Blastaar continues Sue's night of debauchery

Blastaar’s fist closed around her upper arm and he hauled her upright, pulling her naked body against his bare chest. His cock—still hard, still glistening from her mouth—slid along her belly, sending yet another jolt of unwanted desire coursing through her. She tried to struggle, but he was too strong.

“Let me go, you bastard!” Susan snarled, twisting hard enough that her gold nipple-rings bit into tender flesh. The pain only fed the fire already roaring between her thighs.

He answered with a low, rumbling laugh that vibrated through her bones. “Your lips say one thing, Susan Richards,” deliberately using the name like a leash. “But your body sings another.”

His free hand raked down her spine and cupped the swell of her ass, fingers digging crescent moons into soft flesh. She felt her own spit and his seed smeared across her tits, cooling, shameful, undeniable. When he kneaded the abused globe, she couldn’t stop the moan that spilled out; it sounded wanton even to her own ears.

A sudden, stinging SMACK! cracked across her left cheek. The sound echoed lewdly off the vaulted ceiling. Susan yelped—then bit her lip when the sting melted into liquid heat that pooled directly in her cleft. Reed was pure vanilla in the bedroom, and Blastaar's brutal touch was something entirely new, darkly intoxicating.

Blastaar bent his mouth to her ear, breath hot. “You want it again. Admit it.”

Sue whimpered, unable to deny the truth. Her hips rolled forward of their own accord, grinding her drenched thong against the rigid length trapped between them. The flimsy fabric had ridden up until it barely covered her folds; every tiny shift slid the silk back and forth across her swollen clit until she was trembling.

He hooked a thick finger under the narrow strip and tugged. The material snapped. Cool air kissed her dripping entrance; two fingers plunged inside without ceremony, curling hard against her front wall, making her knees buckle.

“No—” she protested weakly, palms flattening on his chest for leverage that never came. “I can’t… Reed…”

The fingers withdrew, glistening with her own slick. Blastaar lifted them to his mouth and licked clean, eyes holding hers captive. “I taste your surrender, Susan Richards. Your husband’s name won’t save you tonight.”

He returned the fingers to her clit, circling slowly, mercilessly, until her hips chased the pressure and breathy moans spilled unchecked, and again, Blastaar laughed as the Invisible Woman rode his fingers like a **** slut.

Through her haze she spotted her wedding band—still on her finger, still catching the torch-light—and the sight sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing through the pleasure. She closed her fist, hiding the ring, hiding the truth.

Blastaar leaned in, voice a velvet growl. “Beg.”

She swallowed pride like broken glass. “Please,” she whispered, the words barely audible.

His lips curled into a wicked, triumphant grin. “Please what, ****?”

“Please,” she whimpered. “Just… fuck me.”

The words hung like a curse, thick with shame and undeniable need. He rewarded her with a feral grin and pushed her onto her back against the divan, her tits jiggling in circles as she bounced onto the cushions, her hips hanging at the edge. Instinctively, Sue's body arched in a wanton display of submission, her hips rising to offer Blastaar her glistening pussy and tight, puckered ass.

Staring into her eyes, he kneeled between her splayed legs, his massive hands gripping her thighs and spreading her wide. Blastaar's cock was inches from her pussy, a thick, veiny beast. She could feel the heat radiating from it, and she couldn't take her eyes off it.

Sue bit her lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatened to escape. She couldn't deny the truth, her body betraying her with every beat of her heart. She was wet, she was ready, and she wanted him.

Blastaar's fingers dug into her hips, his grip unyielding as he positioned himself at her entrance. She could see the thick veins pulsing along his shaft, the head glistening with her own arousal. She was so wet, so ready, that she could feel the slickness of her juices coating her thighs.

"Look at me," Blastaar commanded, his voice a low growl. She **** her eyes to meet his, even as her body trembled with anticipation. "I want to see your face when I fuck you."

She nodded, breath hitching as he slowly pushed the head of his cock inside her. She was tight, so fucking tight, and she could feel herself stretching to accommodate him, her body yielding to his size. She gasped, her fingers digging into his forearms as he began to push deeper, inch by inch, filling her completely.

