Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs - Chapter 370

Chapter 370: Emma’s Crowning (R-18)
He settled over me, his heavy frame pinning me down, one hand braced beside my head. The other slid between us, guiding the thick, blunt head of his cock to my slick, swollen entrance. I felt the pressure—hot, insistent, enormous. My whole body tensed, every muscle locking in primal resistance. This was it. The moment.

“Look at me, Emma,” he commanded, his voice rough velvet, cutting through my panic. My eyes flew open, locking onto his. “Breathe,” he murmured, his thumb stroking my cheekbone, wiping away fresh tears. “Just breathe for me.”

Then he pushed.

The pain was instantaneous. A sharp, tearing sting radiating inward, stealing my breath. It was nothing like the build-up from his mouth or his hands. This was invasion. A searing, impossible stretch as my untried body struggled to accommodate his size.

My back arched off the bed, a choked, guttural cry tearing from my throat—not pleasure, not yet. Just pain. Raw, bright, terrifying.

He froze instantly, buried just past the blunt head.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his jaw clenched, a vein pulsing in his temple. His breathing was ragged. “So tight… fuck, Emma, you okay?” His voice strained, concern warring with the overwhelming need vibrating through him.

I couldn’t speak. Only gasp, tears streaming freely now, my nails digging into the powerful muscles of his back. The sting throbbed, deep and insistent. Beneath the pain, I felt it—a slight give, a subtle shift inside me. Then warmth. Wetness. Not arousal. Different. Thicker.

His eyes flicked downward, between our bodies. When he looked back at me, his gaze was dark, intense, laced with something primal. Triumph.

“There it is,” he murmured, his voice a low, possessive rumble that vibrated against my chest. “My virgin sister is no more, you’re my woman now.” His thumb dipped, tracing my entrance where he breached me. When he brought it up, it was streaked with crimson. Proof. My blood on his skin. Mine.

The sight—his raw claim visible—sent a jolt through me that was pure adrenaline mixed with a terrifying, illicit thrill. He saw it in my eyes.

“That’s it,” he soothed, his voice dark honey now, laced with awe. “The worst is over, sweetness. Let go.”

His hand slid from my cheek, palm hot and possessive, splaying over my lower belly. His other hand found my breast again, kneading the soft flesh, his thumb rolling the tight nipple in that expert way that made sparks race downwards, counteracting the sting.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed deeper. The fullness was immense, overwhelming. I felt every thick ridge, every pulsing vein dragging against my newly stretched inner walls. There was still discomfort, a deep ache, but beneath it… something else stirred.

A slow unfurling warmth, a liquid pressure that mirrored the ache between his hands on my breast and belly. He sheathed himself fully with a low, guttural groan that vibrated through his chest and into mine.

“Fuck. Emma. Perfect. So. Fucking. Perfect.”

He stilled, buried to the so deep that my whole pussy was filled with him, clenching him deep there while he froze there giving me time to adjust. His hot, heavy weight pressed me into the mattress, utterly possessive. I could feel the powerful throb of his cock deep inside, a demanding pulse against my clenched walls.

My own breath hitched in shallow gasps. The sting had faded to a deep, pulsing ache, but the feeling of being filled, utterly and completely claimed by him, was intoxicating. My inner muscles fluttered uncertainly around his thickness, testing this new reality.

Then he moved again.

A slow retreat, dragging that thick length along, through my hypersensitive walls. A gasp escaped me—not pain this time, but pure, shocked sensation. He paused, just the head still within me, before pushing back in, a deliberate, smooth glide that pressed deep, right against a spot that made my vision kaleidoscope.

A low, helpless moan tore from my throat. Oh.

“There it is,” he growled, satisfaction thick in his voice. His hand on my belly pressed down slightly, intensifying the pressure. His other hand continued its masterful work on my breast, teasing the nipple just as his hips began to find a rhythm.

Slow, deep, measured strokes. testing the newly forged passage.

The sounds were raw, primal. My cries softening into breathy moans and whimpers, a mix of residual ache and overwhelming, unfamiliar pleasure. His groans were deep, rumbling things, punctuated by jagged breaths, the slick sounds of our bodies joining, the rhythmic creak of the bedsprings marking his possession.

Each thrust felt deeper than the last, his thick cock shifting inside me, finding new places to stroke, to ignite. My body, still trembling, began to move with him, my hips lifting instinctively to meet his thrusts, seeking that pressure, that fullness that was rapidly becoming an addiction.

Pain? It was ghost now, a faint echo beneath the rising tide of pleasure. Blood? I could feel it, a slick warmth coating his shaft as he moved, a tangible sign of the barrier broken, of the irrevocable change.

He watched me, his burning amber eyes devouring every moan, every flush of pleasure on my face, every desperate clench of my inner walls around his thickness. His hands—possessive on my belly, claiming on my breast—were anchors in the storm, mapping the surrender he’d orchestrated.

“Mine, Emma,” he rasped, his voice dark and thick, driving into me harder, deeper, making me cry out. “Always mine.” And with that declaration, with the relentless drag of his magnificent cock and the masterful pressure of his hands, the pain and blood faded completely, consumed by a fire far greater, the fire of being irrevocably claimed, and the breathtaking, terrifying dawn of true pleasure.

The fluttering clamp of MY inner walls around his cock was heaven, pure fucking heaven. So tight, so new, still slick with the evidence of my broken innocence. His blood-smeared length throbbed inside me, a primal drumbeat marking territory. He held still for a heartbeat longer, savoring the impossible heat, the knowledge that no one had ever been here before. He’d taken it. He’d taken me.

This was my crowning as his woman. No longer his sister, but his woman. I would burn the world down for him.