NOVEL NEXT Chapter 91: Map 2 Level 2 - 4
Her voice cracked, tears of humiliation pricking her amber eyes. "I—I hate this," she gasped, her pussy throbbing untouched, her clit aching as the pleasure overwhelmed her pride.
"You'll remember how it feels," he whispered against her skin, his mouth sucking harder, his tongue swirling her nipple, his hands kneading relentlessly.
Her body convulsed midair, the vines holding her tighter as her milk spurted again, her scream echoing through the chamber.
Sereya – Yield: 174ml.
He licked her clean, her royal flesh gleaming with spit, sweat, and milk, her body panting like a common whore, her legs twitching, lips parted in defeated bliss.
Kota stepped back.
Selene: 153ml
Sereya: 174ml
Two remain.
The vines stir.
Lyra watches him with hooded eyes, her small breasts heaving, nipples stiff.
Veyna hangs upside down, laughing again, her small breasts heavy, milk dripping from her nipples.
And the jungle tightens its grip on time.
"8 Minutes Remaining."
Kota's tongue was thick with the sweet, creamy taste of Sereya's milk, his chest glistening with spills, his arms wet to the elbow, his breath burning in his throat as he turned from her trembling, defiled form.
The queen hung in the vines, her voluptuous body arched and spent, her heavy breasts heaving, dark nipples flushed and raw, dripping with the remnants of her release.
She moaned low, humiliated and panting, glowing in the vine-light like a used relic, her slick pussy throbbing between her spread thighs, wetness dripping down her creamy legs, her amber eyes half-lidded with a mix of rage and lingering ecstasy.
He didn't look back.
He couldn't.
Two remained, and the jungle's humid air pressed heavier, the scent of milk and nectar thickening, the vines pulsing faintly around them, monitoring every breath, every twitch.
The HUD flickered in his vision:
Remaining Participants: 2
Time Left: 7:34
Warning: Lyra – Yield: 0ml
The jungle pulsed, deep and wet, like a heartbeat echoing through their cores, urging him on, the time limit a relentless pressure that made his cock throb harder beneath his tight pants, pre-cum dampening the fabric as he fought his own arousal.
Lyra didn't speak, her willowy body floating just above the moss, low and intimate, her modest but perfect breasts arched upward, flushed dark pink, aching with tension, nipples stiff and glistening with sweat.
Her smoky eyes were half-lidded, lips parted in a faint, defiant smile, her long red hair splayed like blood on the green, her slick pussy throbbing between her spread thighs, wetness dripping down her inner thighs as the vines teased her bonds with subtle vibrations.
Kota approached slowly, his lean, scarred body tense, his dark eyes locking on hers.
He crouched, their faces inches apart, his breath warm against her skin, stirring her arousal further.
"You'll scream," he said, his voice low, commanding, laced with a promise that made her pussy clench.
She closed her eyes, her lips curving into a sultry whisper.
"Make me." Her body trembled, her masochistic desire building, her nipples hardening further at his proximity, milk beading faintly at the tips.
He climbed over her like a hunter claiming his prize, one leg beside her hip, one hand pressing firmly on her belly, holding her still, feeling the quiver of her muscles beneath his palm.
His lips closed over her nipple with zero hesitation—and sucked, hard and deep, his tongue swirling around the stiff bud, drawing it into his mouth with rhythmic pulls that sent jolts straight to her core.
Lyra jerked, her body twitching violently, her thighs clenching, her back arching against the vines, but not a sound escaped her lips. Her slick pussy pulsed, wetness flooding her thighs, her masochistic thrill igniting as the pressure built, milk beginning to leak in thin streams.
Lyra – Yield: 3ml
Status: Arousal Spike – Danger of Dry Orgasm
He stopped abruptly, pulling back, his mouth glistening with her milk, his eyes locked on hers.
Her eyes fluttered open, pleading silently for more, her body trembling with need, her pussy aching for release she knew he'd deny.
"You're too close," he muttered, his voice rough, his cock throbbing visibly in his pants.
He adjusted, grabbing both breasts together, pinching her nipples simultaneously, holding them tight, feeling them throb under his fingers, milk beading at the tips.
"I want to milk you slowly," he said, his breath hot against her skin, his grip unrelenting, sending waves of pain-laced pleasure through her.
"I want to die in your mouth," she whispered back, her voice a sultry gasp, her body arching into his touch, her masochistic hunger evident in the way her pussy clenched, wetness dripping onto the moss below.
He leaned down, his breath over her lips, teasing but not kissing.
"Not yet," he growled, then licked—a slow, deliberate drag of his tongue over her left nipple—before biting down, sharp and possessive.
Lyra's hips bucked, her body shuddering, a faint exhale cutting like glass, no words, just raw need. Milk jetted into his mouth—thin at first, then thicker, creamy and warm, coating his tongue as he sucked harder.
Lyra – Yield: 41ml
Her body was a trembling canvas, smeared in sweat, her small breasts heaving, her cunt visibly pulsing, fluids stringing between her inner thighs like threads of desire.
Kota kept her right nipple in his mouth, his left hand kneading rhythmically, deep sucks pulling more milk, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud, pain blending with ecstasy.
She shuddered, silent but spilling—more milk, more heat, more submission, her masochistic bliss etched in her half-lidded eyes, her pussy clenching with each pull, wetness gushing as her arousal peaked.
Her lips moved without sound: Thank you.
Lyra – Yield: 98ml
He saw the flicker—she was fading, her body trembling on the edge of overstimulation, her pussy dripping with need.
Another bite, a slap to her breast, the sharp sting making her arch, milk spraying as her climax built.
Lyra – Yield: 163ml. Overstim Detected. Mental Sync Weakening.
He pulled back, his mouth slick with her milk, his breath ragged.
She hung loose, her lips parted, eyes rolled back, dripping from her nipples and thighs, her body wrecked but glowing with masochistic fulfillment.
She whispered, barely audible: "You'll kill me gently, won't you?"
He didn't answer. Turned.