novelraw Chapter 441- Having good Ghop Ghop
Chapter 441- Having good Ghop Ghop
Her grip on his thighs was real. Not performance—actual resistance, her fingers pressing hard, her core fighting against his palm—
But his power was categorical and her hesitation was not nothing, and the combination moved her forward regardless.
GLUCK.
Her throat swallowed around him reflexively, her gills—she didn’t have gills, Sabrina was ’not’ a mermaid, her throat was simply closing and opening—the muscles of her neck working around something that had no business being where it was.
GLUCK. GLUCK.
Her eyes, which had been locked on his face in furious disbelief, began a slow rotation—not all the way yet, just drifting, the gold of her irises sliding upward as sensation overrode intent.
Tears formed at the inner corners. Didn’t fall yet. Just gathered.
GLUCK. GLUCK. GLUCK.
Seven inches. Eight.
Her fingers on his thighs had stopped pressing out and started gripping down.
The entire hall was absolutely silent.
Tianlong sat in his throne with Sabrina’s head in his hands—the tigerkin who had killed him once, who had spent months calling him every insulting name she could think of, who had watched his women with carefully hidden hunger and told herself it was contempt—and looked at his wives with the specific expression of a man who has done exactly what he intended.
The satisfaction on his face was—
—clear.
Unmistakable.
’Unconcealed’.
Sabrina felt it. Even through the blur, even through her eyes rolled halfway back and her throat working around his cock and tears finally sliding down both cheeks—she felt the shift in the room and she understood what she was looking at when she found his face.
He’d won.
GLUCK. GLUCK.
"’Nmmgkk—’" A sound from her that wasn’t quite a moan and wasn’t quite a protest. Her tail had curled up completely now, her whole body oriented around the single axis of his cock in her throat.
She tried to say something.
It came out:
"’Y-you pervert.’"
The words came out half-muffled, mangled by the ten inches of cock lodged in her throat, but the ’intent’ was intact. Sabrina had never once in her life lost the ability to transmit contempt.
Tianlong looked down at her.
"Keep going," he said.
GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—
His hand didn’t release her hair. Didn’t speed up either. Just maintained that steady, unhurried pressure, guiding her rhythm—not frantic, not desperate, the pace of a man with all the time in the world and exactly the outcome he wanted.
Sabrina’s neck bulged.
The outline of him—the shape, the ’size’—visible beneath the skin of her throat every time he pushed to depth. A moving ridge under pale skin, pressing outward, then receding, then pressing again. Her tiger ears had gone flat against her skull, her tail curled so tight against her body it barely moved.
GLUCK. GLUCK. GLUCK.
Her fingers, which had started gripping his thighs to push, had long since given up that pretense. They just gripped now. Knuckles white, nails pressing into the fabric over his legs, holding on the way you hold something when you’re afraid of what happens if you let go.
Tears ran steadily down both cheeks.
Not from sadness. Just from the body’s honest response to this particular kind of use.
Behind her, the crescent of women watched.
Akane’s nine tails had resumed their movement, but slowly—each sweep long and deliberate, like breath. Her golden fox eyes tracked the line of Sabrina’s throat with an expression that was warm, and possessive, and something else that ran underneath both like a current.
Her right hand, resting on her lap, had shifted.
She wasn’t gripping her robe anymore.
Her fingers moved in small, almost imperceptible circles against the fabric at her inner thigh—barely there, pressure rather than motion—and her lower lip had disappeared between her teeth.
She didn’t look at anyone else. Just watched.
Yuna sat with both hands pressed flat on her own knees—both of them, firmly, like she was restraining herself through pure physical placement. Her red hair had fallen slightly forward over one shoulder. Her silver eyes were wide, and her ears were straight up, fully alert, and she had started breathing through her mouth some time ago without noticing.
Between her pressed-together thighs, something wet had already soaked through the inner seam of her fitted pants.
She noticed it eventually.
Did not move her hands.
Yu Xiang had crossed her legs at some point in the last minute. Her right knee was now elevated above the left, and the way her ankle was angled, the heel of her boot pressed with consistent pressure against—somewhere. Her violet eyes moved between Sabrina’s throat and Tianlong’s face in a pattern that repeated, and her breathing had taken on a particular quality that she, more than anyone in this room, would know how to identify.
She didn’t stop watching.
Sylvea stood with her hands clasped—still the same posture she’d arrived in, seemingly. But her clasped hands had drifted downward, somewhere below her navel, and the pressure they exerted there was no longer about ceremony.
Her emerald eyes were wet.
Not from tears.
She swallowed, and the motion was visible.
Seris, from her throne, had her ice-blue eyes fixed ahead with the rigid attention of someone who’s decided not to look at something and keeps looking anyway. One hand gripped the throne’s armrest. The other hand was nowhere visible.
Vyrena’s amber eyes were half-lidded. Her jaw was tight. Her tail—usually a weapon, usually aggressive—moved slowly behind her, the sweeps languid and heavy. She had stopped sitting straight ten seconds ago.
Helvora alone remained upright, arms crossed, expression controlled—but her eyes tracked every detail, and the set of her mouth had changed in some way that controlled expression couldn’t fully conceal. The slight parting of lips. The tension in the jaw that came from deliberate restraint rather than genuine indifference.
Kaira, in her blindness, heard everything.
The wet, rhythmic sounds. The muffled attempts at sound from Sabrina. The subtle shifts of bodies around her. The quality of breathing in the room—how it had changed, how it was changing still—and her blind eyes moved slowly in their sockets as she assembled from sound alone exactly what was happening and what it was doing to every woman present.
Her thighs pressed together.
The gold ring at her clit caught the light when she shifted.
GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—