Chapter 363- A Clear Statement

Chapter 363: Chapter 363- A Clear Statement

He slammed.

PAAH

The sound was wet and deep. Not the sharp crack of flesh against flesh. A thick, liquid impact, the sound of something being filled that had never been filled. The twelve-inch cock drove through her spider pussy in one continuous, brutal, unstoppable push. The head parted the ribbed walls, the concentric rings of her channel stretching around the girth, each ridge gripping and releasing in rapid succession as the shaft passed through.

"AAAAAAH—MNRGH!"

Her scream was not a scream. It was a sound that existed between a scream and a moan, a high, trembling, wounded note that came from the deepest part of her chest and poured from her mouth around his thumb. Her dark eyes went wide. Then wider. Then the whites showed.

He groaned.

"Fuck..."

His voice was low, rough, the sound of a man who had just entered something that exceeded his expectations. The heat inside her was extraordinary. Not human-heat. Not demon-heat. Something else. The ribbed walls, the concentric rings, each one gripping his shaft like a separate fist, each one tightening and releasing in a wave that traveled from the entrance to the deepest part of her channel.

"Your pussy," he grunted, his hips pressing forward, driving the last inches into her, "is gripping me like it’s trying to milk my cock dry."

"Mmph... hnnngh!"

Her response was muffled by his thumb. Her spider legs were rigid, all eight extended, the tips white against the floor, the silver fur standing on end. Her human body was arched against the wall, her small tits pressing against the tight top, the nipples visible and dark.

He pulled back.

The withdrawal was slow, deliberate. Each ribbed ring releasing his shaft with a wet, sucking pop that echoed in the quiet room. The sensation was maddening, each ridge a separate orgasm of grip and release, the channel trying to hold him as he withdrew.

"Ah... ah... ah..."

She was gasping, a fresh tear tracking through the dust on her cheek. Each ridge that released him drew a small, punched sound from her throat. Her dark eyes were unfocused, her mouth open around his thumb, saliva running down her chin.

He thrust.

PAAH

"HNNGH—ah!"

The full length driving back in. The ribs compressing around his shaft, the rings tightening in sequence, the heat building with each inch. Her spider pussy was unlike anything he had fucked. Not the slick, loose grip of the succubus. Not the tight, torn resistance of the virgin. Not the swollen, pregnant heat of Soha. Something else entirely. A pussy designed by a different blueprint, the interior architecture built for gripping, for holding, for milking, the concentric rings working his shaft in a continuous, rolling wave that made his vision blur.

He began to fuck her.

PAAH PAAH PAAH

The rhythm established itself. His hips driving forward, his cock sliding through the ribbed channel, the wet sounds obscene and continuous. Her spider body shook with each impact, the silver fur rippling, the segments compressing and expanding. Her human body arched and fell with each thrust, her small tits bouncing under the top, her dark nipples dragging against the fabric.

"Haaah... hnnngh... aaangh!"

Her moans came in the same rhythm as his thrusts. Each impact drew one. Each withdrawal drew a gasp. The pattern was mechanical, primal, her body responding to the stimulation with the honest, unfiltered sounds of a woman being fucked for the first time in her life.

He fucked her against the wall for half an hour.

PAAH PAAH PAAH PAAH

The rhythm never broke. His hips maintained the same pace, the same depth, the same force. The candlelight flickered across their bodies. The wet sounds filled the room. Her spider legs left scratch marks on the concrete. Her human tears fell continuously, not from pain, not anymore, but from the overwhelming, uncontrollable sensation of a body that had been untouched for twenty years suddenly being filled.

Her eyes found the dogs.

Rex was on Mina again. The large male’s body over the smaller female’s, his hips driving, his tongue out, his tail wagging. Mina was panting beneath him, her tan body trembling, her tail swishing.

SLAP SLAP SLAP

The dogs’ rhythm and Cruxius’s rhythm were the same. The same tempo. The same primal, mindless, biological pace. The spider woman watched her dog fuck his bitch while a man fucked her against the wall, and the parallel was so clear, so absolute, so undeniable that her brain stopped resisting it.

He turned her.

He pulled out. The withdrawal was long, wet, each ribbed ring releasing him with a pop. She gasped at the emptiness, her spider pussy gaping, the pink lips swollen and parted, the clear fluid running down her silver fur in thin streams.

He grabbed her spider body.

Both hands. His fingers sinking into the soft, furry abdomen, the silver hairs pressing between his knuckles. He gripped it the way a man grips a thick, soft pillow. He turned her around.

Her human body fell forward. Her hands caught the floor, her arms bracing, her silver-white hair falling around her face. Her spider legs scrambled, finding purchase, the eight tips spreading wide on the concrete. The position put her spider body at his hip height, the abdomen raised, the fold visible between the lowest segments.

The position was identical to Mina’s.

On all fours. Ass raised. Presenting.

She realized this.

Her dark eyes found the puddle on the floor. Her reflection stared back at her. The face she saw was not the face of a monster. It was the face of a woman on her knees, her lips swollen, her eyes streaming, her tongue out, her expression carrying the same blank, overwhelmed, pleasure-wrecked look that Mina’s tan face carried while Rex pounded her.

"Is this how animals mate?" she whispered.

The thought was internal. She didn’t say it aloud. But the question echoed through her body, through the spider legs that were braced in the same position as a dog’s hind legs, through the human torso that was arched in the same curve as a bitch in heat.

He positioned himself behind her.

His cock, wet with her fluid, pressed against her fold. The head parting the pink lips, the silver fur brushing against his shaft.

She trembled.

"Just look at me," she said. Her voice was small, desperate, carrying the last fragment of her defense. "Don’t look down there."

He paused.

"Wait," he said. His voice was warm. Amused. "Do you really think I’m more interested in your human body?"

She trembled harder.

"I know," she whispered. "You just like my face."

He chuckled, a low rumble against her back.

"I think you need to know something."

He grabbed her spider abdomen. Both hands, sinking into the silver fur, the thick, soft tissue yielding under his grip. He lifted her, adjusting the angle, the fold parting wider, the pink flesh swollen and dripping.

He slammed.

PAAAH

"AAAAAAAIYAANGH!"

The twelve inches drove into her spider pussy from behind. The new angle was deeper, the head pressing past the ribbed rings into the tighter, hotter channel beyond. Her spider legs buckled, caught themselves, braced wider. Her human body lurched forward, her small tits dragging across the floor, her nipples catching on the concrete.

"I just like your pussy," he said.

His voice was even. Conversational. The tone of a man stating a preference for a brand of tea.

He began to pound.

PAAH PAAH PAAH PAAH

"Haaangh... hnnngh... aaangh... haaaiyaangh!"