Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

Chapter 878: Breaking Chen Ying

The kiss was a declaration of war. It was not the tender exploration of a lover, but the brutal, claiming assault of a conqueror. Wang Jian's mouth crushed Chen Ying's rosy, plump lips, silencing her panicked protests with a force that was absolute. He was a Foundation Establishment expert, his Qi a vast, crushing sea compared to her recently re-cultivated Tenth Stage Qi Condensation pool. The power difference was a chasm, and he made her feel every inch of its terrifying depth.

She struggled, her hands pushing futilely against the granite wall of his chest. A whimper of outrage and pain escaped her as his tongue, like a conquering serpent, forced its way past her teeth, plundering the sweet, terrified recesses of her mouth. It was a violation so profound, so intimate, that it sent a shudder of pure, helpless fury through her entire being.

"Mmmph… get off!" she managed to snarl, her voice muffled against his lips when he momentarily eased the pressure, his mouth trailing a line of hot, wet kisses down the impossibly long, graceful column of her throat. Her magnificent, large breasts, fuller and more voluptuously perfect than even Yue Lingshan's, heaved with her ragged breaths, the taut, rosy nipples pressing like hard, defiant pebbles against the fine silk of her inner sect robe.

"Get off?" Wang Jian chuckled, the sound a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated against her skin, sending a traitorous shiver down her spine. His hand, which had been wrapped around her waist like a steel band, slid upwards, his fingers tangling in the silken cascade of her dark hair. He pulled her head back sharply, forcing her to expose the delicate, vulnerable arch of her throat to him. "But we've only just begun, Senior Sister. Your threats are… adorable. But utterly useless."

"My grandfather will hunt you to the ends of this realm!" she spat, her beautiful eyes blazing with a mixture of terror and undiluted hatred. "He is a Core Formation Elder! He will feel your presence! He will know!"

"Will he?" Wang Jian purred, his other hand coming up to gently, almost mockingly, trace the line of her jaw. "This little array I've set up is one I… acquired from Lan Fengzi's legacy. It creates a pocket of distorted space. To your grandfather, this cave dwelling will appear perfectly normal, perfectly empty. No sound, no spiritual fluctuation will escape. We are quite alone, you and I. No one is coming to save you."

The cold, simple logic of his words was more terrifying than any threat. The hope of rescue, her last bastion of defiance, crumbled into dust. She was trapped. Completely and utterly at his mercy.

"Now, where were we?" he murmured, his gaze dropping from her furious eyes to her heaving chest. "Ah, yes. I believe you called me a beast." His smile widened, a flash of white teeth that was handsome and utterly demonic. "Then perhaps I should stop restraining myself and act like one."

RRRRIIIPPP!

The sound was shockingly loud in the silent cavern, a sharp, definitive tear that echoed off the stone walls. It was the sound of her pride being ripped to shreds. Wang Jian's hands seized the front of her elegant, pale blue inner sect robe, and with a single, savage, two-handed pull, he tore it asunder. The fine, spirit-silk fabric, a symbol of her status, her purity, her identity as the untouchable Ice Phoenix of the inner sect, parted with a shriek of protest, falling away in tattered ribbons.

Chen Ying screamed. It was not a moan of pleasure, but a raw, piercing cry of pure shock, outrage, and profound humiliation. The cool cavern air, a moment ago just a minor chill, now felt like a thousand icy needles against her suddenly bare skin. She stood before him, completely exposed in all her breathtaking, voluptuous glory.

Her skin was like the finest, flawless white jade, so pale and delicate it seemed to glow with an inner luminescence in the dim light of the cave dwelling's spirit lamps. Her breasts were a masterpiece of creation, impossibly large and perfectly round, heavy with a lush fullness that seemed to defy gravity, their pale, creamy slopes crowned with large, taut areolas and erect, defiant nipples the color of crushed rose petals. Her waist was impossibly thin, a delicate, graceful indentation that only served to accentuate the dramatic, heart-stopping flare of her curvy hips and her incredibly plump, rounded buttocks. Her stomach was a flat, smooth expanse of perfect skin, leading down to a neat, alluring triangle of dark, silken hair that barely concealed the secrets of her pink, virginal pussy. She was a goddess carved from ice and fire, a vision of carnal perfection now laid bare for his devouring gaze.

"Magnificent," Wang Jian breathed, his voice a low, reverent whisper. His eyes roamed over every inch of her, not with the rushed lust of a common thug, but with the slow, deliberate appraisal of a connoisseur savoring a priceless work of art he was about to possess. "Even more stunning than I imagined. Your grandfather has raised a true treasure."

The clinical, appreciative nature of his gaze was somehow more violating than a simple leer. It stripped her of her personhood, reducing her to a beautiful object, a prize to be claimed.

