Dual Cultivation: Gathering SSS-Rank Wives in the Cultivation World-Chapter 321 - Yuna’s Kidnapping ( Part 1)

In Academy ( A few moments Ago)

A dull, heavy thud from outside the room sliced through the hazy aftermath of her climax.

Yuna’s crimson eyes shot open. Her body was still twitching, muscles spasming with aftershocks that rolled through her in waves. The sheets beneath her were soaked through, clinging to her skin. Every nerve ending felt raw, exposed. Her lungs burned as she tried to draw breath, chest heaving.

The wetness between her thighs had already started to cool, becoming sticky and uncomfortable. She could feel it everywhere—coating her inner thighs, pooling beneath her ass, matting the fur at the base of her tail. Saliva had dried at the corners of her mouth in crusty streaks.

She tried to sit up, but silk pulled tight against her wrists and ankles. The scarves—he had tied her up. She was spread-eagled on her own bed like some offering, covered in the evidence of what her body had done.

Heat flooded her face. But then came the panic.

The sound had come from right outside her door.

"Professor?"

Her cat-like ears swiveled, straining. Nothing. Just thick, suffocating silence.

Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard it hurt. That thud had been too heavy, too final. Like a body hitting the floor.

His body.

Adrenaline surged through her exhausted limbs. She pulled against the silk, feeling it bite into her raw wrists. The smooth fabric held firm, but she kept twisting, kept yanking. Her sharp nails caught a thread. Then another. The knot began to loosen.

She wrenched her right hand free, skin burning and red, and immediately attacked the knot on her left wrist with clumsy, shaking fingers. Then her ankles. Her fluffy crimson tail lashed anxiously through the air.

Free.

She stumbled off the bed, legs trembling and weak. Her black spandex and latex suit clung to her like a second skin, cold and slick with her own fluids. The white embroidery did nothing to hide the obscene outline of her pussy, the fabric plastered wetly into every fold and crease.

She didn’t care.

She lurched to the door, hand trembling as she grabbed the handle and yanked it open.

Professor Tianlong lay sprawled on the floor just outside, completely still. His face was flushed a deep red, brow furrowed like he was in pain. His chest barely moved with shallow breaths.

"What happened? The drug... he said he would wait outside..."

Confusion hit her like ice water, but the heat in her core refused to be extinguished. Her first instinct was to scream for help, to call for Professor Ophidia.

But then she took a half-step forward, and his scent hit her.

It was weaker now, diluted by distance and the open air, but it was enough. That impossibly masculine musk—sweet and dark and thick—filled her nostrils and lit a fire in her belly that roared back to life instantly. Her pussy clenched, and fresh wetness leaked into her already-soaked suit.

"No... not now..."

She shook her head hard, trying to clear it. He was hurt. He’d collapsed because of that drug. Because of her.

Guilt twisted in her gut, sharp and ugly.

She had to help him.

Biting her lip hard enough to taste blood, she grabbed him under the arms. He was dead weight, solid muscle that barely budged. She grunted, straining, her slender frame trembling with effort as she dragged him backwards into her room. His robe scraped against the floor with a harsh, grating sound.

She managed to haul him onto her bed. His body landed with a soft bounce on the wet, rumpled sheets, and the impact sent another waft of his scent straight to her nose.

Her knees nearly buckled.

"Professor?" Her voice came out as a panicked whisper. She patted his cheek—it was burning hot, radiating heat like a furnace. "Professor, wake up!"

Nothing. His breathing stayed shallow and labored.

Panic clawed at her chest. "Should I call the infirmary? Another professor?"

But what would she say? That she was in heat and he’d collapsed outside her door after tying her up to "protect" her? They’d never believe it. They’d think the worst of him. Of her.

Her frantic eyes darted over his body, and then they stopped.

Froze.

His black cultivation robe had fallen open during the struggle, hanging loosely to either side. His pants were held up by nothing but a simple rope-like sash, and they did absolutely nothing to hide what was beneath.

A thick, monstrous bulge strained against the fabric—a solid ridge of flesh so enormous it looked like a third limb. Even through the cloth, she could see the outline clearly. The thick shaft. The heavy, swollen head.

It had to be at least nine inches. And the thickness...

Her throat went dry. She swallowed hard, but her mouth had gone completely parched.

Her hand, which had been reaching for his shoulder, stopped mid-air. It hovered there, trembling violently, as her crimson eyes remained locked on that obscene bulge.

Then, slowly—magnetically—her hand lowered.

"Don’t," her mind whispered weakly. "Don’t do it."

But her body was no longer hers to command.

Her fingers brushed against the hard ridges of his abdomen first, feeling the heat radiating through his robe. His skin was furnace-hot. She traced lower, following the deep V-line of his hips, and then finally—reverently—her palm came to rest on the bulge.

A jolt of electricity shot straight up her arm and slammed into her core.

