NOVPUBWith an audible groan, Ross buried himself to the hilt one final time and came, his cock twitching as thick, hot seed flooded her unprotected pussy. The sensation of him releasing inside her pushed her over the edge once more.
Her back arched. Her legs locked. Her breath caught in her throat.
Her body trembled as wave after wave of pleasure exploded through her, shattering her completely. A string of smaller orgasms rippled through her—aftershocks that wrung out every last ounce of resistance she had left.
By the time it was over, Colleen was barely conscious. Her head lolled against the wall, her body limp in Ross's arms, her cunt still twitching from the overstimulation. Her mind, once filled with questions and protests, was now nothing but static.
She had been taken. Used. Filled.
And part of her... couldn't even bring herself to care anymore.
Colleen had been well-trained—eager, obedient, and graceful in her movements. It didn't take long before Ross's attention turned once more to the bed where Brenda was resting.
Though she had been recovering, the heat and tension in the room reignited her desire, and Ross, with his usual dominance and allure, brought her back into the fold without hesitation.
The energy shifted. What had begun as a moment between two became something more—an impromptu, primal convergence of lust, emotion, and power.
Brenda and Colleen, once distinct in their roles, now moved in perfect sync, their bodies tangled together with Ross's at the center. The three of them became a single, writhing expression of devotion and surrender.
Meanwhile, Thomas could only watch.
Frozen.
His fists clenched, jaw tight, heart aching. He was rooted in place, powerless, eyes wide as he witnessed everything unfold before him.
The people he loved—his mom Brenda, who had ever been his closest confidante, and Colleen, who had once shared soft whispers and promises with him—were now lost in Ross's orbit.
Their moans weren't ones of pain or confusion, but of pleasure. Willing. Enthralled. Transformed.
Pak
Pak
Pak
The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the room in a rhythmic, relentless tempo.
"Ahhhh…"
"Ohhh…"
"Ughhh…"
Time seemed to blur. Hours passed like minutes. The intensity never lessened—if anything, it grew more feverish, more raw, more spiritual. Ross didn't stop.
He took them both, again and again, as if drawing not just pleasure from them, but something deeper—an essence, a bond, a promise.
Twenty-four hours passed in that haze of lust and power, until finally, their bodies could take no more.
Thud.
Both Brenda and Colleen collapsed, their bare forms draped across the silken sheets, chests rising and falling in exhausted harmony.
Their skin was slick with sweat, marked with faint traces of Ross's touch. Yet there was no pain in their expressions—only a strange peace, as if they had found their purpose.
They slept, but they would not wake as ordinary women.
Something had changed.
Ross had marked them—not merely in the physical sense, but in a deeper, arcane way. His essence now flowed within them. Their hearts beat in rhythm with his.
When their eyes opened again, they would belong to him completely: body, mind, and soul.
They would become more than human.
Chosen.
Immortal.
Companions on his eternal journey through time and realms, standing by his side with the rest of his growing family. And as for Thomas, who stood broken in the corner—his fate was yet undecided.
But he knew, deep down, that nothing would ever be the same again.
While Brenda and Colleen lay unconscious on the silken sheets, their breathing shallow and synced, Ross stood by the bedside for a moment longer, his expression unreadable.
The room was steeped in the thick scent of sex, sweat, and domination. The quiet was eerie—only the soft rustle of the curtains and the low hum of distant thunder disturbed it.
But then his eyes shifted.
There was still one spectator left.
Thomas.
The man stood frozen, his entire body rigid. Anguish was carved deep into his features—his eyes red with unshed tears, his lips trembling with suppressed screams.
He had been forced to witness every second of what had just occurred. And now, as Ross turned his full attention on him, the air itself seemed to grow heavier.
Ross's lips curled into a grin, the kind that didn't reach his eyes.
"Well then," he said, voice smooth like velvet soaked in venom, "did you enjoy the show, Thomas? I put on quite the performance just for you. I do hope I didn't disappoint."
Thomas's jaw twitched. His breathing grew labored, and for a moment, he looked like he might lunge forward in blind rage. But Ross merely raised a hand, as if daring him to try.
Instead, Thomas lowered his gaze.
"I…" He swallowed hard. "Let them go. Please. I'll do anything. Anything you ask. Just let them go."
There was no pride in his voice, only desperation.
He had wanted to die once, and he would have gladly accepted death if it meant saving them.
But now that Brenda and Colleen were alive again—no matter the method, no matter how twisted their return—he couldn't let them go.
They were his light, his reason to keep breathing in a world that had otherwise gone dark.
Ross let out a soft, humorless chuckle.
"You?" he scoffed, stepping forward. "You think I need anything from you?"
He circled Thomas slowly, like a predator savoring the kill. "You couldn't even compare to a single finger on my loyal Brandon's hand."
At the mention of his name, Brandon emerged from the corner of the room like a shadow made flesh. His massive frame was coiled with quiet brutality, his eyes cold and lifeless.
Ross gave a simple nod.
Bang!
Thomas screamed as he fell, one foot mangled by a brutal strike. Blood pooled on the marble floor as Brandon seized him by the leg and began dragging him out of the room like a sack of broken meat.
Thomas's screams echoed off the walls, raw and hoarse.
