Chapter 413: As One Mind (R-18)

The smoke shifted, thickened, coiling like living serpents as the music swelled into a primal, drum-heavy pulse.

The remaining women emerged from the haze—Sofia in crimson lace, Janet in emerald, Luna Valentina in sapphire, Anya in stark white, Ortega in gold, Victoria in blood-red, Amanda in silver, Celeste in obsidian, Gabrielle in violet, Ashby Rousseau in bronze, Sophia in onyx, Emma in amethyst.

Each wore the same open-fronted robe and defiant nun wimple. Their eyes burned with shared purpose as they surrounded us.

Sofia and Anya moved first, dropping to their knees before me. Their hands, trembling with anticipation, found the waistband of my silk pants. Together, they slid them down. My cock sprang free—

thick, veiny, immense

.

The cool air hit the heated, throbbing flesh, making it jerk. A clear bead of fluid welled at the wide, flushed tip, catching the dim light. Sofia gasped.

Anya whined low in her throat. "Fuck... it’s bigger than I

remember,"

Sofia breathed, her fingers hovering inches from the pulsing shaft.

Without warning, two mouths descended.

Janet and Luna

surged forward from either side. Janet’s hot, wet mouth engulfed the head immediately, sucking hard, tongue swirling feverishly around the sensitive ridge.

Luna, shyer but no less hungry, lapped at the thick, pulsing vein running along the underside, her tongue tracing its length like a roadmap to sin.

"Oh gods,"

I groaned, head falling back. The dual sensation—one hot, sucking pressure, one wet, exploratory lick—was agonizing ecstasy. My abilities

roared

in my veins,

pheromones flooding the air

like an invisible wave.

The effect was instantaneous. Every woman in the circle moaned as the potent chemicals hit them. Janet ground her slick pussy against my ankle.

Luna whimpered, lapping faster at my cock.

Sophia

and

Victoria

pressed their bodies against my sides, their hard nipples digging into my skin, their hands raking my chest and abs, eliciting another guttural moan from me, which triggered fresh waves of arousal through them all—a perfect, hedonistic feedback loop.

"Enough

tasting," I growled, my voice thick with lust and power. I reached down, ignoring Janet’s protesting whimper as my cock slipped from her mouth. I grabbed

Isabella

—still kneeling, still glowing in her devotion. "Your turn at the altar, Sister."

With effortless strength, I hoisted her upward. She squealed, legs automatically wrapping around my neck, thighs clamping tight just below my ears.

The black lace robe flared, her bared pussy—glistening, swollen, inches from my mouth as I stood perfectly straight. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating. Her wimple brushed my hair.

"Peter! Oh—!"

I dived in. My tongue delved deep into her wet heat, parting her slick folds, finding the hardened nub of her clit immediately. I suckled

hard

. Isabella’s entire body convulsed.

"FUCK! YES! RIGHT THERE!"

Her fingers tangled violently in my hair,

pushing my head deeper

into her cunt, grinding herself shamelessly against my mouth. Her thighs trembled violently around my head, juices flowing freely, coating my chin, dripping down my neck. "Don’t stop! God, don’t ever stop eating me!

Worship

my pussy!"

Around us, the orgy ignited.

Janet and Luna,

denied my cock, turned to each other, mouths crashing together in a desperate, wet kiss, hands roaming each other’s naked bodies.

Ortega slid behind Janet, fingers plunging deep into her dripping pussy while Luna sucked on Janet’s tits.

Anya claimed Amanda from behind, bending her over, spreading her ass, and rimming her with ferocious hunger, making Amanda scream into Victoria’s mouth.

Victoria and Emma knelt before Celeste and Gabrielle, their mouths hungrily feasting on the older women’s pussies, lapping like starved creatures.

Ashby Rousseau and Sophia formed a frantic 69, tongues buried deep, bodies grinding, moans vibrating.

Sofia

watched, fingers buried in her own cunt, eyes locked on Isabella’s ecstatic face as I devoured her.

Pheromones saturated the air

, a thick, electric haze. Every touch, every lick, every moan seemed amplified, feeding the insatiable hunger.

