Chapter 481: Putting Aunt Cassiopeia in her Place (r-18)

Phei pulled away slowly—lips parting from her swollen, dripping cunt with a final, wet

pop

that echoed like a gunshot in the quiet room.

It was a declaration she’d had so much more than she

deserved

from the boy she had no good intentions to after she was done fucking him!

His chin and jaw glistened with thick layers of her slick, shining trails running down his throat, soaking the collar of his shirt dark and clinging.

He rose to his feet in one fluid, predatory motion, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand—deliberately slow—eyes never leaving her trembling, wrecked body.

Cassiopeia remained braced against the glass—palms flat and slipping in her own fogged condensation, arms shaking violently, thighs quivering so hard her knees threatened to buckle.

Her cunt still pulsed with vicious aftershocks—inner walls fluttering on nothing, thick strands of creamy froth and clear slick dripping steadily from her gaping, flushed lips down her inner thighs in glossy rivulets, pooling on the marble in a wide, reflective puddle that caught the neon and shimmered obscenely.

Her heavy

tits

dragged against the chilled pane with every heaving sob, nipples scraped raw and angry-red, leaving faint streaks on the glass.

She looked ready for his cock in her pussy... corrupted...

HIS!

He stepped back.

Turned like she meant nothing to him at all... like all that just happened was in her head and he had nothing to do with it.

Like... he had no intentions of giving her more than her fantasy deserved!

Phei started walking toward the stairs—casual, unhurried, like he hadn’t just

tongue-fucked

her to four shattering, squirting orgasms against a city skyline, leaving her cunt ruined and gaping from his relentless mouth.

Cassiopeia’s head snapped up—eyes flashing with feral, ancient fury.

"Wait—"

Her voice cracked—raw from screaming, hoarse and trembling. She pushed off the glass on unsteady legs and lunged after him like her life depended on it... well, her pleasure did.

One hand clamped around his wrist—nails digging deep enough to draw thin crescents of blood.

"Where the fuck do you think you’re going?"

Phei stopped.

Turned slowly to face her—eyes calm, amused, lips still shiny with her mess.

He chuckled at how needy and supid she looked to think she was the one in control here—low, dark, edged with absolute control.

The sound vibrated straight to her clit and made her realize how much she’s lost.

"That’s it for tonight,

Aunt Cassiopeia."

He shrugged one shoulder, playful on the surface, lethal underneath.

"You’ve had your fun. Time to rest."

Cassiopeia laughed.

Not the throaty, pleased sound from before.

This was darker—dangerous—low and edged with centuries of unchallenged power. It rolled from her chest like thunder wrapped in silk.

"Who the fuck,"

she purred, stepping closer until her bare, heaving

breasts

brushed his soaked shirt, stiff nipples scraping wet fabric,

"do you think you are to decide when I’m done?"

Her eyes flashed—predatory, ancient, promising violence wrapped in lust.

Phei didn’t flinch.

He stepped into her space instead his eyes fixated on her, framing her body making her realize how much small she was compared to him, making her realize how much she was nothing when he decided he was stopping—

She took steps back in reverence... she felt so small, her back and shoulders slammed against the wall beside the stairs with a soft

thud

. His one hand shot up—fingers wrapping around her throat.

Firm. Possessive

.

Thumb stroking the frantic, hammering pulse beneath her jaw.

He forced her head to look up to his eyes that looked down on her... the dominating purple amethyst gaze making her flinch in fear and giving in.

He pulled her by the neck towards him.

At the same instant his other hand

pinned

her left wrist above her head, stretching her body taut—back arching violently, her

heavy tits

thrusting forward, nipples scraping air, cunt helplessly exposed and dripping between her trembling thighs.

"What am I?

I’m the man who just made your greedy cunt squirt four times on my tongue without even feeding it my cock,"

he said, voice dropping to gravel and absolute command.

"I’m the man

who can walk away

right now and leave you dripping, aching, empty—and you’ll still be clenching on nothing tomorrow, thinking about how my mouth owned this pussy. And yet, you’ll still come running when I tell you to come!

Because you belong to me now!

"

He leaned in—lips brushing her ear, hot breath deliberate against the sensitive shell.

