Chapter 902 - 901- Deeper than Ever

Chapter 902: Chapter 901- Deeper than Ever

She blinked. She looked at her arm stumps.

From the end of each capped nub, where a bangle’s ring still glowed softly, now extended a short chain. And at the end of each chain, a small gleaming hook, delicate and ornate, like the hooks used to hang lanterns or, she realized with dawning horror, like the hooks used to hang up chickens and ducks in the butcher’s market.

Chains. On her arms. She was a chick. A trussed, hooked, hanging-ready chick, and the image of the hanger on the wall, with its neat row of wiggling hands, filled in itself in her mind with horrible new possibilities.

"I..." Her voice came out very small. "What happened here? What is... what IS this place now?"

"Improvement," he said again, warmly.

She followed his gesture around the room, and the room slowly reassembled itself into a picture.

It was a blur of aftermath. Across the chamber, the other three maids stood with their faces turned down, flushed to the collar, quietly helping. Two of them cradled bundles, tiny screaming bundles wrapped in soft cloth, while a healer’s blue light glowed over Kaida and Bella, who lay gasping and sweaty on the recovery cushions, their umbilical care being handled with gentle professional hands. Newborns. Two newborns, alive, wailing, being tended beside their wrecked and radiant mothers.

It was, in one corner of the room, the most wholesome scene the tower had ever contained.

And then the maid tilted her eyes a bit further, and saw the rest of the room, which was the opposite of that.

On the other side of the bed, three women lay in a pile. Priestess Olivia. Vivian, the thick green-haired elf. And Elara, the pink winged succubus. All three of them limbless, all three of them absolutely glazed in fluids, and all three of them were currently, actively, lazily licking his balls.

Their mouths moved in slow devoted strokes over his sack, their little arm stumps flailing like penguins’ wings, useless and utterly unashamed. His tail was buried in Elara’s pussy, pumping away, and the succubus lay there squirting in soft intermittent fountains, her round belly jiggling with every spurt, moaning against his testicles.

"Wait, wait," Olivia mumbled between licks, drunk on something that was not wine. "I cannot... my mouth is tired, my lord, but I cannot stop, it is so warm, it is like worship..."

"Slower," Vivian slurped, elven ear twitching. "Thick girls savor... mmph... savor the holy relics..."

"What is happening here?" the youngest maid whispered.

Viktor looked down at the pile of wives, then back at her, and explained in the tone of a man describing a household chore.

"You see, my wives need some rest."

He stood. His cock rose with him, firm and upright and enormous, and the three lickers whined at the loss of their toy before collapsing back into the pillow pile, boobs marked with teeth, pussies leaking his seed onto the sheets, pregnant bellies still jiggling faintly from the aftershocks. They lay like fallen soldiers of a very happy war. Another hour of that treatment and their pussies would have been loose enough to sort the babies out by themselves.

The maid looked at the wives. At the newborns. At the ceiling. At him.

"Sir," she trembled. "Master, wait. This is... I cannot... sir, tremble, sir..." Her eyes fell on Olivia’s blissful face. "Priestess Olivia, sir, how can you defy him, that is, how can I... I mean, how does one even..."

Olivia opened one eye. "Defy?" she murmured dreamily. "Oh, little one. One does not defy a divine rod. One surrenders to it. It is theology."

"No, no, I did not mean to..." Her lips trembled. She looked at him. At the muscles. At the milky skin and the glowing horns and the abs and the cock, that cock, standing thicker than her three fingers combined, thick as her wrist, thick as her elbow, pointing at her like an accusation.

"Master, I..."

His hand landed on her thigh.

"Are you a virgin?"

The question was a stone dropped into a very still pond. Every surviving maid in the room turned her face further down. The three wives in the pile all opened their eyes at once, with the synchronized interest of cats hearing a can opener.

"I... sir... yes," she whispered, trembling. Nineteen years old. Naked. Limbless. Wet between the legs in a way she would deny under torture. Staring at a cock that she genuinely did not believe was designed to fit inside a human woman, and specifically not inside her hairy little pussy, which she had never so much as shown to a mirror out of shyness.

He chuckled.

He lifted her.

He picked her up like a baby, one arm under her stumps of legs, the other supporting her back, and carried her across the chamber, and she hung there in his grip, hooked chains dangling from her arm nubs, utterly weightless in his hands, utterly unable to do anything about any of it.

He stopped in front of the full length mirror by the wardrobe.

"Look," he said.

She looked. The mirror showed her everything. Her own naked body, small and soft, held against his towering frame, his cock jutting beneath her like a lance under a flag. Her own face, crimson. Her own pussy, a dark thatch of soft hair between her legs, already damp, already pouting open slightly, and behind it his thick shaft waiting.

"This cock heavy, isn’t it," he murmured, watching her face in the mirror rather than her body.

His finger came down and parted her pussy lips, gently, opening her like a book to its first page. Her knees, if she had still owned any, would have buckled. She made a sound instead, a strangled squeak.

"Master..."

"Count the difference," he said, and pressed the head of his cock against her opening from below, letting the mirror show her exactly how the plum-sized crown dwarfed her little pink slit. "Do you think it fits?"

"No," she said honestly. "No, master, it does not, it is mathematics, it does not fit."

"Mathematics," he echoed, delighted, "was made to be broken."

He held her leg stump like a handle, and pulled her down.

"Wait, wait, master, MASTER, wait..."

The head pushed in. Her body resisted, and stretched, and resisted, and stretched, and her eyes rolled back as her insides rearranged their entire opinion of geometry. He pulled her down onto himself with slow, relentless, inevitable pressure, her walls spreading around the crown inch by inch, her voice climbing through octaves she did not know she owned, and then the thickest part of him popped past her entrance and she shrieked like a maiden being taken on her wedding altar.

"AAAAH~!! It is IN, it is in, it is IN ME, master, I can feel it in my TUMMY~!!"

He pulled her further down. And further. Her belly, in the mirror, showed a faint rising bulge where he reached, and she watched it happen, watching her own body swallow a cock she had measured as impossible.

"Mmph~!! Hnng~!! Too deep, master, you are in my... you are past my... I do not have words for where you ARE~!!"

"Deeper," he said.

"THERE IS NO DEEPER, I AM ONLY NINETEEN, THERE IS NO ROOM FOR... HIEEE~!!"