My All Powerful System

He mounted her and shoved in without warning. Kira’s chin hit the mattress and her whole back arched.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head up, and she made a sound that was half moan and half curse.

”You were saying?”

”Fuck you—”

”Wrong answer.” He fucked her hard from the first stroke, no warm up, one hand in her hair and the other wrapped around her hip.

The slap of it cracked through the room. Kira’s tits swayed under her with every drive and she pushed back to meet him, stubborn to the last, and he loved that about her, the fight that never quit even when her body was already giving in.

”You feel how tight you are? How wet? You want this as bad as I do.”

”Yes—”

”Say the rest.”

”I want it... I want you to—”

”Finish it.”

”I want you to fuck me until I can’t move.”

”Good girl.”

He gave her exactly that. Long, punishing strokes that bottomed out against her cervix, the wet sound of it obscene and rhythmic.

Kira came once with a sharp cry, then again a minute later, and by the third she’d stopped talking entirely, just breath, and the slap of skin, and the small helpless noises punched out of her with every thrust. Her arms gave out.

Her face pressed into the silk. He kept going, one hand still fisted in her hair, until her whole body went quiet and heavy and her breath went slow.

He pulled out. Kira didn’t move. Her hand stayed curled loosely by her head, fingers open, gone.

Two down.

Ava was next, and she was waiting for him with her golden sigil already glowing faint between her shoulder blades, as if her body knew.

He knelt behind her and slid in and she made a sound like a held breath finally released, long, low, almost grateful.

”You were made for this,” he said.

”I was made for you.”

”Then take me.”

He fucked her deep and slow at first, because Ava liked the slow, liked to feel every inch of the stretch, every drag along her walls.

Her cunt gripped him like a fist and her hips rolled back to meet him, and the sigil on her forehead pulsed in time with the glow along his shaft, two lights answering each other in the dark. Then he sped up. Then he stopped being gentle at all.

”How many,” he said against her ear.

”I don’t... I don’t know anymore...”

”Then I’ll count for you.”

One. She came with a shudder that ran the length of her spine. Two. Her hands twisted in the sheets and she sobbed his name. Three. Four.

He drove through each one without slowing, and the sigil blazed brighter with every crest, feeding on her, giving it back doubled, and Ava’s voice climbed until it cracked and broke and there was nothing left in it.

Five. Her knees slid out from under her and he caught her hips and held her up and kept going. Six. She stopped making sound.

Seven, and her whole body went slack in his hands.

He held her a moment longer, buried deep, feeling the last soft flutters of her cunt around him, and then let her down gently onto the silk.

Ava didn’t stir. Her sigil dimmed to a faint gold ember between her brows.

Three.

Lira next. She’d been waiting with her face turned toward him, green eyes bright and glazed, and when he pushed into her she let out a long, satisfied sigh, like a cat.

Then he started to move and the sigh broke into yelps, high, quick, rhythmic, matching every thrust.

He reached around and found her clit with two fingers and worked it in tight circles while he fucked her, and Lira came almost immediately, clenching around him so hard he had to grit his teeth.

”That was fast,” he said.

”You... you cheated—”

”I don’t cheat. I win.”

He fucked her through the next one and the one after that, harder each time, until she was sobbing into the mattress and her thighs were shaking so badly she couldn’t hold her own weight.

He put a hand flat on her lower back and pinned her down and drove in deep, again and again, until her sobbing went quiet and her body went limp and her breath went slow. He pulled out and she didn’t move. Just lay there, face down, gone.

Four.

Ophelia. He took her from behind, hard, one hand fisted in that split pink and white hair. She came twice, the first with a laugh that turned into a moan, the second with his name on her lips and her whole body shaking.

The third broke her. She went quiet mid cry, her head dropping forward onto the silk, and her cunt kept fluttering around him for a few seconds after she’d stopped moving. He pulled out slow and watched her go still.

Five.

Emily. He almost felt bad. She was the newest, the softest after Isabel, Lira and Ophelia, and she’d already been wrung out twice tonight.

But she looked back at him with those wide dark eyes and that faint gold sigil on her forehead, and she said, ”I can take it.”

So he gave it to her. He started slow, letting her adjust, and then he stopped being careful and fucked her the way he’d fucked the others, deep, fast, one hand on her hip and one in her hair.

Emily came three times in quick succession, each one a small, surprised cry, and then a fourth that was bigger and made her whole body lock and her cunt clamp down hard enough to make him groan.

He kept going. She came a fifth time and stopped crying out, just breath, just trembling, and a sixth that she didn’t seem to notice at all, and then her shoulders went slack and her face turned to the side on the silk and her eyes closed and stayed closed.

Six.

Eira. He took her hard, the way she liked it, one hand in her dark hair, a slap on her tanned big ass that left a red print blooming under his palm, and she cried out and pushed back against him.

She came twice, and the second one was the one that took her, a long, rolling thing that made her whole body shudder and then go quiet.

He felt her go limp under him and pulled out, and she slid down flat onto the bed, cheek against the silk, breathing slow.

Seven.

Isabel. He went slower with her. She was his first, and that mattered, even now. He laid his body over her back, chest to her spine, and fucked her deep and even, his mouth at the side of her throat.

”You’re close,” he said.

”I’m.. I’m already...”

”Then let go.”

She did. Quietly, the way she always did, a soft gasp, a long shudder, her fingers curling into the sheets.

