Spanking
Each time Vincent's palm cracked against my backside, tears stung at the corners of my eyes.
With a body tempered by martial arts, I couldn't bring myself to sob over a mere spanking, so I fought desperately to hold it in. But his hand was merciless, and no amount of willpower could keep the tears from welling up.
"Ahhk!! Vincent, stop—stop hitting me! I was wrong! I was wrong, okay!!"
I begged him to stop, but he seemed pleased with the crimson handprints blooming across my flesh with every strike, and he didn't let up.
Behind me, demonic energy stirred. As his excitement mounted, that peculiar demonic power resumed its activity.
"Vincent? Vincent! Snap out of it! Agh?! The demonic energy, it's—!!"
Unable to turn around, all I could do was cry out his name while being taken from behind, spanked all the while.
"Don't turn your head away, Adela. I'm perfectly fine. Except for the fact that I'm going out of my mind wanting to devour you right this second…!!"
He was already consumed by the demonic energy. The power that had been swirling and swelling inside him finally began to seep into me through his cock as well.
The energy flooding into my belly along his length, spilling like seed, made straight for the pure demonic energy gathered in my dantian nearby.
"Ah, ugh! Nngh! No, you're too rough…!"
This was how his power, having devoured my pure demonic energy, gave birth to a new kind I could wield without strain. It was certain now—every time I coupled with him, this energy accumulated in my body.
But there was so little I knew about this new power. If repeating this act to gain usable demonic energy ended up damaging Vincent's body, it would defeat the whole purpose. I could use it, yes, but my condition could turn on a moment's notice. I ought to be refraining as much as possible, calmly observing my body's state—
Yet my disciple, ignorant of all this, brimmed over with lust and stamina, desperate to devour me the instant our eyes met.
I should have felt terror at his demonic energy settling into my dantian and swallowing my pure energy whole. Instead, what washed over me was euphoria.
I twisted my hips, trying to force him out of me, but that only seemed to provoke him—every attempt to escape earned me another stinging slap.
To think he could shock my dantian like this, forcibly running my internal energy while striking me. I should have fallen into qi deviation on the spot, yet somehow, no matter how hard he smacked me, the stability of my circulation never wavered. If anything, the conversion of demonic energy only accelerated.
Was I truly becoming a lust-qi practitioner? Come to think of it, the spanking felt strange too. At first it simply hurt, but the more he struck, the deeper the heat of each blow sank, stimulating my inner walls. The words begging him to stop no longer came.
His cock, buried inside me and motionless, seemed delighted when my walls flinched with each slap, and it began stirring again.
"Ahh! Ugh… hyaahk! Nnnh♥ ugh!"
The moans spilling out of me with every strike grew sweet even to my own ears.
"Adela, I think you like getting spanked."
"No, I don't! Nnahk… I said I don't!!"
Vincent seemed pleased by the way I quivered with each blow, his cock clenching and tightening in response. The accumulated strikes left my backside burning hot, then stinging raw. And yet, at the same time, that strange sensation only grew.
Hit this hard, my crimson-flushed rear should have been bruised by now. Instead, my senses had sharpened until I could feel the flow of blood beneath the skin. Just being exposed to the air made the inside of my rear itch.
"Hyaah! Something's wrong, it feels strange! Stop it, I was wrong! Vincent, I was wrong!"
Vincent traced my backside with fingertips that barely grazed the skin. That maddening, featherlight sensation became pleasure in itself, and my sex clenched on its own.
"Nnngh! Adela, you feel that? How tight you're gripping me right now? Ugh! Haah, do you like being spanked, you bitch in heat?!!"
Without moving his hips, he simply kept his cock buried deep inside me, flaunting his presence. No matter how I tried to ignore it, before that overwhelming mass, every nerve in my body had no choice but to fixate on it. And the moment all my senses poured into the intruder in my belly—
As if he'd been waiting for exactly that, he tried to subdue me with curses and another slap. I couldn't gather my thoughts. Even as he made me his own, I couldn't resist.
What streamed down my cheeks might not have been tears at all, but my sanity, melting away as it fought to protect me.
"My butt's going to melt. It's hot! It hurts! I said it hurts! Ugh…."
