CHAPTER 33: CONQUERED HER!

Marcus could do only one thing now—stumble blindly through the suffocating dark, chasing the sinful rhythm that filled the room.

Plap~ plap~ plap~

The wet, obscene sound bounced off the walls like some twisted metronome of madness.

"Wh-where are you, Lily?" he called, voice breaking somewhere between panic and heartbreak.

Plap-plap-plap!

He staggered toward the corner where it came from, arms outstretched, knocking into furniture like a drunk ghost. But just as his fingers brushed the wall, the sound stopped—dead silent.

Then, from behind him—

Plap~ plap~ plap~!

Marcus spun around so fast he nearly fell. The sounds were jumping—bouncing from one end of the room to another like the world’s most perverted game of hide-and-seek. He couldn’t track them, couldn’t think.

He was weak.

He was drunk.

He was utterly doomed.

And with no light, no vision, no clue—he was cooked like a blind man lost in a thunderstorm of filth.

Then, just like before—

Flick.

The lights buzzed and flickered to life.

Marcus blinked rapidly, squinting as the brightness cut through the haze—and there they were.

Alex. On the couch. Perfectly composed. The bastard didn’t even look winded.

And Lily...

Oh, Lily.

She sat there too, same couch, same place—but her appearance told a completely different story. Two more buttons were gone from her shirt, leaving four open in total.

Her pink bra was now practically a centerpiece, her cleavage glistening under the light, her soft skin marked with faint red handprints that screamed of something.

Her hair was a storm. Her lips were swollen. Her eyes, half-lidded and glassy, stared somewhere between guilt and euphoria.

Marcus froze, throat tightening, a bitter laugh stuck in his chest.

Marcus rubbed his face, shaking his head as a single tear rolled down his cheek. It wasn’t just sadness—it was confusion, frustration... and something else. Something very wrong.

Because despite the chaos, despite the horror show his life had turned into, his little brother downstairs was wide awake and standing at full salute.

Why? How? What in the seven circles of perversion was happening to him?

He should have been furious—raging, shouting, breaking things.

But every time the lights flicked off and came back, Lily’s appearance changed like she’d been through another round of... something he wasn’t invited to.

Her eyes were half-lidded, her lips red and swollen, her whole body trembling like she’d been dancing with lightning.

And somehow, somehow, that sight twisted something inside him.

He couldn’t see what was happening in the dark, couldn’t stop it, couldn’t even prove it—and that mystery made his chest burn and his blood rush somewhere it really shouldn’t.

He told himself it was adrenaline. Yeah, adrenaline. Definitely not jealousy mixed with the kind of heat no man wants to admit.

All he could do now was cling to his wife like a man trying to hold onto a dream that kept slipping away.

"Lily," he whispered hoarsely, "next time the lights go out—hold my hand. Don’t let go, no matter what."

Poof!

Darkness swallowed them again.

"..."

Plap. Plap. Plap.

The sound came back, louder this time, echoing from the far corner. Wet, rhythmic, merciless.

Marcus froze, heart pounding, breath catching in his throat. His hands grasped at empty air—Lily was gone. Again.

The darkness mocked him with every slick, obscene beat.

Plap~ plap~ plap~

Marcus slumped onto the couch, hands gripping his hair like he was trying to rip sanity back into his skull.

"This can’t be happening... this really can’t be happening..."

The perfect little marriage he’d built brick by brick? Wrecked. Desecrated by a smug, rich playboy with the face of an angel and the morals of a blender.

And that wasn’t even the worst part.

Marcus looked down at his lap—well, at the traitor lurking below. Even without the light, he could feel it. The shameless thing stood tall, proud, and utterly disloyal, as if it was cheering for the enemy team.

"Et tu, little bro?" Marcus whispered hoarsely.

Plap. Plap. Plap.

He covered his ears. It didn’t help. The rhythm was inside his skull now.

Lily’s body had lost count of how many times she’d cummed.

Time didn’t exist. The room was a blur of light and shadow, her senses completely overloaded and fried.

The second Alex’s thick, hard cock slid into her, she was gone. Mentally and physically, just shattered.

She couldn’t process what was happening anymore. Her pussy walls were stretched so fucking wide, slick with her juices and his, gripping him desperately.

Her mind was just numb, completely blanked out by a pleasure so intense, so raw, that it bordered on pain. She had never, ever felt anything like it in her entire life.

And now he was back inside her, buried to the hilt. He started pistoning that cruel, heavy monster in and out, deep, slamming hard against her cervix with every brutal thrust.

"I’m cumming inside," Alex growled, shoving her head flat against the table.

"In-inside... ngh... Ahm... Wait! Fuck! Not inside!"

A scrap of sanity clawed its way back, and her pussy clenched hard around him.

But it was too late. She felt his massive cock start to tremble deep inside her, the first pulse of his hot, thick seed getting ready to flood her womb.

He didn’t stop. He didn’t even hesitate.

A low, guttural roar tore from his chest as his hips slammed into her one last time, driving his cock so deep she felt it thud against her cervix. Then he erupted.

"Ngh... FUCK!"

It wasn’t a pulse, it was a torrent. Thick, scalding ropes of his seed gushed deep inside her, flooding her womb.

He kept pumping, his body locked in place, emptying himself completely, filling her up until she felt like she was going to overflow.

Lily shrieked, her voice muffled against the hard wood of the table. The sudden, scorching heat of his cum was the final trigger, obliterating her last shred of control.

Her body shattered. A violent, screaming orgasm ripped through her, making her back arch off the table.

Her pussy walls spasmed and clenched around his thick, twitching cock, milking him, drawing every last drop of his release from him.

He collapsed on top of her, a dead weight, his breath coming in ragged, harsh gasps against her ear.

He didn’t pull out.

He just lay there, his heavy dick still buried deep inside her, still pulsing weakly, leaving her a boneless, trembling, sticky mess.

Then he heard the now familiar ding inside his head.

[Ding! Congratulations, boss! You have conquered loyal shopkeeper! Here’s your bonuses...]