NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain - Chapter 105

Chapter 105: Conquered!

“Ohhh… oh my fucking god…!”

Juliana moaned, her whole body trembling like she’d just been plugged into a live wire.

“YES! Fuck, YES!”

She all but howled, gripping onto anything within reach—pillows, the table, even Lui’s discarded shirt—as if holding on for dear life.

Her eyes were glassy, her lips parted, drool dangerously close to spilling down her chin. She was wrecked. Absolutely fucking wrecked.

Artis groaned, his grip tightening on her hips.

“Ahhhh, fuck…”

His hips pistoned like a well-oiled machine, slamming forward with the kind of precision that should’ve been fucking illegal.

His cock was in heaven—wrapped in a vice grip of wet, desperate need, her walls clenching him like they were trying to suck the soul out of him.

Every time he bottomed out, Juliana let out a noise that sounded like a mix between a dying angel and a woman who just discovered the meaning of life.

Lui barely managed to stumble to his feet, swaying like a drunkard who had just been hit by a wagon.

His jaw practically unhinged as he looked at the table—no, the battlefield—where Artis was obliterating Juliana with the force of a thousand war gods.

The table was beyond groaning—it was pleading for its life, its legs buckling like it was on its last breath.

Lui could see Artis’s balls swinging at speeds that defied physics, slapping against Juliana’s soaked entrance like they were in a goddamn drumline.

And then, the real kicker—Juliana’s face.

Lui had known this woman for decades, shared a bed with her, shared meals, shared fucking taxes, but not once had he seen her like this.

Her usual composed, dignified expression? Gone. Instead, what he was witnessing was nothing short of a religious experience.

Her face was contorted in absolute bliss, her eyes rolling back so hard she looked like she was summoning a higher power.

She wasn’t holding back. She wasn’t even pretending to be shy.

The kind, sweet, graceful woman he married was now reduced to a cock-hungry mess, screaming out moans that could summon a demon lord.

‘What the fuck is that sinful expression?!’

Lui’s brain short-circuited. He should look away. He should be outraged.

But instead, before he even realized it, his hand was already wrapped around his own miserable excuse for a cock, stroking himself like a fucking peasant watching the king feast on an entire buffet.

Artis gritted his teeth, his hands gripping Juliana’s waist like he was claiming property.

“Fuck, Mommy, your pussy’s gripping me like it owes me money.”

His thrusts were relentless, his cock pounding into her soaked entrance like he was mining for immortal-grade pleasure.

Even though he had already used her mouth, her hands—hell, even let her breathe on his cock—nothing, nothing compared to the raw, sinful heat of her clenching, dripping pussy.

Juliana? Oh, she was gone. Brain? Fried. Thoughts? Deleted.

The only thing she could even register was her wrecked, absolutely obliterated pussy, twitching and convulsing around Artis’s thick shaft like it was trying to worship the damn thing.

The rest of her body? Pure static. She could’ve been missing limbs and wouldn’t have even noticed.

And then, without warning—SCHLICK!

Artis yanked his cock out, leaving her walls clenching on nothing like a desperate addict. Juliana barely had time to whimper before—

SMACK!

A stinging slap landed on her juicy ass cheek, sending ripples across her plump flesh like a fucking water balloon had just been struck by lightning.

Before she could even process the impact, Artis grabbed her by the waist, flipped her over like a damn steak, and sprawled her over the table. Her head dangling from the end.

Now, she was fully exposed—tits dangling on either side, sweat glistening on her soft stomach, and between her thighs…

Her pussy—quivering, dripping, an absolute mess of her own slick and his precum—practically begging to be wrecked again.

“Damn, Mommy, you look good enough to eat.”

Artis growled, his hands gripping her trembling thighs like he was about to devour her.

“Ahhh~”

Juliana barely got the moan out before her body convulsed, still wrecked from the absolute dicking down she was receiving.

She was drenched in sweat, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

For a brief, blissful moment, her poor, abused pussy got a break—his monster wasn’t stretching her walls to their limits, and for the first time in what felt like hours, she could think.

…Only to open her eyes and see her husband—Lui, the poor bastard—furiously jacking his cock like his life depended on it.

‘Oh. Oh shit.’

Weakly, trembling, she reached out toward him, her fingers barely brushing the air—

SLAP.

Artis yanked her hips back into place, spread her legs wide apart like he was presenting a feast, and plunged his thick cock straight back into her puffy, soaking pussy.

Juliana, who had just regained a shred of sanity, immediately lost it again.

“AHHHH~!!”

Her eyes rolled back, her mouth hanging open as Artis buried himself inside her like he was claiming territory. The moment of relief? Gone. The ability to think? Erased.

