Chapter 108 - - 108 - Broken Princes and Open Opportunities [R18]

Chapter 108: Chapter - 108 - Broken Princes and Open Opportunities [R18]

When Lucien sank his weapon into her, Anne’s world narrowed down to the overwhelming sensation of being filled. Her ability to think vanished completely, obliterated by the raw impact of his entry. Lucien did not ask for permission, nor did he hesitate. He began thrusting immediately, driving into her with a ruthless, demanding rhythm that made the heavy bed shudder against the floor.

Anne loved it. She hated having to give consent for every little thing, and Lucien simply took control, burying himself in her over and over. She gripped the wooden side frame of the bed, her knuckles white, her breath coming in ragged, broken hitches.

"You bastard..." she wheezed, her voice barely capable of forming words through the intensity of the feeling. "Pull my hair too."

Lucien slowed his rhythm just slightly, his dark gaze locking onto hers. "You like having your hair pulled? Never knew you were into that."

"You’re the first one doing it," Anne gasped, her eyes burning with an intense, uninhibited heat.

Lucien reached down, winding his fingers firmly into her hair and tugging her head back. With every deep, deliberate thrust, he pulled harder. It was not a frantic, hasty movement; the rhythm was slow and heavy, each stroke pushing his length so deep inside her that it felt as though he was disappearing within her very core.

After stretching her to her absolute limit from behind, Lucien grabbed her waist, turning her around to face him. He pinned her beneath him, thrusting straight into her front while staring down into her trembling face. He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a kiss—not a tender kiss born of affection, but a fierce, desperate clash of lips and teeth.

Still kept hot and breathless, she felt Lucien’s hands grip her arms tightly. Without withdrawing, he hauled her up, dragging her across the mattress until her face was hovering directly over Prince Andrin, who lay helpless on the floor beside the bed.

"I never thought I’d be dual-cultivating with the girl I fought," Lucien murmured near her ear, his voice low and raspy as he drove himself into her core once more. "It’s a nice feeling. Your core is warm, wet... and now stretched, bitch."

Anne threw her head back, let out a shuddering breath, and laughed through the sensation. "I know, you bastard... and I’m loving every second of it. Stretch me. Make it so loose that only you are the only one who can make me feel anything."

Lucien smirked and spun her around again, keeping her suspended in the air. Her face was positioned down toward the helpless Prince Andrin while Lucien remained behind her, buried to the hilt, his large hands coming forward to violently squeeze her breasts.

"Ahhh...!" Anne gasped, her back arching violently as her toes curled. "I never knew... I never knew it could go so deep. I didn’t even know my own limit!"

"Don’t worry," Lucien whispered, his breath hot against her neck as his fingers dug into her soft flesh. "By the morning, this will be your new limit."

Without breaking his stride, Lucien delivered a harsh kick to Prince Andrin’s side, sending the royal rolling off the immediate edge of the mattress and onto the cold floor. Lucien then shifted his weight, lying flat on his back on the bed and pulling Anne directly on top of him.

Her lover lay broken on the floor just inches away, forced to watch as Lucien remained deep inside her, never slowing his punishing momentum for a single second. Anne planted her hands and knees firmly on Lucien’s chest and thighs, taking support while he thrust upward into her core. With every impact, her internal passage was forced to expand, molding itself entirely to his shape.

"This is your first breakthrough, bitch," Lucien growled, his hands reaching up to clamp onto her breasts again. He pulled her down hard against his chest, driving his shaft as deep as it would physically go, and released a surge of his powerful cultivation energy straight into her core. "Take it in!"

The raw, potent energy flooded her insides, making her gasp as her cultivation channels flared with heat. Before she could even process the sensation, Lucien sat up, taking her with him, and spun her onto her hands and knees.

"Raise your hips," Lucien commanded.

Anne obeyed instantly. Without a single second of hesitation, she arched her back and pushed her hips high into the air.