When I broke down sobbing, Vincent—perhaps finally feeling guilty for what he'd done—gazed at me in silence for a moment before saying something utterly absurd. No, looking at his eyes, that wasn't it. This bastard didn't feel the slightest remorse for what he'd done! If anything, my crying like a child only excited him further; the corners of his eyes trembled.
"Adela, your butt's all red right now. The color, the smell—you look just like a ripe peach."
That even now, his eyes couldn't see me crying made my despair all the deeper.
"More talk about my butt? Get away from me, you idiot!!"
I forced my aching hips to move, trying to pull the cock that was trading demonic energy in my belly out of me and escape him—but Vincent gripped my hips tight, treating even my struggle to flee as more stimulation. All I gained was added pain.
As I gritted my teeth and endured the ache seeping into my pelvis, Vincent's hand began stroking my backside.
"Hyaah?! I said it hur— ugh! —ts!! Don't touch me! Please! I said don't touch me!!"
He stroked, then scratched with his fingertips, then gave little taps. Each time, my body squeezed and milked his cock on its own, and Vincent moaned—so this was what he'd been tormenting me for all along.
His breath drew closer and closer. The force of his hips driving deeper compressed my belly, and my own breathing grew ragged too. At this rate, my pleasure nerves would scramble again.
Just from him running his hand down my rear, I was brought to the edge. I hated it. Slowly, surely, undeniably, I was becoming his female. I couldn't keep losing like this.
"Haah, Vincent—nngh! Stop! Just for a moment… don't do it, and I won't either! Just be gentle with me, please!!"
My pleading had never once worked, but clutching at straws, I wept and begged. Knowing his habit of doing more, not less, when told to stop mid-intercourse, I asked him to simply ease his intensity instead.
The hand on my backside vanished in an instant. Huh? What's this? I didn't know why he'd decided to grant my request—especially when he'd been tormenting me all the more, saying I was being punished today—but his behavior just now felt truly, blessedly merciful.
"Th-thank you, Vincent…. Hyaah?!"
The instant I thanked him, Vincent seized my backside in a crushing grip….
His cock, driven in to the very root, stimulated the A-spot near my cervix until it forced the entrance wide open, let the head slip inside, and began to come.
No, no. Stop! Not like this….
What painted over white was not only my thoughts but my vision as well. And just like that, I was excluded from my own body.
I had once attained a perspective of observing myself while practicing breath cultivation. This was similar. A new sight visible only upon reaching a certain realm. What was it called again—all things return to one?
The elder who taught me once said that the Daoist path was not the only way to cultivate the Dao, nor Buddhist asceticism the only road to enlightenment. Every person had their own path and their own discipline, he said, and asked me why I insisted on walking the warrior's road. I never imagined I'd be turning his words over in my mind like this….
Could immersion in the act of coupling grant a similar sight? I'd rather someone tell me it was merely something similar enough that I was mistaking it for one.
The small mercy was that even as he touched and toyed with my body however he pleased, the me on that side only moaned absently—and the me watching could see it without feeling it. The misfortune, as I said, was that Vincent's perverted acts upon me played out before my eyes in full, and that when he gave me too great a stimulus, I was gradually dragged toward that side.
Biting or pinching my nipples, seizing my glowing red backside, plunging deep into my front or my rear and spilling inside. Watching his lust-glazed eyes torment my body without a moment's rest only deepened my anguish.
Seeing Vincent, matted and tangled with sweat and every manner of fluid, made my lower belly itch for no reason at all.
I was afraid of returning to my original state. If, while I remained like this, all the pleasure he'd poured into me came crashing down at once, what was I supposed to do? Even for me, this was a terrifying situation. Taking it all in one flood felt like it would burn out every nerve running from my brain down my spine.
What frightened me most was the sense that the demonic energy flowing from Vincent into me had settled into my dantian and made itself a new home. With no way to rush out and stop it, the anxiety was enough to drive me mad.
Vincent—will he be all right? More than anything, I worried for the body of my disciple, my son. And so, like a condemned prisoner awaiting execution, I could only wait in dread for the moment I returned to my own body.