The rough-hewn planks of the cabin floor were a brutal stage, their splintery texture pressing into Liu Erlong's back, a constant, grating reminder of where she was and what was happening to her. Each plank was a line of harsh reality against her skin, a stark, unforgiving surface for the raw, carnal theater unfolding upon it. Above her, a god of pale flesh and dark intent, Zhang Tian moved with a primal, relentless rhythm.
He was deep inside her, a thick, searing heat that filled her to the core. His magnificent cock was a brutal, beautiful instrument, a punishing scepter of her degradation and a divine key to her pleasure. He fucked her on the floor, his hips slamming into hers with a force that seemed to shake the very foundations of the small, isolated cabin. His rhythm was a merciless trinity: hard, fast, and relentlessly deep. His powerful body, a canvas of pale, corded muscle, was a stark contrast to the wild, fiery crimson of her hair, splayed out like a splash of blood against the dark wood beneath them.
"Ahhh! Zhang Tian! Hhhaah… Yes! Right… there!"
Her voice was not her own. It was the raw, unrestrained shriek of an animal, a woman who had been starved for a touch, for a filling, for a week that felt like an eternity. Now, the feast she hadn't even known she was craving was being forced upon her, and she was devouring it with a desperation that shamed her and thrilled her in equal measure. Her magnificent, powerful body, once a fortress of unbreachable pride, was now a pliant, willing vessel for his violent pleasure. Her hips, those strong, warrior's hips, bucked up in a desperate, frantic rhythm of their own, meeting his every powerful thrust with a shameless, greedy hunger.
Thump-squelch. Thump-squelch. Thump-squelch.
The sound was a wet, obscene percussion that echoed off the simple wooden walls. It was the sound of his pubic bone cracking against hers, the sound of his slick flesh sliding in and out of her drenched pussy. The slap of their bodies colliding was a brutal symphony, a testament to the raw, untamed power of his thrusts, a beautiful, hedonistic anthem to their shared debasement.
With every deep, powerful plunge, he was hitting that secret, sensitive nub deep inside her, a place she barely knew existed until he'd claimed it. Her G-spot. He owned it now, playing it like a virtuoso, sending wave after shuddering wave of intense, crippling pleasure through her. Her toes curled, her fingers clawed at the rough floorboards, and a low, continuous moan vibrated in her throat.
He leaned down, his weight pressing her more firmly into the unforgiving wood. His hot, ragged breath ghosted across her skin before his mouth found one of her magnificent, heavy breasts. Her back was flush against the floor, her chest an offering. He latched onto her hard, erect nipple, and this time, there was no gentleness, no teasing. He bit down. A sharp, possessive force, the press of his teeth a brand.
A strangled cry tore from her lips, a sound of pure shock and electric pleasure. Her body arched violently against him, a convulsive bow of submission.
"Mmmph… hhhah… yes… bite me…" she begged, her voice a ragged, breathless rasp. 'Gods, what am I saying? What am I becoming?' The sharp sting of his teeth wasn't just pain; it was an exquisite torment that sent a jolt of pure, white-hot lightning straight to her core, making her pussy clench violently around his cock. She arched her back even further, pressing her magnificent breast more firmly into his mouth, a silent, desperate invitation for more punishment, for more of this agonizing pleasure.
He chuckled, a low, dark rumble against her skin that vibrated through her entire being. "Your pussy…" he growled, his voice a cruel, mocking whisper meant only for her. He pulled out an inch, then slammed back in, driving the air from her lungs. "It's just as tight as it was a week ago. When you were still pretending you weren't a slut who just wanted to be fucked." He loved the way her inner walls spasmed around his dick with every powerful, insulting thrust.
'What am I supposed to say to that?' Her mind, a dizzying, swirling haze of pleasure and shame, struggled to form a coherent thought. 'I should hate this. I should be fighting him, screaming insults, using whatever strength I have to throw him off. But my body… my body is a traitor. It's on fire, and it's craving him, this feeling, his cock, even more. It just… wants more and more of him inside me.'
The truth, raw and undeniable, tumbled from her lips, a confession torn from the depths of her soul. "It… it feels… ahhh… it feels so good! Please… hah… please, don't stop!"
"Good," he grunted, his voice thick with effort as he fucked her even harder, his rhythm accelerating into a frantic, pounding beat. The floorboards groaned in protest under the force of their coupling. "I enjoy breaking you. It's satisfying to hear you scream my name like a whore in a brothel."
Her mind, which should have been a screaming vortex of rage and humiliation at his words, was instead a wonderful, blissful fog of pure sensation. The insults were just words, sounds that were drowned out by the overwhelming symphony of pleasure he was conducting with her body. She no longer cared that he saw her as a whore, as his slut.
The pleasure, the raw, all-consuming pleasure he was giving her, was too much. It burned away everything else—her pride, her past, her very identity. The week of torturous, lonely waiting, of her body aching with an unmet need, had broken her far more completely than his words ever could.
He suddenly pulled out of her, not completely, but just enough that the thick, filling head of his cock retreated from that magical spot deep inside. The deliberate, teasing motion made her whimper, a high, pathetic sound of protest. The sudden loss of his fullness was a new, sharper kind of torture.
"What are you to me, Erlong?" he demanded, his voice a low, commanding rumble that vibrated through the floor and up into her bones. He held himself still, poised at the entrance of her pussy, a single bead of her wetness glistening on the tip of his cock. "Tell me. I want to hear you say it."
She looked up at him, her fiery green eyes, now swimming in a sea of unshed tears—tears of pleasure, tears of shame, tears of utter surrender. She saw the raw, possessive hunger in his dark gaze, the look of a predator who had finally cornered his prey. In that moment, the last, fragile vestiges of her pride, of the woman she used to be, finally shattered into a million irreparable pieces.
"I'm… I'm your whore, Master," she sobbed, the words a brand on her soul, a seal of her new reality. "Your… your slut."
He rewarded her confession with a devastating surge of power, driving back into her with a single, deep, soul-shaking thrust that made her see stars behind her clenched eyelids.
"That's right," he snarled against her ear, and then he began to fuck her with a renewed, savage intensity. He was a storm, a force of nature, and she was the earth being torn apart and remade in his image. He fucked her until she was a screaming, quivering mess, her first powerful orgasm of the night ripping through her with the force of a tidal wave. Her body convulsed around his dick, her inner walls clenching and milking him in a series of exquisite, desperate spasms as a scream of pure, unadulterated ecstasy was torn from her throat.
He didn't stop. He rode out her climax, continuing to fuck her on the floor, his rhythm hard, fast, and relentlessly deep, his powerful body a beautiful, brutal instrument of her ongoing pleasure.
After another ten minutes of this relentless, floor-pounding fucking, as her aftershocks finally began to subside, he pulled his slick, cum-drenched dick out of her with a wet, sucking sound. She let out a soft, disappointed whimper, a small cry of protest at the sudden, chilling emptiness.
He stood up in one fluid motion, pulling her to her feet with an effortless strength that was a stark, brutal reminder of her own, suppressed powerlessness. Her legs felt like jelly, and she swayed against him.
"The floor is for animals," he said, his voice a lazy, amused drawl as his eyes roamed her body. "But I suppose that's what you are now, aren't you? My little bitch in heat."
He looked down at her, at her beautiful, naked body, slick with their shared sweat. Her magnificent breasts were heaving with each ragged breath, her nipples still hard and dark from his bite. Her fiery red hair was a wild, beautiful mess around her face, framing eyes that were dazed with lust. "But even a bitch needs to learn new tricks," he continued, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Let's try something new. A position I think you'll find… very humbling."
He grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around. "Hands on the floor."
She obeyed without a moment's hesitation. The thought of resisting didn't even occur to her. She placed her palms flat against the rough wood, supporting her upper body, her arms already trembling with exhaustion and anticipation. The position forced her to present her magnificent, curvaceous ass to him at the perfect height, a blatant, vulnerable offering. The feeling of being so exposed, so completely at his mercy, sent a fresh, thrilling wave of shameful excitement through her.
'He can do anything he wants with me,' she thought, her pussy clenching and weeping in anticipation. 'And I… I want him to. I want it all.'
He entered her from behind with a single, deep, powerful thrust that made her cry out, her body jerking forward from the force. He filled her completely, the new depth and angle of his penetration shockingly intense. It felt as if his cock was trying to touch her very womb.
He began to fuck her in this new, raw, and incredibly primal position, his hips a relentless piston of pure, unadulterated lust. The wet slap of his thighs against her ass was a constant, driving beat. His hands were free, and he used them to punish her.
SMACK!