"You will burn in the deepest hell for this, Wang Jian!" she snarled, her voice trembling with a rage that was her only remaining shield. She tried to cover her nakedness with her hands, a futile gesture that only seemed to highlight her vulnerability.

"Perhaps," he agreed easily, stepping closer, his heat washing over her chilled skin. "But not tonight."

He reached out, his hands bypassing her feeble attempts at modesty, and seized her large, bare breasts. They filled his palms perfectly. He kneaded their soft, heavy weight, his thumbs finding her erect, sensitive nipples, rolling them, pinching them with an expert's touch that was both painful and exquisitely stimulating.

"Nnngh! Stop… please… don't…" she begged, her voice now weak, her body betraying her with a violent shudder of pure, unwanted pleasure. Waves of shocking, humiliating sensation shot through her, from her tormented breasts straight to the core of her being, which was already beginning to throb with a desperate, traitorous ache.

Wang Jian ignored her pleas, his mouth descending to claim its prize. He latched onto one nipple, his tongue lashing it, his teeth gently grazing the sensitive peak. Chen Ying cried out, her back arching against her will, her head falling back as if her neck could no longer support its weight. He switched to the other breast, giving it the same savage, worshipful attention, his hand that was not busy with her breasts now sliding down her flat stomach, his fingers teasing the edge of her silken mound.

As she writhed, her body a tempest of conflicting sensations, her curvy hips shook sexily, an unconscious invitation that inflamed his lust even further. Seeing her desperate struggle, her pride fighting a losing battle against her body's base instincts, he decided to punctuate his ownership.

SMACK!

The sharp, stinging slap landed squarely on the lush, rounded swell of her right buttock. The pale, perfect flesh reddened instantly, jiggling delightfully from the impact.

"Ah!" she yelped, a jolt of shocking pleasure overriding the brief sting, her mind reeling.

SMACK!

The other buttock received the same firm, proprietary treatment. It was not a punishment born of anger, but a clear, primal declaration of ownership. This magnificent body was his to touch, his to mark, his to use.

He lifted his head from her breast, his eyes burning into hers, his lips wet and swollen from his feasting. "Now you understand, Chen Ying," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "You are mine."

He pressed his hips forward, and she could feel the rigid, demanding length of his hot, large, thick cock grinding against her lower belly through the fabric of his trousers. The raw heat and size of it sent a fresh wave of terror and excitement through her. She moaned, a desperate, wanton sound, her hips writhing against him, seeking the friction, the terrible promise of what was to come.

With swift, impatient movements, he pushed aside the tatters of her robe and the simple undergarments she wore. He freed himself from his own trousers, his erection springing forth, impressive and defiant in the dim light of the cave. It was brutally large, thick as a strong man's wrist, its purple head glistening with pre-come.

He positioned that monstrous, hot head at her tight, virginal entrance. Chen Ying's eyes widened in sheer, animalistic terror as she saw the sheer size of him, the impossible thickness. This wouldn't just be a violation; it would be a destruction.

"No, please, Wang Jian! Not there! It won't fit! I… I'm still…"

"A virgin?" he finished for her, a cruel, hedonistic smile spreading across his face, a smile of a predator about to claim a rare and untouched prize. "Excellent. I do so enjoy being the first. It leaves a much more… lasting impression."

He didn't wait for her to plead further. There would be no gentle coaxing, no teasing preamble. This was a conquest, a breaking.

With a single, powerful, merciless thrust, he drove his extremely massive erect dick into her tight virgin pink pussy.

Chen Ying screamed.

It was not a moan, not a cry of pleasure. It was a raw, piercing sound of sharp, tearing pain and overwhelming violation, a sound that she felt sure would shatter the very stone around them. It felt as if she were being split in two, a searing, white-hot agony that ripped through her, making her see stars. Tears streamed from her eyes, her nails digging into his shoulders, drawing blood he didn't even seem to notice.

But the pain was swiftly followed by an utterly alien sensation—a feeling of being completely, overwhelmingly filled, possessed, stretched to her absolute limit. His size was immense, a brutal reality that her body was forced to accept.

He held her pinned against the wall, his powerful form caging her completely. He didn't move for a long moment, letting her feel his full, invasive length deep inside her, letting her body begin the agonizing process of adjusting to his massive invasion. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, his breath hot against her tear-stained cheek.

"You feel that, Chen Ying?" he grunted, his voice a low, dominant rumble. "That is the feeling of being truly owned. This tight, untouched little passage… it's mine now. Every inch of it."

"I hate you… you demon… I'll kill you…" she sobbed, her words a broken mantra of defiance, though her hips, of their own accord, betrayed her with a slight, involuntary clenching around his cock, a traitorous sign of her body's unwilling fascination with the incredible fullness.

