoying themselves. Who are comfortable. Who are in a place where they have power and who are using it.

They threw her on the bed.

Not gently. Not carefully. M’baku grabbed her hips. He pushed. She fell— backward, onto the silk, her body bouncing, her breasts heaving, her legs tangling in the torn nightgown. She was on her back. Her hair was spread on the pillow— dark on white, the waves catching the candlelight. Her nightgown was open— from the collar to the waist, the fabric parted, her chest bare, her stomach bare, her breasts bare.

They removed their clothes.

M’baku first. His animal-skin cloak came off. His chest was bare— dark, muscled, the skin smooth over the thick cords of muscle. The tribal scars were visible— raised lines, deliberate, decorative, tracing patterns across his pectorals and his abdomen. His trousers came off. His cock was—

The girl stared.

Ten inches. Thick. Dark. The head was purple. The shaft was veined— the black veins visible against the darker skin. It was rigid. Hard. It stood from his body like a weapon.

The other black man. His clothing came off. His body was leaner— not less muscled, differently muscled. The muscles of a runner, a fighter, a man who moves. His cock was the same— ten inches, thick, dark, the head swollen, the shaft veined.

The king dropped his trousers.

Seven inches. Pale. Thinner. The cock of a man who eats and drinks and fucks but who does not fight. In comparison to the two black men, he was— small. Not small. Smaller. The difference was clear. The difference was everything.

Viviana looked at the cocks.

Three of them. Two dark. One pale. Two enormous. One large. She trembled. Her brown eyes went from one to the other to the third. She was shaking. Her hands were on the bed— gripping the sheets, the silk bunching in her fists.

"Please—" she whispered. "Please, my king. Do not do this. I am your woman. I am yours. Please do not let them—"

M’baku grabbed her dress.

He pulled. The nightgown tore— the rest of it, from the waist down, the cotton ripping, the fabric separating. Her body was exposed. Her stomach. Her hips. Her thighs. Her panty— white cotton, simple, the fabric snug against her pussy. The hair was visible through the cloth— dark, thick, untrimmed.

She pulled at her panty.

Her hands went to it. She grabbed the waistband. She held. She pulled it up. She tried to cover herself. Her legs kicked. Her thighs pressed together.

"No—!" she cried. "Please— do not—"

M’baku grabbed her hands.

He pulled them away. He held them. One hand— his large, dark hand— pinned both of her wrists to the bed. Her arms were above her head. Her chest was raised. Her breasts were full— the nipples stiff, the mounds heavy, the flesh soft.

The other black man grabbed her panty.

He pulled. The cotton stretched. It tore. The fabric separated. The panty came away— in two pieces, the white cotton ragged, the threads dangling. Her pussy was exposed. The hair was dark. Thick. The lips were visible— pink, full, the inner lips peeking through the dark hair. The clit was visible— small, hooded.

"Look at that," M’baku said. His voice was low. Hungry. "Pink. Pink inside the dark hair. Like a flower in the grass."

He spit on it.

The saliva— thick, warm— landed on her pussy. On the lips. On the hair. It ran down— over the labia, over the perineum, toward her ass.

"Good enough to eat," the other black man said.

He grabbed her legs.

He spread them. Her thighs were forced apart— the pale, slim limbs opening, the muscles resisting, the flesh trembling. Her pussy was spread— the lips parting, the pink inner flesh visible, the opening tight, the clit exposed.

M’baku moved.

He climbed on the bed. He knelt. He was above her. His cock was above her face— ten inches, dark, the head purple, the shaft veined. He lowered himself. He slapped.

PAH—

His cock hit her face. The dark shaft across her pale cheek. The head on her lips. The weight of it— heavy, hot, the musk of it filling her nose.

"You do not need to yell with that delicious mouth," M’baku said. His voice was rough. The voice of a man who is past foreplay. "Keep it busy here."

He pushed.

His cock went to her lips. The head pressed against them. She turned her head. He grabbed her jaw. He squeezed. Her mouth opened. He pushed in.

The head entered. Past the lips. Past the teeth. Onto the tongue. The taste— salt, musk, skin, the faint bitterness of pre-cum. She gagged. Her throat convulsed. Her eyes went wide.

He pushed deeper.

The shaft slid in. Inch by inch. The cock filled her mouth— thick, hard, the veins pulsing against her tongue. Her cheeks were stretched. Her jaw was aching. Her tongue was pressed down— flat, trapped beneath the weight.

"Hmm..." M’baku groaned. His head went back. His hips moved— slow, shallow thrusts, the cock sliding in and out of her mouth. "Good mouth. Warm. Wet. The tongue is soft. She does not know how to suck— but that is fine. She will learn."

He fucked her mouth.

His hips moved. His cock slid in and out. The sound was wet— SCHLUK SCHLUK SCHLUK— the sound of a cock in a mouth that is not ready for it. Her saliva was building— the clear fluid running from the corners of her lips, down her chin, onto her neck. Her eyes were streaming— the tears running from the corners of her eyes, down her temples, into her hair.

Viviana’s internal thoughts:

’His cock— it is so big. It is so thick. It fills my mouth. I cannot breathe. I cannot think. The taste— it is on my tongue. The musk— it is in my nose. His skin— it is so dark against my lips. His hands— on my jaw. Holding me. I cannot move my head. I cannot close my mouth. I can only— take it. Take the cock. The cock of a barbarian. A man I do not know. A man the king brought to my bed.’

’My king. My king who is watching. My king who is stroking himself while another man fucks my mouth.’