100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids-Chapter 386 - 385- Cleaning her own Piss

’’He’s hitting the—’’ The thought didn’t complete. The thing it was trying to describe wasn’t describable, just ’felt,’ the full-depth press against her deepest wall that lit her entire lower body simultaneously with the particular electric shock of cervical contact.

’’Why does he always — every time — why does my body just—’’

Her tail had wrapped around his waist.

Tight.

Viktor hooked his forearms under her thighs.

He lifted her.

Bella left the wall.

She was ’up’ — fully airborne, sitting impaled on him, his hands under the backs of her thighs, her feet off the floor, her back to his chest, her body now the only anchor keeping her from the ground. Her tail tightened instinctively. Her hands found his arms and gripped.

He ’walked.’

He walked with her on his cock the way you walk when you’re carrying something that belongs with you, the movement of his hips with each step feeding into the rhythm, her small body bouncing on him with each footfall. The weight of it — his cock driving up into her with every step, her own gravity pulling her down onto him on the descent — built its own timing, a walking pace that was doing things to her that a stationary position simply could not.

PAH. PAH. PAH!

"Hah~!! HIEK~!! Oungh~!!"

Her pregnant belly rounded out in front of her, soft and warm, the slight swell of it catching the amber light. Two weeks biological. Visually, six months — the system had compressed the timeline, the growth sitting gentle and round below her navel, her dress pulled up around it.

’’He is walking with me on him,’’ she thought, coherently, amid the incoherence. ’’He is walking while I am on his cock and each step is a thrust and I cannot breathe properly and I am going to—’’

His incubus tail uncoiled from where it had been resting against his back.

Found her.

The spade tip, slick with its natural lubricant, pressed against her asshole from below.

Bella’s eyes flew wide.

"MMPHHH~!!"

PAH. PAH. PAAAH!

"HNNGH~!! OUNGH~!! AANGH~!!"

He arrived above Gwen.

He stopped walking.

He tilted.

Bella’s body rotated in his grip — his hands adjusting, finding her thighs from outside, locking them open, turning her until she faced ’down,’ looking at the unconscious woman on the floor below her, her own flush face reflected in the pale skin of someone who had no idea what was happening above them.

Bella’s eyes widened.

"Master — she would awake—"

"Don’t you want to kill her?" Viktor said.

Bella looked at Gwen. At the silver-blonde hair spread across the wood floor, the rise and fall of the unconscious woman’s chest, the thick body arranged at the specific ugly angle of someone Bella had put there.

"Yes," she said.

"Then how about," Viktor said, "killing her by making her ashamed?"

The hands locked.

One around her thighs — both of them, fingers threading, locking her spread and helpless in his grip. The other came up and found her head, palm flat against the top of her silver hair, and ’pressed.’

The Bella-shape in his hands became less a woman and more a — ’vessel,’ a position, a perfect sleeve of heat and pressure with his cock seated all the way inside it and no movement left to her in any direction she could choose independently.

He started to ’fuck.’

Not walking-pace. Not the deliberate measured rhythm from before. ’Fast.’ The specific fast of someone who has been building toward this and has arrived.

PAH. PAH. PAH. PAH. PAH!

"Wait—wait—wait—" Bella’s voice was broken, the sounds of it chopped up by each impact, her small body absorbing every thrust with the full-body shudder of something that had no margin. "I’m going to — master, I’m going to—"

She stopped.

Something shifted in her expression.

Her eyes went wide with a very different kind of alarm.

"I’m going to—I’m going to pee—"

PAH. PAH!

"WAIT—master, I forgot — I was going to go before I — and then she shot at you and I forgot and now—" Her voice was frantic, the specific frantic of a realization arriving at the worst possible timing. "I have to pee, please—"

Viktor did not stop.

PAH. PAAAH!

"HIEK~!! WAIT—MASTER—I CAN’T—AAANGH~!!"

The orgasm hit her at the same moment.

Bella squirted.

The first pulse of it came with her climax — the hard wet gush of her release, entirely involuntary, entirely comprehensive — and then, in the aftermath of the clench-and-release that had been building since the walking started, the second thing also happened.

Warm.

A stream of it.

Onto Gwen below.

Bella made a sound that was half sob and half the ragged end of a scream and entirely mortified, her body still convulsing in the last waves of the orgasm while the warm trickle continued its business independently of everything else.

The heat hit Viktor’s balls.

He went still.

He looked down.

Then up at Bella, whose face, had it been any color before, was now the color of something that had never considered existing before this moment. Her cat ears were flat. Her tail had gone entirely rigid and then entirely limp. She was shaking in his hands.

"I’m sorry," she said, before he said anything. Preemptive. Emphatic. "I forgot, I was going to go but she—the arrow—and I forgot and then you started and I couldn’t stop it—master, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

"What the hell," Viktor said.

His voice had the quality of a man genuinely recalibrating.

"Did you just dirty me," he said.

"—I’m sorry—"

He looked at the floor.

At Gwen. At the evidence of Bella’s two-stage emergency distributed across an unconscious person who had absolutely no awareness of any of this happening.

He looked at Bella.

She was trembling in his hands. Teary. The specific combination of post-orgasm and complete mortification that produced the most genuinely Bella expression he had ever seen on her — the face of someone who had wanted very badly to kill this woman and had instead done something she was going to think about for years.

Something moved through Viktor’s expression.

A chuckle.

Low, genuine, the kind that wasn’t for Bella’s benefit but simply arrived because some situations were objectively what they were.

He lowered her.

Slowly. His hands under her thighs, lowering her until her feet touched the tree-room floor, setting her down with a care that was both entirely natural and slightly ironic given the preceding four minutes.

She found her footing.

Stood.

Her legs were shaking. She put one hand against the tree wall and breathed and did not look at the floor.

Viktor stepped back.

He looked at her.

She looked up at him with teary eyes and flat cat ears and the expression of someone waiting for the sentence.

He reached forward.

Flicked her ear.

Light. The specific flick that meant ’come back to the present.’

"Clean it," he said.

Bella looked at the floor.

At Gwen.

At the floor again.

Her throat worked. "I — master—"

"Clean her," he said. "And the floor. Before I come back."