He chuckled, a dark, pleased sound. "Hate me all you want, my proud phoenix. Your body is already learning to sing a different song."

He began to move. His thrusts were slow at first, deep and deliberate, each one a punishing, stretching stroke that ground against her virgin tissues. With each movement, he sent jolts of mixed pain and a terrifying, nascent pleasure through her. He watched her face, watched the war playing out in her beautiful eyes—the hatred, the pain, the shame, and the dawning, unwilling flicker of arousal.

"That's it," he murmured, increasing his pace slightly. "Fight it. I want to feel your pride break with every thrust."

The sounds in the cavern changed. The initial tearing was replaced by a wet, rhythmic slapping of flesh on flesh, a primal cadence that echoed off the stone walls. Her sobs slowly, agonizingly, began to transform into breathless moans, each one a small surrender, a tiny victory for him.

He fucked her against the wall until her legs, trembling and weak, could no longer support her. She was clinging to him, her arms wrapped around his neck not in an embrace, but in a desperate bid to stay upright. He lifted her then, her legs wrapping around his waist by instinct, and carried her to the large, plush meditation mat in the center of the room. He laid her down without ever breaking their connection, his massive cock still buried deep inside her.

He loomed over her, pinning her wrists to the mat beside her head, and began to pound into her in a dominant, missionary position. His gaze was a fire, locked on her face, watching every flicker of emotion, every subtle shift in her expression as her body betrayed her mind. He watched her tear-streaked face contort, her lips parting in gasps that were no longer just from pain.

"Look at you," he taunted softly, his hips a relentless, powerful piston. "The great Senior Sister Chen. The proud phoenix of the Mystic Peak Sect. So untouchable. So pure." He thrust deeper, harder. "Screaming my name. Begging for my cock. How the mighty have fallen."

"Please… Jian… more… ah, faster!" she begged, her mind finally lost to the storm, her words slurring, her body now completely consumed by the sensations, chasing the promise of a release she had never known. Her pride was a distant, shattered memory. All that existed was the raw, overwhelming pleasure he was delivering with every savage stroke.

He granted her wish. He drove into her with renewed vigor, a brutal, driving rhythm that made her large, perfect breasts jiggle and bounce hypnotically. Her climax, when it finally came, was a violent, shattering explosion that ripped a scream from her throat, her entire body convulsing wildly around his massive length, her inner walls clenching and milking him, drawing him deeper into her core.

He met her climax with his own, a deep, guttural roar escaping his lips as he drove into her one last time, emptying his seed deep within her womb, a hot, copious flood that made her cry out again at the raw intensity of it.

He collapsed on top of her, their bodies slick with sweat, his weight a comforting, possessive blanket. For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing. Chen Ying lay beneath him, limp, boneless, her mind a blank slate of pure, physical release. She felt… broken. And in that brokenness, a strange, terrifying peace.

But the night was a vast, dark ocean, and Wang Jian had no intention of letting her rest for long. He had only just begun his conquest.

He withdrew slowly, leaving her feeling exquisitely empty and already aching for more. He knelt between her legs, his gaze tracing every line of her magnificent form, from her swollen, kiss-bruised lips to the trail of his seed leaking from her abused, pink pussy.

"The night has just begun, my proud phoenix," he murmured, his voice a seductive promise that sent a fresh shiver of anticipation and dread through her.

He lowered his head, and the torture began anew. This time, it was a torment of pure, unadulterated pleasure. His tongue found her clit, a perfect, swollen pearl amidst her wet folds. He began to lick, to suck, to tease, his mouth working its magic with a skill that was both divine and demonic. He was an artist, and her body was his canvas.

Chen Ying writhed on the furs, her moans turning into whimpers of desperate pleasure, her hands fisted in the soft pelts. She had never known such pleasure, such dedicated, selfish worship. He tasted her as if she were the most exquisite delicacy in all the realms, his tongue tracing intricate patterns, his lips applying just the right amount of soul-shattering pressure. Her second climax was a drawn-out, agonizingly sweet affair that left her limp and breathless, tears of pure, shameful ecstasy tracking down her temples. She hated him for making her feel this way, hated her own body for responding with such abandoned enthusiasm.

He moved up her body, kissing a path over her belly, her ribs, finally returning to her breasts, suckling them again, his passion seemingly endless, relentless.

Then, a flicker of her old defiance returned. She reached for him, a desperate need to reclaim some semblance of control, of agency, surging through her. "Jian…" she breathed, her voice thick with renewed longing. "Let me… please…"

He chuckled, a low, knowing sound. He allowed it, settling back, giving her the illusion of control. She moved over him, straddling his hips, her beautiful, full breasts swaying mesmerizingly above him. She took his still-hard length into her hands, her touch reverent despite herself, her eyes filled with a confusing, intoxicating mix of hatred, lust, and a dawning, terrifying fascination.

