CHAPTER 116: BLOODLINE TAKING OVER!!

"Wait! Wait! Wait! That place is forbidden you bitch!"

Rae thrashed, flailed, flopped around like a drowning goblin in a sea of shame and confusion, but that wicked little succubi was glued to him like a horny barnacle.

Her thighs clamped tight around his big green head like a vice made of smooth sin, upside-down and giggling like she was playing with her favorite toy.

"Why the fuck did I give this damn tentacle form a booty and a booty hole?! What was I thinking?!"

And he could feel it now. That delicate but evil little index finger, prying at his rear like it was trying to unlock the most cursed treasure chest in the dungeon.

"Gay! I’m not gay! You stupid bitch!"

But she didn’t care. She giggled harder. That high-pitched, smug-as-hell sound that made him want to both cry and cum at the same time.

Yeah, sure, he’d read about this—rimming, fingering, backdoor wizardry.

But that was supposed to be a someday maybe, a wild night with a willing elf in a bathhouse, not today.

Not while he was trying to dominate a lust-crazed succubi!

And then, clarity.

A lightbulb. A horny, glowing, pulsing lightbulb.

"Fuck it! I’m going to pound town now!!!"

Two of his tentacles, slick and firm, traced her soft legs like serpents with a mission.

Slithered over her trembling thighs, past the tight grip of her ankles, up to her hips.

She felt it, her breath hitched, her hips shifted—anticipation in motion.

Her cheeks were already parted from how she was clinging to him. Her holes were glimmering and twitching like doors begging to be kicked in.

He didn’t hesitate.

One tentacle aimed for the slick, dripping heat of her wet kitty.

The other, thicker and ribbed just a little extra for vengeance, lined itself with her tight, twitching backdoor.

"Let’s see how you like being pried open, slut."

And with one smooth thrust—he went in. Both. At once. Full speed. No brakes. Straight to hell.

She arched like her whole damn soul just got yanked upward by a lightning bolt made of orgasms.

Not pain. Not surprise.

Just raw, molten, earth-shattering pleasure that crackled through her like a thunderstorm crafted by horny gods.

Her spine bent like a bow, tits bouncing so low they smacked her own face, nipples perked like they were saluting the filthy chaos.

Her moans? Oh, fuck, they weren’t even words anymore.

They were gasps, wet and electric—sharp little cries that stuttered out like her brain had short-circuited from too much cock and tentacle stimulation.

Tentacle-Rae could feel it.

Her front hole clenched around him like it was begging for more.

Her back hole? Squeezing like it was trying to suck the damn tentacle inside out.

Her whole goddamn body was a living sex trap, a cursed treasure chest that moaned and milked like it had a mind of its own.

And right now? That trap was being wrecked.

"Gotcha, bitch!"

His voice was a growl, manic and victorious, like a goblin general conquering a land of tits and pussy.

Taming a succubi? Not for the weak. If he was still that sad, scrawny level-zero goblin without dreams and lust, she would’ve snapped him in half, drained him dry, and fucked his corpse for good luck.

But nah. Not anymore.

Now he was something else.

A monster made for pounding. A walking lust engine.

A demon with a dong and a destiny.

And just like her, he got stronger the filthier things got. Stronger with every moan. Every grip. Every goddamn squelch.

...

Her thighs were still clamped around his neck like a vice grip from hell, but now they trembled—twitching like jelly against the rhythm of his writhing tentacles.

Each one pumped in and out with wet, obscene slaps.

Slow at first. Sloppy and taunting. Then faster. Deeper. Harder.

Until her insides were a squelching mess of lust and overstimulation.

"Ohh, fuck!! fuuuckkkk!"

She screamed right into his back, voice cracked and raw like her body was breaking open under him.

Her claws dug into his hips, clinging like a beast about to fall off a cliff of pure, uncut orgasm.

Her backdoor was getting stretched wider than a damn temple gate, welcoming the unholy shaft like it was divine punishment.

And her pussy gushed around him like a waterfall possessed, every thrust pulling a fresh squirt from her ruined insides.

"Not yet. Not yet at all. I have so much for you. I will tame you. That’s a fucking promise."

Another tentacle slithered upward like it had a devil’s grin, wrapping her bouncing tit in a tight spiral and giving it a harsh squeeze.