"When I give an order, your,

heart, soul, body and cunt

obeys. You wait because I

fucking

said so

." Each word was slow, deliberate, vibrating against her skin like a brand.

"Also...

from now on you’re not allowed to touch yourself because this

pussy is mine

now and

it doesn’t get to come again until I allow it. Your clit stays untouched. Your holes stay empty. You leak for me, you ache for me, but you don’t fucking touch yourself.

Got IT?"

Cassiopeia’s

breath hitched—sharp, choked gasp. Her thighs trembled violently around his leg as he forced one thick thigh between hers, spreading them wide so she couldn’t clench for relief.

She nodded fast, her throat in his grip, eyes glassy... a mature aunt being dominated by her teenager nephew!

Yet another forbidden aunt!

He rocked his knee up—just enough to graze her throbbing clit once—then pulled away, denying even that scrap of friction.

"You don’t get friction. You get ache."

A fresh gush of wetness

spurted

from her cunt—helpless, hot—dripping down his thigh in thick, glossy strands.

Her walls clenched visibly on nothing, clit pulsing against empty air, inner lips parting wider in silent begging.

Her voice fractured into a whimper—

"Phei—"

—then dissolved into broken, pleading sounds.

"Please... I need..."

She bit her lip bloody, trying to catch the words, but her body betrayed her: cunt fluttering, cream dripping steadily down her inner thighs in warm rivers.

He slid his middle finger along her

parted slit

—collecting a thick rope of her cream—then brought it up and smeared it across her swollen lips, forcing her to taste herself while his thumb pressed harder against her throat.

"Taste how wet you get when I tell you no,"

he growled.

"That’s my good little aunt—already dripping just from being told no. Look at you clenching on nothing... already trained to my voice."

Her cunt spasmed at the words—another helpless spurt of slick coating his fingers, dripping to the floor in soft

plips

. Thighs quaked so hard her knees buckled an inch before she caught herself against the wall.

He kept her

pinned—wrist

above her head, throat collared by his hand, thigh forced between hers—then cupped her entire mound in his palm again. Middle finger pressed flat against her entrance—tip just kissing the fluttering opening without entering—holding her there, letting her feel the promise of fullness he refused to give.

"This stays locked until I unlock it.

Understand?"

He removed his hand slowly—deliberately—letting her feel the sudden, devastating emptiness. Her cunt clenched hard on nothing, inner walls rippling visibly, a fresh trickle of cream sliding down her thighs as she whimpered—voice cracking, body shaking.

Then he released her completely.

Stepped back.

Turned.

And walked toward the stairs.

Halfway up he paused—turned halfway—looked down at her.

She stood exactly where he’d left her: naked, trembling, cunt glistening and gaping slightly from his tongue, thick cream strings stretching from her swollen lips to her inner thighs, chest heaving, eyes wide and dark with a dangerous, intoxicating mix of fury, hunger, and—for the first time in centuries—complete, bone-deep submission.

One hand hovered over her mound—fingers trembling—before she forced it away, shaking, thighs still quaking.

Phei smiled—warm, boyish, devastatingly charming—but the command in his voice was iron.

"Let me remind you,"

he called down softly, eyes locked on her dripping core.

"You’re not allowed to touch yourself EVER!

Not a finger. Not a pillow. Not even a stray thought that turns into rubbing that aching clit. I’ll know if you do. And if you disobey..."

His smile sharpened, dark and promising. "I’ll edge you—keep you dripping, clenching, begging—until you’re crying for my cock and promising to be my good little aunt."

He let the words hang—light, teasing, absolute.

"Every time you

leak

tonight, every time your cunt throbs and begs, remember: that ache

belongs

to

me

now. Sleep wet, aunt. Dream of my cock. But don’t you dare come without permission. I’ll know... and I’ll make you beg twice as hard tomorrow."

"After all..."

He shrugged, turning away. "We’ve got days. And every single one of them your cunt is going to remember who it belongs to."

Then he walked the rest of the way up the stairs—leaving her alone in the dark penthouse, body thrumming with denied need, cunt aching and leaking steadily onto the marble, pride burning, and—for the first time in centuries—completely, deliciously,

owned

.