And just like that, she was reduced back to a moaning, quivering mess—her only purpose now was to take his cock and love every second of it.

‘What the fuck is happening to me?!’

Juliana’s brain was doing somersaults trying to regain control, but every time she thought she had a grip, Artis’s cock yanked it away like a rug under a drunk bitch’s feet.

She barely managed to open her eyes, her mind wobbling like an overstuffed whore on her last leg.

Then she saw it clearly once again.

Lui was furiously beating his tiny meat like he was trying to start a goddamn fire. His hand was a blur, his face twisted into something between hunger and existential crisis.

He looked like a starving wolf staring down a steaming steak, only to realize he’s the fucking lettuce in this meal.

‘Holy shit…’

Then, like a miracle—or a sick cosmic joke—she actually managed to focus past the soul-shattering pleasure long enough to lift her gaze a little higher.

And there he was.

Artis.

A sweaty goddamn Adonis towering over her, his slick white hair sticking to his forehead, his chiseled body dripping sweat onto her heaving, bouncing tits. His gritted teeth, his furrowed brows—the intensity in his eyes made it clear.

He was on a mission.

A mission to destroy her pussy.

“Fuuuuuck—Artis—AHHHHHH~”

Juliana’s moans were reaching glass-shattering levels, her body convulsing like she was getting exorcised by the demon of raw dick.

Every time Artis slammed his cock inside her, it was like a fucking earthquake rippling through her body—her toes curled, her legs quivered, and her tits bounced like they were desperately trying to escape her chest.

And holy shit, was she loving it.

She wasn’t just taking it—she was thriving in it. This wasn’t just sex; this was religion, and Artis’s cock was the holy scripture rewriting her fucking existence.

Her hands, trembling like a newborn fawn, reached for him, and like some primal fuck-warrior, he immediately moved into her embrace—like he sensed her need on an instinctual level.

His fingers locked around her hips like he was claiming her, his face buried into the soft pillows of her tits, muffling his grunts.

And then—fuck.

His thrusts became frantic. Unhinged.

Like a man possessed.

Like he was trying to breed her into a new species.

Lui was furiously jerking his cock like a man having an existential crisis mid-nut.

His tiny, neglected meat-stick was caught between two opposing forces—one being the absolute degeneracy unfolding before his eyes, the other being the deep, soul-crushing realization that he was cucking himself into oblivion.

The room was a symphony of absolute debauchery—moans, grunts, frantic slapping of skin on skin, and the tortured creaking of the barely-surviving table.

It sounded like a fucking brothel orchestra playing at full volume, and yet, deep in Lui’s betrayed little heart, there was a whisper. A tiny, nagging voice that told him:

“This is wrong.”

“This is a fucking crime.”

But fuck—his dick didn’t care. His body was fully betraying his morals, his hand stroking like a desperate peasant paying tribute to the King’s royal shaft.

His vision blurred, not from pleasure, but from the sheer, soul-wrecking weight of his own tears.

He wanted to weep, to scream, to crawl into a hole and die, but fuck—he couldn’t look away.

Not when his wife’s face was twisted in pure nirvana, getting fucked into a new dimension by Artis’s absolute giga-cock.

He was a broken man.

But damn, it was a beautiful show.

Artis was done for. The milfy vice-grip on his cock was too fucking tight—tighter than a debt collector’s grip on a broke man’s paycheck.

His balls twitched with the fury of a volcanic eruption waiting to happen.

With a feral grunt, Artis lunged from her heavenly tits, his hands snapping around her throat like a man possessed.

He wasn’t choking her—he was staking his claim, hammering her so violently that the table underneath them was one thrust away from claiming workers’ comp.

“F-fuck, Mommy, I’m gonna cum…!”

Artis snarled, his hips going full beast mode.

Juliana’s eyes rolled back like a woman who had just found religion, her entire body convulsing like she’d just been hit by divine enlightenment in the form of a girthy, veiny cock.

Her pussy was practically begging for his seed, milking him with the desperation of a thirsty bitch in the desert.

“Yes…! Fuck! Inside me!”

“WAIT, NO! NOT INSIDE!”

Lui, finally snapping out of his cuck-induced hypnosis, launched himself forward, flailing like a man who had just realized his life savings were on fire.

His tiny pathetic dick flopped around uselessly as he reached out in desperation, as if sheer willpower alone could cockblock what was about to happen.

But it was too late.

Artis slammed in one final time, his body going rigid, his face twisting in absolute euphoria—and Lui knew.

That was the face of a man who had just conquered new lands.