Her nipple throbbed, red and abused, twitching like it was about to cum on its own.

Then came the one around her neck, not choking, not strangling, but holding her like a prized slut.

Like a collar made of desire, keeping her still, reminding her exactly who was in control now.

And oh, the cruelest of them all, one last tentacle slithered down, slick and slow, brushing her clit with maddening, whispering strokes.

Light as a feather. Cruel as a god. Just enough to make her scream without letting her cum.

"Good girl."

Rae laughed. No, not just laughed—he fucking cackled.

Full-on, drooling, manic goblin glee exploding out of his ugly green face.

It echoed through the tent like a perverted war cry sung by a tentacle god drunk on chaos.

"How’s that feel huh huh huh!"

He screeched, hips slamming like a damn jackhammer possessed, pounding her with the fiery vengeance of a goblin who’d died, shook hands with the Grim fucking Reaper, flipped him off, then said screw it—I’m gonna nut my way back to life.

And then, she came.

Hard. Like body-breaking, soul-melting, thigh-snapping kinda hard.

She convulsed, her whole frame jolting like she’d been tasered by raw orgasm. Her toes curled. Her fingers clawed.

Her brain just flatlined for a second while her eyes went full white-out, rolling to the back of her pretty little head.

Her thighs gave up the fight first, peeling off his neck like noodles tossed out of a boiling pot.

Her whole body just went limp, splat, flopping onto the floor like a sexed-out succubi ragdoll.

Sweaty. Dripping. Shaking.

A beautiful wreck of tits, ass, and pure-drenched afterglow.

Rae hovered above, tentacle limbs twitching like victory flags waving in a sticky hurricane.

His goblin eyes were wide as saucers, pupils blown out, his monster cock still standing proud like it just conquered Mount Lust.

"Hah! That’s what I fuckin’ thought, bitch!"

"Told you I’d take you to pound town and back, and I even brought souvenirs!"

But obviously, obviously, one should never throw a victory party before the final boss is confirmed dead.

Rae knew that.

Somewhere deep in his horny goblin brain. And yet, here he was. Gloating. Glistening. Smug as hell.

And that’s when fate grabbed him by the metaphorical balls.

Because then...

Then he saw it.

Her eyes.

No more subtle pink rings. No gentle glow. Nope. That was gone. Burned out. Replaced by pure, nuclear-level succubi meltdown mode.

Her pupils were now fully consumed.

The pink devoured the black, turning her stare into twin suns of molten sex.

It wasn’t a glow anymore, it was a warning light, a fuck-you beam screaming danger in hot neon.

Each pulse of the light throbbed like a countdown.

Her breath came in broken gasps, but not from weakness.

Her nipples stood sharp and deadly. Her soaked thighs twitched like they were rebooting.

And slowly, grinning like a demon who just remembered her cheat codes, she sat the fuck up.

Not just a smile. No no. This was that succubi grin. That fuck-you grin.

The grin that said, you’re absolutely screwed. Not just in the sexy way. But also in the sexy way.

Rae’s tentacles froze. Every single one mid-wiggle. His goblin face paled several shades of "oh shit."

’What the fuck... she was supposed to be done. DONE!’

’I broke her pussy! I folded her like laundry!’

’I fed her through the damn pleasure blender on max titty mode—and she’s still... fucking powering up?!’

His monster gave a twitch. Not the "ready for round two" twitch.

The "oh no" twitch.

It hit him. Slammed into his goblin soul harder than her vice grip on his cock ever could.

The succubi bloodline wasn’t just waking up. It was throwing off its nightgown and kicking the doors open.

Every orgasm pumped her stats like a cheat code written in moans.

Her levels weren’t climbing, they were straight-up flying into the stratosphere.

Her magic, her strength, her fuckability, holy shit, it was all going nuclear.

And if she kept leveling up like this, then he was toast. Not in the funny way.

Shit. Fuck. He had to end it. Now. Before she ascended into some unstoppable goddess of sex and turned his dick into a burnt offering.

His goblin brain spun like a roulette wheel of hentai consequences.

Every option worse than the last. He needed to get her lust down. Fast. Faster than her hips were starting to roll again.

He looked at her.

She was licking her lips now, slow and obscene.

Her eyes burned with pink hellfire, hips rotating like she was winding up to ride him straight into a coma.