Ultimate Villain's Return as a Doctor in the Cultivation World-Chapter 269 - A Bitchy Pregnant Lady

’Drip. Drip. Drip.’

She had not fully lost consciousness.

That was, perhaps, the cruelest part.

The Queen lay exactly where he had left her — splayed across the damp cave grass, her thick thighs still trembling in weak, involuntary aftershocks, her massive pregnant belly rising and falling in the labored rhythm of someone who had just survived something. Her breasts heaved with each breath, slick and bite-marked, the dark areolas still puckered from cold and rough use. The puddle of her body’s humiliating surrender was cooling beneath her hips. Her eyes were barely open — just thin, exhausted slits of consciousness through which the dim, dripping cave moved in and out of focus like a half-remembered dream.

’It’s over’, some trembling part of her had whispered.

’It’s over. You survived. Rest.’

She was wrong.

The golden chain landed across her chest with a soft, ’deliberate’ sound.

’Clink.’

Her eyes snapped open.

Cang crouched beside her, utterly unhurried, the heavy golden chain draped across two fingers with the casual comfort of a man handling something he has used many times before. The sharp, beautiful hooks at the ends caught the thin cave light and threw it back in pale, cold glints — elegant, precise, purpose-built. He turned one between his thumb and forefinger, examining the tip with the focused attention of a craftsman checking his tool.

"W-What..." Her voice came out as barely a whisper, cracked and hoarse from screaming. "What are you—"

His free hand moved.

Closed around her right breast.

Not violently — not this time. His thumb moved in a slow, almost ’tender’ circle over her swollen nipple, working the sensitive flesh back to full, aching attention with patient, practiced strokes. The sensation after everything that had come before was almost worse than pain — soft, unbearably intimate, drawing a confused, high whimper from the back of her throat as her body couldn’t decide whether to arch into it or flinch away.

"You have beautiful skin," he said, conversationally.

"I—" She swallowed. Her eyes tracked the hook. "Immortal, please, what is—"

"Shh."

His thumb and forefinger pinched her nipple — not hard, not yet, just ’holding’ it. Positioning. His other hand brought the first golden hook up, and she saw exactly what was about to happen a full second before it did.

"N-No—wait—WAIT—"

A sliver of golden Ki bled from his fingertips. She felt it before she saw it — a thin, focused warmth threading through the metal like a needle through silk, and then the hook pressed against the base of her pinched nipple, and his cultivation energy ’pushed.’

The pierce was instantaneous.

"’AAAHHHH’—!!"

Her whole body ’jolted’ — a full, violent, electric convulsion that went from her pierced nipple straight down her spine and exploded outward through every limb simultaneously. Her hips bucked off the ground. Her belly lurched. Her hands flew toward his wrist and stopped there, gripping uselessly, her fingers unable to do anything but shake.

The hook was seated perfectly through her flesh.

And because his spiritual energy had reinforced her body before the pierce — flooding her tissue with the dense, warm pressure of his Ki — the flesh held. It did not tear. It did not bleed beyond a single, thin line of red that beaded along the metal’s entry point and ran in a slow, dark thread down the curve of her breast.

It simply ’held’ her.

"NNGHHH—! I-It—" She couldn’t find the words. Her breath came in staccato bursts, her face utterly undone, tears flooding instantly from both eyes in twin, uncontrollable rivers. "It ’hurts’—Immortal, please, please take it ’out’—"

"It will pass," he said, with the tone of someone describing weather.

His hand moved to her left breast.

"No—NO—please, don’t—I’m begging you—please, not the other one—’please’—"

"You have a lovely voice when you beg," he said, almost warmly. His thumb circled her left nipple with the same patient, maddening tenderness as before, coaxing it to attention even as she sobbed and shook beneath him, even as the first hook sent radiating pulses of sharp, hot sensation through her entire right side with each tiny, involuntary movement of her chest. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Please—" Her voice broke entirely. "Please, I’m ’pregnant’—please be careful—please—"

"I am being careful," he said simply.

And pierced her left nipple.

"’HAAAAAHHH’—!!"

The second convulsion was worse than the first — her body already primed, already over-sensitized, the shock of the second pierce crashing directly into the still-radiating agony of the first. Her spine bowed so violently that her belly lifted completely off the cave floor, the round, heavy mass of it swaying with the force of her arch, her breasts pulled taut by the hooks, the chains pooling across her chest in gleaming loops.

’Badump. Badump. Badump.’

Her heart slammed against her ribs like something trying to escape.

She lay there twitching. Truly twitching — small, helpless, electric little spasms running continuously through her thighs and belly and shoulders, her body unable to process the compound input of two simultaneously pierced nipples and everything that had come before. Her mouth was open. No sound came out. Just the thin, high effort of breath.

Cang looked at her.

His head tilted, just slightly, the way it did when something genuinely caught his attention.

"You’re twitching," he observed.

"I—" A sob finally broke free. "I know—I can’t—I can’t stop—"

"Good." He gathered both chains in one hand, feeling their weight — the living, responsive weight of her, the way each tiny tremor she made translated directly up the metal links and into his palm. He could feel her ’heartbeat’ through them. "That means they’re seated correctly."

"Please—" She was crying so hard now that the words barely formed. "’Please’, Immortal, please take them out — I’ve never — in my entire life I have never — please, I’ll do ’anything’—"

"You keep saying that." He leaned down, his mouth brushing the curve of her ear. His free hand slid downward, across the swaying side of her belly, down through the dark, coarse hair of her mound, and pressed flat against her soaked, still-gaping entrance.

She was flooding.

Obscenely, impossibly wet — her pussy lips swollen and dark and spread, still stretched from his earlier use, the evidence of his first release mixed with her own squirt still seeping from her walls in a slow, continuous mess.

"Let me make you feel good first," he murmured against her ear.

"I don’t—I don’t ’want’—"

He plunged his cock inside her.

"’OOUUNGHH’—!!"

No build-up. No press of the head, no patient centimeter-by-centimeter stretch — just a single, brutal, full-depth thrust that buried him to the hilt in one devastating stroke, his hips connecting with her thick inner thighs with an impact that echoed off the cave walls and sent her entire massive body sliding three inches up the wet grass.

PAH.

"AHH—AHH—it’s—’too deep’—"

PAH. PAH.

"N-Nghh—!" She was clawing at the ground again, her fingers tearing up fistfuls of wet grass, her belly jiggling in violent, rolling waves with each collision of his hips. Her breasts bounced — and with each bounce, each jolt, each impact, the hooks ’moved’ inside her pierced nipples, transmitting fresh, sharp sensation directly into already-screaming nerve endings.

"AAHH—the hooks—please—the ’hooks’—they pull when I—’AHH’—"

"I know," he said.

And pulled the chains.

Not violently — just a single, slow, deliberate draw of both chains together, taking up the slack until the metal pulled taut, until her pierced nipples were ’stretched’ upward and outward by the hooks, her massive breasts deforming into taut, pulled cones of aching flesh, her whole chest lifted by the tension.

"’AAAAAHHHHNN’—!! PLEASE—"