The sharp, stinging sound cracked through the quiet, rustic cabin like a whip. A brilliant red handprint immediately bloomed on the pale, perfect skin of her right ass cheek, a beautiful, stark contrast that drove him wild.
"Does that feel good, my slut?" he growled, his voice a low, dirty whisper in her ear. "To be fucked like a common bitch, presenting your ass for your master?"
"Yes! Hah… Yes, it feels so good!" she screamed, her voice a raw, high-pitched sound of ecstatic pleasure. The pain was a bright, clean fire that melted into the deeper, overwhelming pleasure of his cock filling her. "Punish me! Humiliate me! Hhhh… Make me yours!"
SMACK!
He hit her again, harder this time, on the other cheek. The sound echoed satisfyingly in the small space. "I can't hear you," he taunted, his thrusts growing deeper, harder. "Are you enjoying being my whore?"
"Yes, Master!" she sobbed, the pain mingling with a fresh wave of intense pleasure that was already building in her core. "I am! Ahh, I love it!"
He continued to fuck her, his pace never slowing, his grunts of effort mixing with her breathless cries. "Look at this magnificent ass bounce on my cock," he grunted, his voice thick with lust. The sight of her red, marked flesh jiggling with each of his powerful thrusts was driving him insane.
SMACK!
"It's a beautiful sight," he snarled, his fingers digging into her hips to hold her steady. "I'm going to mark it so everyone knows it belongs to me."
He continued to fuck her like that, his rhythm hard and relentless, his hands a constant, wonderful torment on her magnificent ass. He watched the red marks bloom, a beautiful, brutal testament to his ownership, each slap pushing her closer to the edge. Just as he felt her inner walls begin to clench, a frantic, fluttering signal of her impending climax, he delivered a final, powerful blow.
SMACK!
The sound was explosive. "This is your reward for being such a good slut," he roared.
The impact, combined with the relentless pounding of his cock, sent her over the edge. Her scream was swallowed by his own guttural roar as he came, his hot, thick seed flooding her pussy, a powerful, possessive release that made her own body convulse around his dick in a mind-numbing, world-shattering orgasm.
The afternoon sun began its slow, lazy descent, its golden rays filtering through the single, dusty window of the cabin. Motes of dust danced in the warm, hazy light, illuminating a scene of carnal conquest. The marathon of pleasure and degradation had stretched for hours, a timeless expanse of sweat, screams, and surrender. Yet their energy seemed boundless, a self-perpetuating fire fueled by a deep, primal, and insatiable lust.
He pulled out of her slowly, the slick sound of his withdrawal a soft sigh in the quiet room. He let her legs, trembling and weak, fall gently back to the wooden floor. Her body sagged, a beautiful ruin, exhausted but deeply, profoundly sated. A bone-deep ache was threaded with a persistent, electric hum of pleasure.
Without a word, he moved to the small, sturdy wooden table in the center of the room. It was scarred and worn, a silent witness to countless simple meals. Now, it would serve a different purpose.
"On the table. Now."
His command was quiet, but it resonated with an absolute authority that she no longer had any desire to question. She obeyed, her movements fluid, almost graceful, the compliance of a body that had learned its new purpose. She bent over, her hands flat on the rough-hewn wood, her magnificent ass once again presented to him, a perfect, pale offering in the golden light.
He entered her from behind, a thick, hard invasion that felt shockingly new at this angle. His thrusts were deep and powerful, each one making the solid table groan in protest. He continued to smack her, the rhythmic impacts a steady, brutal beat to their frantic dance.
Thump-slap. Thump-slap. Thump-slap.
"These marks," he whispered, his voice a low, possessive growl. His free hand traced the angry, red welts his earlier slaps had left on her pale skin. The sting had faded, but a deep, warm heat remained. "Even when you are with your pathetic lover, these marks will be there under your clothes. A secret you'll carry. A beautiful reminder of who you truly serve."
Her own mind, once a fortress fiercely loyal to Yu Xiaogang, was now a beautiful, blank canvas. Zhang Tian was painting over it with the vibrant, chaotic colors of his own design, and the old picture was fading into obscurity.
'Xiaogang…' a small, treacherous voice whispered in the depths of her soul. The name felt foreign on her mental tongue. 'I don't care about him anymore. I just need this. Hhhah… I need him.'
He fucked her on that table until she was a trembling, screaming mess, her legs shaking uncontrollably, her fingers digging into the wood. She could feel her climax building, a hot, tight knot low in her belly, coiling with an unbearable intensity.
"Please… hah… Master… I'm close…" she panted, her voice a ragged, desperate plea that was half-sob, half-moan. "Please, cum inside me… ahhh… fill me up… I need it…"
He chuckled, a dark, cruel sound against her ear that sent a shiver down her spine. "Begging so sweetly for my seed, Erlong? You truly have learned your place." He increased his pace, his hips slamming into her with a brutal, frantic rhythm that drove the air from her lungs. "Then open up for your master. Take all of it."
With a final, deep, guttural roar that seemed to shake the very rafters, he came. His hot, thick seed flooded her pussy, a copious, powerful release. The sheer volume and heat of it sent her hurtling over the edge, her own orgasm a beautiful, shattering explosion that made her see stars behind her clenched eyelids. Her scream was high and piercing, the sound of pure, annihilating pleasure.
He did not let her rest. As her convulsions subsided, he pulled his still-hard cock out of her and moved them to the large, comfortable armchair near the cold fireplace. He sat down, his body a throne of sweat-slicked muscle, and pulled her onto his lap. Her body was boneless and pliant, moving as he directed. He shifted her into the Lotus position, their legs intertwining in a deeply intimate embrace that belied the brutality of the act.
The fucking was not gentle. It was hard, fast, and relentlessly deep.
"Ahh… Zhang Tian… so deep… fuck…" she moaned, her head thrown back, her red hair cascading over the arm of the chair. He filled her completely once more, stretching her, possessing her.
He looked down at her, at the beautiful, powerful Spirit Saint who was now a trembling, sated mess in his arms, her face flushed, her lips swollen. A slow, cruel smile touched his lips.
"Tell me, Erlong," he murmured, his voice a low, intimate sound that was a stark contrast to the pounding of his hips. He continued his slow, deep thrusts, each one a punctuation mark to his words. "Does your precious Xiaogang know what a filthy whore you are? Does he know how wet you get when I call you a slut?"
"No… Master…" she whimpered, a fresh wave of exquisite humiliation washing over her. The words, the shame, only made her pussy clench tighter around his cock.
"Of course, he doesn't," he sneered, his voice dripping with a casual, devastating contempt. "He is a fool. A fraud. A man who has spent his entire life pretending to be a genius, when he has never had a single, original thought in his entire, pathetic life."
He began to fuck her harder, his thrusts becoming a punishing rhythm that made her cry out. "Those theories he is so proud of," he growled, his breath hot against her neck, "the ones he uses to lecture his students, to feel so superior… they are not his. They are stolen. Plagiarized from the restricted archives of the Spirit Hall. He is a thief, Erlong. A pathetic little thief who has built his entire identity on the work of others."
"No… that's… that's not true…" she whispered, a last, desperate flicker of her old loyalty trying to assert itself against the onslaught. It was a dying ember against a hurricane.
He just laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that echoed in the quiet cabin. "Oh, but it is. And you know it, don't you? On some deep, dark level, you have always known." He slammed into her, driving the point home. "That's why you've been so desperate to help him. Because you know that without you, without your power, without your blind, pathetic devotion, he is nothing."
He leaned in, his mouth finding her magnificent, heavy breast. He bit down on her nipple, hard, and she screamed, her body arching against his. "And his training methods," he continued, his voice muffled against her skin, his teeth still grazing her sensitive flesh. "Running with rocks? Pathetic. He has no practical knowledge at all. He is a fraud who thinks that a few stolen theories and some mindless, brute-force training can create a true expert. It's hilarious."
Her mind, which had been a fortress of devotion for twenty long years, finally shattered. The truth of his words was a cold, brutal poison that seeped into every crack of her crumbling defenses. He was right. Every word he spoke was a cold, hard, and undeniable truth she had refused to see.
She began to sob, her body wracked with great, shuddering cries of pure, unadulterated despair. It was the sound of a life's purpose dissolving into a cruel joke. "You're right…" she whispered, her voice a choked, broken sound. "He is a fool. And I… I have been a fool for loving him."
He pulled her into his arms, his embrace not one of comfort, but of ownership. "You were," he said simply, his tone flat and final. "But not anymore. Now, you are my whore. And I will teach you the meaning of true power. Of true pleasure."
He came inside her again, his second release of the afternoon, a hot, thick flood that seemed to wash away the last, lingering vestiges of her old life. She felt his seed fill her, and a strange, new, and incredibly liberating sense of peace washed over her. She was no longer a woman trapped by a foolish, unrequited love. She was his. And in that simple, brutal truth, she found a new, and very different, kind of freedom.
