Overtime in Front of the Mirror
"Aah! Vincent. Stop—please, just stop!"
Barely enduring the work of his hips, I begged him one more time.
His cock, swollen to its very limit, raked without mercy along the walls of my sex, now melted to a slick, quivering softness. After pounding into me for what felt like an eternity, Vincent finally drove himself deep inside and began to spill his seed, and at that same moment, I reached my peak as well.
"Unghhh! Ngh! S-stop! Ahhk!"
Vincent steadied me as I clutched at the wall of the booth and came. The sensation of him carving out my insides as he ejaculated drained every ounce of strength from my legs; there was no way I could stand on my own. If he hadn't been binding me fast so I couldn't escape by collapsing out of position, I would have crumpled straight to the floor.
"Ahhn…! Hahh! Ngh! You're really…! Ah! Hnnngh, nngh! Hah…"
Once my climax had finally run its course, he gathered me into his arms, carried me out of the shower booth, and laid me down on a simple portable bed that had no business being in a bathroom. I took a moment to catch my breath, and as the aftershocks ebbed, I managed to gather my wits.
"You really do finish inside me like it's the most natural thing in the world…."
There was far, far too much of it—the semen was already overflowing from my entrance.
"I came to the bathroom to wash myself clean, and now you've gone and dirtied me all over again."
"True enough. That wasn't exactly the plan, after all."
He answered with that barefaced lie without so much as blinking. Watching him, I was so dumbfounded that any further argument would only have made me the fool, so I laid my exhausted body back against the bed and closed my eyes for a moment. I had no idea what animal the leather had come from, but it seemed to be the hide of some moisture-resistant reptile—slightly plush yet cool to the touch—and against my fevered skin it felt almost as though my whole body were being cooled.
"Let's rest a little, then wash up and head out."
Without a word, Vincent came and sat down by my head.
"You resting too?"
Just as I shifted my body to make room for him, his hand suddenly seized my pussy. When I turned my head toward him, a hot mass of flesh was hovering right in front of my mouth, radiating heat and thick with the scent of chestnut blossoms.
"Huh?"
All the air left my lungs in sheer disbelief. As if he had been waiting for the exact moment my mouth fell open, the glans—smeared with semen and my own juices—slipped naturally past my lips, the full length of him following it inside.
"Clean it for me, Adela."
Ignoring the way the cock filling my mouth knocked against my teeth, it drove straight for my throat.
"Khhg! Kghk! Mmph, mmph, mmgh!?"
Trying to hold down the gag reflex surging up as my uvula took the blow, I felt my fury boil over.
This madman just keeps crossing the line, doesn't he?
Stretching my jaw as wide as it would go, I bit down on the pillar that had been flaunting its thickness with every ounce of strength I had—not to hurt him, only to stop the cock from forcing its way deeper. Not that a bite like that could ever wound him.
But apparently the terms of the oath were a different matter. When my long-suppressed resentment toward Vincent was combined with the act of biting at his most vulnerable place, the condition was met: resisting the act of bearing Vincent's child counted as breaking the vow. The penalty activated, and once again I was forced into heat and ovulation.
"Hnnghiii!?"
And then, on my lower abdomen, I saw it—a crest I didn't know, a pattern I had never once laid eyes on—flickering with a lewd, ominous glow.
What is that? What's been carved into my body!? Vincent—don't tell me you did something to me?
"Mmph! Mmgh!"
Thanks to the monstrous thing stuffed in my mouth, all I could manage were muffled moans and drool. My heat-stricken body began moving on its own again. My tongue wrapped around his cock, tasting it, licking it, offering stimulation, while the tip worked in fits and starts over the places that drew reactions from him—the ridge behind the glans, the slit, the thick underside—rubbing them with deliberate, helpless focus. When the hand gripping my pussy began probing my entrance, my hips lifted themselves to make me easier to touch. Once more, my body betrayed the will of my mind and obeyed its instincts, surrendering to Vincent.
"Schluup, hngh! Aah, pop."
The moment I began sucking him in earnest, the seed still lingering inside was drawn out, and his cock recovered its vigor, heating up all over again. Pulling his revived length from my mouth, Vincent this time withdrew the fingers that had been teasing inside my pussy and brought them to my lips.
"Clean these too."
Obeying his command, I took hold of his fingers and sucked the juices and semen from them. Watching me suckle his fingers as I gazed up at him, Vincent's arousal climbed all the way to his head, and the whites of his eyes went bloodshot. He drew his fingers out, made me open my mouth, and checked the pool of semen gathered inside.
"Swallow."
After I managed to force down the sticky, chestnut-scented liquid, he made his move. He turned behind me, had me loop my arms around his neck, gripped my thighs, and hauled me up with sheer brute strength.
