Zhou Hai's voice was a sob. A broken, useless sob. His body wouldn't move. The spiritual pressure held him — pinned, helpless, forced to watch.
Tianlong didn't look at him. His gold-crimson eyes were on Caihong's face — on her flushing cheeks, her wet eyes, her parted lips, her moaning mouth.
"She wants it," he said. His voice was calm. Conversational. The tone of a man stating a fact. "Look at her cunt. It's gripping me. Squeezing. Milking. Her body wants my cock."
It was true. Caihong's pussy — despite the pain, despite the terror, despite her husband watching — was clenching around his shaft in desperate, involuntary pulses. The Horny God Physique's pheromones had taken control. Her walls were contracting, her muscles were gripping, her cunt was producing arousal in quantities that ran down her thighs and his balls.
"No —" she sobbed, her plain face contorted. "No — I don't — please — stop — I don't want —"
PAH! PAAH! PHACCK!
"HAAIYAANGH~!! NIEENGH~!! AAANGH~!!"
