FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 172: Chapter 172: Ravaging A Godess

He didn’t hesitate. The time for words had passed; the air between them was filled with a tension that demanded release, that could only be found in violence or union. It was an event horizon.

Sol moved his hands to her hips, his calloused palms gripping the smooth, glowing curve of her waist. The contrast was stark and beautiful… He was a creature of the mud… scarred, rough, tanned by the savage sun, driven by a singular, pounding rhythm of blood and bone. She was starlight and divinity, a being of infinite complexity woven into a form of deceptive softness.

He looked down at the union they were about to make. His dark, vein-ridged hungry cock hovered against her pristine, golden sanctuary.

He guided himself to her entrance.

Isylia’s breath hitched, her eyes widening as she felt the pressure of him… hot, searing hot, hard, and impossibly substantial… against her most vulnerable threshold.

“Look at me,” Sol commanded, his voice strained with the effort of holding back the urge to simply ram himself home.

She locked eyes with him. Her solar irises swirled with a mixture of ancient, primal fear and a terrible, rising anticipation. She was the Weaver of Fate, but right now, she had no idea what her future held.

He pushed forward.

The broad, purple head of his cock pressed against her divine pussy. But unlike his imagination, It didn’t slide in. It hit a wall of resistance so tight it felt like pressing against solid rubber, or perhaps a barrier of some sort. She wasn’t just tight; she was sealed by a barrier of divine energy that tried to reject his mortal form.

“No!” Isylia panicked, the reality of the size difference crashing down on her. Her hands flew down to push against his hips, her palms slipping on his sweat. “It does not fit! Sol, stop! Our bodies are incompatible! You are going to tear my body!”

“It fits,” Sol grunted, sweat beading on his forehead as he pushed, his biceps trembling with the exertion. “You just need to take it.”

He didn’t jab forward mindlessly, his cock was literally in pain due to the arousal. He drove his hips forward with a slow, relentless pressure.

The head of his penis finally forced the golden lips apart. The ring of muscle stretched, taut and trembling, turning white from the pressure before surrendering.

Pop.

He finally breached the entrance.

“AH!” Isylia cried out, her head slamming back against the stone. Her fingernails dug into his hips, breaking the skin, drawing droplets of red blood that looked stark against her glowing hands.

“You… you broke the seal!” she gasped, tears springing to her eyes.

Sol ignored the sting of her nails. He was fighting his own battle. She was impossibly, excruciatingly tight. It felt like sticking his cock into a vice lined with hot velvet. Every millimeter was a war of friction, and he was determined to win this war and conquer her.

He gritted his teeth, the veins in his neck bulging as he fought the resistance. He withdrew slightly, coating himself in more of her golden nectar, using her own divine fluids as lubricant.

Then he shoved forward again.

One inch. Two inches.

“Sol! Too much! Too full!” Isylia sobbed, thrashing her head. Her inner walls clamped down on him, spasming violently, trying to expel the invader.

“Relax,” Sol hissed, removing one hand from her ankle to grab her hip, anchoring her to the throne. “Don’t fight it. Let me in.”

He drove harder. The thickest part of his shaft stretched her entrance to its absolute limit. Isylia’s eyes went wide, her mouth forming a silent circle of shock as she felt him sliding deeper into her core than she thought possible. She felt him stretching her, filling her, rearranging her insides.

He pushed past the tight ring of muscle and sank into the wet heat beyond.

It was slicker there. Hotter.

“AAAAHH!”

Isylia screamed. It was a sound of pure shock, a high, vibrating note that shattered the silence of the Void Temple. Her back arched off the throne, her solar eyes flying wide open, the flares within them spinning so fast they became blinding discs of white light.

It was truly a collision of worlds. Her body, eternally perfect and untouched, stretched to accommodate the intrusion of his mortal form. It was a sensation of such profound fullness that it felt as though he were rewriting her very physical composition.

She wasn’t just being touched; she was being filled. The void inside her, the endless, cold expanse of her divinity, was being occupied by searing, solid heat.

Sol groaned, a low, animalistic sound rumbling in his chest, waiting to spill out at once. Because the sensation was absolutely blinding. But he gritted his teeth hard and slid forward, gaining momentum now, the wet sounds of their blasphemous act filling the room.

Schlick. Slide.

He pushed until his pubic bone slammed against her golden mound.

He was in. To the hilt.

Isylia froze. She stopped thrashing. She stopped breathing. Her eyes were blown wide, staring at the ceiling. She looked paralyzed by the sheer sensation of fullness. She felt… stuffed. Stuffed with heat, with rock-hard flesh, with him.

Sol gritted his teeth, his forehead veins bulging, holding himself still for a moment, buried deep within her warmth. The sensation was indescribable. He wasn’t just inside a woman, to him, it felt like sheathing himself in the sun. The heat was searing, wrapping around him, trying to incinerate him, but the Charcoal energy in his chest surged to meet it, drinking it down greedily. She was impossibly tight, her inner walls clamping around him with a strength that threatened to crush him, yet she was also impossibly soft, yielding to his invasion with a terrifying, wet heat.

