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The erotic moans reverberated throughout the room, accompanied by the slapping sound of skin clapping so much that it was shrill. Scaramouche's legs were spread wide, his tiny, narrow, virgin cunt was brutally penetrated, and couldn't escape the pain, the lewd water rushed out with fresh blood, wetting a piece of the bed.
He clutched the mattress tightly, buried his face in the pillow, and sobbed horribly. The lower half of the body is numb, the pussy has long been abused to red, puffy. Adorns with lime juice shiny, the flower that has never been discovered until now has been admired by people who have seen it as more and more beautiful.
The fierce and sinewy penis is constantly moving, brutally penetrating deep inside, sweeping through every corner, drastically touching sensitive points, straight to the deep flesh that is considered the destination. The foreskin kissed the cervix, greedily caressing that itchy place, causing its owner to scream in pain.
Tears wet his eyelids, even his pillow. Hurts, it hurts. But Scaramouche's face was strangely erotic as it was as red as a gac fruit, its mouth gaping open and drooling non-stop.
"Ah, ngh--!!!" The rough, calloused hand that hold had passed through countless other weapons and once again abused the clitoris protruding from the two edges of the flesh like a pearl, grinding it hard and then gently loving it.
Scaramouche arched his back, his eyes and nose blurred, his whole body drenched in sweat.
He didn't know why it turned out like this, he didn't do anything.
The kid with the ginger hair on his body was still like a ferocious dog in heat, forcefully stabbing Scaramouche's cunt without any mercy. Like everything that happened to him was deserved, he deserved this.
"No... no more!" Scaramouche trembled as his womb was tormented by the cock of the person he despised all this time, letting that person play at will with his tiny pussy - the place he loathed the most.
After keeping his virginity hidden for hundreds of years, Scaramouche - The Balladeer of Fatui, the sixth Harbinger under Cryo archon Tsaritsa is ruined by an obnoxious brat.
Tartaglia.
In the gray chamber where Tartaglia had worked and slept, the pitiful screams resounded. Scaramouche orgasms once more, and that bastard again suffuses his tender womb with sperm.
Although Scaramouche was immobile, his legs were still violently shaking. Sperm since an excessive amount should flow out, fill the bed.
His thoughts started to dream, his parched lips to murmur: "Don't..." His uselessness which he had hidden for hundreds of years, tears flowed in two long lines to wet the pillow, he felt so frail and tiny.
All he could do at this point was try to close his legs and plead with Tartaglia to spare him.
"Tartaglia... please..." He pleaded in a raspy voice, "Can't take it anymore, please stop..."
But Tartaglia didn't listen, the penis still erect as he watched his submissive form, pointed at his swollen cunt, and then slammed inside. Scaramouche shouted, his mouth told to stop but the pussy was so happy that it sprayed with water, sobbing when Tartaglia hugged his and lick the earlobe.
Tartaglia licked lips, after that kissing his soft lips then went down to bite the white neck.
Scaramouche eyes were also blurry, his knees were folded and pushed up to the level of his head, exposing his swollen pussy. He was forced to lift his hips, and from there he could see that the place where he had intercourse with Tartaglia was being stretched to allow his large penis to penetrate, red.
"Ah...!"
*
Today was the day Tartaglia accomplished quite the honor - namely eradicating the threat on the edge of the Snezhnaya border, so Tsaritsa threw a reception for all of Fatui to celebrate.
Today Tartaglia is their hero, so he will be the center of attention. Scaramouche had discreetly retreated after deciding he didn't want to associate with the obnoxious kids.
Scaramouche emerged from the boisterous party area to the balcony, where he sat enjoying the cool air that felt like it was kissing his cheek.
It seemed that everything would be okay, who would have thought that he felt someone touching his waist, wheezing in his ear with a drunken voice. Scaramouche jerked back, startled. He could see Tartaglia's red face, ocean blue eyes filled with passion looking at him passionately.
He yelled, hitting the other's hand: "What the hell are you thinking you're doing?"
The fact that Scaramouche was in love with Tartaglia was a secret he didn't want anyone to know. And as he turned around to see his beloved standing behind him, he almost jumped up and lost his balance. Fortunately, he was still awake and decided against it since if he had, he would have had to spend the next hundred years hiding down a hole.
Crazy, he thought.
What the hell is Tartaglia doing here?
He ought to be in that opulent room right now conversing with flattery professionals, putting on fake faces or fake smiles to entertain others.
Not there, here, with Scaramouche.
He pushed him away in a hurry, yelling in a low voice because he didn't want anyone to notice this sketchy spot: "Get out of here now!"
Unfortunately, his thoughts quickly stopped being clear, probably as a result of the drinking. As he looked at him hazily and moaned in his throat, Tartaglia gave him a soft kiss.
Scaramouche froze, shocked speechless.
What is occurring at the moment?
However, what surprises him most is not that Tartaglia kissed him, but rather that he was coerced and kissed but did not object. He seemed to have been waiting for Tartaglia and this day for a long time.
