"Sylvia is Master's obedient little fucktoy cow! Please, Master, ravish me more, ahh… oohhh!"
"Say more, sweet Sylvia, and Master will love you even harder…"
"Yesss! Master's big cock feels so good, hitting all the right spots, nghh… whimper!"
"Such a naughty little milk cow, seducing your Master!"
Truman slapped the plump ass of the child-faced, busty cowgirl beneath him, eliciting another submissive squeal. Sylvia, the cowgirl, buried her face in the sheets, toes curling as she fought the overwhelming pleasure, yet her lewd moans spilled freely.
A collar adorned her neck, her chubby-cheeked, innocent face a stark contrast to her depraved expression—eyes rolled back, tongue lolling in a classic ahegao, lost in ecstasy.
This cowgirl was Truman's latest summoned servant, conjured just days ago. Initially, the trauma from Elaviel made him cautious, but Sylvia's forwardness shattered his restraint. Drawn to his masculine allure, she'd kneel before him, raising her enticing hips and swaying them, her pure expression paired with raw seduction—an explosive mix.
Unable to resist, Truman had pounced, gripping her slender waist and thrusting deep, reducing the sultry cowgirl to wordless moans as she melted under him.
"Little Sylvia, you're the perfect fleshlight! Daddy's having a blast!"
"Fuuu! Daddy's so good, Sylvia's brain's melting!"
"All for you, baby Sylvia! Clamp down tight!"
The cowgirl sprawled on the bed, her flushed face buried in the sheets, shyly on the verge of tears, yet her lascivious body kept writhing to entice her master.
Truman pressed against her voluptuous hips, plunging into her core and unloading a torrent of thick seed, her tight walls gripping him as he vented days of pent-up frustration.
Harvest City, a coastal metropolis, sat on the fringes of the Middle Kingdom, often overlooked and rarely touched by upheaval.
Yet now, the Imperial Observatory members, tasked with monitoring the city, were stunned to detect something hurtling toward it.
A white figure, like lightning piercing the night, vanished into the city's myriad lights in an instant.
Elaviel didn't know why she'd returned to the city she'd left days ago, but an inexplicable will seemed to beckon her.
She wove through towering skyscrapers, crossing from the city's edge to the slums in a single breath.
Her condition resembled a mortal fever—body burning, mind foggy. Though she clung to a shred of clarity, faint hallucinations buzzed in her ears.
"Baby Sylvia, want more?"
"Master… ngh! Your hot cock's back inside, you're so bad, ahh… moo!"
"How'd your tits get so slutty, Sylvia? Been drinking cum since you were little? Tell me, or I won't fuck you!"
"No! Eee… they just… grew big like this! Only Master can fuck me, only Master satisfies me!"
Snapping back to reality, Elaviel found herself hovering outside an apartment window. What she'd thought were hallucinations were real, unfolding in a room thick with carnal heat.
A man unleashed his vigor, his muscular frame grinding against a tender girl beneath him, coaxing out ecstatic cries. He sucked and bit her massive breasts, wet slurps echoing as he drew forth raw milk. The cowgirl swayed her creamy hips, enveloping him in her ripe, feminine allure.
"Hmm…"
A faint sound slipped out, not from the girl this time.
Staring at the cowgirl beneath him, Truman had an idea.
Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, "Little Sylvia, you're like a tiny angel."
"R-Really?"
His hot breath made her ears burn, her tight walls clenching his shaft.
"Yep. You're so cute, practically an angel. How about I call you Your Highness?"
"Okay… slurp! Sure, whatever Master wants!"
Truman's conquest-lust surged, Elaviel's breathtaking face flashing in his mind. He gripped Sylvia's waist, flipped her over, and hoisted her like a child being held to pee, pacing the room while roaring.
"Your Highness, you feel so good inside, I wanna fuck you to death!"
Mid-thrust, he saw an unimaginable figure.
Elaviel, the angel he'd just invoked, stood before him.
Her doe-like eyes gazed calmly at him.
In that moment, her divine, faintly broken beauty overwhelmed him. His control shattered, and he erupted uncontrollably, pumping deep into Sylvia with reckless abandon.