He didn’t move immediately. He collapsed forward, wrapping his arms around her trembling body in a crushing hug, pressing his chest against her heaving breasts. He held her there, pinned between his weight and the obsidian stone, letting her adjust to the reality of him.

“Breathe,” he rasped into her ear, his own breath coming in ragged gasps. “Just breathe, Isylia. Take me in.”

Isylia literally sobbed, her head falling onto his shoulder. She was shaking violently, her body in shock from the violation of her divinity.

“It burns…” she whimpered, her voice small and broken. “It feels… heavy. You are so heavy inside me.”

“I know,” Sol murmured, kissing the sweat from her neck. “I’m here.”

He waited until her trembling subsided slightly, until he felt her inner muscles relax just a fraction, accepting his presence.

Then, he began to move.

He pulled back slowly, dragging himself through the tight, glowing heat, feeling every inch of friction. Then he slid back in.

Slide. Thud.

Isylia gasped, her hips bucking instinctively. “No… stop… it is too much!”

Sol ignored her. At first, the rhythm was slow, a testing of boundaries, letting her feel the slide, letting the pleasure build beneath the pain.

Isylia whimpered, her head thrown back, her hair fanning out like a solar flare against the dark stone. Every movement sent shockwaves through her, a friction that sparked literal motes of light where their bodies connected. She felt as though he were rearranging her internal organs, touching parts of her soul that had been dormant since the birth of the stars.

But the primitive need that drove Sol could not be contained by gentleness. He withdrew, dragging the length of his erection along the fiery, velvet corridor of her insides. The sensation was maddening. Her internal structure defied mortal logic. She was impossibly tight, gripping him with a strength that should have been crushing, yet she was also impossibly soft. It felt as though he were fucking a cloud of compressed nebula… hot, wet, and melting around him with every movement.

He slammed his hips forward.

THUD.

The sound of his pelvis colliding with her buttocks echoed through the silent throne room, a wet, heavy percussion of flesh on flesh.

“AAAAHHH!” Isylia screamed, her toes curling so hard they cramped, her legs locking around his waist.

He drove deep, burying himself to the root, hitting a spot deep within her that no physical anatomy should possess. It was like striking a tuning fork. Her entire body vibrated, a golden light flaring beneath her skin with the impact. He drove into her with the relentless force of a tide, claiming her, marking her, grounding the ethereal goddess into the physical plane.

The gentleness evaporated. Sol’s control snapped under the sheer, overwhelming sensory overload of her perfection. She was made to be mated. Her body responded to him with a terrifying enthusiasm, her hips meeting his thrusts, her wetness coating him in ambrosia.

He pounded into her. The slap of skin on skin echoed through the temple like applause. He ground his pubic bone against hers, stimulating her clitoris with every thrust, attacking her on two fronts.

Isylia’s resistance crumbled. Her divine mind, unable to process the raw, biological feedback loop, shut down. She surrendered to the sensation. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his neck to muffle her cries.

Thrust. Grind. Pull. Slam.

With every stroke, he stripped away another layer of her divinity. He wasn’t just penetrating her body; he was dismantling her ego. He forced her to feel the weight of him, the heat of him, the sheer, undeniable reality of his existence inside her.

Look at you,” Sol growled, leaning down to bite the curve of her neck, tasting the salt and ozone. “The Arbiter of Value… taking a mortal cock like it’s the only thing that matters.” He panted, thrusting harder, “You’re really trying to milk me, Goddess.”

“I am not!” she sobbed, her head rolling from side to side, her eyes squeezed shut to block out the sight of his face hovering over her, twisted in ecstatic agony. “My internal musculature is… it is spasming! It is a reflex! A rejection!”

“But it feels like a welcome to me,” Sol whispered.

He pulled her legs wider, hooking them over his elbows. This opened her completely, tilting her pelvis up, allowing him to grind against her clitoris with the base of his shaft while he plummeted into her depths.

The dual stimulation broke her argument. Isylia’s head fell back, her mouth opening in a silent scream of pleasure. Her body betrayed her completely. Her hips began to buck, rising to meet his thrusts, matching his ferocity with a desperate need of her own.

Sol watched her face. He was obsessed. He watched the way her brow furrowed, the way her lips parted, the way drool pooled at the corner of her mouth. He saw the struggle in her expression… the war between the ancient, arrogant Goddess and the woman who was currently being ravaged.

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A/N: Guys, just like this Chapter we have reached a white-hot moment in the contest. Our 1st position is about to get lost, as there is only a difference of 100 collections between us now.

And Today is Final day, and they being on Weekly Feature can easily get more than 100 in just few hours. So, I shamelessly and earnestly request for a castle, as it is the only way to get collections and not lose our 1st position.

And special thanks to Kalgarth for sending 30 Golden Tickets at once.

Of course, I take note and am thankful for your every single PS, GT, and gift. Thanks to you guys, I get the motivation to grind, push through negativity, mental strain and write daily, as writing is truly time consuming activity.