Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 202

Chapter 202: Sex Ghost (R-18)

Sofia detonated—not with pleasure, but nuclear annihilation.

I drank her flood like a man drowning in desert heat. Tongue flayed her clit through violent convulsions, thumb buried knuckle-deep in her clenching ass, fingers pistoning in her cunt like hydraulic drills. Her mouth went slack for a split-second—eyes rolling white—throat unlocking around my cock.

Then she sucked—not with want, but wrath. Hollowed cheeks became a vacuum seal, desperate to tear my soul out through my dick.

She thrashed—not bucking, but fighting. Back arched like a snapping spine, legs locked around my shoulders like pythons cracking bone. Fluids rained: sweat sprayed, squirt gushed in tor rents, drool flooded her chin in ropy waterfalls. Her eyes—when they rolled back—weren’t just unfocused. They glowed like hot coals in hell.

Hair plastered to her face like dark ivy. She looked like a banshee, a succubus, a demon clawed from the darkest fuck-lust.

"AGAIN!" she screeched, ripping her mouth free—strings of spit connecting her lips to my cock like elastic fire. "MAKE ME CUM AGAIN! MAKE ME SEE GOD! MAKE ME—FOR—GOD!"

Then she slammed down—taking me deeper than physics allowed. Nose crushed against my pubic bone. Throat convulsed around my length—swallowing, milking, choking. Another orgasm ripped through her—more powerful than the last. More gush. More screams. Violent thrashing.

She was fighting the intensity even as she craved it. Nails raked my back—drawing blood in crimson rivers. Teeth scraped my shaft. Body bucked like a live wire in a bathtub. Fluids drenched the floor—sweat, squirt, saliva—pooling in thick, sticky lake.

I held on.

Hands like iron on her thighs.

Mouth a relentless weapon of devastation on her overflowing cunt and ass.

Feasted.

Consumed.

Owned every shuddering, screaming, squirting inch of this possessed thing.

The living room screamed back—amplifying the cacophony of her demonic ecstasy. Sofia wasn’t just getting fucked. She was being exorcised by pleasure. Rewritten by my cock and tongue into something entirely new—this wild, insatiable sex ghost who’d shed her skin and embraced the ruin.

As her third scream tore through the house—shrouded in another gushing downpour of her essence—I knew.

This wasn’t just sex.

It was an unholy consecration.

She was reborn in my grip.

Glorious.

Mine.

Sofia tore her mouth away—wet, gasping pop. Body still heaving from soul-shattering orgasms. Hung upside down—hair dragging the floor, eyes glowing like coals.

Then she exploded—kicking off my shoulders with unnatural strength, twisting mid-air, landing crouched on her feet like a predator.

Before I could even register the movement, she lunged. Her hands slammed into my chest with surprising force—force that sent me stumbling back. My boots tangled in the sweat-slick rug. I hit the worn floorboards hard, the impact jarring.

She was on me instantly. Not straddling gently. Claiming. Her knees pinned my shoulders, her dripping cunt hovering directly above my straining cock. Her face was a mask of feral divinity—eyes black with possession, lips curled back in a snarl of pure, unadulterated need.

"Mine," she growled, the sound vibrating from her chest. "All mine."

One hand slammed beside my head—palm flat, floorboards groaning. The other gripped my cock like a bludgeon, aiming it at the entrance to her soaked, swollen pussy. She didn’t ease down. She dropped.

Weight impaled her onto my length with brutal, unthinking force.

She expected resistance. Prepared for it. What she got was a scream. Raw, torn—ripping from her throat like shattering glass. Part agony, part cataclysmic revelation. Her eyes flew wide—shock blasting through the feral haze. Body locked rigid, impaled to half of my cock.

And I saw it.

Blood. A thin, bright trickle mixing with her overwhelming wetness, coating the bottom inch of my shaft where her flesh had torn.

"W-What...?"

Virgin. A fucking Virgin?

The thought slammed into me like a physical blow. She wasn’t just tight. She was intact.

Jack Morrison. Hometown hero. Quarterback. All those times he’d supposedly been with her... he’d never even fully been inside her. Too small. Too pathetic. Too fucking inadequate to break through. I’d done it with barely half my length in one brutal drop.

Shock warred in her eyes with something else. A white-hot spike of pain that morphed, twisted, exploded into an inferno of pleasure so intense it looked like agony. Lips peeled back from teeth in a rictus grin.

"Yes!" she hissed—venomous prayer. "Yes! MORE!"

Then she rode.

Her voice shattered as another orgasm—pain-bliss—convulsed through her. Inner walls clamped like a crushing fist around my shaft. "Only you... only you could... fuck me like this..."

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