"Fuck, you're so big," she moaned, her eyes fluttering closed.

Sue gasped as Blastaar’s thick cock pressed deeper, stretching her inner walls with an intensity that bordered on brutal but slid into overwhelming pleasure. Her eyes flew open, meeting his predatory gaze just as he buried himself to the hilt, forcing a choked cry from her throat. He drew back slowly until only the crown remained, then drove forward—slow, relentless—until again, their hips met, making Sue moan in brazen, shameless pleasure.

“Look at me,” he commanded again, his voice a gravelly rumble vibrating through their joined bodies. “See who owns this cunt now.”

She couldn’t look away, mesmerized by the raw hunger in his eyes and the sheer, undeniable fullness inside her. Her body clamped down instinctively, a tight, wet vice around his invading girth, pulling a guttural groan from Blastaar that echoed off the stone walls. “Tighter than the first time, slut,” he rasped, his hips drawing back slowly, letting her feel every ridge, every pulsing vein on his shaft before slamming home again. “Your body remembers.”

“No,” she breathed, the denial weak, automatic. Her hands, which had been braced on his arms, slid up to his broad shoulders, seeking purchase as he began a relentless rhythm, deep and hard. Each thrust punched the air from her lungs. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the chamber, a lewd percussion to the wet squelch of her soaking pussy taking his massive cock. “Fuck… oh god… Blastaar…”

He leaned down, his hot breath washing over her face, his massive frame shadowing her completely. “That’s it,” he purred, the sound darkly approving. “Say my name.”

Sue arched off the divan, a sharp, keening wail tearing free. Her hips bucked wildly, trying to fuck herself harder onto his cock, pleading for him to push deeper. The conflicting sensations—the stretching penetration, the ruthless friction on her clit—short-circuited her thoughts.

“Yes! Right… there, Blastaar! Don’t stop!” she begged. The plea was raw, stripped of resistance, pure need.

“Who makes you feel this?” Blastaar demanded, his thrusts growing more savage, pistoning into her with brutal efficiency. His finger never relented on her clit, pinching slightly now, sending blinding sparks through her vision. “Say it!”

“You!” she screamed, the confession ripped from her. “You do! Fuck… fuck me harder!” Her cunt convulsed around him, clenching and fluttering, on the razor’s edge. The humiliation warred with the ecstasy, but the ecstasy was winning, drowning everything else in liquid fire. She’d never felt this stretched, this full, this utterly possessed. It wasn't pain; it was an overwhelming, all-consuming fullness that sparked pleasure deep in her core.

Blastaar roared, his control fraying. He slammed into her with a final, brutal stroke, hilting himself completely as his balls tightened against her ass. “Take it!” he bellowed, the guttural command echoing as his cock erupted deep inside her. Hot, thick jets of cum pulsed violently into her core, flooding her, the scalding heat triggering her own shattering climax.

Sue’s body locked, back bowing impossibly as a silent scream stretched her mouth wide. Her pussy clamped down on his spurting cock with ****, rhythmic spasms, milking him, welcoming the flood. Pleasure, white-hot and obliterating, crashed over her in relentless waves, washing away the last fragments of resistance, the guilt, the memory of Reed. She was just sensation, owned and filled, her cunt gripping his cock as he emptied himself inside her.

He held himself deep, grinding as the last spurts shot into her, his own groans mingling with her ragged, whimpering breaths. She felt impossibly full, stretched wide around his still-hard shaft, his seed a hot, claiming presence deep within her womb. Semen slid slowly down her thighs; her nipple rings chimed softly with each tremor.

The defiance was gone, burned away by the sheer, undeniable intensity of the best sex she’d ever known. Her body hummed with aftershocks, limp and utterly spent beneath him, his cum leaking out around the thick base of his cock still lodged inside her. He remained buried in her, his weight pressing her into the divan, a living anchor to the shameful, exquisite reality of his possession.