Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 887

Chapter 887: Fragile Little Deflowered (r-18)

He held himself there—poised at her entrance, the blunt, throbbing head of his cock nestled just inside her slick outer lips, parting them with the barest pressure.

The heat off him was overwhelming—scorching against her cool, quivering flesh, every slow throb sending a ripple through her core. His precum mixed with her arousal in a warm, slippery glide, dripping down her folds and pooling at her ass, making the sheets cling even wetter beneath her.

Sarah’s breath came in short, ragged gasps. Her hands still gripped his shaft—trembling fingers wrapped around the impossible thickness, feeling him pulse harder as her body clenched in anticipation.

Hunger warred with fear in her eyes—wide, glassy, tear-streaked.

She was a virgin, untouched, and the reality crashed over her: this godly cock—thick, unyielding, veined like marble carved by sin—would be her first.

It would stretch her, fill her, change her forever.

A soft, vulnerable whimper escaped her lips, her thighs shaking wider apart even as her mind screamed at the daunting girth.

This moment felt sacred and profane all at once—her innocence on the altar, offered to a force that could shatter her with tenderness or ruin her with fire.

She felt like fragile porcelain in the hands of a storm god, cherished yet utterly at his mercy.

Peter’s eyes locked on hers—dark, intense, softened by something deeper than lust. He leaned down, one hand bracing beside her head, the other sliding up her side to cup her breast gently, thumb stroking the peaked nipple in slow, soothing circles.

"Look at me, Sarah," he murmured, voice low and steady, laced with care. "You’re doing so good already. So brave. So beautiful."

She bit her lip—hard—tears pricking anew at the corners of her eyes. But resolve flickered in her gaze, a quiet steel beneath the vulnerability. She knew she could choose the easy way... she knew his cock abilities—the way he could shift, adjust, make himself smaller to ease her pain.

But she didn’t want that. Not for this. This was her moment, her claiming, and she wanted all of him—the full, overwhelming truth of what he was.

"Peter... don’t... don’t make it smaller," she whispered, voice trembling but firm, cheeks flushing with shy determination. "I want you like this. All of you. Even if it hurts."

His eyes darkened with approval, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "My brave little angel," he rasped, pride thickening his tone. "Taking my full measure. You’re sure?"

She nodded, fresh tears spilling, but her hands pulled him closer instead of pushing away. "Yes... please. This is special. You’re my first... my only. I want to feel everything."

The tip of him pressed forward—just a fraction—stretching her entrance around the flared head. A sharp, burning sting bloomed there—her tight, virgin walls resisting the invasion, muscles fluttering in panic around the intrusion.

It hurt—gods, it hurt—but beneath the pain was a deep, aching fullness that made her gasp and arch instinctively.

Her pussy was so impossibly tight, like a vice of velvet clamped around him, every millimeter a hard-won battle against her untouched resistance. The ring of muscle gripped the crown so fiercely it felt like it might never let go.

"Ahh—Peter—it’s... it’s too big..." she whispered, voice cracking with a mix of pain and desperate need. Her fingers tightened on his shaft, half-trying to hold him back, half-pulling him closer.

Fresh slick leaked from her, easing the way just enough, but the stretch was relentless—her inner lips clinging tightly to his crown, the ring of muscle straining to accommodate even the head.

She felt every tiny give, every reluctant yield of her body, the burn spreading like fire as he inched forward.

He paused immediately—body still as stone—leaning closer to brush his lips over her forehead, her cheeks, tasting the salt of her tears.

"Shh, baby. I know it hurts. You’re so tight—perfect for me, untouched and trembling."

His free hand moved to her hip, thumb rubbing slow, comforting circles into the trembling skin.

"We’ll go slow. As slow as you need. You tell me when—you’re in control here. Breathe with me. In... out..."

She nodded shakily—drawing a deep, trembling breath in time with his—feeling the burn ease just a fraction as her body adjusted.

The pain twisted with pleasure now—her clit throbbing from the pressure, nerves firing in places she didn’t know existed.

Emotions flooded her: fear of the unknown, shame at how desperately she wanted this despite the ache, overwhelming vulnerability as he saw her so completely undone.

"Good girl," he praised softly, voice thick with approval. "That’s it. You’re opening up so beautifully for me. Do you want more? Tell me yes—or tell me to stop."

She cried out—sharp, broken—nails digging into his arms now, leaving faint red crescents. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, clinging tight, ankles locking at the small of his back as if to anchor herself against the storm.

But she didn’t pull away. "Y-yes... please... more..." she sobbed, voice raw and pleading, eagerness winning over the pain.

Her arms followed, snaking around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him down until their bodies pressed flush—her soft curves yielding to his hard strength, clinging like she might shatter without him.

He groaned—low, reverent—thrusting forward another careful inch. The sensation was visceral: her virgin pussy yielding inch by torturous inch, the burn spreading deeper as he filled her, the head nudging against untouched barriers.

A sudden, sharper pain lanced through her as something gave way inside—a faint warmth trickling out, blood mixing with her slick in a warm, sticky rivulet that coated his shaft and dripped down her thighs.

The metallic tang mingled with their scents, marking her deflowering in crimson evidence. She gasped, eyes widening at the sight when she glanced down—her tight pussy stretched obscenely around him, a hint of red streaking the veined length buried partway inside her.

"Fuck, you’re taking me so well," he rasped, forehead pressed to hers, breaths mingling hot and unsteady. "I’m so proud of you. Feel that? That’s you—stretching for me, letting me in. If it’s too much, say the word. I’ve got you."

She nodded frantically—whimpering with each shallow rock of his hips—emotions crashing like waves: the sharp sting of deflowering, the raw vulnerability of her first time, the intoxicating power dynamic where he could ruin her but chose care instead.

The blood was a badge—a symbol of how special this was, her innocence given freely to him, binding them in a way that felt eternal. Her body clung to his, every muscle trembling, her pussy so tight it made each inch feel like an eternity of resistance and surrender. "It hurts... but... don’t stop... please..."

He kissed her deeply—tongue soothing, claiming—while pushing another inch deeper. The stretch intensified—her walls fluttering wildly around him, trying to accommodate the godly thickness that split her open.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify