Drake watched—tears streaming—voice hoarse and shattered.
"No... Camilla... stop... please... I can’t... I can’t watch this..."
But she didn’t stop.
Her head moved faster—lips sliding up and down my length, cheeks hollowing, tongue swirling around the head every ti she pulled back—drool already dripping from the corners of her mouth, down her chin, onto her heaving tits.
I tightened my grip in her hair—thrusting shallowly—making her gag softly, throat fluttering around .
"Look at her, Drake," I said—voice calm, cruel. "Look at your wife choking on my cock. Look at how eagerly she takes it. She never sucked you like this, did she? Never gagged for you. Never dripped down her thighs just from tasting you."
Camilla whimpered—humiliated, aroused—hips rocking back like she was trying to rub her soaked cunt against nothing.
I pulled her off with a wet pop—cock glistening with her spit—then slapped it once against her cheek—leaving a shiny trail across her flushed skin.
"Tell him," I ordered. "Tell your pathetic husband how much better Master’s cock tastes."
Camilla gasped—lips swollen, drool shining on her chin—then looked at Drake with tear-filled eyes.
"It’s... it’s bigger..." she whispered—voice trembling. "Thicker... hotter... I can’t... I can’t even fit it all... and it tastes... it tastes so good... better than you ever did..."
Drake’s sob was guttural—shattered.
Camilla’s tears fell harder—but she leaned forward again—taking back into her mouth—deeper this ti—gagging herself willingly.
I let her work for a few more seconds—savoring the heat, the suction, the way her tongue swirled desperately around the underside—then grabbed a fistful of her dark hair and yanked her up hard.
She ca off my cock with a wet pop—gasping, drool stringing from her swollen lips to the glistening head—eyes wide and glassy.
Before she could catch her breath, I hauled her onto my lap—spinning her so her thick thighs straddled mine, her dripping pussy hovering just above my throbbing shaft. The fat head of my cock slapped wetly against her soaked slit—once, twice—making her jolt and let out a naughty, broken moan.
"Aaah... hmm... don’t... not there..."
I chuckled—dark, low—wrapping one arm around her waist to pin her flush against while my other hand slid up to palm one heavy tit, squeezing until her nipple poked hard between my fingers.
"Don’t?" I teased, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Your cunt’s saying sothing different, slave. It’s drooling all over my cock already."
I turned her around in one smooth motion—so her back pressed to my chest, her legs forced wide by my spread thighs. Now she faced Drake directly—her husband slumped against the wall, stumps seared black, face pale and streaked with tears and her earlier squirt.
Camilla panicked—hands flying down to cover her exposed pussy.
"No... no don’t..." she whimpered, fingers trembling as she tried to shield her swollen, dripping lips from view.
I kissed the back of her neck—slow, wet—tongue tracing a hot line up her spine while both hands claid her tits again. I pinched her dark nipples—hard—rolling them between my fingers until she yelped and arched.
"What are you talking about?" I murmured against her skin, voice thick with amusent. "Aren’t you putting on a show for your husband? Letting him see what a needy little slut his wife really is?"
I looked over her shoulder at Drake—pathetic, broken, eyes squeezed shut in despair.
"Oh... look," I said mockingly, loud enough for him to hear. "She’s really such a slut. Her pussy is dripping like a faucet. She keeps saying she doesn’t want it in... but look how wet she is for ."
Camilla yelped—"I... I don’t... it’s not true... aaaaaah..."—but her hips betrayed her, rocking back just enough to sar more of her slick along my shaft.
I slid my cock slowly along her slit—teasing, never quite pushing in—letting the thick head part her folds, nudging her swollen clit on every upstroke. Her juices coated —shiny, sticky—dripping down my balls.
I pulled her hands away from her pussy—gentle but firm—revealing everything to the cave.
Her cunt glistened obscenely—lips puffy and dark, clit throbbing visibly, fresh slick running in rivulets down her inner thighs.
Drake opened his eyes at that mont—couldn’t help himself—and saw it: my thick cock sliding teasingly along his wife’s dripping slit, never quite entering, just coating itself in her arousal while she moaned and trembled on my lap.
The Cuckold God Ability was already active—humming invisibly in the air.
Drake’s cock—despite the agony, despite the blood loss—twitched and hardened against his thigh. Limp at one second, rigid and leaking the next. He couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t hide it. His body betrayed him—getting hard only when he watched claim his wife.
I let out a mocking smile, looking straight at him.
"Oh... I didn’t expect your husband and wife to have such a fetish," I said, voice dripping with cruel amusent.
"Look at him, Camilla. Your pathetic husband is hard. Dripping. Drooling. He might really be the Cuckold King. He likes watching his wife get teased by a better cock. Look—he’s forgotten how to yell. He’s just staring... aching... wishing he could touch himself while I ruin you."
Drake’s face twisted—sha, rage, helpless lust all crashing together.
"No..." he rasped—voice cracking. "Camilla... don’t... please... I can’t... I can’t watch this..."
But his cock stayed hard—throbbing visibly—precum beading at the tip.
Camilla glanced back at him—saw it—saw her husband’s erection while I teased her pussy with my cock.
Her blush deepened—sha and twisted arousal warring on her face.
I pinched her nipples again—hard—making her arch and moan.
"Tell him," I ordered, voice low and dark. "Tell your cuck husband how much wetter you get knowing he’s hard for this. Tell him how much better my cock feels even just sliding against you."
Camilla sobbed—once—then whispered—voice trembling but obedient.
"You’re... you’re hard, Drake..." she said—barely audible. "You’re hard watching him... watching ... You like it... don’t you? You like seeing your wife drip for a bigger cock..."
Drake’s broken sob filled the cave.
I chuckled—sliding my cock along her slit one more ti—coating myself completely in her juices.
"Now," I said softly, lips brushing her ear. "Beg to put it in. Beg to fuck you while your cuck husband watches. Earn those points for Master."
Camilla’s breath hitched—tears falling faster—but her hips rocked back—seeking.
"Please..." she whispered—voice cracking. "Please... Master... put it in... fuck ... let him see... let him watch how much better you are..."
Drake’s sob turned into a low, defeated moan—his cock twitching helplessly.
I smiled—slow, victorious.
"Good girl."
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