Chapter 150: The Ultimate Taboo [3] [R18]

Vesperia arched her spine with a breathless gasp, a low, guttural purr vibrating deep in her throat as the sharp sting bloomed across her pale flesh.

Without a second of hesitation, the Matriarch dropped forward onto her forearms, burying her manicured fingers into the dark sheets of the star-wood bed.

Right beside her, Rosalind mirrored the motion.

Her white ears pressed flat against her tangled silver hair, her spine curving into an exaggerated, submissive arch that raised her flared hips high.

Presented side by side, two generations of House Bastet’s sovereign line knelt on the bed, offering themselves completely to the beastman standing behind them.

The whisper-thin white lace was completely transparent now, soaked through and clinging uselessly to the flush of their skin.

Their long white tails flicked in tight, erratic whips, their bodies trembling in synchronized anticipation under the faint amber glow of the dampening array.

Azriel didn’t bother with delicate adjustments.

Stepping up between their parted knees, he gripped the delicate fabric of their panties and tore them both aside in two swift, violent tugs.

Rip. Rip.

The sound of ripping lace cut through the quiet room, discarded silks fluttering down to the rug like shed feathers.

Exposed to the cool air, both of their wet, swollen folds glistened under the light, weeping a heavy, intoxicating nectar that perfumed the entire master suite.

Azriel sank his weight into the star-wood mattress behind them, the massive frame groaning under the shift.

Leaning low, he anchored his large hands into the flared curves of Rosalind’s ass, his fingers sinking into the soft, yielding flesh and wrenching her cheeks wide.

The sweet, heavy scent of her arousal bloomed instantly in the warm air.

Without a shred of hesitation, he buried his face between her thighs, his tongue flattening against her glistening, weeping folds.

Slick.

Rosalind’s spine bowed into a sharp arc.

"Ohmmmhhhhhhhh....."

A loud, fractured moan tore past her lips, her knuckles blanching as she seized fistfuls of the silk sheets beneath her chest.

"Ah—fuck, Azriel!" she cried out, her white tail whipping violently against the air.

His tongue worked with devastating rhythm, lapping and swirling over her swollen bundle of nerves, dragging her nectar high before pressing firm, relentless pressure into her entrance.

Slick. Shlick. Mm.

Her hips shuddered, bucking back against his face in an uncontrolled attempt to take more.

Right beside her, Vesperia shifted on her elbows, her golden slit-pupils darting back over her shoulder with an unmasked, ravenous glare.

A low, needy growl rumbled in the Matriarch’s throat at the delay.

Azriel didn’t leave her waiting.

While his mouth remained pressed tight to Rosalind’s dripping core, his right hand reached across the divide.

His calloused fingers parted Vesperia’s slick folds and drove two thick fingers straight into her tight, scalding channel.

Squelch

Vesperia’s breath hitched on a ragged gasp, her claws tearing shallow furrows into the fabric of the bed.

"Hah... daddy..."

Azriel orchestrated the pace without mercy.

His mouth drove Rosalind wild, his tongue vibrating against her clit while his chin smeared the pooling slick across her inner thighs.

Slick. Slick. Slurp.

Beside her, his fingers curled upward inside Vesperia, finding the swollen ridge within her walls and pumping with a hard, rhythmic thrust that drew guttural whimpers from the elder sovereign.

The wet, obscene friction of his mouth and hand filled the chamber, accompanied by the muffled, shuddering gasps of mother and daughter unraveling in unison.

The climax struck them almost simultaneously.

Rosalind let out a piercing, broken cry, her thighs clamping tightly around Azriel’s head as a sudden gush of clear slick soaked his lips and chin.

An instant later, Vesperia’s inner walls clamped down in violent, rhythmic spasms around his fingers, her hips bucking backward into his hand as a breathless shudder swept through her entire frame.

Azriel pulled back slowly, wiping the back of his hand across his glistening chin.

Both women were left trembling on their forearms, chests heaving, their backs arched and their exposed folds dripping profusely onto the sheets.

"Now you’re wet enough," Azriel rumbled, his voice dark and edged with iron.

Rising up on his knees behind Rosalind, he took the heavy, vein-ridged trunk of his shaft into his hand, resting the blunt, weeping crown against her soaked entrance.

With his free palm, he drew back and delivered a sharp, echoing smack across the plush curve of her left ass cheek.

SPANK!

A bright red handprint blossomed instantly across her pale skin.

"Ohhhhhhh...."

Rosalind gasped, her back arching even higher.

Before she could catch her breath, Azriel gripped her hip with bruising force and drove his hips forward.

In one single, ruthless plunge, his thick length broke through her tight, fluttering folds, burying itself balls-deep into her scalding heat.