"Look straight ahead."
A huge mirror filled the entire wall facing the bed.
"Th-this is…!"
"It cost a fortune. Can you see it, Adela? How obscene you look."
"That's… me…?"
There in the glass hung a woman cradled in a man's arms—legs spread wide, arms raised and clinging to his neck. Her pussy still weeping semen, a small but swollen clitoris, an anus cowering in dread of when its turn might come. A groin, mound, underarms, and inner thighs smooth and utterly bare of a single hair. Breasts that swayed yet held their shape, springy and firm, pink areolae at their centers, erect nipples marked with tooth prints. And a snow-white nape stamped all over with kiss marks—every last intimate part of her bared without exception.
Long black hair like polished ebony—so like the mother who had borne me—soaked and hanging loose in stark contrast to that flushed skin. There was a female in heat.
A woman who looked exactly like the mother I had hated so bitterly, the mother who had fallen into womanhood, was yielding to a man, ready to accept his cock. His length—thick, rigid, veined, long, and searing hot—seemed to savor the lingering moment before penetration: it slid past her entrance, pressed against her clitoris starting from the very tip of the glans, and dragged itself up along her abdomen.
"Hnnngh!"
The pleasure of that friction against my clitoris climbed my spine and scattered my thoughts to pieces. Vincent clamped down hard on my writhing body so I couldn't twist free, and ordered me to look—at my lower belly, where the cock pressing against my womb was pushing the skin into relief.
"Get a grip and watch. From now on, this is going inside you—all the way to right here."
"No—if I become a female again… no!"
With my body pinned helpless beneath his dominance, I tried to hold him back with words instead, but it was hopeless. Vincent lifted me again, inserted just the glans into my entrance, left it resting there, and gave me his command.
"Don't look away. Watch it to the very end."
Had Vincent simply overpowered me, or was it the instinct of prey to obey the predator's word? Just as he said, I could do nothing but gaze at my entire body reflected in the mirror, eyes wide open, watching him push inside me.
"No! Ah—Vincent! Stop! I said no!"
Prying apart my pouted, unwilling lips, his cock shoved aside the melted walls of my sex, and there before my eyes, plainly visible even from the outside, was the mark of how deep the glans had already sunk.
"Hah! Hnnngh! Aahh…! Unghhh!"
I couldn't tear my eyes away. The sight of him ravishing me carved itself into my mind. Overwhelmed by the swelling sensation, tears spilled down my cheeks of their own accord. I had taken him inside me any number of times already, but the feeling of penetration still came with that unbearable fullness, that tightness in my chest, that breath catching in my throat—and my whole body trembled.
And seeing those changes with my own eyes—the pleasures Vincent had carved into my body made visible—left me utterly unable to keep my composure. Worse still, when his weapon reached my G-spot and ground against it up and down, I learned exactly where that place existed within me.
"Haah… Adela. Seeing you like this, how could I ever give you up? I can't. You're mine. No one else gets to have you. Only me. You're my female, forever."
"I—I don't, ngh! I don't want, ahh! to become a female…."
My confidence was draining away. Showing him a sight like this—what persuasion could there possibly be in my insisting I wouldn't become a female? When even I could see myself as nothing but a female, could I really tell Vincent to stop calling me one? Had I ever had the right to curse my mother for falling into womanhood? In the end, the voice denying what I was grew quieter and quieter, too.
Before I knew it, the glans had climbed all the way to the mouth of my womb, and each little knock against that opening bent my spine. My lower belly swelled outward, his length showing through the skin in sharp relief. The glans began pressing upward, kissing my cervix with careful deliberation.
"Feel that? They call it the portio, apparently. If you let it all the way there, I'll give you a prize."
Massaging its way up and pressing down hard, the glans made the stimulation at the mouth of my womb grow only fiercer.
"Aah! Nghk! Stooop! You can't, ngh! do that! Aaahn!"
Continuing to throb against the mouth of my womb as he coaxed an orgasm out of me through the portio, Vincent finally—as though the moment had arrived—drove in the rest of his length, sheathing himself with a wet slap of flesh.
"No—no!! Kyaaah! Aaahhn! Ungh! Khh! Hnngh!"
The brutal pleasure of that entrance being pushed up and crushed sent lightning racing up my spine like a strike from below, melting me down to the brain. In the mirror I saw myself, body wrenching and flailing in waves of pleasure I couldn't withstand. That was the last thing I saw before my vision began to strobe, and liquid burst violently from my entrance.
Swept away by those waves of pleasure, all I could do was cling to him—the man who had once been my disciple, my son, and whom I now had no choice but to call my husband.