Salvation of the Fallen - Chapter 33
“So please kill me. I am a sinner. It was my doing. They say my existence is a sin. Hurry…. Otherwise, they… They will come to get me.”
As if she couldn’t bear it anymore, Arsena tore at her black hair and rolled her hollow eyes back and forth. Even though he had fed her his own plenty of times without rest.
“No. I don’t want to! I don’t want to! I don’t want to! Kill me! Hurry! Kill me, Tarta.”
Even when he shook the heads of his kind in front of Arsena’s eyes as she screamed in terror, her madness only worsened. She would often bite her nails until they bled profusely, then faint while screaming. Whenever she regained a bit of sanity, she would beg to be annihilated. Just like now.
“Come to your senses, Arsena. You saw it with your own eyes. They’re all dead. I killed them. No one is chasing you anymore.”
He no longer cared about Arsena’s sins. No, he already knew. After all, he was the one who had watched her life most closely.
“God won’t give up. I know. As long as God exists, I can’t be free. Because I’m His creation….”
Despite constantly reminding her that she was his by keeping her in his arms, she still didn’t know who her master was. Tarta’s teeth ground at her foolish belief, almost sublime in its stupidity.
“Arsena.”
At the low voice like winter’s chill, Arsena flinched and burrowed into Tarta’s embrace. She buried her face in his firm chest and shed hot tears.
“Help me. Please. Don’t let me be trapped there again. So please kill me. Please… Please!”
Asking to be killed. It was like saying she would give up on herself. As if she had no meaning. Wishing for such an easy farewell.
Tarta’s heart burned deep inside at Arsena’s words, which seemed to have resigned everything.
If that’s the case, I’ll break you. As you wish. As you want. So that even your broken body will know its master.
The owner of the cruelly twisted lips grabbed both delicate wrists begging desperately in his arms with one hand. As he stroked the curve from her dry, protruding shoulders to her hips, she startled violently. Always like a young beast. Tarta grabbed and lifted her plump b*ttocks. The reddened, stretched hole. It was still far too small to take his c*ck. It was admirable how it clung tightly, begging for his s*men to the very end.
As he inserted his thick finger and stirred it around, a murky moan burst out. A crying sound that whimpered and seduced him.
He felt dizzy from the lewd scent. Sticky fluid flowed down his fingers. It was the only w*t part left on Arsena, who had dried up like a crumb. Tarta licked his pulled-out finger over and over again, regretting every single drop.
He stroked her thighs, devoid of any muscle, and wrapped them around his waist. As if telling her not to let go of him even like this. He firmly fixed her legs that were sliding powerlessly, then smacked her b*ttocks, the only part with flesh left. Even as she twitched and clung to his waist in pain, his lower body felt like it would burst.
Tarta stroked his throbbing manhood. The dark red flesh column, full of bulging veins, was already soaked with anticipation. A low sigh escaped involuntarily as he pressed it against Arsena’s hole, which emitted a seductive scent like ripe fruit.
It felt good just by touching, even without inserting. Just rubbing and mixing their fl*ids with the tip of his c**k made his vision turn black. Her body temperature clung to him even as she shook her head. Arsena’s hole, eager to devour his c**k. Her faintly quickening breath. It was terribly ecstatic. Enough to forget everything.
And yet. Annihilation, you say?
It was an absurd notion. She would be his for life. He would never let her go again. Arsena could not escape. Tarta hastily devoured Arsena’s lips. He pushed himself between her parted lips and firmly entwined her soft tongue.
He wanted to rip out her tongue so she could never say such things again, but he couldn’t. Instead, Tarta sucked on Arsena’s tongue. He licked it thoroughly to the root and filled her. Hoping that such words would never come out of this mouth again.
“Hnng.”
As he flicked the reddened area on Arsena’s br*ast, which he had grasped with one hand, a sweet moan rose from deep in her throat. Tarta gladly drank in even that breath.
Their soaked lower bodies rubbed against each other like snakes. Every time the thick gl*ns rubbed against her cl*toris, Tarta felt like he would go mad. He wanted to poke her hole with her bead-like swollen cl*toris. Tarta grasped his flesh column and pressed firmly against Arsena’s c******s.
Each time he did this, Arsena twisted her body and jumped up. Then she urged Tarta on with her insolent blue eyes.
Losing his reason at that gaze, Tarta thrust himself into the hilt. Arsena’s head jerked back as she was penetrated so intensely it felt like it would reach the end of her heart. Tarta didn’t miss the chance and grabbed Arsena’s chin. His large hand pressed deeply into her two cheeks, flushed with excitement.
“Arsena. Look straight ahead.”
Tarta’s hand, firmly gripping Arsena’s chin, turned towards the mirror. Arsena’s unfocused gaze turned to Tarta in the mirror. Just obediently.
“This is you, Arsena. My prey.”
Once again, with the sound of slapping friction, fluid flowed down between her legs. Saliva that couldn’t be swallowed fell from between her blankly parted lips.
“I’ve caught you.”
Tarta pulled on the hair he had grasped and buried his lips in hers. He squeezed her chest, mottled as if tortured, as if to burst it, supporting her upper body that had risen weakly, and thrust his tongue in at once as if to devour her. He entwined her small, motionless tongue and generously poured in his saliva. Hoping for even a small reaction from Arsena. Thus, Tarta poured himself into that dry branch.
However, that was all. Arsena was already just a shell. Blue eyes without a soul. Only instinctive physical responses remained. As if she had already abandoned herself, she was slipping through his hands even as he held her. Tarta thrust his hips violently as if trying to gather scattered grains of sand.
“So you’re mine.”
“Haak.”
With Tarta’s movements pounding upwards, Arsena once again inhaled a breath she couldn’t exhale. It was pleasure she couldn’t handle. Arsena cried out, overwhelmed by the heat Tarta was forcing upon her. She couldn’t escape even if she clawed at the floor with her nails when the tightly filled manhood twisted her body. Tarta spread her tightly closed legs and burrowed between Arsena’s knees. Her thighs, binding him so she couldn’t even move, felt like iron. Tarta pressed Arsena, unable to move like this, against the mirror.
“Whose are you?”
“Huak.”
With her waist bizarrely bent, her round br*asts were flattened and rubbed roughly against the cold mirror. Between her widely spread lower parts, Tarta’s large m*mber was piercing her. With her wrists held high, Arsena received Tarta like that.
“Hua, huut.”
As the tightly filled manhood slowly pulled out like a sword being drawn from its sheath, it felt as if her inner walls were being dragged out. When the thick glans caught on the entrance of her v*gina, Arsena could finally breathe.
“You’re mine. Mine. You are mine!”
“Ak!”
But only for a moment. With the thrusting movement, her vision turned white as if lightning had struck. It was a desperate movement, almost violent. The flesh column, deeply embedded as if it would tear her flesh, burn her entire body, and even crush her heart, came and went relentlessly to her deepest parts, quickly and roughly. The pooled heat swelled as if it would burst out. Every time Tarta’s t*sticles hit as he moved his hips as if pounding, Arsena’s inner walls convulsed and contracted. Her blue eyes, once filled with fear, began to blur. With an irresistibly beautiful pleasure.