He fucked her through it, slow and steady, and then faster, and pulled a second one out of her that made her breath catch and break.

She went still under him a moment later, and he stayed inside her a few extra seconds, letting her feel held, before he pulled out and moved on.

Eight.

Rose. The professor. She pushed back to meet him before he was even fully seated, and she demanded more with that commanding voice of hers, and he gave her more, a hand around the back of her neck.

Pressing her down into the silk, fucking her hard and fast until her red sigil pulsed bright and her composure cracked for good.

She came twice, loudly, the second one with a curse that echoed off the vaulted ceiling. He fucked her through the third and past it, until her demands went quiet and her body went limp and her big frame settled heavy into the mattress, gone.

Nine.

Nyx was last.

He walked to the end of the line slowly. She was watching him over her shoulder with those blood red eyes, not defiant anymore, not measured.

Something else. Something quieter and more dangerous than either.

”You saved me for last,” she said.

”I did.”

”Why?”

”Because you’re the only one who could take it.”

He knelt behind her, dragged the head of his cock through the wet heat of her, and pushed in. Nyx’s whole spine bowed and a sound came out of her that wasn’t a word, low, open, wrecked.

He set a pace immediately, hard and even, one hand fisted in her midnight hair and the other wrapped tight around her hip.

She was tight and hot and dripping, and her cunt gripped him like it meant to keep him, and he fucked her the way he’d been saving up for, no mercy, no pause, every stroke bottoming out against her cervix with a wet slap that cracked through the room.

PAH! PAH!! PAH!!

”Ngghn~ Aghnn~ Ahgnn~” she panted, matching the rhythm. ”Harder~”

He gave her harder. Both hands on her hips, hauling her back onto him every time he drove forward, and Nyx stopped pretending to have any composure left.

Her claws dug into the silk and tore it. Her voice broke out of that low register into something raw and open, and every time he bottomed out she made a sound like she was being carved.

”There,” she gasped. ”Right Aghnn~ right there, don’t you dare...”

”Dare what?”

”Stop. Don’t stop. Don’t you...”

He didn’t. He fucked her through the first orgasm before she’d finished the sentence, and it hit her like a lightning strike, her whole body locking, spine snapping straight, a scream that came out of her throat with the demon in it.

The star shaped sigil on her forehead flared crimson and stayed lit. He felt her cunt clamp down on him in tight, rhythmic waves, milking him, and he gritted his teeth and kept the pace, riding her straight through the peak into the oversensitive shudder after.

She came down shaking. He didn’t let her land.

”Again,” he said.

”I...”

”You’re the only one who could still take it. Prove it.”

Nyx laughed, a broken, breathless thing, and pushed back against him, and he took that as the yes it was.

He hauled her up onto her knees, one arm locked around her waist, and fucked her from a new angle, deeper, his mouth at the side of her throat where the pulse hammered.

She reached back and grabbed a fistful of his silver hair and pulled, and he bit her shoulder in answer, and the second orgasm rolled through her so hard her knees gave out and he had to hold her up to finish it.

She was crying now. Not from pain. He could feel it in the way her body kept opening for him, kept asking, even as the sounds she made got smaller and smaller.

”One more,” he said.

”I can’t...”

”You can. You’ve taken worse.”

He drove in deep and stayed there, grinding, circling his hips against the spot inside her that made her whole body twitch, and Nyx’s claws raked down his forearm and drew blood and he didn’t care.

He kept grinding, slow and merciless, and the third one built the way a storm builds, pressure, pressure, pressure, her breath coming in sobs, her cunt fluttering around him in warning, and then it broke.

It broke big.

She screamed his name and her whole body convulsed, and the crimson sigil on her brow went so bright it lit the silk beneath her face, and her cunt gripped him in a fist so tight he saw white at the edges of his vision.

And then she went slack. All at once. Every muscle in her body let go, and she dropped forward onto the mattress, face down, hair spilling everywhere, out cold with his cock still inside her.

Lynx stayed a moment, breathing hard, feeling the last soft pulses of her around him.

Then he pulled out slow and watched the wet drag of it, and a thread of his own slick and hers followed and pooled on the ruined silk beneath her thighs.

Ten. Every one of them out.

He stood at the end of the bed and looked down the line. Ten women, face down, hips still lifted or gone flat, none of them moving. Amira’s hand hung off the edge of the mattress.

Kira’s hair was a wildfire across the sheets. Ava’s sigil pulsed faintly. Emily’s cheek was pressed into a wet patch and she didn’t care.

Rose’s voluptuous frame had settled heavy and still. Nyx’s hands were still curled into the torn silk, and she wasn’t going to let go of it any time soon.

Not one of them had made it to the end awake.

He walked to the basin at the side of the room and rinsed the blood off his forearm where Nyx had opened him up.

The cuts were already closing. He dried his hands on a cloth, tossed it aside, and came back to the bed.

He climbed in at the head of it, in the space between Ava and Kira, and pulled the coverlet up over the nearest of them, Lira, who was closest and smallest.

Then he lay back against the pillows, one arm behind his head, and looked out at the vaulted ceiling of the Mind World castle, and the grey light creeping in through the tall windows that wasn’t quite dawn yet.

Somewhere down the bed, one of them sighed in her sleep and shifted closer to another. He didn’t check which. He just closed his eyes.

And slept.