Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 129

Davelina's POV

I cried out, the sound muffled by my own hand as I remembered too late that Natasha was sleeping in next door. The pain was immediate and sharp, my body struggling to accommodate his size despite how wet I was, my inner walls stretching and burning around his thick length. But beneath the pain, threading through it like gold through stone, was pleasure—acute and intense and overwhelming, that made my back arch involuntarily and my pussy clench around him.

He groaned, low and guttural, and withdrew almost completely before thrusting back in, deeper this time, forcing my body to take more of him. The combination of pain and pleasure was dizzying, disorienting, made it impossible to think about anything except the feeling of him inside me, stretching me, claiming me.

His body covered mine completely as he established a rhythm, one hand wrapping around my throat—not squeezing hard enough to cut off air completely, just holding, just enough pressure to make me lightheaded, to make everything feel more intense. The other hand gripped my hip hard enough to bruise, holding me in place as he fucked into me with increasing force.

"God," he breathed against my ear, his voice breaking slightly, his hand tightening fractionally around my throat. "Why do you feel like this? So tight, so wet. I could stay inside you for days and never get enough. Your cunt was made for my cock."

The lack of oxygen was making me lightheaded, adding a strange edge to the sensations already overwhelming me. Combined with the feeling of fullness, of being completely possessed and dominated, it pushed me toward something I'd never experienced before—a peak I could feel approaching but couldn't quite reach, pleasure building and building until I thought I might shatter from it.

I moaned, the sound escaping despite my attempts to stay quiet, my hips beginning to move of their own accord, meeting his thrusts, seeking more friction, more pressure, more of everything. Time seemed to blur, to lose meaning. All I could focus on was the weight of him pressing me down, the rhythm of his movements, the slide of his cock in and out of my pussy, the wet sounds our bodies made together, the pleasure building inside me like a wave gathering strength.

It was right there, just beneath the surface, tingling through every nerve, seeping into every cell. I could feel my inner walls beginning to flutter around him, could feel my body tensing in preparation for something, some release I'd never quite achieved before.

Maybe this time would be different. Maybe this time it would be bearable, even good. Maybe this time I would finally understand what all the whispered conversations between other slaves were about, the pleasure that was supposed to exist in these encounters.

But then his movements stopped abruptly. He shifted position, lifting one of my legs and positioning it over his shoulder, adjusting the angle of his hips, opening me even wider, and when he thrust back in, everything changed.

He was deeper than before, deeper than should have been possible, and the new angle meant he was hitting something inside me that sent jolts of sensation through my entire body—but not the good kind. Each thrust drove him against my cervix, the blunt head of his cock battering against that sensitive barrier with bruising force. The pleasure that had been building began to fade, replaced by something sharper, more uncomfortable, that bordered on unbearable.

"Oh, please," I sobbed, my body writhing beneath him as I tried instinctively to escape the overwhelming sensations, to adjust the angle, to find some position that didn't hurt so much. But there was nowhere to go, no way to avoid what was happening. His weight kept me pinned, his grip on my leg kept me spread wide and vulnerable, and the feelings crashed over me in relentless waves, each one more intense than the last.

With each powerful thrust, he was slamming against my cervix, the impact sending shockwaves of pain radiating through my core and up into my abdomen. The new angle allowed direct, brutal contact, his movements repeatedly battering against that sensitive barrier that refused to yield. The pain was excruciating, unlike anything I'd experienced before, eclipsing any pleasure that remained.

He tried to force his way past the barrier, tried to push into my womb itself.

"No, no, please, I really can't!" I sobbed, tears streaming down my face as I shook my head frantically, my hands pushing weakly against his chest. "I really can't, please. Have mercy, it hurts so much. Please stop, please, I can't take it!"

The words seemed to penetrate through whatever haze had consumed him. His movements faltered, then stopped completely. He pulled out abruptly, and I felt the sudden absence like a shock, my body still trembling with pain and confused arousal, my pussy clenching around nothing, somehow feeling empty despite the relief.

For a moment, he just stared down at me, his chest heaving, his cock still hard and glistening with my wetness, his expression cycling through emotions I couldn't name—frustration, anger, and something that might have been regret. Then, quietly, almost too quietly to hear: "I'm sorry."

He moved away, gathering his robe with jerky, agitated movements. Within seconds, he was dressed and heading for the door, not looking back.

And as I lay there, naked and trembling, my body aching and confused, my pussy still throbbing with unfulfilled need despite the pain, I realized with horrible clarity that I didn't want him to leave. Despite the pain, despite everything, some traitorous part of me wanted him to stay, wanted him to finish what he'd started, wanted to feel him release inside me and fill me with his seed even though my body had refused to open for him.

*Have you lost your mind?* I told myself.

The door closed softly behind him, and I was alone in the darkness, listening to Natasha's continued steady breathing from across the room, grateful she'd somehow slept through everything.