Villain's Breeding System: Evolving 999+ Harem into an SSS-Rank Legion Chapter 146- Should we go for Another round?

Minjung fild through the gap between seats.

Her phone had shifted to portrait mode without her noticing. She corrected it.

Priya got the floor.

Specifically — his hands on her shoulders pressing her down, the thin carpet of the jet cabin under her knees, her hands still tied behind her back, the angle of his cock from above as he grabbed her jaw, tilted her head.

"’Open.’"

She did.

The sounds from the floor weren’t the sounds from the bed. Contained differently, the acoustics of a narrow space. Her throat working around the depth of him, the tears running from the corners of her eyes, her hands flexing behind her back.

Minjung ca closer. Cara angled down.

Priya looked up past the cock in her throat and found the cara lens.

Her face — red, wet, drool on her chin, eyes streaming — arranged itself sohow into a look that said ’this is my choice, I’m here, I decided this.’ The dignity of it surviving the logistics of the situation.

Minjung held the shot.

PAAH.

"’Gkkhh—’"

Elena was sitting up.

She’d managed to get her wrists untied — of course she had, she’d been working at the silk cord since the beginning, Minjung noticed that now looking back through the footage. Her hands in her lap. Her hair around her shoulders.

She was watching Raven work through the room with the expression of a woman conducting an assessnt.

When he approached her for the second ti she didn’t wait for his hand.

She reached for him.

Both hands on his shoulders, pulling him down. Her body already knowing how to receive him, already opening, the specific learned muscle mory of a body that has done this twice before that day and has reorganized itself around the fact.

He pushed in.

"’HNGH—’" Her forehead against his shoulder. "’Why do you—’" PAH. "’—AAAHH~!!♡ — why does it still feel like—’"

PAH. PAH.

"’OUUNGHH~!!♡ — the first ti—’"

"’It always will,’" he said.

"’AAAHHH~~~!!!♡♡’"

Veronica asked for sothing different.

She waited until the others were occupied — until the cabin was full enough with sound that her request would blend — and then she said it into the specific space between his ear and her mouth, her lips barely moving.

He lifted her off the bed.

Carried her to the forward cabin. The white leather seats, the bar surface. Bent her over it, her front against the leather, her hips presented to the aisle.

He fucked her here.

Without the curtain drawn.

Where the cara could see from the rear. Where Minjung could pan and capture the width of Veronica’s hips in fra, the specific architecture of a woman who had chosen to be here being thoroughly used in the forward cabin of a private jet over the Arican midwest.

Minjung fild it.

Her hand was shaking slightly.

She steadied it.

PAH. PAH. PAAH.

"’AAAHH~!!♡ AAAHH~!!♡ YES—’"

Veronica’s voice carrying back through the cabin clearly. The others hearing it. So pausing in their own recoveries to listen. The specific authority of a woman who has decided to be exactly what she is and isn’t managing the volu.

"’AAAANNNGHH~~~!!!♡♡♡’"

Her tits swung underneath her with each impact. The flesh of them bouncing forward and back, the nipples dragging across the leather seat, leaving the faintest traces of the fluid she’d been leaking for an hour.

Minjung tracked the shot.

Then moved back to the rear cabin.

The last one standing was Yuna.

She’d been standing for most of the session.

Not by defiance — she’d been untied at so point, or her ankle binding had co loose, and she’d found herself standing near the rear wall with her back against the cold aircraft skin, watching. Just — watching. Eight won getting worked through in two hours at thirty-five thousand feet. Watching the bed and the floor and the bathroom door and the forward cabin bar.

She was still a virgin.

Technically. Specifically. In the singular definition — her pussy had not been touched today. He hadn’t approached that. Hadn’t taken that. Had taken everything else but had left that, and she wasn’t sure if it was deliberate or oversight and was afraid to determine which.

Her mouth ached.

Her ass — she wouldn’t think about her ass. Or she would think about it, couldn’t stop thinking about it, the specific interior awareness of having been opened there for the first ti by sothing that had no business going there and having her body’s traitorous response to the whole thing.

She stood.

Her legs were shaking.

Her pussy — the untouched one — had soaked through her underwear hours ago from proximity and audio alone. The wet inner thighs. The throb of it. The persistent, ignored demand of a body that had watched everyone around it receive sothing and had been excluded from the specific thing.

She felt like she was going to cry and she was already crying, the tears running from the sheer accumulation of sensation she’d been a witness to and an edge participant in, the specific ache of being right at the limit of sothing without crossing it.

Minjung was looking at her.

The cara lowered.

Minjung ca closer. Her eyes going to Yuna’s thighs. To the specific evidence of the untouched pussy through the fabric.

Minjung’s head tilted.

"’Woah.’"

She said it quietly. More to herself.

"’Is she...’" The phone ca up. Focused. "’Is she still a virgin?’"

Raven turned.

He looked at Minjung. At the cara. At where it was pointing.

"’You already rember her, right?’"

Minjung looked up from the screen.

Looked at Yuna’s face.

And — it moved. The context shifted. The face in this setting, this light, this specific arrangent of tears and shaking thighs and untouched pussy — the face sorted itself into a different folder. The mall. The coffee shop on the second floor. She’d been walking past, had looked through the glass — a young woman and an older woman at a table, the older woman clearly running so kind of pitch, the younger one conflicted and flushed and leaning in despite herself.

The older woman.

Minjung’s head turned.

Slowly.

Across the cabin, Hana was still face-down. The pillow. The hair-curtain. The massive tits spreading sideways against the sheet in the specific way of very large breasts making themselves at ho on a flat surface. Her body thoroughly used and thoroughly still and thoroughly ’hidden.’

That body.

That dark hair.

Those hips.

Minjung’s jaw moved.

Her eyes went back to Yuna. To Yuna’s age. To the specific image of a girl being nudged toward sothing she wasn’t sure about by an older woman who clearly had reasons of her own.

Back to Hana.

"’That hooker,’" Minjung said.

Her voice was very quiet.

"’That hooker actually manipulated this girl into spreading her legs, huh.’"

The jet moved through the dark.

Hana’s entire body trembled once. Precisely once. The full-body flinch of a woman who heard her daughter’s voice and her daughter’s words in the sa sentence and cannot look up and cannot look away and cannot do anything except press her face harder into the pillow and wait for the floor of the aircraft to open.

The floor did not open.

The red dots on the caras kept recording.

Yuna stood against the wall, shaking, her virgin pussy soaked through her underwear, looking at Minjung, who was looking at the woman face-down in the pillow, who was not looking at anyone.

Outside, thirty-five thousand feet below, Las Vegas was beginning to appear in the dark.

A scatter of lights. Then more. The grid of it. The casinos lit against the desert like sothing that had decided to exist here by force of will alone.

Raven looked at the city below the window.

Looked at Minjung.

At the cara in her hand.

At the phone she’d been recording on for two hours.

"Should we go for another round?"