Primordial Villain with a Slave Harem

Chapter 1098: Cleansing the Body

A butterfly, delicate and glowing, fluttered right into the shadow of the monster before him. He blinked. He hadn’t even noticed it until it hovered there. But before his nerves could process it, its shape wavered, twisted, and blossomed into a foxkin of ethereal beauty.

His blood froze. Recognition stabbed through him like ice.

’Her...’

The so-called Lady White. The beastkin wife whose tail he had tugged at the feast, laughing, jeering, treating her as an object he was free to humiliate whenever he so desired.

Now she stood here, impossibly radiant, impossibly fragile, as if she were woven from moonlight itself.

She didn’t just stand still, however. She leaned straight into the man’s side and wrapped her hands tightly around his torso, hugging him like she was afraid the world might rip her away if she let go. She trembled, tilted her head up with wide, timid eyes that glistened with pain. Her lips parted in a whisper.

"Q-Quinlan... are you... Are you going to help me feel pure again?"

The act was blatant. To Teral, it was obvious. The fluttering lashes, the neediness dripping in her voice, the way her body pressed just so against the man’s. A theater play of the ’defiled maiden’ begging for cleansing.

But to the man she clung to... This so-called Quinlan...

Well, in reality, it didn’t matter if he bought it or not, for he was already as far consumed in hatred as possible.

Quinlan’s gaze hardened, and at that silent storm, the foxkin shuddered. Her trembling hand slid down her belly, and fingers brushed over her womb through the fabric of her clothes in a shameless display of submission and a desire to be ravaged.

"Q-Quin..." she whispered while biting her lip. "Can I... can I ask something?"

"..." His grunt was deep, resonant, more growl than word. She took it as his method of telling her to go ahead.

"I feel I’ll only be pure again... if you take me... while we torture this vile creature together..."

A silence hung, thick and suffocating.

Finally, his voice came.

"He will be blindfolded. His ears will not be allowed to hear your moans."

Her eyes lit up like a child given candy. "Yay! Wild sex, my favorite!" she squealed, hopping on her toes as her timid-girl act dissolved in an instant. The mask slipped, replaced by the truth: Kitsara, the hopeless pervert, the Slutty Foxy in the flesh.

But she caught herself and forced her body to shrink, her ears flattening, eyes watering as she ducked her head again. A soft sob broke free from her lips as she pressed tighter against him, becoming the frail maiden once more.

Quinlan’s hand moved to scoop her up into a princess hold. The protective strength in the gesture clashed violently with the darkness radiating from his frame. His grip said she was his, untouchable, and that no one would dare soil her again.

"Stand and follow," he ordered Teral.

The man stumbled to obey, legs shaking violently beneath him, caught between terror and despair as he realized he was about to be dragged into a nightmare worse than anything he could have imagined.

...

Teral’s premonition came to be right on the money.

His arms were stretched wide, nailed into the beams of a wooden cross. His legs were pinned the same way, iron driven through flesh and bone to keep him upright, no matter how much he sagged under the agony. A strip of cloth was tied tightly around his head, blindfolding him. His ears were plugged with enchanted wax, blocking even the faintest sound. ℞аΝòᛒËṦ

And still, Quinlan wasn’t satisfied.

The air around Teral thickened, becoming a dome of compressed wind that closed in until it sealed him away from the rest of the room. He would not even breathe the same air as the naked woman pressed against Quinlan’s chest. His hatred burned too brightly, too hot, for him to allow even that small contamination.

Never again.

Kitsara’s fox ears twitched at the sound of the barrier humming into place. She knew exactly what it meant: this moment belonged to her and her man, and no one—especially not this worm on the cross—was allowed to ruin it. Her lips curved into a giant, trembling smile, and her body melted further into Quinlan’s hold.

Teral shuddered violently. Sightless. Deaf. Smothered. He couldn’t tell what was happening beyond his own tortured body. All he could do was thrash weakly against the nails, only to scream as the iron grated through his bones.

Then the storm began.

