Rise of the F-Rank Hero-Chapter 145: Saintess’s sin

"It seems someone is going to catch a cold tonight," she said cryptically, her eyes flickering toward the door again.

She reached for the hem of her top and pulled the fabric up in one smooth motion, causing two huge, heavy bags of flesh to bounce free into the open air. No matter how many times Oliver had seen her jugs, he was still amazed by how lewd they were—pale, heavy, and tipped with perfect, puffy nipples that stuck outward in a vulgar, demanding manner.

"Damn," Oliver breathed, his eyes glued to her chest. "It looks more amazing every time I see it."

Isolde didn’t stop there. She tossed her top aside and reached for the waistband of her sweatpants. She shimmied her hips, pushing the fabric down over her wide, doughy hips. The pants slid down over her thighs, revealing a pair of sheer black panties that struggled to contain her curves. She kicked the pajamas away, leaving her standing in just the black fabric that cut deeply into her hips.

Oliver watched with an eager face as his eyes scanned her body from top to bottom. He stared at her huge, swaying breasts and moved down to her flat stomach and the dark triangle beneath the mesh.

She looked even lewder wearing just the panties than if she were completely bare. The silver hair of her bush peeked out from the sides of the black fabric, a stark contrast to the dark material.

Isolde hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties. slowly peeling them down. The fabric struggled to get over her lofty buttocks but eventually snapped free, revealing her juicy, jiggling cheeks. As she stepped out of them, a messy, silvery bush was exposed in the front, protecting the perfect pink slit nestled between her thighs.

"You didn’t shave your mound?" Oliver asked, licking his lips as his eyes locked onto her proud bush. It was wild and untamed, just like her.

"It’s fun to try new things once in a while," Isolde said lewdly, running a hand through the silver curls. "Besides, I thought you liked it natural."

"Stay still."

Isolde moved forward, climbing onto the couch. She straddled Oliver’s lap, her knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips. She loomed over him, a goddess of lust, blocking out the moonlight.

She positioned herself, hovering her wet entrance right over his throbbing tip. But before she sank down, she turned her head slightly, shouting toward the door.

"Watch and learn, little girl!"

Oliver wondered who the hell she was talking to—was she hallucinating?—but he had no time to question it. Isolde grabbed his shoulders and swiftly slammed her body down with full force.

Smack.

"Ugh!" Oliver’s eyes went wide, his head thrown back against the couch as his cock was ruthlessly impaled. Her pussy was tight, hot, and incredibly wet, gripping him like a vice.

"Agh!" Isolde gasped, her head falling back as she took him to the hilt in one go.

She didn’t give him a second to adjust. She lifted her hips, sliding almost all the way off, before slamming them downward again.

Smack.

"Ha!" Isolde sneered, looking down at him with wild eyes. She grabbed his hands and placed them on her breasts, forcing him to squeeze them as she established a punishing rhythm. She raised her body up and slammed it down, over and over, the sound of their flesh colliding echoing through the silent room.

"See?" she panted, grinding her hips in a circle at the bottom of the stroke. "This... is how... you ride."

"You...!"

Oliver’s patience snapped. He wasn’t about to let her dictate the pace all night. He suddenly grabbed Isolde’s waist, his grip bruisingly tight, and stood up, lifting her effortlessly with him.

"Huh?!" Isolde gasped, caught by surprise as Oliver took three heavy steps and slammed her down onto the glass coffee table in front of the couch.

Thud.

Her back hit the cool glass, her silver hair fanning out like a halo. Her massive breasts heaved, standing proud like mountains in the moonlight.

"What? Are you getting impatient, Master?" she teased between moans, spreading her legs instinctively.

"I can’t keep up with all your teasing," Oliver grinned down at her, a dark hunger in his eyes. He reached down and grabbed her thick, soft thighs.

"H~hey!" Isolde moaned as he lifted her legs upward and spread them wide apart, giving him full, unhindered access to her center.

"As a man," Oliver stepped forward until his long, thick cock was resting against Isolde’s silver bush, "I guess the duty is mine to finish this."

He pulled his hips back, lined himself up, and pressed his tip against Isolde’s glistening pink slit before thrusting forward with everything he had.

Schlick.

