Chapter 258
“Hahh, ngh…!”
A moan spilled from her lips as his tongue lavished careful attention to her n****e. Jaha had long lost count of how many times she’d already come. And yet, he hadn’t spilled even once—thanks to the tightly fitted chastity belt constricting the base of his shaft.
His already monstrous c**k had grown even more grotesque, veins bulging unnaturally under the strain. His breathing grew increasingly ragged, as if he could barely endure the torment.
“Let me c*m, Jaha.”
“If you can pleasure me one more time,” she murmured, “then I’ll take the belt off.”
No sooner had she made the offer than he seized her legs, draping them over his shoulders before burying his face between her thighs. No matter how many times she experienced it, she could never grow accustomed to the way his mouth worked her—it left her shuddering.
“Nngh, yes…! Touch my c**t too, ah—! And—and f**k me from behind!”
Obediently, his tongue continued its relentless strokes while one hand toyed with her swollen bud, the other sliding a slender rod in and out of her rear, expertly prodding at every sensitive spot.
Pleasure erupted from all sides at once, wrenching a violent spasm from her. His agile tongue curled inside her, his gloved fingers pinched and twisted her c**t, and the rod pressed deep—so deep—until the tip nudged indirectly against the back of her womb. Fireworks exploded behind her eyelids.
As Jaha came spectacularly, her legs trembling, he lowered them back onto the bed and grasped his own c**k—swollen past its limits, flushed an unnatural shade.
“Now, as promised… time for your reward, Master.”
The menacing length of him loomed before her. Still catching her breath, Jaha reached out with a shaking hand, wrapped her fingers around him, and recited the activation phrase. The chastity belt stretched just enough to be pulled free—and the moment he tore it off, c*m erupted in thick, relentless spurts.
It was a spectacle—his throbbing shaft convulsing wildly, endless ropes of white spilling forth, splattering across her body like a lewd baptism, soaking the sheets beneath.
Staring dazedly at the mess, Jaha idly wondered: “Maybe making him hold back this long with an aphrodisiac cream was a little too cruel.”
After a long wait, the moment he finally tasted release, he went completely still, as if his soul had left his body. It was obscenely hot. Jaha almost understood now why he was so persistently obsessed with watching her fall apart. But before she could even properly savor the sight, he had already snapped back to his usual self.
He wasn’t the type who enjoyed being teased. As he often said, his body barely reacted to ordinary d***s or aphrodisiacs, and due to the rigorous training he’d undergone since childhood—befitting someone destined to be emperor—he could quickly return to his normal state.
He wasn’t lying. She had never seen him cry from physical pain or pleasure. Even just now, after pushing him to the brink of what could almost be called torture before granting relief, not a single tear fell. Meanwhile, some people wept every single time they had s*x.
Would revenge have tasted sweeter if this man had sobbed in agony, flushed with humiliation, or whimpered helplessly in pleasure? Maybe. But it might have also shattered the illusion…
The more she took her revenge on him, the more she realized something: she preferred being on the receiving end. Whether it was due to the scars left from her time as a slave or simply her innate nature, she didn’t know. But one thing was certain—she derived far more pleasure from submitting than from dominating. Some women reveled in taking control, in driving men wild under their command—but Jaha wasn’t one of them.
She became acutely aware of this after strapping on a d***o and taking him instead. An eye for an eye, Hammurabi’s Code-style—but honestly, what was even the point? No matter how hard she worked, there was no real pleasure in it, just exhaustion. Wasn’t this just… unpaid labor? And it wasn’t like he put on some dramatic BL-worthy performance either. He just let her do as she pleased, like he was humoring her.
The way he looked at her—like she was adorable for trying so hard—made her want to give up right then and there.
Wasn’t the prostate supposed to make men lose their minds with pleasure? Weren’t they supposed to moan without realizing it, their pride crumbling at being taken from behind?
At one point, she even tried spanking him to humiliate him, but his a*s muscles were so damn firm that her palm hurt more than his backside.
That day, Jaha came to a bone-deep realization: She liked being wrecked. Being forced into submission, drowning in pleasure until she couldn’t think, listening to degrading dirty talk as she was taken roughly—it was infinitely more thrilling than this. Ten times, a hundred times more.
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