Chapter 879: The Inner World (R-18)

Qliphoth did not wait for Vergil to respond after she teased and provoked the girls. Before Vergil could even process her words, she shoved him hard against the black trunk of one of her own roots, which rose from the ground in response to her desire. The bark was cold and solid against his back.

She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him with ravenous hunger, her tongue invading his mouth while her body rubbed against his.

"Wait—" His voice was smothered by her kiss.

"No," she whispered against his lips, her hands moving down to undo his trousers. "I have waited too long. I want it. Now."

Her fingers found his already hard erection, and she released a low, victorious moan. Vergil tried to seize her wrists, but her strength was overwhelming, amplified by the new energy flowing from the multicolored sky above them.

With one fluid movement, she turned him around and reversed their positions.

Now she was pressed against the root, her enormous breasts flattened against the black bark. She looked back over her shoulder, her red eyes shining with pure madness.

"Fuck me, husband," she ordered, her voice rough and pleading. "Fuck me until I forget my own name."

Vergil’s most basic instincts had been awakened by her brutal provocation and the carnal energy Qliphoth radiated. He hesitated no longer.

He grabbed her wide hips, his fingers sinking into her soft, pale flesh. With one sharp thrust, he penetrated her completely.

The scream that escaped Qliphoth was not one of pain, but absolute triumph. It was loud and shrill, echoing through the entire inner world and making the black leaves of the distant trees tremble.

"YES! LIKE THAT! EXACTLY LIKE THAT!"

Vergil began to move with a brutal, relentless rhythm. Every thrust was an assertion of strength, every withdrawal a promise of more. Qliphoth’s wet, hot flesh wrapped around him perfectly, squeezing him with almost inhuman force every time he entered her.

Nivara, Crymsaria, and Itharine stood paralyzed.

Crymsaria’s teacup remained suspended in the air, forgotten. Nivara was rigid, her dragon eyes fixed on the scene with a mixture of horror and fascination. Itharine blushed deeply, but could not look away.

Qliphoth was lost.

Her moans were continuous, a cascade of rough, broken sounds. Her body writhed against the root, her breasts shaking violently with every impact. She threw her head back, her long red hair clinging with sweat to her back.

"You’re... you’re killing me! Don’t stop! DON’T STOP!" she screamed, her nails scraping the tree bark and leaving deep marks.

Vergil gripped her harder and increased the pace. The wet, forceful sound of flesh striking flesh filled the air. He could feel her energy pulsing around him, a storm of pleasure and power feeding upon every movement.

"Inside! I’m close! GO, GO, GO!" she howled.

He drove into her with full force, deep enough for his pelvis to strike her buttocks.

Qliphoth climaxed so violently that her entire body arched backward, a hoarse, inarticulate scream tearing from her throat. Her pussy contracted around him in powerful, spasmodic waves, trying to draw in every inch.

But Vergil did not stop.

He pulled her backward and threw her onto the soft ground of black energy. Before she could catch her breath, he was above her, entering again with one deep thrust.

"ANOTHER! MAKE ME COME AGAIN!" she begged, her eyes filled with tears of ecstasy.

He obeyed.

His hips moved in a fierce, steady rhythm. Qliphoth grabbed his shoulders, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist, her heels pressing against his back. Every deep thrust made her body tremble and drew another series of loud, broken moans from her.

"It’s the day... ah, GOD... the happiest day of my life!" she cried between ragged gasps. "Better than the bridge! Better than Yggdrasil! THIS! THIS RIGHT HERE!"

She climaxed again, weaker but still intense, her body trembling beneath him.

Vergil felt his own tension reaching its limit. The sight of her below him, completely ruined by pleasure, her hair spread like a red halo, her breasts shaking with every movement, her swollen, reddened pussy taking him in and out, was intoxicating.

"I’m going to come," he growled hoarsely.

"INSIDE! COME INSIDE ME! FILL ME COMPLETELY WITH YOUR CUM!" she screamed, her eyes pleading.

With one final deep thrust that made Qliphoth’s body arch from the ground, Vergil erupted inside her.

