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Chapter 8 by Kristobal Kristobal

What now?

He makes her choose

She was spread wide, trembling, completely impaled—and he was still inside her, unmoving. His breath brushed the back of her neck, his hands steady on her hips, his cock throbbing deep in her soaked cunt. She could feel every twitch, every slow thrum of blood pulsing through him, every nerve inside her stretched and hypersensitive from the teasing.

He leaned in, voice low, controlled.

“If you had to choose,” he said, “which inch is your favorite?”

Her eyes fluttered. “W-what?”

“Out of seven,” he whispered. “Pick one.”

“I—I don’t—”

His hand cracked down across her ass—smack—sharp and fast, sending a jolt through her belly. She cried out, her body jerking, pussy clenching hard around his cock.

“Choose.”

She gasped. “Th—the third. The third inch. Please—”

He smiled behind her.

And pulled out.

Her cunt clenched, trying to hold him, but he ignored it. He slid back in—not all the way, not even close. Just to the second inch… then the third.

Then back.

He began to move in the tightest rhythm imaginable—just between the second and third inch of his cock, a shallow, maddening glide that teased her inner walls but never filled her. Never stretched her fully. Never satisfied.

Her moan cracked. “N-no—wait—w-what—please—”

“You said the third inch.” His voice was calm. Cruel. “So that’s what you get.”

In.

Out.

Just that tight, shallow movement, the head of his cock dragging over her slick heat, her entrance clenching with every tease. Her clit throbbed, untouched. Her cunt drooled, spasming every time he shifted forward.

“P-please—just deeper—just a little more—”

“No,” he said. “You picked your favorite. Live with it.”

She sobbed. Her body was on fire, twitching, grinding back on instinct only to be met with the same shallow tease. Her legs began to tremble. Her arms gave way. She collapsed forward, ass still up, leaking helplessly onto the couch.

Her breasts pressed into the cushions, nipples leaking milk in thick, warm streaks down the leather. Her thighs twitched. Her pussy was raw and needy, twitching around every fraction of movement.

“Beg for the rest,” he murmured.

“I want the fourth—I need the fourth inch—please—I’ll take it—I’ll do anything—”

He didn’t move.

“Not yet.”

Back. Forth.

Second to third.

Over and over.

Her voice broke.

Her cunt convulsed.

She was unraveling.

And he hadn’t even really fucked her yet.

What else can he do to her?

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