That's what happened before Scaramouche was raped in bed for three hours.
Scaramouche initially assumed that he was simply inebriated, but when he assisted him to his room to rest, he was suddenly thrown on the bed by him. While he still hadn't figured out what had just happened, Tartaglia once again devoured his pink lips, roughly stroking his flesh as if searching for something.
No matter how loudly he yelled or attempted to wake Tartaglia, he still made Scaramouche naked from head to toe. He started sobbing aloud once his final line of defense and sense of self-respect was taken away.
The young pussy that had never been touched by anyone, not even he, was now strongly stirred. Three calloused and rough fingers, large when stacked, lined up fit neatly into his small vagina. Tartaglia didn't prepare him too well, so just stabbing inside him instant out it, pulled his sinewy penis out of his pants, and stabbed him once straight to the uterus, ripping off Scaramouche's hymen.
The pain was so intense that it hit his brain, Scaramouche thought he was dead when him stabbed his cunt. The narrow uterus collided with the glans, greedily sucking it.
Without waiting for Scaramouche's pain to pass, Tartaglia began to move. Virgin blood leaked onto the bed along with pussy juice, groans began to be heard.
*
Back in the present, Tartaglia ejaculated once more deep inside Scaramouche's womb.
He had no idea how frequently he had orgasmed or how frequently Tartaglia had shot him within. He didn't even bother trying to keep track of the length of time that passed, lying limp there like a corpse and letting Tartaglia conduct himself as he pleased.
Scaramouche only heard him pant and gasp during the act of making love to his.
Oh, Archons.
"Son of a bitch." Scaramouche was no longer awake, hoarsely muttering swearing.
Tartaglia acts like a madman like this can only get hit with aphrodisiac, but normally, except for asking him to go to a fight or spar, he still has a brain.
When will the medication quit helping Tartaglia, he pondered.
Because he relentlessly fucked him for more than three hours. Even though he wasn't exhausted, but him was.
The aphrodisiacs Tartaglia's body had absorbed had worn off after more than three hours of exercise, leaving him exhausted. After blasting into him cunt again, his wild eyes gradually came to their senses and abruptly stopped.
Tartaglia now looks a very bohemian, unquestionably attractive appearance. Scaramouche, however, didn't pay much heed to this. Instead, when he noticed that he was gradually recovering consciousness, he used his limp leg to push him on the shoulder while groaning wearily and asking: "Awake?"
The boy presumably still hasn't processed it all, but when he saw his penis bury itself in Scaramouche's vagina - the shape is clear because his belly is sticking out; perhaps it's also because of the semen from the inside - he panicked and his face turning pale when he saw the ruins on him body.
Scaramouche was now on his back on the bed, his hair messy and breathing rapidly, his feet resting on Tartaglia's hips, him large cock stuck in his closely-cunted, and semen trickling from the crevice into the bed. His face was flushed crimson, looked so beautiful. The red kiss marks on his skin were apparent, and before that, Tartaglia had viciously grasped his small waist, so now leaving five handprints on it.
For more than three hours, he was fucked in all sorts of positions.
He looked at Tartaglia was scared and couldn't help but let out a small breath, shivering as the huge cock was still inside and sharpening the sensitive spot again. Tartaglia freaked out and wanted to pull out, but was stopped by Scaramouche.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" Tartaglia was perplexed and unsure of what to do, only sensing Scaramouche's pussy twitch, making him groan a little.
Scaramouche was so tired that he didn't want to talk and his bones seemed to crumble, but the boy on his body panicked and almost went crazy, he was forced to open his mouth to reassure: "It's okay... don't move."
Tartaglia saw that he was in pain, asking in a low voice: "Are you okay?"
Scaramouche hissed between his teeth as Tartaglia picked him up, placed him on his lap, and kissed him uterus with his cock. He buried his face in him shoulder, scolding: "What the hell did you do to get drugged?! There are tons of women out there to satisfy you, why should you come to me?!"
Never would Tartaglia say that he took his own meds.
Alright, here's the thing. Tartaglia tried to have a feat like today to make Scaramouche recognize him, but before going to show him his achievements, he had already left.
Even though he didn't want to use this infamous trick, if he didn't use it, he wouldn't be able to get Scaramouche even a fingernail for the rest of his life.
So as soon as he could, he went to find Dottore at that party. He made up the lie with Dottore that he intended to have a sexual encounter with a girl, so he requested Dottore for aphrodisiacs. Sorry for being so mean.
But anyway, it all worked out in the end.
He couldn't help but feel glad and content as he felt Scaramouche's warm, wet vagina around his cock, saying: "Probably because I only feel satisfied with that one person."
Scaramouche froze, quickly looked up at Tartaglia: "What do you mean?"
"Nothing." Tartaglia smiled, lifted him up and down, "One more time?"
"Nyah!" Scaramouche didn't have any defense so he jumps, his vagina suddenly tightened, and Tartaglia couldn't help but pounced and kissed him.
First night.
And there will be many more nights.