She leaned down, her dark hair cascading around them like a silken curtain, and took him into her mouth. She was less experienced, more hesitant than him, driven by a desperate, confusing need to please the very man who had just shattered her world. Her tongue, her lips, her throat worked to please him, to bring him the same mind-shattering pleasure he so effortlessly gave her.

Wang Jian groaned, his hands gripping her hips, the sensation exquisite. Her earnest, slightly clumsy attempts were incredibly endearing, incredibly arousing. He let her pleasure him for a long, long time, pushing her head down, forcing her to take him deeper, enjoying her choked gagging sounds as a sign of her submission. Then, unable to wait any longer, he gently pulled her up. "Enough, my sweet phoenix. I need to be inside you again."

She rose to her knees, positioning herself above him, her wet, swollen entrance hovering over the glistening tip of his cock. With a soft sigh of resignation, a sigh that was half-despair and half-surrender, she lowered herself onto him, impaling herself slowly, groaning as he filled her once more.

This time, the rhythm was hers. She began to ride him, her movements initially slow, sensual, her hips grinding, her eyes locked with his. She was a goddess of pleasure, her body moving with an innate, voluptuous grace, her moans a beautiful, melodic song of defeat. She hated this, hated the feeling of taking him inside her, of controlling the pace, of seeing the raw, dominant pleasure on his handsome face. But she also, to her eternal shame, loved it.

Wang Jian let her lead, a cruel smile playing on his lips. His hands roamed her body, caressing her hips, squeezing her jiggling buttocks, his thumbs finding her clit and rubbing it, sending her into fresh paroxysms of delight even as she rode him.

As her pace quickened, becoming more frantic, more desperate for release, he flipped her over with a sudden, powerful movement. She gasped as she found herself on her hands and knees, her magnificent, curvy buttocks presented to him in a perfect, inviting, and utterly humiliating arch.

He entered her from behind, his hands gripping her hips firmly, his thrusts deep, powerful, almost brutal. This was a primal, animalistic joining, each stroke driving her forward, her face pressed into the soft furs, her cries muffled but no less ecstatic. He could see the delightful jiggle of her large breasts, the enticing curve of her spine, and the glorious globes of her ass, which he smacked playfully, repeatedly, eliciting breathless yelps from her.

The night blurred into a kaleidoscope of hedonistic conquest. They lost count of the rounds. They moved from the furs to the edge of a cool, underground stream that trickled through the back of the cave, their bodies glistening in the dim light as he took her in the shallow water, her legs hooked over his shoulders, their bodies locked together in the deepest possible embrace, her cries of pleasure echoing off the stone walls.

He had her seated on his lap as he leaned against a cavern wall, their bodies moving in a slow, grinding rhythm that built to an explosive crescendo.

The cave became their world, a torture chamber and a temple of pleasure, sealed off from the rest of the sect. Wang Jian's stamina, enhanced by his Foundation Establishment cultivation and the revitalizing power of the Verdant Eternal Spring Essence, was seemingly inexhaustible. He pushed Chen Ying to her absolute limits, and then beyond, showing her pleasures she had never conceived of, claiming every inch of her body and soul, breaking her will with overwhelming pleasure.

She met his insatiable hunger with a body that could no longer resist. The proud phoenix was completely gone, replaced by a wanton, passionate woman who screamed his name, who begged for more, who clawed at his back in the throes of her orgasms, leaving angry red marks that healed almost as quickly as they were made.

Sometime near the deepest point of the long, dark night, as they lay tangled together, their bodies slick with sweat and spent passion, she whispered, her voice raw and broken, "Why… why are you doing this to me?"

He stilled, looking down at her, her beautiful face flushed, her eyes dazed and empty. He didn't reply with words. He simply lowered his head and kissed her, a kiss that was deep, possessive, and utterly consuming. His actions, his complete possession of her, were his only answer.

And then, he entered her again.

As the first faint light of dawn threatened to break, they finally collapsed into a deep, sated sleep, their limbs entwined. Chen Ying was nestled against his chest, not with the contentment of a lover, but with the exhausted resignation of the vanquished. Her body ached in a way that was both painful and strangely, horribly, wonderful. She felt utterly broken, completely defiled, and irrevocably his.

Wang Jian held her, his breathing finally evening out. His physical desires were sated, his mind clear and sharp. This conquest was complete. He had broken the proudest phoenix of the sect, not just physically, but mentally. Her fear would ensure her silence, but the pleasure he had branded onto her very soul would ensure her eventual, willing submission.

He looked at her sleeping face, so exquisite in its defeat. This icy phoenix was now his, trapped forever in the cage he had built for her. He closed his eyes, a faint, contented smirk on his face. The foundations of his conquest in this new world were now truly, solidly, laid.