chsdbacks Chapter 567 - 566- A Loyal Wife getting Clapped
Chapter 567 - 566- A Loyal Wife getting Clapped
The full, pendulous, heavy breast — freed from the linen blouse at some point during the proceedings, the fabric having been moved aside with the practical, matter-of-fact efficiency of a woman who was assisting at something and had identified the relevant geography — warm in her palm, the nipple already stiff from the involuntary physiological response of a woman whose body was receiving input even if her mind was not cooperating with the receipt of it.Helviana kneaded.
Slowly. The long, thorough, fingers-sinking-deep motion of someone who had learned from a man who knew how bodies worked and had applied those lessons to the body in front of her.
The milk.
It ran.
Not the forceful, spray-arc milk of a woman mid-orgasm — the slow, warm, continuous run of a woman whose body had stored too much for too long and was releasing what it had accumulated, the thin white stream running from the stiff nipple across Helviana’s fingers and dropping to the sheets below.
Helviana watched this.
Her eyes warm.
The expression of a woman who had been here before — not in this room, not with this woman, but in the territory of being overwhelmed by something and having your body produce things you had not consciously decided to produce.
"Shhh," she said.
Soft. To the guild mistress who could not reply.
"It passes."
She kneaded again.
More milk.
The guild mistress’s internal scream redirected:
’DO NOT SOO— MMPH~—’
PAH PAH PAAH!!
"MMPHHH~!! NGH~— mnh~—"
The blue at her upper back had retreated to her shoulder blades.
The milky white advancing — the clean, warm, natural color of a woman whose circulation was being restored from below, the mana reversal running in reverse as Viktor’s incubus bloodline did what it did: drew poison out through the most efficient channel a woman’s body offered and replaced it with the specific, rebuilding warmth of seed that carried the mark of what he was.
Dara’s hands were full.
The guild mistress’s hips under them. The weight and warmth of a woman who was thick in the way that a woman is thick when her body has been used hard and fed well and has arrived at middle age with everything intact — the dense, warm, full-palmed weight of hips that filled Dara’s hands completely and then exceeded them.
She was holding them apart.
Slightly. The specific, functional angle that Helviana had shown her — both hands, positioned at the outer hip, maintaining the spread that allowed Viktor’s hips to seat fully without the guild mistress’s body closing around the intrusion.
It was a practical task.
Dara was doing a practical task.
She had decided this.
The alternative to deciding this was standing in the middle of a sickroom at midnight trying to locate herself in a situation that did not have a map, and she had decided that doing a practical task was more useful than that.
PAH PAH!!
The impact traveling through the hips she was holding. The dense, transmitted motion of a woman’s body receiving thrust — the jiggle of the thick ass cheeks rebounding off his hips, the small, helpless forward rock of the whole pelvis, the way the pillow beneath her shifted and had to be pushed back.
"Mnh~— MMPH~— nnh~—"
Dara looked at the woman’s face.
The tears.
Running continuously from both eyes — not the dramatic, produced tears of conscious grief but the quiet, constant, completely involuntary leaking of a woman whose nervous system was overwhelmed and was managing the overflow through the only output channel the paralysis had left open.
The blue had reached her collarbones.
Only her collarbones now. From there upward — her neck, her jaw, the skin around her eyes — still the faint, fading blue of the mana reversal retreating to its last territory.
Her dark circles were visibly lighter.
Her breathing — Dara could feel this through the hips, the ribcage expansion transmitting — was deeper. Measurably. The full-lung breath of a woman whose body was recovering oxygen capacity as the mana cleared the channels it had been blocking.
She was getting better.
This was not deniable.
Dara was not going to deny it.
She gripped the hips tighter.
PAH PAH PAAH PAH PAAH!!
"MMPHHH~!! NGH~!! NGH~— mmph~— NNGH~!!"
Viktor was not being gentle.
He had been measured — had started measured, had done the initial phase with the patient, calibrated pressure of a man who knew how bodies worked and knew that broken things required specific rather than general force — but the guild mistress’s body had passed the phase where careful was the primary requirement.
Her body was responding now.
The involuntary, furious, comprehensive response of a woman whose nervous system had been rebooted and was now receiving everything it had been missing for weeks at full volume simultaneously — the heat and the pressure and the filling and the impact all arriving at once in a body that had been numb and cold and was now none of those things.
Her hips moved.
Against Dara’s hands.
Not struggling — the different direction, the involuntary, rhythmic, toward-him motion of a woman whose body had identified a source of the warmth it had been starving for and was moving toward it with the animal, pre-conscious urgency of something that needed and had stopped being able to pretend it didn’t.
’I HATE YOU,’ she thought. ’I HATE YOU I HATE YOU—’
"Mmphhh~—"
’—why does it feel like—’
PAAH!!
"NNGGHH~!!!"
’—KILL HIM—HUSBAND KILL—why is my body—’
PAH PAH PHACK!!
"MMPHHH~!!♡— NGH~!!♡— NNGH~—"
The sound that came out at the end of the third moan.
The small, involuntary, completely unacceptable — from the guild mistress’s perspective, from the perspective of thirty-eight years of being exactly who she was — upward curl at the end of the moan. The tiny, structural, honest change in the sound from ’pain’ to ’pain-and-something-else’ that a woman’s body produces when the something-else has been arrived at whether or not it was invited.
’No,’ she thought. Very clearly. ’No.’
"Mnh~♡—"
Her fingers uncurled from the blanket.
And reached.
Found the sheet on the other side.
Gripped it.
Not the grip of pain. The grip of something trying to hold onto something as the ground shifted.
Viktor felt this.
The change in her body — the shift in her anal from the resistant, closed, enduring muscle of the first phase to the slightly-different muscle of a woman whose body had stopped being fully convinced that it was only enduring.
His tail.
It had been hovering. Waiting. The patient, coiled, satisfied waiting of something that had found its moment.
It moved.
Toward her pussy.
The tip of it finding the wet, swollen, already-dripping threshold of her — the arousal entirely involuntary, the biological response of a woman whose body had been stimulated for this long at this depth running on its own program regardless of what her mind was screaming about it — and pressing.
"MMPHHH~!!!♡♡—"
The tail vibrated.
Inside her pussy, the vibration running through the thin wall between her two channels, meeting his cock on the other side of that wall, the guild mistress’s body now fully, comprehensively occupied in both directions simultaneously.
Her hips bucked.
Hard.
Dara held them.
The full, genuine, sustained muscular effort of holding hips that were trying to move — Dara’s arms shaking slightly with it, her strong hands doing the specific work they had been placed here to do.
"—MMPH~!!♡♡!! NGH~!!♡!! NNGH~!!♡—"