His own groan was drowned beneath her triumphant scream as she reached a third climax, weaker but still convulsive, triggered by the hot release filling her.

He collapsed over her for a moment before rolling onto his side, panting.

Qliphoth remained lying on the ground, motionless, her glazed eyes staring at the multicolored sky. Her breathing came in irregular, rasping sounds.

Between her spread legs, her pussy was visibly swollen, red, and throbbing, their fluids running out and staining the black vegetation.

Slowly, with one trembling hand, she raised her arm.

She formed a weak fist before extending her thumb upward toward the three paralyzed women.

"You can... use him now," she whispered, a drunken, exhausted smile on her face. "I need... to rest..."

Qliphoth’s declaration, her exhausted body lying open before them, hung in the air like a challenge.

The silence that followed was thick, charged with shock, embarrassment, and a sudden, undeniable desire that none of the three women could hide any longer.

Nivara’s cold, calculating eyes met Crymsaria’s, which burned with conflicted fire. Itharine was the one who broke the tension.

She gave a slight shrug, an almost casual movement that contrasted violently with the deep blush covering her face and neck.

"She has a point," Itharine said, her voice softer than usual but firm. "If she is... indisposed... and Master is... available... it would be foolish to waste the opportunity."

She looked directly at Vergil. Her violet eyes lost all their previous shyness, replaced by resigned determination.

"I do not care if the two of you only want to watch. I waited. I restrained myself. And after what we just witnessed..."

She paused and swallowed.

"My patience is gone."

Before anyone could object, Itharine stood.

Her agile fingers moved without hesitation to the side ties of her black dress. With several precise pulls, the fabric came loose, slipping from her shoulders and pooling darkly at her feet.

She stood naked before them, her skin pale as porcelain beneath the strange light of the multicolored sky. Her body was slender but curved, with firm, rounded breasts and narrow hips.

She released the elaborate bun holding her silver-white hair in place. The strands fell like an icy waterfall over her shoulders and back, reaching her waist.

Without ceremony, she approached Vergil, who was still seated on the ground, catching his breath and processing the rapid change in events.

Itharine knelt before him, her nakedness a silent, daring offering.

She leaned forward, bringing one breast level with his face. Its hard pink tip touched his lips.

"I want affection, Master," she whispered, her voice carrying a mixture of pleading and command. "I want what she had. I want what you can give me."

Her eyes begged, but her hands remained firm.

She guided her breast against his mouth, encouraging him. The contact was electric. Vergil, his blood still heated from the brutal sex with Qliphoth, felt a fresh impulse run through his body.

He opened his mouth and accepted her offering. His tongue circled her nipple before sucking gently.

Itharine released a low, trembling moan, very different from Qliphoth’s wild screams. It was the sound of relief, of a need finally being satisfied.

Her fingers buried themselves in his silver hair and held him close.

"Like that..." she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment. "I have dreamed about this for so long..."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the small clearing, Nivara and Crymsaria remained seated.

Crymsaria’s teacup now rested firmly on its saucer, her hands clenched together in her lap. Her golden eyes remained fixed on Itharine and Vergil, and her breathing had visibly quickened.

Her initial contempt had transformed into something far more complex: jealousy, desire, and a deep anger at herself for feeling that way.

Nivara, on the other hand, appeared frozen into a statue of ice.

Her face was an impenetrable mask, but the muscles in her jaw were tense. Her reptilian eyes did not blink, absorbing every detail: Itharine’s bold submission, Vergil’s reaction, and Qliphoth’s sleeping, satisfied body, which had started everything.

She had been challenged.

By Qliphoth.

By Itharine.

And by the situation itself.

Nivara, the Ice Dragon, the strategist, the one who had always considered herself above such animal instincts, was discovering that her control had a far more fragile limit than she had imagined.

Itharine pulled Vergil’s face away from her breast, her own features now marked by desire.

"Not only that, Master," she said, her voice gaining a hoarse courage. "I want everything. Make me yours. Here. Now."

She moved, trying to guide him to lie down, to take control, but there was an awkward urgency to her movements—an inexperience that contrasted with the hunger in her eyes.

She was willing to learn, to receive, to be taken.