Page 117 of Obsessed Kings

Eight.

Try and keep your thumbs straight.

I drive my unrelenting thumbs into her tits. Her breasts poof around my calloused digits that I use to throw winning touchdowns like biscuit dough. This isn’t a pleasurable sensation. It causes her pain. Squishes her tits. Bruises them. They ripple around my thumbs as her nipples scream for release. This hurts her more than nipples clamps.

I’m pushing her tits back into her body. Turning her chest flat again. Ripping away her womanhood. Most men praise bitches’ tits. Feast on them. Suck on them. Swirl their tongues around their nipples. Not me. I destroy them.

Olivia unleashes around my cock.

Her pussy doesn’t stop squirting.

A flood opens around my iron shaft.

Her cream flows around it in powerful jets.

"Yeah," I clip out at everyone watching, my deadly gaze murdering them all. "Look at how she squirts for us. You could never have a bitch like this. Fucking losers. Olivia is our Queen. And to all you jealous bitches—fuck you. You couldn’t handle us. Only Olivia can. Fucking fake tit salad-eating whores. Go fuck a dump truck, Trace. You’d pay to have us destroy you like this. You couldn’t handle it. You’d run to your fucking dad crying. Olivia is ten times the woman you’ll ever be. A Queen. No one better talk shit about our Queen again. She’s a bitch sent from above. A whore with a halo. You’re a bunch of worthless sluts who are only good for one thing—taking cock. Olivia is smart, brilliant, witty, funny, sweet, and a whore whose virginity we stole. None of you are virgins. You have no value."

This is the first compliment I’ve paid Olivia.

She deserves it for coming.

Rook comes down her throat. His cum bubbles out of her clenched lips. It drips down her chin and trickles onto the ground.

Brock comes in her ass. She makes good on her promise. Her cheeks hold his load in. I’m impressed. No bitch has ever kept that much nut in her ass before. Ever. Most bitches squirt it out as quickly as they can. Not our Queen. She wants our come.

I put a nut in her pussy.

Hard.

Deep.

Unrelenting.

It gives me no pleasure.

I’m a statue spitting out come for the sole purpose of procreation.

Olivia is the bitch I want to carry my heir.

She’ll pop out the son or daughter that will carry on my lineage.

My legacy.

I’m too powerful of a man not to have a whore Queen who’s a mother.

"You’ll make such a good mother." I choke her as I finish emptying in her.

She gags and screams. "This isn’t how I wanted to get pregnant."

"Quit fucking giving me lip before I bite yours off."

We continue fucking Olivia’s holes. We don't stop. Everyone at Saintswood including the Deans stare in shock. They can’t believe what we’ve done. We’ve wrecked the mood of the carnival. it’s no longer festive. It’s a smut fest. The male students are all tenting out in their gray sweatpants. Some are jerking off.

One student on the rugby team turns to a girl beside him and screams as he tackles her. She flails and tries to get away. He fucks her three times before spitting on her face and pulling out. "You’re nothing like Olivia. You couldn’t handle a real man like me."

A smirk draws across my lips.

Brock, Rook, and I are setting the tone at Saintswood.

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