Quinlan’s elemental magic lashed him without pause. Gusts of invisible wind tore into his body like blades, opening shallow cuts that stung with every breath he struggled to draw. Fire danced over his wounds in cruel bursts, never enough to kill, always enough to cauterize and deepen the pain. Water was called upon to enter his mouth, stuffing his lungs so he couldn’t scream any longer.

Every element was a brand that Quinlan wielded with merciless precision.

Beneath him, Kitsara lay sprawled across the bed, stripped of clothes and shame alike. The moment her back hit the sheets, her legs parted of their own accord, her arms reaching to draw Quinlan down into her embrace. There was no coyness left, no mask of a timid maiden, only a fox who lived to be claimed by her chosen man.

"Ahn!"

Her nails dug into his back as she clung to him with desperate strength, her voice breaking in unrestrained cries of bliss. Every thrust was wild, every kiss bruising, every moment an affirmation that she belonged only to him. Quinlan’s hatred poured through his body like a furnace, and she welcomed every ounce of it, rejoicing in the feral passion that only this kind of rage could forge.

And as he took her, the torture never ceased.

Teral screamed—or tried to—until his throat tore.

Kitsara moaned until her voice went hoarse.

One sound muted, one sound free.

A symphony of love and hatred, conducted by the Devil himself.

Quinlan’s pace grew harsher, deeper by every passing moment, driven less by lust and more by the unbridled storm of hatred and a possessiveness so crippling he couldn’t contain it within himself. His large member hammered into Kitsara without pause, without mercy, until she was trembling beneath him, her every breath shattering into ragged whimpers and blissful moans.

Her nails raked red trails across his back to anchor herself, but even that grip faltered the longer he went on. Her body arched, her voice broke into cries that spilled raw from her throat. Each thrust threatened to unravel her mind, her sanity dangling by a thread as she was consumed by the violent rhythm of his possession.

She tried to hold herself together, tried to keep pace with the beast of a man she’d given herself to. But his passion was overwhelming, too fierce, too absolute. Her vision blurred, her thoughts scattered, until there was only Quinlan’s heat inside her and the maddening cadence of his body crashing into hers on repeat.

Then, like a dam bursting, he claimed her fully. His final thrusts were punishing, relentless, each one shaking her apart until at last he erupted deep inside her. "HHHNNNGGGHHHH!!!" Kitsara’s scream tore from her throat, high and shrill, as her own body convulsed violently around him. Her orgasm crashed over her in waves that stole the last of her strength.

Kitsara’s world narrowed to white heat and shuddering ecstasy. For one brief, perfect moment, there was no torture, no screams, no hatred. Only the Devil and his submissive little fox, bound together in a climax fierce enough to scorch even the soul.

The foxwoman lost all strength in her limbs as she collapsed back into the sheets, utterly spent. She was ruined, undone, but she clung to him all the same.

She belonged to him. Entirely.

That was when Quinlan suddenly snapped out of it.

His body gave way, collapsing next to the trembling woman beneath him. He drew her up onto his chest and, without hesitation, showered her in soft, tender kisses.

The foxkin could only mumble senselessly, overwhelmed by the jarring shift of his tender affection clashing so violently with the ruthless conqueror who had just taken her without mercy.

But Kitsara wasn’t some hopeless girl who only came alive when she was pinned and ravaged. No, she was still a woman who loved Quinlan dearly. And in that love, she welcomed his tenderness.

She reciprocated his kisses in full.

The room stilled. For a heartbeat, it was only the Devil and his fox, tangled together in warmth that neither wanted to let go of.

Then...

*Brrzzzzttt.*

The sharp buzz of Quinlan’s artifact broke the silence. His brow furrowed. He reached for it. He didn’t recognize the caller.

He hesitated for only a second, then picked up.

A female voice came through. One word.

"Portal."

Quinlan froze. That voice... he knew it. He had only met her once, but the memory was etched into him, never to be forgotten.

Black Fang.

...

Author: with this, the month of August is over. i uploaded 13 Chapters in the last 2 days instead of the usual 4 due to trying to hit 25,000 winwin unlocks (see Feautures tab -> Win-Win -> Classic.)

So don’t get used to it... I grinded my soul away these last two days.

Thanks for all the support!