How to Survive as the Horror Game Villain’s Fake Fiancée - Chapter 114

※ This book contains depictions of coercive/dubcon/noncon acts, violence, and gore. Reader discretion is advised.

Thick, sturdy tentacles that were just as thick and firm as the mass supporting Cynthia’s back started to gather around her. They rubbed their blunt ends a few times against her slick, wet entrance, then easily slid inside.

“Hnngh! Ah, haa…”

A mysterious fluid oozing from the tentacles slipped over her already soaked opening like a lubricant, and in one swift push they drove deep inside, striking her cervix.

As the tendril’s vein-like ridges, coated in that slick fluid, rubbed against her inner walls, a cool, almost relieving sensation broke through, as if scratching an itch. Each time a blunt tip slammed into her cervix, Cynthia’s hips trembled precariously. The more it thrust, the hotter her lower belly became.

As if reading her mind, the tentacles increased their pace and roughness, ruthlessly pounding her.

Their thick shafts swelled as they pressed tightly against her inner walls, and Cynthia trembled in spasms, her cry half a moan. When they thudded repeatedly against the depths of her entrance, the vibration echoed through her core.

At the same time, several softer tendrils moved in to seize her c******s all at once, pressing and rubbing it furiously. Already tilted upward, Cynthia’s arched back only made her protruding c**t more exposed, and the relentless grinding sent her into a panicked wail.

“Mm, ah— No, stop, aaah!”

She was already so sensitive from the dual assault on hole and c**t when a few heavier tentacles pressed down on her lower abdomen, adding pressure to her womb.

Fine, thread-like filaments wrapped around her c**t up to the base, then rubbed upward as if pulling, while the thick ones filling her canal drove upward to batter her cervix. Cynthia braced herself, clenching her lower belly with all her strength to endure the madness of sensation.

At her resistance, the tentacles loosened their movements just a little. But that only tormented her more.

Every delicate brush of the small tendrils on her c**t, and every deep scrape of the thick shafts carving through her flesh and filling her ravaged hole, was conveyed with agonizing precision.

Just as she let herself relax for a split second, as if to lull her into a false sense of security, they all suddenly ramped up to a savage, rapid pace.

“Ah, aaaah! Ugh! Ahhh…”

The relentless pressure of the vines on her belly, the pounding of her cervix from within, the unstoppable friction against her c**t. Cynthia’s vision went stark white.

Even as strength drained from her body and a clear rush of release gushed forth, the tentacles didn’t stop. They continued to toy with her s*x, as if none of it had satisfied them.

Perhaps the constant secretion from the tentacles acted as an aphrodisiac. Though she was being handled roughly, her body still trembled in pleasure. And above all, Segleninde watched from before her with a heated expression, swallowing hard as if savoring a feast laid out for him.

Because these tentacles were part of him, she realized she was, in effect, being violated by Segleninde himself. The thought drove her utterly wild, and her lower belly burned with pleasure, not pain, each time her cervix was slammed.

In that moment, the tentacles shifted her forward and grabbed her hips, forcing them apart.

“Th-There… No, don’t touch there… ahhh!”

A slightly thinner tentacle than those inside her approached, dripping fluid like saliva as it slowly stroked the tight folds of her rear. Then, with her hips stretched wide, it slid slowly into her partly opened back passage.