Chapter 404: Chapter 404 - Preparation to Pack Lunch for Another World Trip

The sound of the water had resumed.

The hot spring cycling through its basin — the steady, mineral-clean sound of it doing its indifferent work — and underneath that sound, the specific, dense quiet that arrives in a room from which something loud and electric has recently departed.

Raven stood in the center of the private bath.

He looked at the space where Gareth had been for three seconds.

Then he looked at his own hand — the right one, the one that had moved sideways when Gareth’s fist had come through the air — and examined it with the brief, clinical attention of someone checking the quality of their own response time.

The corner of his mouth moved.

Satisfied.

He turned to the bed.

Jennifer had not moved.

She was still on her side — the full, heavy weight of her curled at the bed’s edge, the chain between herself and Yuna still attached at the nipple and the clit, both women still locked together in the elaborate, interlocking configuration he had built them into over the last several hours.

Her hand was still pressed over her mouth.

Her eyes — the wet, tear-dense eyes of a woman who had watched her son vanish from a room while she was chained to another man’s instruments — were staring at the space where the chair had been.

Empty floor.

Cool stone.

The impression of the chair legs still faintly visible in the steam residue on the tile.

Her son was not there.

"He’s gone," she said.

Not to Raven. To the floor.

"He’s—"

"Congratulations."

His voice, behind her.

She felt the bed compress — his weight settling on the mattress behind her, the warmth of him arriving at her back — and then the specific, unmistakable blunt pressure of his cock finding the stretched ring of her ass. Already there. Already certain.

He pressed in.

One long, slow stroke.

SCCLHHKK—

"AAAHH~—HNGH~!!"

Her body received him with the trained, devoted grip it had been developing for the last twelve hours — the walls recognizing the shape and responding before she had processed the entry — and the moan that came out of her was the honest, involuntary moan of a woman whose body had been made into something and was now being that thing.

He settled.

Full depth. His chest against her back. His hand finding her hip.

She could feel his heartbeat through his chest against her spine.

"Your son," he said, warm and even, his chin at her temple, "just became the hero of another world."

Jennifer’s breath caught.

The tears, which had been running and stopping and running again since midnight, made their decision and ran.

"Is that—" Her voice. The voice of IRONTHREAD Division Six, attempting to be used for information gathering and producing instead the voice of a mother. "Is that the world you were talking about? Is that where you were sending him?"

His hips rolled.

Slow. Deliberate. The patient, unhurried stroke of a man making a point at walking pace.

"Of course."

PAAAH!

"AAANGHH~!!"

"I said so," he continued, same tone, the cock pulling back and driving forward with the same unhurried certainty, "from the beginning."

Her hips pushed back.

She hated that they pushed back.

They did it anyway — the trained, faithful response of a body that had been conditioned to this over the course of a night and was now doing it without consultation — her thick ass pressing into his hips on each withdrawal, the full, soft flesh clapping back against him.

"HNGH~— Is he safe—" She turned her head. Tried to see his face. The chain between herself and Yuna pulled with the motion, and Yuna made a small, compressed sound. "Tell me he’s safe—"

"Tighten," he said.

She blinked.

"Your ass." His hand landed flat on the full, heavy cheek of her. "It’s gotten loose. Tighten."

"I—"

"Tighten."

"IT IS NOT MY FAULT" — the words came out with the raw, frustrated energy of a woman who has finally located an injustice she is willing to address — "You have been doing this ALL NIGHT. I cannot feel my lower body. I am ’numb’. You cannot expect me to—"

He slammed.

PHAAACKK!

"IAAAANGHH~!!"

The chain yanked.

"HNGH~!!" — Yuna, from her side of the arrangement, the clit chain doing its work through her body without asking permission.

"You cannot expect me to—" Jennifer was still going, the sentence having survived the impact with some structural damage but continuing — "perform on demand after — AAAHH~!! — after TWELVE HOURS of—"

"Tighten," he said again.

"I CANNOT—"

She tried anyway.

The anal muscles — exhausted, well-worked, carrying the specific soreness of a passage that had been used comprehensively and had not been consulted about the schedule — produced their best effort, the walls clamping down around him with the trembling grip of something that was doing its honest best.

His exhale.

Satisfied.

"There."

She pressed her face into the pillow. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

"I hate you," she said.

"Mmmnh~," he responded, which was not an answer.

Yuna turned her head.

The chain between their nipples pulled with the motion — the delicate, persistent tension of it — and she hissed slightly, adjusting.

She was looking at him.

Not at the floor where Gareth had been. Not at Jennifer’s face. At ’him’ — the side of his face, the jaw, the way the amber light caught the dark hair at his temple — with the specific, helpless orientation of a young woman who had been built into something new over the course of the last twenty-four hours and was now calibrated toward a different magnetic north than the one she had arrived with.

"My body," she said, and her voice was the voice of someone being honest despite a full awareness that the honesty was embarrassing, "cannot do very much more."

He looked at her.

The warm, direct look.

"Useless," he said.

Her jaw tightened.

The word landed where he had aimed it — in the specific, particular place where a young woman’s pride and her need to be ’useful to him specifically’ intersected — and she felt her lip between her teeth before she had decided to put it there.

"I’m not—"

"Useless women," he said.

"I am ’not’—"

She moved.

Even exhausted. Even with the chain between them. Even with the full-body soreness of everything that had happened in this room — she moved, climbing, the chain between herself and Jennifer going briefly taut as she repositioned, Jennifer making a sound of protest at the pull, until Yuna was behind Jennifer, her hands finding the full, heavy cheeks of her aunt’s ass, spreading them.

The gap there.

The stretched, used ring of Jennifer’s anal passage, still gaping, still warm.

Yuna pressed her own hips forward — the chain pulling her clit chain taut against Jennifer’s, both women crying briefly at the simultaneous tension — and she looked at Raven over Jennifer’s shoulder.

"I can be useful," she said.

The twitching of her own anal muscles. Visible. The deliberate, focused clench of a woman offering something she was not entirely sure she had left.

He looked at her effort.

The corner of his mouth.

He pulled out of Jennifer.

Jennifer’s body produced its own protest at the exit — the involuntary arch, the short, punched sound of a woman who had developed opinions about being full and was now registering absence — and he moved, his hand finding Yuna’s hip, pressing her forward into the position.

Yuna’s breath came in fast.

"HNGH~—"