Free Web NovelChapter 522: Chapter 522- That is a Dragon
Ginnie’s hands came back up to her face. freewёbnoνel.com
All the way up this time.
"WITH IT," Edda said, quietly, to the assassin.
"He is very sincere," the assassin said.
"That is a PENIS."
"Yes."
"He just — in the forest — he just took out his—"
"He is very committed to his feelings."
Ginnie had lowered her hands again. She was looking at it. The expression on her face was not the expression Edda had expected — it was not disgust, it was the expression of someone trying very hard to decide between several responses and failing to land on one.
Then Ginnie’s wand came up.
A short, sharp motion. The kind of motion that in a dungeon preceded something catastrophic.
The sound that came from Duren was not a battle cry.
It was the sound of a man whose balls have been hit by a focused kinetic spell at close range, which is a sound that does not exist anywhere else in the human register and is instantly recognizable the moment you hear it for the first time.
He went down.
Both knees. His hands between his legs. His face at the height of Ginnie’s collarbone, pointed at the ground.
"I am SO SORRY," Ginnie said immediately, dropping to her knees beside him, her hands fluttering. "I didn’t mean— the wand went— it was an accident— Duren— DUREN ARE YOU—"
"Hhhhhhh," said Duren, from the ground.
"That’s very romantic," the assassin said.
Edda pinched the bridge of her nose.
She breathed in through her nose.
She looked at two of her four party members — one on the ground, one kneeling beside him apologizing in a continuous panicked stream — and she thought: ’these are the people I trust my life to.’
She breathed out.
"Yeah," she said. "These are stupid people."
PHAAAAACK—
The memory detonated.
The warmth of it, the absurdity of it, the particular fondness she had not named at the time — gone. Replaced. Erased by the full, catastrophic, twelve-inch reality of the present, which had just driven itself balls-deep into her cunt for the second time and was currently pressed against her womb like it was reading her interior address.
Her eyes opened.
Not to the forest road. Not to dusk. To moonlight and waterfall mist and a demon’s face six inches from hers, and twelve inches of cock buried so deep inside her that she could feel the outline of it against her own abdominal wall from the inside.
She looked down.
Her abs.
Her muscular, fifty-years-earned, dragon-slayer abs — the flat, dense, trained surface of her stomach — were doing something she had never seen them do. A bulge. Not fat, not muscle, not anything she had produced herself. The shape of his cock pressing outward through her body from the inside, the outline of the head visible against her skin where it pressed against her womb, the length of the shaft tracking upward from her mound in a ridge that her hand would have fit around if her hands were not currently occupied with his shirt.
She stared at it.
"Hah— what— hah— that is—" She breathed. Her abs tightened around the bulge. The tightening sent a direct, electric, catastrophic signal up her spine. "HAH— why— why is— that is my— that is ’inside me—’"
Her abs tightened again.
Involuntary. The muscle memory of her core engaging, the trained reflex of a fighter’s body responding to interior pressure by bracing — and the bracing closed her cunt around his cock with the full hydraulic force of fifty years of muscle training applied to something it had never been applied to before.
Raven’s expression changed.
Not much. His jaw tightened. Something moved behind his eyes that had not been there before — the particular attention of a demon who has just received a sensation he did not anticipate.
Her pussy was gripping his cock like a fist.
A ’trained’ fist. The muscular walls of her cunt closing around the full circumference of him with the force of a woman whose body has been honed into a weapon in every part of itself, including the parts she had never consciously trained, the parts that had simply become strong because everything around them became strong.
"Why—" She breathed. "Hah— why is it— why does— hah— it is so— hah— Dragon Lord it is so— hah— it is not— that is not— hah—"
He pulled back.
The withdrawal dragged against every muscle she had clenched around him, the friction of it moving through the full length, the head pressing back through her cervix on the way out.
"HAH— ngh— haaaah— wait— that— the moving— when it moves— hah—"
He stopped at the crown.
She felt the rim of the head at her entrance. Felt the stretch of it. Felt the four meters of air between her and the forest floor that she was not touching because his grip on her hips was the only thing between her and gravity.
"Hah— wait— please— I need to— hah— I need—"
He looked at her.
"Why," she managed, between breaths, "is it so— hah— it is much— hah— it is much bigger than— I saw— once— hah— a man’s— hah— it was five inches and it was— hah— I thought that was— hah—"
PHAAAAACK—
"AAAAAANNGHHHH~~~!!!"
The slam drove the air out of her body.
Not the scream — the air. The full breath she had been managing between thrusts expelled in one compression as twelve inches drove home in one stroke, her diaphragm losing the argument with physics, the sound that left her mouth the raw output of lungs that have been forcibly emptied.
Her abs rippled.
The bulge appeared again — larger this time, the head pressing further than the second stroke had pressed, the outline of it against her skin pressing outward another half centimeter, visible in the moonlight as an impossible map of what was happening inside her body.
She looked at it.
She looked at it while her mouth was still open on the tail of the scream, tears running freely from both eyes, her fingers buried in his shirt.
"What is happening—" Her voice came out cracked and small and completely honest. "Hah— Dragon Lord— hah— what is happening to me— hah— I do not— hah— I have never— hah—"
"I know," he said.
He pulled back.
He drove forward.
PHACK—
"NGGHHH~!!!"
"You have never," he said, pulling back, driving forward—
PHACK—
"AAANGH~!!!"
"—taken a cock."
He pulled back. He looked at her face — the open mouth, the running tears, the white-haired mound visible below where the skirt had shredded away, the muscular thighs wrapped around him with the grip of a woman whose body does not know how to hold anything gently.
"Because I am a dragon," he said.
He drove forward.
PHAAAAACK—
"HAAAAAANGHH~!!!"
"I have a dragon dick."
She stared at him.
Between tears. Between gasps. Between the aftershock of the thrust still moving through her body from the point of impact outward to her extremities.
"Hah— what—" She breathed. "Hah— a dragon— hah— a dragon ’dick—’"
"Yes."
"Hah— that is— hah— that is a— hah— THAT IS A DRAGON—"
He started moving.
Not the individual strokes of before. His hips found their rhythm and the rhythm found its pace and the pace was not the pace he had used on the other women. It was the pace he had been withholding — the full, unhurried, completely committed pace of a demon who has sized himself for a body and is now using the full range of what he sized himself for.
PAH PAH PAH—
"AANGH~!! HNGHH~!! HAAANGH~!!"