It was rock-solid. A hot, dense pillar of flesh trapped beneath thin cloth, radiating heat that seared her palm. Her pussy clenched so violently that a fresh gush of slickness oozed out, re-soaking the front of her suit with an audible squelch.

"So... so big..."

Her thoughts had gone blank, wiped clean by pure animal lust.

Without thinking, she brought up her other hand and held her own slender wrist next to the thickest part of the bulge.

His cock—even constrained by fabric, even unconscious—was thicker than her wrist.

The sheer size of it made her head spin. What would it feel like? How would something that thick even fit inside her? Would it split her open? Stretch her so wide she’d never be the same?

The forbidden thoughts made her vision swim.

She shouldn’t disturb him. He was sick. He needed rest.

That was the logical part of her brain, the part that was rapidly drowning beneath a tidal wave of heat.

Slowly, she crawled onto the bed beside him. Her body was shaking uncontrollably now. She couldn’t stop herself—didn’t want to stop herself.

She curled up against his side, wrapping her arms around his torso and pressing her face into his chest. She inhaled deeply, greedily, filling her lungs with his scent.

It was intoxicating. Overwhelming. A heady mix of musk and sweat and something darker, richer—like aged whiskey and burning incense. It made her dizzy. Made her pussy throb with desperate, aching need.

Her hips began to move on their own.

A slow, torturous grind. Her soaked crotch rubbed against the solid muscle of his thigh, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her core.

"What am I doing? This is wrong... he’s unconscious... I have to stop..."

But she couldn’t. Her body had taken over completely.

Her thighs moved faster, grinding harder. The wet sounds of her suit slapping against his pants filled the room. Her breath came in ragged, desperate pants, fogging against his chest.

The pressure was building again—that tight, screaming knot of need coiling tighter and tighter in her womb.

"Hnnh...! Aah..."

She kissed his neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty, burning skin. The combination of his scent, the hard planes of his body, and the relentless friction was too much.

Her back arched violently. Her entire body seized as another orgasm tore through her like lightning.

"AAHHN—!"

She bit down on his shoulder to muffle her scream as she came, hard. A hot jet of fluid shot from her pussy, soaking through her suit and his pants where her thigh was pressed against him. She collapsed onto his chest, gasping and trembling, aftershocks rolling through her in waves.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of her own ragged breathing.

She looked down at his face. So close. His eyes were closed, features relaxed in unconsciousness. He was unbearably handsome—a man carved from myth and fantasy.

A wave of shame washed over her, but it was immediately drowned by a fresh, darker tide of lust.

"It’s wrong..." her conscience whispered, barely audible now. "...but he’s asleep. He’ll never know."

That flimsy justification was all her heat-addled brain needed.

She propped herself up on her elbows, crimson eyes dark and glassy with want. She lowered her head and captured his lips in a deep, wet kiss.

She pushed her tongue into his mouth, tasting him—exploring him. It was desperate and hungry, full of obscene slurping sounds and the slick slide of her tongue against his. She moaned into his mouth, the vibration rumbling through both their chests.

She pulled back, breathless. A thick string of saliva connected their lips, stretching and finally breaking.

Seeing him like this—so close, so vulnerable, so unbearably hot—shattered the last fragile thread of her self-control.

She moved with newfound determination, straddling his hips. She positioned herself directly over the massive bulge, the thick ridge pressing intimately against her soaked, throbbing clit through their clothes.

A guttural moan tore from her throat at the contact.

It felt right. Like coming home.

She started to move, grinding her hips in slow, circular motions.

SChlk! SChlk! SChlk!

The wet sounds echoed obscenely in the quiet room—her soaked suit slapping rhythmically against his pants.

"Hnngh~! Aahn...!! Professor..."

Her hips moved faster, more desperately. She was riding the unyielding thickness beneath her like her life depended on it. The hard ridge rubbed her swollen clit raw, sending white-hot waves of pleasure through every nerve.

She could feel the shape of him so clearly through the fabric—the thick shaft, the ridge of his head pressing right against her entrance. It was maddening. She wanted it inside. Wanted to feel it splitting her open.

But this was all she could have. All she could take.

PAAH! SChlk! PAAH!

She threw her head back, crimson tail lashing wildly as she slammed her hips down with all her strength. The bed creaked beneath them. The wet slapping sounds grew louder, filthier.

"AAANGHH~!! OUNH...!! PROFESSOR~!!"

Her third orgasm hit like a sledgehammer. Her vision went white. Her mind blanked completely from the sheer, overwhelming intensity of it.

Her body convulsed violently, back arching so hard she thought her spine might snap. She squirted again, a gush of hot fluid soaking through both their clothes, and collapsed forward onto his chest, completely boneless.

She lay there gasping, unable to move. Her body was slick with sweat and her own fluids, trembling with exhaustion.

Her dazed eyes focused on his peaceful face.

Reality crashed down on her like a collapsing building.

What had she done?

"What... what has happened to me, professor?" she whimpered, voice broken and trembling. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. "I’m in heat... and I can’t stop."