Chapter 655: Chapter 655 - Old Man catches His Granddaughter Bouncing on a Cock?!

She gasped.

"What—?" she whispered.

He twisted her.

He turned her around. Her back was to his chest. His cock was still inside her. He bent her over. Her hands went to a tree trunk. She braced herself. Her ass was in the air. The rain hit her back. Her ass. Her pussy.

He pulled out.

He aimed. Not at her pussy. At her ass. The head pressed against her anal. Oiled. Wet. Slick with her piss and her juice and his pre-cum.

He pushed.

He entered her ass. In one thrust. Twelve inches. Deep. Her anal ring stretched. It burned. It tore. She screamed.

"AAAAANGH—!! RAVEN—!! PLEASE—!!"

He pissed inside her.

Not cum. Piss. Hot. Golden. It flooded her ass. It filled her bowels. The pressure was immense. The heat was shocking. She trembled. She flinched. She convulsed. Her ass was full of his piss. Her belly distended. She looked pregnant. The piss and the cum and the oil mixed inside her. She was a vessel. A toilet. A thing.

He twisted her face.

He turned her head. He kissed her. His mouth sealed her screams. His tongue pushed in. His piss pushed in. Everything was inside her. Everything was him.

His balls were wet.

Matted. Covered in his own piss. The rain hit them. The hair was soaked. They swung against her pussy as he fucked her ass. Slapping. Wet.

He pulled out.

His cock emerged. The piss followed. It poured from her gaping anal. It ran down her thighs. It splashed on the mud. She fell. He caught her. He held her. He kissed her forehead.

"So," he said. "We go to your home?"

She nodded.

She could not speak. She could only tremble. She could only leak.

Old Tomas was frustrated.

He stood in the palace corridor. The stone was cold. The torches were high. The guards were everywhere. He had been waiting for three hours. His back ached. His hands were trembling. He had come to the First Queen for help. Because Prince Goliath had taken his granddaughter. Because he had watched them leave the training ground. Because he had heard the rumors.

The door opened.

A servant emerged. A woman in gray. Her face was pale. Her eyes were wide.

"The Queen will see you," she said. Her voice was shaking.

Old Tomas entered.

The First Queen sat on her throne. She was beautiful. Ageless. Her hair was silver. Her eyes were gold. But her face was white. Her hands were gripping the armrests. Her knuckles were white.

"Old Tomas," she said. Her voice was hollow. "You came about your granddaughter."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Tomas said. He bowed. His old knees creaked. "The prince took her. He took her from the training ground. He said he needed a massage. But I know— I know what he intended. Please. Please help me. She is innocent. She is strong. She is—"

The Queen held up her hand.

Tomas stopped.

"Something has happened," the Queen said. Her voice was barely a whisper. "To Prince Goliath. He was found. In the guest wing. His shoulder was gone. Erased. Two knights were dead. Destroyed. Two noblemen were found with their legs removed. The room was painted in blood. And no one knows who did it. No one is talking. The guards are terrified. The court is silent. The Crown Prince is demanding answers. And no one has seen your granddaughter."

Old Tomas felt his heart stop.

"She—" he whispered. "She is not there? She is not—?"

"No," the Queen said. "She is gone. Vanished. Along with whoever did this. The prince is alive. Barely. He is screaming. He is raving. He says a devil came. A man with violet eyes. But no one believes him. Or they are too afraid to say they do."

"The major reason this is a big issue because, Calodios was there protecting the venue but even being 9th circle mage, he cant sense the arrived assasin..."

’!?!’

Tomas trembled, his eyes widening in shock because the man who was considered to be the prodigy, the strongest, sealed off the umpire was not able to sense someone who could harm the prince, making it clear that the royal family was more cautious about such an attack happening to themselves.

He thought of Sera. Of his granddaughter. Of the girl who had swung a stick at a fence post. Who had beaten a guildsman’s son. Who had gone to the training ground to prove herself. Who had been taken by a prince. Who was now missing. In the blood. In the chaos.

"Your Majesty," he whispered. "Will she be charged? Will she be blamed? Will the Crown say she did this? That she killed a prince? That she—"

"I do not know," the Queen said. Her golden eyes were wet. "The Crown is afraid. The city is afraid. No one knows what power did this. No one knows what enemy we face. And your granddaughter... she is at the center of it. Whether she is victim or culprit or something else... I do not know."

Old Tomas fell to his knees.

His old bones hit the stone. He did not feel it. He felt only fear. Only terror. Only the crushing weight of having sent his granddaughter into the world and having the world destroy her.

"Please," he sobbed. "Please find her. Please protect her. She is all I have. She is—"

"Go home, Tomas," the Queen said softly. "Go home and wait. I will send word. I will do what I can. But the kingdom is shaking. And I cannot promise anything."

Tomas stood.

He stumbled. He turned. He walked. Out of the throne room. Down the corridor. Past the guards who would not look at him. Past the servants who whispered. Out of the palace. Into the capital. The streets were chaos. Rumors flew. The market was quiet. The people were afraid.

He walked.

To his house. His small house. The barbershop. The place where he had raised her. Where he had massaged her arms. Where he had told her the world would try to break her.

He opened the door.

It was dark. Quiet. He stepped inside. He closed the door. He leaned against it. He was exhausted. He was broken. He did not know what to do. He did not know where she was. He did not know if she was alive or dead or something worse.

And then he heard it.

A soft sound. From the back. From the bathroom. From the room with the tub.

A moan.

He froze.

His old heart hammered. He walked. Slow. Silent. He moved through the shop. Past the chairs. Past the mirrors. Past the tools of his trade. To the back door. To the bathroom.

The door was ajar.

He looked through the window. The small, high window that looked into the bathing room. The glass was fogged. But he could see shapes. Movement. Shadows.

He pressed closer.

He looked.

And his eyes caught her.

Sera.

His granddaughter.

She was in the tub. Naked. Her body was wet. Her hair was loose. Her breasts were heavy. Her nipples were stiff. Her legs were spread.

And she was not alone.

A man was behind her. In the tub. His arms were around her. His hands were on her breasts. His cock—enormous, dark, rigid—was inside her. From behind. In the water. She was moving. Bouncing. Her hips were rising and falling. The water was splashing. Her hand was held by his. He was guiding her. Using her.

"Master," she moaned. The word was clear. It cut through the fogged glass. It cut through Old Tomas’s heart like a blade. "Please. I have— it hurts. Fuck me harder. Please. Let me enjoy it."

Old Tomas trembled.

His hand went to the glass. His old fingers pressed against the fog. He could not breathe. He could not think. He could not understand.

"What," he whispered. "What is this?"

His granddaughter. His Sera. The girl who had swung a stick. Who had beaten a boy. Who had wanted to be a knight. Who had been taken by a prince. Who was now in his bathroom. Naked. Fucking. Calling a man Master. Begging for harder. Begging to enjoy it.

The man in the tub turned his head.

His eyes found the window. Violet. Clear. Unblinking. He looked at Old Tomas. Through the fogged glass. Through the steam. He smiled.

Old Tomas fell back.

’Th-the violet eyes?!’

His heart was breaking. His mind was breaking. Everything he had ever known was breaking.

’!’

"What," he sobbed. "What is this?!"