Without waiting, Lucien drove his weapon back inside her. The energy he had just transferred into her core was already mingling with her body’s natural moisture, creating a slick, sliding friction that made every relentless thrust even more intense. She was bent over like a dog, stripped of all pride—a position she had never once taken for Prince Andrin. With Andrin, it had always been soft, polite lovemaking. But this—what Lucien was doing to her—was something entirely different. It was raw, primal dominance, and it consumed her completely.

The moment he pushed all the way in, the feeling of fullness overwhelmed her senses. Lucien reached out, pinning both of her hands behind her back, and resumed a deep, merciless pacing. Over and over, he filled her without stopping, pounding his mark into the very depths of her body.

Lucien paused for a fraction of a second, his voice thick with exertion. "Ahh... there’s another core just a little bit higher. Should I make it mine?"

Anne’s mind rattled from the constant pleasure and pain, her breath ragged. "Yessss... make it yours! Everything is yours!"

"Impressive, bitch. You really love this type of dual cultivation," Lucien chuckled, his hands gripping her waist firmly. "It’s fun with you. Raise your hips again."

She pushed herself higher, trembling. Lucien adjusted his angle, pressing the tip of his weapon against her second, smaller core.

Anne’s eyes snapped wide. It was her absolute first time having that hidden core touched, let alone entered. Before she could even register the sharp shock of it, Lucien thrust forward. Her body yielded to his strength, taking him all the way in. The sheer sensation of it breached her defenses, flooding her mind with an unheard-of level of intensity.

"Fill my filthy core, you bastard!" Anne screamed into the sheets, her fingers clawing at the mattress. "I won’t forgive you if you stop!"

Lucien pulled her back by her arms, shifting his weight so he was sitting on his knees while pulling her directly onto his lap. Anne was seated on top of him, riding the high of the contact, before she even realized her second core had been completely stretched open to accommodate him.

The night wore on without mercy. Hours blurred together into a continuous storm of heat and energy exchange. Sometimes Anne was on top, controlling the pace with wild desperation; sometimes she was pinned beneath him on the bottom, entirely at his mercy. There was not a single hole, core, or passage in her body that remained untouched or unfilled by Lucien.

The bed became entirely soaked with a mixture of their heavy sweat and overflowing cultivation juices. Her dual-cultivation channels were filled and refilled so many times that the liquid energy broke past her body’s capacity, leaking freely down her thighs and onto the sheets.

Compared to Lucien’s monstrous vitality, Anne’s stamina began to flag, but Lucien refused to let the fire burn out. He forced her flat onto the mattress, grabbing one of her legs and hoisting it high over his shoulder, driving back inside her with unwavering force. They pushed through every position, testing every angle until there was nothing left to explore.

The night was still young, but time was slipping away. Lucien picked her up from the bed, carrying her trembling body across the room, and set her against the broad glass of the window.

Without waiting for his prompt, Anne placed her hands against the cool pane, raised her hips back toward him, and looked out over the darkened landscape. "Take me while I look at this view," she whispered, her voice husky and weak.

Lucien stepped up behind her, grabbing her hips, and plunged back into her. Every barrier, every bit of modesty, and every boundary she had ever held was thoroughly defiled against the glass.

And through it all, Prince Andrin heard and saw everything.

lying helpless on the floor, the prince watched in silent horror as Anne’s core stretched to impossible lengths—a feat he had never once been capable of achieving with her. He watched the continuous stream of dual-cultivation juices spill from her body over and over again, witnessing a side of her he never knew existed.

Not a single part of Anne was left untouched. Near the end of the night, she was once again on top of Lucien, riding his thick, veiny weapon with frantic motions, letting out shrill, desperate sounds that no one had ever heard her make before.

"Why, you bastard...?" Anne panted, leaning down low, her body shaking from exhaustion as she stared into Lucien’s eyes. "Why are you so good at this dual cultivation... and so good at fighting?"

She didn’t wait for an answer. She bent her head down and kissed him passionately, her lips sliding over his neck and chest.

Over the course of those intense six hours, Lucien learned every hidden facet of Anne’s desires. He learned how much she craved it when she spread her legs and allowed him to fill her entirely with his weapon. He learned how she instinctively leaned in to press eager kisses against his neck, how her hands loved to trace the line of his chest, and how she shivered with pleasure whenever he grabbed her by the hair, using her head to clean his weapon after a long, deep burst of energy.

By the time eight hours had passed, they were rapidly running out of time. They had no choice but to bring the session to an end, having spent every available minute cultivating at maximum intensity. In those eight hours, Anne had received Lucien’s concentrated energy everywhere—across her face, spilled over her breasts, and deep within her dual-cultivation passages.

When the energy finally settled, Lucien lay back on the bed, catching his breath. Anne collapsed on top of his chest, her heart hammering against his skin.

Lucien reached down, grabbing a firm handful of her rear and squeezing it roughly like a ball.

"Move, bitch," Lucien said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We have to go now before anyone arrives."

"Wait a minute, bastard," Anne murmured, a flush still visible on her cheeks. "I want to taste you again."

Before he could pull away, Anne slid down his body, targeting his weapon once more. She took his final breakthrough shot straight into her mouth, swallowing every drop of the concentrated cultivation essence without missing a beat.

"It tastes so good," Anne breathed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Yeah. We’ll have more time later," Lucien said, reaching for a discarded cloth nearby and tossing it to her. "Here, take this cloth and remove all the evidence that we were ever in this room."

While Anne began wiping down the surfaces, Lucien turned his attention to Prince Andrin. He grabbed the broken, motionless prince by the collar and dragged him back onto the bed. He laid him directly in the center of the wet mattress—the very spot that was still heavily soaked with their sweat and mixed cultivation juices. As Andrin lay there, the overwhelming scent of Lucien and Anne’s combined essences filled his nostrils, cementing his humiliation.

A short time later, Lucien and Anne were both dressed in fresh, clean sets of clothes. Anne stood off to the side, her hands resting heavily on her hips, her legs trembling slightly beneath her.

"Even standing is hard for me now," Anne admitted, letting out a soft sigh.

Lucien glanced at her as he adjusted his collar. "You’d better get used to it, bitch. And don’t forget—I won this time again. So from now on, you’re my bitch."

A dark, devilish smile spread across Anne’s face as she looked back at him. "And I will live every moment of it, you bastard."

Lucien retrieved a small vial of potent poison from his robes. Stepping up to the bed, he forced Prince Andrin’s jaw open and poured the green liquid down his throat, forcing him to swallow. Immediately after, Lucien channeled his astral energy, driving his spiritual consciousness straight into Andrin’s mind.

Prince Andrin did not offer a shred of resistance. He couldn’t. After everything he had been forced to watch and listen to throughout the night, his mental defenses were entirely broken. His shattered mind was easily subdued, falling completely under the influence of the poison and Lucien’s intrusive energy.

With the prince’s mind completely open and defenseless, Lucien drove his astral force deeper, altering his memories and setting the exact parameters necessary for his plan to succeed.

Far away in Azurefall, Lady Aelvera sat cross-legged in her private chamber, attempting to focus her cultivation. But every time she closed her eyes and tried to calm her spirit, the image of her dead father flashed behind her eyelids. To someone like Prince Rumil, her father’s death might not have meant much, but to Aelvera, he had been her entire world.

Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors to her chamber burst open. A soldier hurried inside, his breathing heavy and ragged as he fell to one knee.

Aelvera opened her eyes, her gaze cold and sharp. "What is going on? Why did you disturb my cultivation? You had better have a good reason."

"La—Lady Aelvera!" the soldier gasped out, trying to catch his breath. "The Hollow of Ten Thousand Forms has been opened! Hundreds of thousands of cultivators are gathering, planning to go inside!"

Aelvera stared at the soldier for a moment before a sharp, calculating light flickered deep within her eyes.

Finally... she thought, her inner spirit stirring with a sudden surge of focus. The opportunity I’ve been waiting for.