"Master's… so much, so hot!"
Sylvia passed out from the intensity, leaving only Truman and Elaviel in an awkward reunion.
It took Truman ten minutes to compose himself and pull on some clothes. He couldn't deny it—fear had gripped him, his body trembling at the thought of being struck down by a furious archangel, dying in the throes of ecstasy.
What had he done? Rutting fiercely before a mythical being known as a judge, fantasizing about her, and unloading with abandon!
Any one of those was a death sentence.
That's how Truman had grimly viewed his fate.
Yet, Elaviel didn't strike him down. Instead, as she had before, she found a corner in the apartment, sat, and fell silent.
"Honored Your Highness, is there a reason you've returned to Harvest City?" Truman asked cautiously.
"No reason… I just… wanted to come back."
Elaviel frowned, the black veins tightening like a spider's web binding her soul, her voice quivering faintly.
Her tone's off… Truman noticed her strangeness. A subtle flush colored her face, her usual icy detachment replaced by a dazed, rosy haze. Her white robe was stained with blood. Everything pointed to something amiss.
"Your Highness, are you in some kind of trouble?"
Truman ventured further, baffled by her state. Appearing in his home out of nowhere, looking almost… aroused? It was incomprehensible.
As if prompted, Elaviel lowered her gaze and began explaining, her voice laced with sorrow, like a confession.
It took Truman a while to piece it together—what had transpired in the world these past days. Sin Demons, vampire progenitors, a mythical war—it all felt distant. He grasped one thing: the mythical being before him had been ambushed by peers on her journey, wounded, and defeated.
Why she'd returned to him, he couldn't fathom, chalking it up to chance. At least the good news was he wouldn't be smited.
"Your Highness, rest assured—if you need a place to recover, I'd be honored to offer my home."
How could he miss a chance to aid a fallen titan? Truman all but screamed, "Stay with me!" with his expression.
Even Elaviel herself couldn't fathom why she'd returned to this unremarkable city, reuniting with Truman in such an awkward, compromising moment. The scene was depraved, blasphemous—yet she'd been inexplicably transfixed, her body burning as if demonic flames roared within, compelling her to barge in.
Such acts, deemed unclean by the Lord's teachings, should have repulsed her. Why, then, did she feel the world spinning, lost in their allure?
Facing that man, she could no longer dismiss him as mere dust. When he ravaged Sylvia with his throbbing flesh, ripples of unrest stirred in her angelic heart, relentless and uncontainable.
In a hallucination, the wanton, debauched girl became her.
A seductive voice echoed in her mind: "Poor little bird… a divine being, yet craving to rut like a beast. Embrace your lascivious nature… you need a man to soothe every lonely inch of your skin…"
Elaviel felt cleaved in two. One half, her mythical essence, remained aloof, observing the world's ebb and flow. The other, her primal, biological urges, yearned to unleash the cursed, feverish desires, craving a strong male to violate her roughly.
"Ngh… no…"
Snapping back for a moment, she realized this was the curse of lust. She began silently reciting scripture, hoping to cool her searing body.
But she soon found the pages of her mental Gospel scrawled with vile, blasphemous words.
A gentle evening breeze carried a thin layer of frost across the ground.
Truman opted for dinner at a nearby diner. After that mortifying encounter, facing Elaviel alone was awkward, and he was ravenous. Since lunch, he'd been relentlessly plowing his cowgirl servant, draining his stamina.
Savoring steaming soup dumplings, he replayed Elaviel's image in his mind.
The fallen angel's allure seemed amplified, blending purity and sensuality with a haunting brokenness, far surpassing Sylvia. Recalling how he'd erupted in her presence, his unsatisfied cock stirred again.
"Am I imagining it? She seemed… hotter than before. Almost lost control back there…"
Unaware of her curse, Truman only noted the odd flush on her delicate cheeks and the pinkish glow of her exposed skin, reminiscent of a woman in heat, beckoning him.
"Gotta see if I can sneak Sylvia out to blow off steam elsewhere. With that angel around, I'm barely holding it together…"
Finishing his dumplings, he headed back to the apartment.