The impact was absolute.

A sharp, breathless scream tore from Rosalind’s throat as the sudden intrusion stretched her slick walls to their limit.

Her forehead pressed down against the crumpled silk, her spine locked in a taut, trembling arch while her white tail whipped in erratic, frantic twitches.

Every muscle along her thighs clenched hard around his hips, struggling to accommodate the monstrous girth buried to the root inside her.

Azriel didn’t give her a moment to adjust.

Latching his fingers hard into the flared bone of her hips, leaving dark red impressions in the ivory skin, he hauled his hips back until only the swollen crown lingered at her weeping threshold, then slammed forward with unyielding momentum.

Smack.

The wet, violent collision of skin on skin echoed off the sandstone arches.

Rosalind gasped, a broken, high-pitched sob vibrating in her chest as her inner walls clamped down in desperate friction around the vein-ridged steel filling her.

"F-fuck—Azriel!" she choked out, her claws tearing through the bedsheets.

"Too deep... it’s too—"

"Take it, Rose," Azriel growled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that reverberated straight through her pelvis.

He established a punishing, steady cadence.

Each drive pushed deeper, displacing the pooling nectar until white froth bubbled at the seam where their bodies met.

Her hips shuddered under the sheer force of his strikes, her plush ass rippling with every heavy slap of his thighs against her pale flesh.

Right beside them, Vesperia was watching every stroke.

The Matriarch lay propped on one elbow, her golden slit-pupils swallowed by an unhinged, dilated hunger.

Her long white tail twitched erratically, curling between her parted thighs where a thick, glistening stream of arousal ran unchecked down her pale skin, soaking the indigo silk beneath her.

Watching her daughter taken with such ruthless, sovereign dominance had pulverized the elder warrior’s restraint into fine dust.

Catching her ravenous stare, Azriel didn’t break his punishing rhythm inside Rosalind. Instead, he drew his right palm back and brought it down with a vicious, resounding crack across the plush curve of Vesperia’s exposed hip.

SPANK!

The impact left a blazing crimson brand across her pale flesh.

"Arhghmmmmmm"

A loud, guttural moan tore from the Matriarch’s throat, her back arching instantly into the strike.

Without missing a beat, Azriel sank two thick, calloused fingers back into Vesperia’s dripping channel, pumping hard and fast in ruthless synchronization with his hips.

"Look at her, Mommy," he rasped, his voice rough as grinding stone.

He drove forward into Rosalind with a wet, hollow thud, bottoming out so hard the headboard rattled against the sandstone wall.

A muffled, high-pitched shriek tore from the Duchess’s throat, her fingers knotting uselessly into the sheets.

"Look at how thoroughly your daughter takes daddy," Azriel provoked, burying his fingers deeper into Vesperia.

Vesperia’s breath came in ragged, scalding gasps. Instead of shame, a manic, predatory smirk split her swollen lips.

Tilting her head sideways, her gaze drank in her daughter’s ruined state, Rosalind’s head thrown back, tongue peeking past glistening lips, her face painted in an expression of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

"You take him so well, my sweet girl," Vesperia whispered, her honey-gravel voice thick with intoxicating madness.

"Show our beast how a true Bastet takes her master."

Hearing her own mother urge her on shattered the final psychological barrier in Rosalind’s mind.

A sob of sheer, overwhelming stimulation ripped past her lips.

Abandoning the last shreds of restraint, the Duchess rolled her hips backward in a frantic, violent rhythm, meeting every drive with unrestrained force to pull his iron shaft to the very depths of her core.

The relentless friction dragged Rosalind over the precipice.

"Bab... D-daddy... I’m coming!"

With a high, keening cry that rattled against the amber warding field, her inner walls clamped down in rapid, crushing spasms.

The word hit Azriel like a physical shockwave.

A dark jolt of adrenaline surged straight through him, his already rigid cock throbbing with renewed, unyielding hardness.

Beside them, Vesperia’s golden eyes widened in genuine disbelief, stunned to hear her own daughter—the proud, untouchable Duchess of House Bastet, surrender so completely to the exact same taboo title she used.

Pulling his dripping fingers from Vesperia’s core, Azriel clamped both hands onto Rosalind’s hips with bruising force.

He didn’t slow down; he accelerated into a brutal, punishing tempo that battered into her spasming entrance.

"That’s it, girl," he growled, violet eyes blazing with pure dominance.

"Cum for me. Drown me in it."

"Daddy... Daddy! Ah— fuck!"

A scalding flood broke from her depths, coating his shaft in a searing wave of slick.

Rosalind’s spine arched so violently her shoulder blades nearly locked together before all the strength drained from her limbs, leaving her collapsed limp and shuddering against the damp silk.