He didn't stop. He carried her from the chair to the edge of the simple bed, positioning her for the Rocking Horse. She lay on her back on the mattress, her long, beautiful legs thrown over his broad shoulders as he knelt before her, giving him complete and total access.
"Now, my little whore," he said, his voice a low, commanding rumble as he entered her again, his cock a magnificent, wonderful presence inside her. "Let's talk about your future." He began to rock back and forth, his rhythm slow and deep, a hypnotic motion designed for conversation and control.
"What are you going to do now?" he asked, his voice a casual, almost offhand sound. "You don't want my pills anymore, do you? What are you going to tell that fraud, Yu Xiaogang?"
"I… hah… I will tell him you refused to trade any more pills," she panted, her mind already a dizzying haze of pleasure as her body began to respond to his slow, deep thrusts. "He will be angry… but… but he will understand…"
"Good," he said with a nod. "But I don't want you to do that."
She looked at him, her fiery eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and a dawning, terrible understanding.
"I want you to continue the deal," he said, his voice a low, cruel purr. "I want you to take these pills back to him. I want you to give him hope. I want him to believe that his pathetic, mutated spirit can truly evolve. I want him to reach that Level 30 bottleneck."
He looked at her, and his eyes were gleaming with a dark, beautifully cruel light. "Because hope, my dear Erlong, is the cruelest poison of all. And I want to be the one to personally watch him drown in his own despair when I finally, finally, take it all away from him."
She stared at him, her heart a cold, heavy stone in her chest. The sheer, unadulterated, and almost comically tragic cruelty of his plan was a thing of breathtaking, terrifying beauty. It was the plan of a god, not a man.
"I… I will do as you command, Master," she whispered, her voice a dead, hollow sound. "I will continue to give those pills to Yu Xiaogang." She no longer called him Xiaogang, even in her own thoughts. He was just… Yu Xiaogang. A name. A pathetic, foolish man who was now a tool for her new master's amusement.
"Good girl," he purred. He increased his pace, and a moment later, he came inside her for the fourth time, his release a hot, potent reward for her absolute, unwavering obedience. She climaxed with him, her own release a shuddering, submissive wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
He pulled her from the bed, her body limp and sated, and pressed her against the cool, rough planks of the cabin wall for the Standing Pike. He lifted one of her legs, wrapping it around his waist, and fucked her from behind. He smacked her magnificent, curvaceous ass, the sharp, stinging sounds a final, beautiful punctuation to her complete surrender.
SMACK! SMACK!
"You have been a brainless woman your entire life, Erlong," he growled, his voice a low, possessive sound against her ear, his thrusts hammering into her. "Following that fool. Wasting your life. But now, you are my whore. My plaything." He bit her shoulder, a sharp, possessive act. "And if you are a good girl, if you obey my every command… then I will not treat you too badly."
He fucked her against that wall until she was a trembling, screaming mess, her legs shaking uncontrollably. He came inside her a fifth time, his seed a final, possessive brand on her very soul. She climaxed with him, her own screams of pleasure echoing off the wooden walls, a beautiful, wild song that was for him, and for him alone.
The hours passed in a slow, beautiful, hedonistic haze. The sun, which had been a harsh white glare high in the sky when their brutal, carnal ballet had begun, was now a great, molten orange orb. It began its slow descent towards the horizon, painting the simple, rustic cabin in shades of deep, fiery gold and long, encroaching shadows.
The orgy of two had been going on for hours, a timeless, beautiful vortex of pleasure and pain, of dominance and surrender.
He was on top of her now, in a deep and incredibly powerful missionary position, his body a heavy, possessive cage over hers. She was completely spent, a gloriously ruined masterpiece. Her body was a canvas of his passion; her skin was flushed a deep rose, her lips were swollen and bruised from his kisses, and her magnificent breasts were covered in the faint, red marks of his possessive love bites.
He moved with a slow, grinding rhythm, his magnificent dick a wonderful, heavy presence deep inside her. The raw, brutal fury of before had subsided. This was a different kind of possession. A slow intimate claim, each rotation of his hips a deliberate act of ownership.
