Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 963: Eros Cock and Cucking Elements (r-18)

I kept the head held steady right there—pressed bluntly and unyieldingly against her entrance—granting her a taste of the cruel stretch to come before I advanced even a fraction.

She was already trembling uncontrollably, her thighs quivering violently while shallow, panicked breaths fogged the mirror only inches away.

The reflection displayed every detail with unforgiving clarity: dark mascara streaks running down her flushed cheeks like tears of total submission, the platinum wedding band catching the light whenever her fingers spasmed against the toilet tank, the remains of her black silk dress hanging in pathetic ribbons around her hips, and her heavy, swollen breasts still glistening with residual moisture from my earlier attention.

I drove forward with punishing slowness, observing as her pussy lips parted and turned white, forced to distend wider than they ever had before. The delicate folds bloomed in an obscene display, the inner flesh clinging and pulling taut as if being reshaped by the moment.

A wave of heat struck her instantly—a sharp, protesting burn that forced a gasp from her lips: "Oh god—it’s too big—fuck—it hurts—" as her eyes rolled back and her lids fluttered in a trance.

Then, the Taboo Aura surged with intensity. Sin resonance vibrated beneath her skin, tracing shimmering golden lines across her erogenous zones—nipples, clit, thighs, and abdomen—transforming the stinging sensation into a molten, liquid lust that saturated her core.

Her inner walls pulsed involuntarily, a wet and reluctant succulence appearing as her body surrendered another inch to me.

I chose not to hesitate.

Inch by thick, engorged inch, I sank deeper. Her slick channel expanded with primitive, squelching sounds, the resistance shifting into a greedy, rhythmic suction until my hips impacted against her, my balls pressed firmly against her swollen clit with every centimeter accounted for.

For one frozen heartbeat, her body locked completely rigid—her spine bowed and her heavy breasts swung forward—before she broke into a violent, total-body shudder. Her legs buckled; her planted foot slipped inches across the polished marble, and a fresh torrent of slick gushed out to coat our tangled legs.

I activated Size Control subconsciously, thickening just enough and adjusting my angle so the fat ridge of my shaft dragged perfectly against her front wall, striking a hidden, sensitive point no other man had ever touched.

She caught sight of it in the mirror, her eyes wide with shock and betrayal while her mouth fell open in a broken cry: "How—how does it reach—fuck—how do you know—"

Her own anatomy defied her, her pussy rippling in helpless waves around the impossible penetration.

I hooked an arm underneath her elbow, drawing her leg high toward her chest to force a wider angle, allowing me to grind directly against her cervix with every movement. Her other foot remained flat on the chilled floor, toes curling into the stone for stability while her raised leg trembled.

My free hand—while the arm still braced her leg—dropped between her shaking thighs.

My thumb discovered her clit—swollen, throbbing, and vibrant—and initiated slow, cruel circles while I kept her held wide. A multitasking display of ownership: one limb holding her, one hand torturing her sensitive point, and my cock buried completely inside.

The rhythm grew deliberate.

At first, it was just deep, grinding rolls, ensuring she felt every vein and ridge dragging against her stretched, fluttering walls. Her pussy gripped me like a hungry mouth, the lips puffing up around my base as her internal muscles rippled in helpless distress.

I suddenly increased the pace—a hard, driving slam—withdrawing almost entirely before slamming back in with a wet smack that echoed against the tiles.

Skin impacted skin repeatedly.

Her heavy breasts bounced with every impact, the soft weight shifting with her rock-hard, dark nipples.

My free hand mauled them ruthlessly, kneading the undersides and tugging at the peaks, adding light slaps that caused them to jiggle while she whimpered, "My husband—oh fuck—he’s right outside—talking, laughing—" even as her hips thrust back to seek more.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor, accompanied by muffled laughter and a woman’s voice. The door handle rattled once before the sound moved away. She bit down forcefully on her forearm to stop herself from moaning; the risk of discovery only made her clench around me tighter.

Whenever a wave of shame hit her, the Taboo Aura pulsed brighter—golden light tracing her clit and thighs—causing her pussy to spasm even harder as the stretched feeling became impossibly, dangerously wetter.

Indecent sounds filled the stall: the wet, sloppy noise of our coupling, with her slick stringing from my balls to the floor in metallic threads every time I retreated.

Sweat coated her spine, pooling in the small of her back, while the moisture from earlier mixed with fresh droplets on her heaving chest.

I alternated my method mercilessly—slow grinds allowed me to punish her clit with relentless, circular pressure, pinching the nub until she broke into sobs—followed by sudden, brutal thrusts that expelled the air from her lungs and forced her toes to dig into the marble.

Three times I dragged her toward the brink of release, her body locking stiff, her moans fracturing into desperate, hiccuping cries. Her pussy fluttered so violently it came close to draining me, her clit throbbing visibly under my thumb.

She felt the deliberate denial, frustration clashing with her pleasure, and gasped, "I never cum—I can’t—why can’t I finish—" her voice raw with unfulfilled longing.

"You never did before," I murmured lowly against her ear, the vibration of my laughter rattling through her sweat-slicked back. "You will now."

The fourth edge arrived like a thunderclap. Her pussy spasmed, the walls rippling in frantic, milking waves as if trying to pull me deeper, her clit pulsing against my thumb.

I whispered obscenities against her neck: "He’s probably standing out there right now, sipping champagne and making small talk, while I’m balls-deep in his wife, stretching her open and owning every inch he never possessed."

She whimpered in a mix of protest and surrender: "Don’t stop—ruin me—please—just let me—"

I drove in with one final, brutal thrust—deep enough to graze her cervix—while I pinched her clit between my thumb and finger, working it roughly as my other hand squeezed her breast until the flesh spilled between my fingers.

She shattered toward the precipice, her back arching violently, her thighs shaking so intensely that her leg buckled. A fresh flood of slick poured out in hot pulses, her breasts heaving wildly, and the ring on her finger flashed as she grabbed the wall for support.

Then, I withdrew all motion.

I remained buried to the hilt, my thumb frozen over her pulsing, denied clit, my cock throbbing within her fluttering, desperate heat.

She trembled. She whimpered in a broken fashion. She begged.

Her body shook uncontrollably as her pussy squeezed around me in empty, frantic spasms. Her eyes remained locked on our reflection: the tattered dress, the tear-streaked face, the glint of the wedding ring, and the sight of my thick cock swallowed by her stretched, dripping, and utterly owned body.

Finally, she completely fell apart.

"Please—" she rasped, her voice barely human. "I need it—I can’t bear it—please—"

I smiled against her shoulder blade, my teeth grazing her skin.

Not just yet.

Her body continued to shake—clenching, dripping, and begging—while I held her suspended on the very razor’s edge.