How to Survive as the Horror Game Villain’s Fake Fiancée - Chapter 120

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

While their tongues tangled desperately, one clone pressed his wrist down, roughly stimulating her c**t, and two others latched onto her b*****s at the same time, sucking hard on her n*****s.

The clone who broke the kiss pecked her on the tip of her nose, then lowered himself. As Cynthia was being pounded by Segleninde, he brought his lips to her c**t, rolling his tongue over it.

As Cynthia melted with pleasure, her mouth falling open, Segleninde watched her with a loving gaze before swallowing her lips in a kiss.

Around them, the other clones, in accordance with the will of the original, each revealed their c***s and began stroking themselves busily by hand. The sweet scent of their precum fogged Cynthia’s senses, and another clone approached from behind, spreading her cheeks.

A c**k, identical to the one in her p***y, pressed into her rear.

“Ha, kgh!”

Because Segleninde shared sensation with his clones, it truly felt as if two of his c***s were inside her at once. Exhaling in satisfaction, eyelids fluttering, he wrapped his arms around her waist, and his clone did the same from behind, encircling her shoulders.

Before Cynthia could even register a sense of foreboding, the two began thrusting into her flesh at the same time.

“Aaannngh…!”

A sound closer to a scream than a moan tore from Cynthia’s mouth.

Two large, muscular men, front and back, pinned her between them and thrust their hips so forcefully it seemed her s*x and rear would be stretched to their limits. Now and then their lips brushed her cheeks, forehead, and crown in soft kisses, but their thrusts never slowed.

As soon as one finished and withdrew, another clone replaced him, filling her empty passage with a rough c**k. No matter how she cried and pleaded, the thrusting never stopped. When the c**k in her p***y pulled out, another drove in just as hard, even harder.

Two identical c***s alternated at a fast, offset rhythm: one driving into her p***y as the other withdrew from her rear, then vice versa, taking turns as if she were being penetrated endlessly from both sides. At the end of each round, the spent one would withdraw right after cumming, immediately replaced by another.

And again, a new c**k entered her at the same time.

“Ha, aaaah…”

The Seglenindes rocked their hips savagely, front and back. Every clone that climaxed stroked his still-hard c**k, glossy with a mix of his own s***n and Cynthia’s fluids, before rubbing it up and down her body.

Segleninde, lying on top of his clone’s body, thrust into her front as another clone drove into her rear, watching Cynthia cry in pleasure. The order was ceaseless, rotating and repeating without end.

But he did not only make her suffer. Whenever he found a gap, a thick finger would rub and knead her c**t, stimulating her until her body convulsed with another o****m. With each fresh climax, Cynthia screamed hoarsely, nearly losing her voice. She thought she would go mad from how good it felt.

When she cried herself out, the clones would pause for a moment.

Segleninde would embrace Cynthia, sprawled out on the gazebo table and drenched in s***n, and gently caress her swollen s*x. When she rubbed her now-tender, swollen c**t into his palm and smiled with a flushed face, he paused for a moment.

Cynthia cleared her cracked, hoarse throat.

“What, hmph! Tired already? I thought you’d be tougher.”

But she was still not satisfied. The more they did it, the thirstier and hotter she felt between her legs.

She deliberately provoked him, and Segleninde shook with a silent laugh before gently bumping his forehead against hers. How could he not find his woman absolutely adorable?

“I was going to take it easy on you, but I guess you don’t need it,” he said.

With that, he once again filled her swollen p***y with his c**k.

As he lifted her up in that position, another clone came up behind, naturally spreading her cheeks and penetrating her rear. Cynthia, sandwiched between the two, dangled her toes in the air, crying endlessly.

She reached out with difficulty and wrapped her arms around Segleninde’s neck, and he bent down to kiss her. Surrounded by the caresses of his clones, sometimes feeling a hand stroke her head or clasp her fingers, or soft kisses on her cheeks and as many hugs as she wanted, she felt nothing but affection.

She even felt as if she were enveloped in his love.