His attention was now focused entirely on her magnificent breasts. His hands, which had been a force of punishment, were now instruments of a more subtle, more profound kind of torment. He would squeeze them, his calloused palms molding her soft flesh, his thumbs tracing slow, lazy circles around her hard, erect nipples, sending shivers through her entire frame.
And his mouth… his mouth was a wonderful, delightful thing.
He would take her entire breast into his mouth, his tongue a warm, wet caress against her sensitive skin, laving her with agonizing slowness. He would suckle her, his lips a gentle, pulling pressure that sent a jolt of pure, white-hot pleasure straight to her core, making her whimper and arch against him.
And then, he would bite.
Not hard enough to break the skin. But hard enough to leave a mark. A beautiful, red brand of his ownership that would blossom against her pale skin.
"Please… hah… Zhang Tian… no more…" she whimpered, her voice a hoarse, satisfied murmur against his chest. Her body was a live wire, humming with an almost painful level of stimulation. "I can't… I'll break…"
It was a plea, yes. But it was also a confession. A testament to his absolute, undeniable power over her. She was a fortress reduced to rubble, and she was begging the conqueror to stop his victory parade.
He just chuckled, a low, dark rumble against her skin. He pulled back just enough to look down at her, his magnificent dick still buried deep inside her pulsing pussy. He took in the sight of the beautiful, broken, and blissfully sated woman who lay beneath him.
"My cock is not satiated yet, my dear whore," he said, his voice a low, husky purr that vibrated through her. He moved his hips, a single, deep, powerful thrust that drove a gasp from her lips and sent a fresh wave of pleasure crashing through her. "It is still just as erect as it was this morning. And it is still merely evening. We should not stop yet."
He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, his hot breath making her shiver.
"I will fuck you," he whispered, his voice a promise of a long, beautiful, and exquisitely painful night to come. "Until the moon is high in the sky. And only then will I leave this place and return to my dear fiancées, who are waiting for me so patiently."
His sadistic words, his calm, casual dismissal of her plea for mercy, the casual mention of other women… it was the final, beautiful straw. The complex cocktail of pleasure, humiliation, and possessive jealousy was too much. She climaxed. A deep, powerful, and soul-shattering orgasm that was born not just of physical pleasure, but of a profound, and deeply satisfying emotional surrender.
Her climax, the way her inner walls clenched around his dick in a series of exquisite, milking spasms, was the trigger for his own. He drove into her one last time with a guttural roar, coming inside her, his release a hot, powerful flood that seemed to fill her to the very brim.
And then, as the aftershocks still trembled through her, his dick, which should have been soft, which should have been sated, began to stir within her. To harden again.
He began to fuck her pussy once more, a slow, deliberate rhythm that promised no end.
It was then that they heard it.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound was soft, polite, but in the intimate, post-coital silence of the cabin, it was as loud as a thunderclap.
They both froze, their bodies going rigid in an instant. Liu Erlong's eyes snapped open, a wave of pure, unadulterated, and soul-crushingly profound panic washing over her.
'Someone is here,' her mind screamed, a silent, hysterical cry. 'At the door. Oh gods, no. It's… it's him, isn't it? It has to be. Yu Xiaogang. Or Flender. They've come looking for me.'
A part of her was terrified. The thought of them finding her like this—naked, sated, covered in marks, and with another man's cock still buried deep inside her… it was a humiliation beyond measure. A shame that would shatter her reputation and her life.
But another part of her, a darker, more treacherous, and infinitely more honest part, was… excited. The thought of them seeing her like this, of them knowing that she had been claimed, that she had been broken, that she was no longer their chaste, lonely, and pathetic little dragon… it was a thrilling, intoxicating, and deeply liberating thought.
Zhang Tian just smiled, a slow, lazy expression of pure amusement. He closed his eyes for a moment, and his Blood Silver Domain, a silent, omniscient net of spiritual power, spread out from the cabin, tasting the air, identifying the intruder.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear again.
"Don't worry, my dear whore," he whispered, his voice a low, amused, and cruelly timed purr. "It's just your old lover. Yu Xiaogang has come for a visit."
Her heart gave a single, hard, painful thump against her ribs. He was here. He was really, truly here. Just a thin wooden wall away.
"What… what should we do?" she whispered, her voice a breathless, excited sound that betrayed her inner turmoil.
He just chuckled, a low, dark sound against her skin. "He has come at a very inconvenient time, has he not?" he purred, his hips rocking gently, sending ripples of pleasure through her. "I am feeling even hornier now. Do you want me to stop fucking you, just because he is here?"
