Chapter 45: Volume 1- [ - 46]
‘Lira’s mouth — so close to mine — I can feel her tongue — through his cock — the movement — we are both — oh gods — what are we—’
I pulled out. Pushed Sera onto her back. Straddled her chest, my cock laying between her breasts — the pink-nippled, perkier pair, the flesh firm enough to grip but soft enough to yield. I pushed them together. Sandwiched my cock between them. Began to move.
“Mmmh—” I let the sound escape. “Hold them together. Squeeze.”
Sera’s trembling hands found her own breasts, pressing them inward, creating a tunnel of warm flesh that gripped my shaft as I thrust. The head emerged from the top of her cleavage with each upward stroke, red and glistening, inches from her chin.
“Lira,” I said, without stopping. “Sandwich your sister’s breasts. Help her.”
Lira moved. Her hands replaced Sera’s — her fingers wrapping around her sister’s breasts, pressing them together, holding them in place while I fucked the cleavage. The contact — sister touching sister, hands on flesh, nipples pressing against palms — sent a visible shudder through both of them.
‘My hands — on Sera’s — I am holding my sister’s breasts while he — this is — I cannot — her skin is so soft — her nipples are hard against my palms — and his cock is right there — sliding — the head — I can see it — so close to her face—’
I pulled out. Turned to Lira. Pushed her onto her back. Straddled her chest. Her breasts were larger — fuller, heavier, the kind that swallowed a cock — and I sank into the cleavage with a groan, the flesh closing around me, warm and soft and deep.
“Your turn,” I said, looking at Sera. “Hold her.”
Sera’s hands found Lira’s breasts. She pressed them together, her fingers sinking into the softer flesh, her thumbs finding the nipples, pinching unconsciously. Lira gasped. Her back arched. Her arousal meter spiked to 96.
Both sisters looked away from each other. The embarrassment was a living thing between them — thick, electric, unbreachable. They could not look at each other while doing this. Could not acknowledge that they were both here, both naked, both serving the same man, both aroused by the same cock and the same hands and the same situation.
I pulled out of Lira’s cleavage. Lay down between them. Opened my arms.
“Come here.”
They came. Sera on my right, Lira on my left, their bodies pressing against mine, their heads finding my chest, their tears finding my skin. They cried. Not the sharp, frightened crying of the goblin attack — this was deeper, rawer, the grief they had been suppressing since I told them their father was dead.
“Papa—” Lira wailed, and the word was a knife.
“He is gone—” Sera’s voice broke. “What will happen to us? What will we do? We have no — the land — the house — the guards — we are alone—’
I held them. Let them cry. Let the grief pour out, the tears soaking into my chest, the sobs shaking their bodies, their hands clutching my shoulders.
“You are not alone,” I said, and my voice was warm, certain, the voice of a man who was the answer to every question they were asking. “I will take you away from here. To my manor. You will be safe. You will be protected.”
I turned to Sera. Sucked her left breast — the pink nipple, stiff and small, drawing it into my mouth with a firm pull that made her gasp mid-sob. Then turned to Lira. Sucked her right breast — the rose nipple, larger, softer, the areola darkening as the blood rushed to the surface.
Both sisters moaned through their tears, their bodies responding to the stimulation even as their minds drowned in grief.
“I am going to make you my women,” I said, and the words were spoken into the flesh of their breasts, the vibration traveling through the skin to the nipples to the nerves to the places between their legs where the warmth was building again.
They looked at each other. Over my chest. Two faces — one angular, one soft, both tear-streaked, both flushed, both horrified and aroused and confused and wanting.
“Your women?” Sera whispered.
“My women,” I confirmed. “Both of you. Under my protection. Under my roof. Under me.”
‘Under him. He said under him. That means — he wants to — he wants both of us — as his — not wives, not concubines — women — what does that — what will that—’
‘He wants us. Both of us. And I — I want — I do not care what it means. I do not care. Father is dead. The world is ending. And this man — this lord — he is warm, and strong, and he killed a goblin for us, and he is holding me, and his mouth on my breast is making me forget — everything — except—’
I kissed Sera’s neck. Then Lira’s. Then Sera’s again, my lips finding the pulse point, feeling the hammering beneath the skin.
“Will you let me?” I whispered.
Neither sister answered. But neither sister pulled away.
I moved. Pushed Sera onto her back. Her legs were together — clenched, the last barricade. I looked at Lira.
“Spread her legs,” I said.
Lira trembled. Looked at Sera. Sera looked at Lira. The communication was instant, wordless, the silent language of sisters who had shared everything: ‘If we do this, we cannot undo it. If we do this, we are his. If we do this—’
Lira’s hand found Sera’s knee. She pushed. Gently, firmly, with the care of a sister who knew how much this was going to hurt. Sera’s legs opened. Her pussy — hairy, dark-haired, the lips swollen and wet — was exposed.
I positioned myself between her thighs. My cock — ten inches, thick, the head flared — pressed against her entrance. The heat of her was staggering. The wetness was abundant. But the resistance was there — the hymen, intact, a barrier that had never been breached.
I pushed.
The head entered. Sera’s body went rigid — every muscle locking, her back arching, her hands flying to my shoulders, her nails digging in.
“My lord — it — it hurts—’
‘I know,’ I did not say. I pushed deeper.
One inch. Two. The hymen stretched — a thin membrane of tissue that had been there for eighteen years, holding back the world. Three inches — it tore. Sera screamed.
“AAAAAANGH—!!”
Blood. A thin, bright line of it, running from where my cock entered her, trailing down the crack of her ass, staining the white sheets. She was bleeding. I pushed deeper.
Four inches. Five. Her walls — never touched, never stretched, virgin and impossibly tight — gripped my cock with a force that bordered on painful, the flesh clenching and fluttering around the invasion.
“It hurts — it hurts — please — slower—’
I kissed her. My mouth covered hers, swallowing the scream, my tongue finding hers and holding it still while my hips moved in slow, grinding circles that opened her by degrees. My hands found her breasts — the pink nipples, stiff and raw — and I kneaded them, pinching the peaks, using the dual stimulation to override the pain with something her body could not help but respond to.
Lira watched. Her hand was between her legs again — she could not help it, the sight of her sister being fucked, the sounds, the blood, the sight of that enormous cock disappearing into a body that looked too small to contain it — and her fingers moved in frantic circles, her arousal meter at 94.