10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 190 - Swollen, Bruised Piece of Art

She cried out softly, her forehead collapsing against his broad shoulder. Her entire body flinched at the sudden, blunt stretch, but the dull pain didn’t stop her inner muscles from greedily clenching around his knuckles.

He pumped once, a slow, deep drag. Then he pulled out.

He let the heavy cream coat his skin, deliberately smearing the slick mess right back over her swollen clit, forcing her to feel her own degraded state.

"You’ll say yes," he murmured.

Her chest heaved. A messy sob of pleasure and burning shame became trapped in her throat.

"Haah... You will not hurt me... right?"

She just stared at him.

Her eyes were wide, glassy, and fragile in a way only a freshly broken woman could pull off. Her plump bottom lip quivered, glossy with saliva, parted as she struggled to catch her breath.

The flushed swell of her breasts rose and fell in rapid, erratic intervals. Her legs remained pinned open, thighs violently trembling from overuse, the pale skin still marked with the lingering red outline of his dominant grip.

Cruxius didn’t speak.

He didn’t need to.

He moved with a slow, terrifying certainty, finally lowering her onto the dark mattress as if her bruised body were made of spun glass. No rush. No violence. Just a deliberate, heavy promise that his work was far from over.

Her bare spine sank into the tangled sheets, her damp, dark hair fanning out wildly across the pillows. She didn’t resist. She physically couldn’t. The cool fabric kissed the cooling sweat on her skin, amplifying the deep, hollow ache pulsing through her pelvis. Her gaze stayed locked on his face—searching, pleading, waiting.

Her earlier question hung in the heavy air between them, soft and fractured:

"...You will not hurt me... right?"

He stood over her for a long moment. His thick, heavy cock rested against the rigid flat of his stomach, the massive shaft painted with her drying slick. It gave a distinct, greedy twitch at the sheer proximity of her parted mouth.

And then—he reached down.

He wrapped a large hand around his own root, fingers tightening slowly until the veins bulged starkly beneath his flushed skin. He guided the blunt, bruising weight of it toward her face, letting it hang like a dark sentence just above her lips.

Using his thumb, he pressed down on her plush bottom lip, forcing her mouth wider. Her breath hitched in her throat.

Her lips yielded—hesitant, quivering—accepting the unspoken command.

"I will not," he stated finally, the words soft, but void of any real kindness. His dark eyes gleamed with a predatory light—knowing, patient, merciless. "But that depends entirely... on how you perform."

He pushed his hips forward.

Slowly, with agonizing deliberation, he breached her lips.

Her delicate mouth stretched taut around his unnatural girth, the swollen, bruised crown forcing her open with obscene pressure. The potent taste of him flooded her tongue—salty, musky, heavily laced with the metallic tang of her own arousal from their last brutal round. Her jaw instinctively unhinged further, her breath stalling at the sheer thickness invading her space.

He didn’t thrust. He didn’t even twitch.

He just made her feel it.

He let the heavy, pulsing weight of his flesh rest flush against her tongue, sinking just deep enough to threaten the sensitive arch of her throat. His large hand slid into the damp hair at the nape of her neck, cradling her skull. Not shoving her—but holding her.

Firm. Claiming. Unforgiving.

Hot tears welled in her eyes, her body going entirely rigid beneath him. It wasn’t fear anymore.

It was pure surrender.

Her small hands clawed at the sheets beside her hips, fingers curling into tight, pale-knuckled fists. Her chest heaved, the tight, aching peaks of her nipples rising sharply with every ragged breath she managed to steal.

And all the while—she kept her eyes locked on his.

Wet tracks stained her flushed cheeks. Her mouth was obscenely full. Her body was tender and raw. Her very soul felt laid bare.

Cruxius stared down at her ruined state, his eyes darker than sin. He released his cock to cup her warm cheek, his rough thumb sweeping a stray tear from beneath her lashes with a gesture that was terrifyingly tender.

"Good girls don’t need promises," he murmured, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. "They need purpose."

He pushed his hips deeper.

Inch by grueling inch, the blunt head bypassed her tongue, grazing the soft palate of her throat. Her lips sealed tightly around the slick shaft, the corners of her mouth stretching to their absolute limit as saliva began to pool. The back of her throat spasmed, a soft, involuntary gag catching in her chest, and she let out a muffled whimper.

He froze.

He felt the frantic shiver wreck her frame.

"Breathe through your nose," he instructed, his tone a lethal mix of calm and cruel. "Relax your jaw. Let me in."

She tried.

She dragged a shaky breath through her nose, shallow and frantic. The muscles in her throat fluttered as she fought her own anatomy, her soft tongue moving helplessly beneath his heavy flesh, coating his veins with warm, slick friction.

He breached her throat.

Her gag reflex flared again, harsh and demanding, but she refused to pull back. Her fists bunched the bedsheets tighter, her dark eyes wide and pleading as she took him deeper than she ever thought possible.

"Just like that," he praised, a low, guttural growl vibrating from his chest, carrying the faintest tremor of genuine pleasure. "You’re doing so well, my love."

The broad tip bumped the very back of her throat. She flinched violently—but she didn’t fight him.

"Unghhh.... mmmmhhhh..."

Her delicate jaw was already aching, her lungs burning from the severe lack of oxygen. Thick saliva built up rapidly, spilling over her bottom lip and dripping down her chin in messy, humiliating strings as she fought to keep him seated deep inside her.

Cruxius groaned.

It was a dark, dangerous sound. His grip tightened in her dark hair, anchoring her skull, and this time—he finally moved.

He executed a slow, agonizing withdrawal, forcing her to feel the thick drag of every single inch sliding across her tongue. Then, he rolled his hips, sinking back in with a steady, punishing thrust that made her eyes roll back and her breath hitch in a wet, gagged moan.

"That’s it..." he hissed through his teeth. "Take it. Show me you’re mine."

She choked on the intrusion, coughing weakly against his flesh before desperately sucking air through her nose again. Her sore thighs shifted restlessly against the mattress. The dull ache between her legs spiked into a sharp, demanding throb just from the degrading pressure of his cock stretching her mouth.

Her swollen clit pulsed, untouched and leaking, as a heavy wave of shame curled through her chest like thick smoke.

She should have turned her head.

She should have fought back.

But she didn’t.

She lay there and let him mercilessly fuck her mouth.

Because he still held her bleeding heart in his hands. Because she desperately wanted that twisted promise. Because wrapped inside her profound humiliation... was an unshakable devotion.

And beneath his callous cruelty... was absolute ownership.

Her manicured nails tore at the damp sheets.