It was a test. A final, beautiful, and soul-crushingly profound test of her loyalty.
She looked up at him, at his handsome, arrogant, and beautifully possessive face. She thought of Yu Xiaogang. Of his cold, dismissive words. Of his selfish, manipulative plans. Of twenty years of foolish devotion.
And she made her choice.
"No," she whispered, her voice a firm, unwavering sound of pure, unadulterated submission. "Do not stop. Continue to fuck me. He… he is nothing to me now."
Zhang Tian was genuinely, truly, surprised. And he was… aroused. Impossibly so. Her absolute surrender was the most potent aphrodisiac he had ever known.
He began to fuck her again, his rhythm hard, fast, and relentlessly deep.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
"Good girl," he growled, his voice a low, appreciative rumble against her ear. "Now, invite him in."
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound came again, more insistent this time, a sharp rap of knuckles on wood.
Liu Erlong took a deep, shuddering breath, her body moving with his powerful thrusts. "Come… ahh… come in!" she called out, her voice a strange, choked sound that was a bizarre mixture of her own, breathless moans and a forced, conversational tone.
They heard the sound of the main door creaking open. They heard his footsteps in the small living room, the familiar, measured tread.
Zhang Tian stopped fucking her. He pulled his slick, cum-drenched dick out of her with a wet pop and, with a silent, fluid motion, he moved them. He placed her against the rough, wooden door of her own private bedchamber, her hands flat against the wood, her magnificent, curvaceous ass presented to him. And he entered her again, from behind, a single, deep, powerful thrust that made her bite her lip to keep from screaming.
He began to fuck her against the door, the wood vibrating with each impact. His hands found her magnificent, heavy breasts, his fingers a delightful, exquisite torment on her hard, erect nipples.
"Erlong?" Yu Xiaogang's voice called out from the living room. It was a familiar, and now strangely, painfully, and wonderfully irritating sound. "Are you in here? Why aren't you coming out to meet me?"
She took another deep, shuddering breath as Zhang Tian's cock slammed into her from behind, a brutal, secret rhythm against her back.
"I… I was training, Xiaogang," she managed to say, her voice a breathless, panting sound. "I am… hah… I am all sweaty. I do not wish for you to… to smell me. I will… ahh… I will meet you after I have taken a bath."
There was a moment of silence from the other room. Yu Xiaogang was clearly processing her strange, breathless excuse. 'Her training must have been very intense,' he thought, a flicker of genuine, academic curiosity in his mind. 'For a Spirit Saint of her power to be so out of breath… impressive. The results must be excellent.'
"Very well," he said, his voice a calm, even sound, completely accepting her reasoning. "I will wait. But I have come to you for a matter of some importance."
He began to speak, his voice a low, serious murmur that passed right through the thin door. He told her of the three new students who had just joined the academy. He told her of their nephew, Yu Tianheng.
"I wish for you to train him, Erlong," he said, his voice a calm, commanding sound, the voice of a man used to getting his way with her. "Your Fire Dragon spirit, while a variant, is still of the same lineage as his Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon. And your fighting styles are similar as you are both Power Attack Types. You will be the perfect mentor for him."
Inside the private room, Liu Erlong just moaned as Zhang Tian bit down on her shoulder, hard.
"What should I do, Master?" she whispered, her voice a breathless, pleading sound, her world narrowed to the man inside her and the fool outside.
He turned her around in his arms without breaking their connection, his dick still buried deep inside her. He looked down at her, at the beautiful, powerful, and blissfully broken woman who was now his, and his alone.
He leaned in and bit her magnificent boob, his teeth a gentle, possessive brand on her soft, pale skin.
"Accept," he commanded, his voice a low, husky growl.
She looked at him, her fiery eyes, which had once been filled with a proud, defiant anger, now shining with a deep, profound, and beautifully submissive love.
She turned her head towards the door, feeling his cock twitch inside her.
"I will do it, Xiaogang," she called out, her voice a loud, clear, and unwavering sound, a perfect mask of her former self. "I will teach Tianheng."
And as the man in the other room smiled, a calm, satisfied expression on his face, completely oblivious to the fact that his own, carefully laid plans had just delivered the woman he had once loved directly into the arms, and the bed, of his greatest rival, Zhang Tian continued to fuck his whore against the door, his silent, powerful thrusts a secret, brutal mockery of the Grandmaster just a few feet away.