Evil MC's NTR Harem - Chapter 507

Chapter 507: Chapter 507 Cough
It was a near-impossible task, her lips capable only of encompassing the big cock head, completely unable to fully enclose the sheer size of the organ.

Ross’s cock was a testament to a raw, primal sexuality, a towering monument of male power. She felt a strange mixture of perverse exhilaration and a growing fear in her gut.

This act of submission, this desperate performance, offered a strange kind of safety, a fleeting sense of control amidst the escalating chaos.

But the feeling was strong and sinful. And yet she was not about to go continue in her play as it invited the leader’s dissatisfaction of her long foreplay.

Ten agonizing minutes later, the leader’s patience, already stretched thin, finally snapped.

His voice, a sharp, cutting command, sliced through the tense silence, a jarring interruption to the silent, sensual cock service.

“Hey, you’ve been sucking this rich kid’s dick for nearly an hour now. Enough with the preliminaries. We want action. We want to see how this monstrous cock rips your pussy apart. We want to see the destruction!” The leader’s words were a venomous blend of lust and cruelty, a perverse fascination with the impending violence.

The threat hung heavy in the air, a dark cloud of impending brutality, and the implication was crystal clear: Adele’s submission was not enough; her suffering was to be escalated.

The air thrummed with the unspoken promise of escalating, unforgiving torture.

Adele desperately wished she could push back the inevitable, a silent plea lost in the suffocating atmosphere of impending doom. Perhaps, somehow, she could be spared, escape the escalating horror.

But there was no escape. No way out. Especially not with the cold, hard barrels of guns pointed at her and her terrified family.

“I’m sorry, Steven,” she whispered, a silent apology swallowed by the oppressive din, a futile attempt to reach him across the chasm of fear and impending violence.

A surge of defiance, a desperate attempt to somehow protect herself, propelled her to act, though she knew it was futile.

She focused on the physical act, a desperate attempt to control the uncontrollable, as she aimed a healthy amount of saliva directly onto Ross’s enormous cock.

It was a futile gesture, a last-ditch attempt to shield herself from the anticipated pain, a desperate, almost comical attempt to deflect the unavoidable.

She knew, with a sickening certainty, that her husband, Steven, was no match for the monstrous size and power of Ross’s cock. The sheer disparity was horrifying.

Thud!

The sound echoed in the oppressive silence, the chair groaning under the weight of Ross’s massive body.

Adele, driven by a mixture of defiance and a morbid defiance, almost a desperate need for control even in this terrifying situation, straddled Ross’s hips.

His bound and helpless form was still a formidable presence, the mere sight of him filling her with a mix of terror and a terrifying allure.

Her breasts, large and prominent, pressed against his face.

It was a lovely display, a perfect display of lust or perhaps a perverse surrender. She cared little for the immediate discomfort, her senses focused on the vulnerability of her body, on the impending intrusion.

The immediate discomfort paled in comparison to the terror of what was to come. Her mind raced, calculating, rationalizing, yet her body remained resolute in its response to the situation.

She disregarded the immediate discomfort, her focus now solely on the glistening wetness of her slit.

Her bikini, already loosened by the intense arousal, was pushed aside, revealing the provocative sight of her wetness to the room full of men.

It was so pink and wet and absolutely delicious to her male viewers.

“Look at her pussy, boys. She’s fucking drenched already,” the leader sneered, his voice dripping with twisted amusement.

“She wants to fuck this arrogant young man. What a slut.” His words were a cruel judgment, a twisted appraisal of her desperate situation.

“I bet she does, boss,” one of the men growled, his eyes gleaming with a predatory anticipation.

“Just look at that cock. Even I’d want to try it sometime later.” His voice was a low growl, anticipation dripping from every word. His face contorted with a mixture of lust and utter fascination.

“Next time, maybe,” the leader replied, his voice a chilling dismissal.

“But not today. We’ll deal with these men later, kill them and dumb their body to the lake. As for the women… perhaps sell them to a whorehouse after we drown them with our come. HAHAHA!” The leader’s words were a chilling prelude to the violence that was to follow, a chilling promise of what was to come.

The air itself seemed to thicken, heavy with the unspoken threat.

Everyone watched, a mixture of great suspense and predatory anticipation swirling in the air, as Adele attempted to balance herself atop Ross’s colossal cock.

She was precariously perched on the very edge of her tiptoes, her body a fragile vessel against the overwhelming bulk of the giant manhood.

Her pussy, positioned directly above the swollen head, felt the weight of the situation, the impending pressure.

Her hands, finding purchase on Ross’s broad shoulders, offered a desperate, but ultimately futile, resistance against the pull of gravity. The scene was a stark contrast of power and vulnerability.

The ugly leader, however, was impatient. His eyes, gleaming with a malevolent hunger, bore into Adele.

“I’m getting tired of this charade, Adele,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room.

“I’m as hard as a rock, and if you don’t get down to business with Mr. Rich Kid soon, I’m afraid one of your daughters will be on the menu any minute from now.” His threat hung heavy in the air, a tangible weight of impending violence.

Adele, her voice barely a whisper, pleaded, “Okay, just give me a moment. Ross is huge. I’ve never been with anyone but my husband.”

“So your hubby has a little tiny dick? Hahaha!” The leader’s laughter echoed through the room, a cruel symphony of mockery.