"GAG!" Isolde’s eyes rolled back for a split second, and her back arched perfectly off the glass table like a drawn bow.

"What a tight pussy," Oliver groaned, the sensation of being sheathed in her velvet warmth nearly sending him over the edge right then and there. Every inch of his cock was stuffed to the brim inside her.

"Oh~ Yes~ That’s the sp—" Isolde tried to taunt him again, but her words were cut off as Oliver mercilessly pulled almost all the way back.

"AAGG! F~fuck!"

With no hesitation, he slammed his hips forward, stuffing his thick shaft right back into the warm embrace of her pussy.

"Not so teasing now, are you?" Oliver growled, holding Isolde’s thighs for support as he established a brutal rhythm.

Isolde’s fingers scrambled for purchase on the smooth glass table. From the doorway, Amy watched with wide, terrified eyes. She could see Isolde’s slit stretching impossibly wide around the veiny shaft, dragging along with every inch that reappeared, as if Isolde’s body didn’t want to let him go.

"AGHH!" Isolde threw her head back, moaning loudly as Oliver buried himself in her womb.

"Fuck you!" Isolde glared at Oliver through watery eyes, her face flushed with pleasure.

But Oliver only smirked. Instead of speaking, he gripped her thighs tighter, the soft flesh bulging through his fingers. He started to push her legs further back, toward her head.

He showed just how flexible the ancient princess was, not stopping until Isolde’s delicate feet were resting right next to her ears. The position left her completely exposed, her pussy wide open and at Oliver’s full mercy.

"Now then!" Oliver grunted.

"W~wai~Aghh!" Isolde’s expression shifted from arrogance to genuine, overwhelming sensation as he plunged into her from this new, deeper angle.

"Ugh!" Oliver moaned with his eyes closed and instantly started to piston his hips back and forth, turning the table into a battering ram.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

"M~my pussy!" Isolde cried out, her back arching off the table as his thick cock pummeled her deep inside.

Oliver didn’t hold back. He attacked her with a fury that matched the dungeon’s intensity. His large cock stretched her apart, and with each thrust, Isolde’s body jerked forward, her huge milky breasts bouncing violently with the impact. Her cute toes curled helplessly beside her head.

"Yeah~ that’s how you do it!" Isolde screamed, her tongue poking past her plump lips in a lewd expression of pure bliss. "Break me, Master! Show that little watcher how it’s done!"

***

[Amy’s Perspective]

Amy watched through the crack, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

The sight of Oliver pounding into Isolde—the sheer violence and animalistic passion of it—shattered whatever innocence she had left. Her hand, buried deep in her pajama bottoms, moved vigorously against her slick, swollen nub.

’So deep... he’s going so deep...’

Every time Oliver’s hips slammed into Isolde, Amy’s fingers mirrored the rhythm against her clit. She bit her lip so hard she tasted copper, trying to stifle the moans threatening to erupt from her throat.

"Master! Harder! Break me!" Isolde screamed from inside, her legs locked tight around Oliver’s neck.

"Ugh! Isolde!" Oliver roared, his pace increasing to a blur.

Amy’s vision went white. The friction, the sounds, the taboo of watching her childhood love rutting with her rival—it was too much.

"I’m... I’m...!" Amy’s legs trembled violently.

Inside the room, Oliver gave one final, earth-shattering thrust, burying himself to the hilt and holding it there.

"CUMMING!"

As Oliver poured his seed into Isolde, Amy’s body convulsed.

"Nnghh!"

She couldn’t hold it back. Her hips jerked forward involuntarily, and a torrent of fluid erupted from her. She squirted like a waterfall, soaking her panties, her pajamas, and splashing audibly against the wooden doorframe.

The pleasure was blinding. Her knees gave out completely.

Thump.

She collapsed against the door, her body limp and twitching from the overstimulation.

For a second, she lay there in a daze, her mind blank. Then, the sound of her own body hitting the wood registered.

Panic.

She scrambled to her feet, slipping slightly in her own fluids. Her face burned with mortification. If they found her here... like this... soaked and trembling...

’Run. Just run.’

She didn’t care about stealth anymore. She bolted down the hallway, her wet footsteps slapping against the marble, fleeing the scene of her corruption as if a demon were chasing her.