My cock throbbed demandingly between my legs, untouched but weeping constantly, a river of pre-cum dripping onto the marble floor. Isabella’s thighs locked so tight around my head I saw stars.

"PETER! I’M—I’M GONNA—!" Her nails clawed my scalp. Her body arched violently as she came, her pussy gushing into my mouth, a flood of sweet, salty essence. I drank deeply, growling against her convulsing flesh,

the sound

vibrating through her core, triggering more spasms.

I eased her down, her legs trembling. She slumped to the smoke-wreathed floor, gasping, eyes half-lidded, body humming. I stood over her, chest heaving, cock jutting out—veiny, massive, glistening with spit and pre-cum. Around me, my women writhed, touched, kissed, licked—fifteen souls drowning in a sea of pure, unadulterated sin.

The smoke thickened. The music swelled. The essence pulsed like a dark star.

The storm wasn’t just here. It was about to consume everything.

I looked at the mass of willing, wanting flesh.

Victoria

knelt before

Celeste

, intending to taste her. But when Victoria’s lips hovered an inch from Celeste’s slick folds, Celeste’s body

lifted off the floor

. Driven by phantom pressure on her inner thighs, her legs wrapped around empty air, hips pumping upwards in frantic, desperate rhythm.

"I can feel your tongue!" she wailed, cupping at her own breasts. "Right there, Peter! Don’t stop!" Her body shook with silent sobs of pleasure.

Sofia

reached for

Emma

’s hand. The moment their fingers brushed, Sofia’s knees buckled. She wasn’t feeling Emma’s soft touch. She felt

my

hand closing around her throat—tight, controlling.

Her breath hitched, then caught in her throat, eyes wide with terror and lust. "Choke me," she begged the empty air. "Please, Peter, choke me like you always do!" Her fingers flew to her own neck, squeezing, mimicking the grip she craved.

Ashby Rousseau was kissing Ortega, but Ortega wasn’t feeling Ashby’s mouth. She felt

my

teeth sinking into the tender flesh where her neck met her shoulder.

"Bite me!" Ortega shrieked, head snapping back, baring her throat. "Harder, Peter! Mark me!" A vivid red bloom appeared on her skin—as if teeth had

actually

sunk in. Ashby stared, stunned, before leaning down and licking the phantom mark, sending Ortega into fresh convulsions.

Isabella

, still trembling from my earlier mouth, lay curled on the floor. When

Gabrielle

gently touched her knee to comfort her... Isabella

screamed

. Not in fear, but in overwhelming memory.

"Your tongue!" she gasped, hands flying between her legs, cupping her own soaked sex. "I can still feel it! Licking me! Devouring me, Peter!" Her fingers plunged inside herself desperately, trying to replicate the sensation of my mouth, but it was futile. "Peter! I need your mouth back! Now!"

The room became a vortex of phantom sensation. Every touch—innocent, intended, accidental—became a catalyst. Bodies arched, hips bucked, hands grasped at empty air. Moans weren’t just pleasure; they were echoes of my touch, my hands, my mouth, my cock replaying over and over in their nerve endings.

Luna

crawled towards

Janet

, but when Janet tried to help her up, Luna shuddered violently.

"Don’t!" she gasped. "I’ll break! I feel his hands everywhere—tearing me open!" She scrambled backwards on her hands and knees, whimpering.

The air crackled. Sweat glistened on flushed skin. Breaths came in ragged gasps, sobs, and desperate pleas. Fifteen women, lost in a storm of sensation where every caress of the pheromone was

mine

, every nerve ending screamed

my name

, and their own touches became portals to

my

desires.

I stood in the eye of the hurricane, watching. The pheromones were not just an aura. They were a weapon. A divine curse. They had rewritten reality. My touch wasn’t just desired. It was

omnipresent,

thanks to my

Pheromones

The smoke writhed, thick with the scent of sex and devotion. The women moved like puppets on strings I didn’t hold, their bodies betraying them, surrendering to the ghost of my touch.

This

was the pheromones’ truth: not just desire amplified. But

possession

.

Every inch of them.

Every nerve ending.

Mine.

And they never wanted it to end.