Villain's Breeding System: Evolving 999+ Harem into an SSS-Rank Legion-Chapter 123- Taking Girlfriend First

The sentence was completely without cruelty. It was just a logistic. A directive delivered by a woman who has weighed the situation and communicated the clearest available path.

Marga looked at the cock.

At its size — the specific, impossible, how-is-this-real size of it, ten inches minimum and thick as her wrist and pre-cum already bead at the head from Veronica’s stroking.

At Veronica’s face.

At Alexander, breathing in shallow pulls on the marble, watching through the slits of eyes that were losing their focus but hadn’t quite gone yet.

"’He’s watching,’" Marga said.

"’Yes.’"

"’He’ll see.’"

"’That,’" Veronica said, "’is the point.’"

Marga’s hand went to the tie of her bikini bottom.

She turned. Hands on the pool railing. Facing the water. The bikini bottom fell and she stepped out of it, her feet bare on the warm tile. Her hips shifted slightly, instinctively, the way a body prepares itself.

Raven came up behind her.

His hands found her hips first — both of them, the grip that was total and claiming, spreading her slightly, positioning her. She felt the heat of him against her back. The warmth that came off his skin was wrong for a summer afternoon, too deep, too animal, the warmth of something that generated its own.

His cock pressed against the small of her back.

She felt the weight of it.

"’God,’" she breathed, involuntary.

"’Mm.’"

One hand left her hip. Found her breast through the wet bikini top — gripped, the fingers sinking into the flesh with an ease that made her gasp — and pulled the top aside. It snapped. Gone. Her breasts fell free, the cold air hitting her nipples, which were hard before he even touched them.

His thumb and forefinger found her right nipple and ’pressed’.

"’HNH—’"

He pulled her nipple slightly outward — stretching the flesh — and released. The snap of sensation went directly south.

"’AAHH~♡’"

Her forehead dropped to the railing.

His cock found her entrance from behind. Not her pussy — lower. His hand pressed flat against her lower back, angling her hips up.

"’Wait—’" She gripped the railing. "’Not — if you use that size — I can’t—’"

He pressed the head against her anal entrance.

"’WAIT — it’s too — that’s too THICK—’"

PAH.

The sound was soft. Just the push — the first inch, the cockhead forcing through her entrance, the resistance giving way in a single devastating point of contact.

"’AAAHH~!!’"

Her knuckles went white on the railing. Her back arched sharply, hips trying to pull forward, away — but his hands were already there, on her hips, holding the angle, holding ’her’, making the pull impossible. His grip wasn’t painful. It was just final.

He pushed another inch.

"’HHH — HNGH~!! Too — it’s tearing me — please — it’s TOO BIG—’"

His mouth found the back of her neck.

His teeth grazed the skin there — barely, just the edge — and the sensation scattered her next sentence into pieces. Her protest broke apart mid-word.

"’It’s—’" She gasped. "’It’s—’"

PAH.

Another inch. Her walls pressed against his girth from all sides, the stretch so total that her body couldn’t decide what signal to send, was sending all of them simultaneously.

"’AAAAHHH~!!♡’"

From the marble, Alexander watched.

His vision was going grey at the edges. The arm was gone. The pain had moved past its initial peak into something constant and fundamental. But his eyes still worked. His brain, running on whatever reserve it had left, still processed.

He watched his wife.

Veronica had moved to the lounger nearest Marga — settled herself onto it with the ease of someone at a private show they’ve arranged, her body still bare, her legs crossed at the ankle. Her hand was between her thighs. Her fingers moved slowly. Her eyes were on Raven’s back, on the way his muscles shifted as he worked, on the way Marga gripped the railing with both hands and made sounds that carried across the pool deck.

PAH. PAH.

"’HNGH~!! AAAHH~!!’"

Marga’s breasts swung beneath her, the motion of each thrust transmitting through her entire body, the flesh jiggling and bouncing as he drove forward. Her thighs trembled. Her face was pressed against her own forearm on the railing.

"’You’re so tight,’" Raven said, against the back of her neck. His voice was conversational. Unhurried. Like a man noting an interesting fact. "’Your ass is tighter than everything else about you.’"

"’I KNOW—it’s — HNGH~!! — please — ’slower’—’"

PAH. PAH.

"’AAAHHH~!! AH~!! I — FUUU—’"

The profanity surprised her. She’d maintained a certain vocabulary in professional settings and this was — this was outside those settings, clearly, her brain had updated its context and changed the vocabulary accordingly, the word just came out of her throat along with everything else.

Raven’s hand moved from her hip to her breast again.

He gripped the underside of it, lifting slightly — feeling the weight, the specific warmth of the flesh — and then his thumb found the nipple and he did the same thing again. That deliberate press-and-pull, stretching the nipple outward until the sensation went sharp.

"’HMPH~!! Nngh~!! AHH~!!’"

PAH. PAH. PAH.

She could feel the depth of him. That was the thing — she’d expected pain only, had braced for pain, had categorized this as a thing she would endure because she’d endured worse. But the depth of it, the specific press of his cock against things inside her that she’d never felt pressed, was sending a signal that her body was categorizing differently from pain and she couldn’t stop the categorization.

Her pussy was dripping.

Onto the tile. Without being touched. Just from the stimulation of his cock in her ass and his hands on her breasts, her body was leaking with the specific, shameful abundance of a woman who has been reached at some depth she didn’t know she had.

"’Oh god—’" She felt herself starting to go. "’I can’t — I’m going to—’"

"’Don’t,’" Raven said, against her neck.

"’What?’"

"’Not yet.’"

Her whole body clenched around him at the instruction, which was physiologically counterproductive to the directive and also, apparently, what her body was doing now.

"’HNNGH~!!♡’"

PAH. PAH. PAH. PAH.

"’AAAHH~!! AH~!! PLEASE—’"

From the lounger, Veronica’s fingers moved faster between her own thighs. Her head had tilted back slightly, her throat exposed, her breast rising and falling with her breathing. She was watching Marga with the specific, hot attention of a woman who appreciates competent work.

"’Mm,’" she said, to herself or to no one.

On the marble, Alexander reached out with his remaining hand.

A futile thing. Toward nothing. His fingers spread against the tile and found only smooth cold marble. He was looking at Veronica. At his wife’s face — tilted back, lips parted, hand moving between her legs while a stranger fucked her hired secretary twelve feet away.

"’I’ll—’" The words came with difficulty now. "’I’ll kill you — in hell — I’ll find you — you ’bastard’—’"

Nobody turned.

PAH. PAH. PAAH.

"’AAAAAHHH~!!♡♡’"

Raven buried himself fully.

The sound Marga made was past the register of protest — past the register of anything she’d planned to sound like.

It came from somewhere beneath all of that, from the base of her spine, from the place where the depth of him met the wall of her and she felt it everywhere simultaneously.

Her knees went.

His arm caught her around the waist before she could fall. Pulled her up. Her back against his chest, the railing left behind, her legs briefly off the ground as he repositioned — turned her slightly, lowered her onto the edge of the lounger beside the pool, her ass up, his cock still buried.

His hands on her hips.

The first full stroke.

PAH.

"’HNNgh~!!♡’"

PAH. PAH.

"’AAAHH~!! AAAHH~!! Ohfuck—OHFUCK—’"