The Night of the Monsters - Chapter 8 (M)

Hugo’s grip tightened as his words turned sharper.

“…is that you’ve got two cocks ready to fill that dripping pussy of yours.”

“Ahn!” Giselle gasped as her back arched involuntarily. As if responding to his words, her body betrayed her, trembling in arousal.

Before Giselle could muster another word, Hugo tore away her clothes with a single decisive motion. He didn’t simply undress her; he ripped the fabric apart with no intention of preserving it.

Her already pale, delicate skin gleamed faintly under the moonlight, accentuated by the water that clung to her. In the dim glow, she looked ethereal, almost fragile, as though she might disappear if left untethered.

Without hesitation, Hugo wrapped an arm around Giselle’s waist and pulled her close, lowering his mouth to capture one of her breasts.

“Hhngh!”

Hugo’s tongue pressed against her hardened nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from Giselle. Her overheated, hypersensitive body was on edge, trembling as if even the slightest stimulation could push her over the brink. Hugo suckled at her breast with fervor, despite the obvious absence of milk, as though trying to claim every inch of her.

Meanwhile, his hands deftly undid his trousers, freeing his erect length. With deliberate ease, he slid it between Giselle’s soft, pale thighs, moving it back and forth, the friction drawing low groans from his lips.

Each time Giselle’s clitoris, swollen and sensitive, was pressed and teased, her lips parted involuntarily, a tremor running through her. Her entrance, already slick and swollen, pulsed as fresh arousal spilled forth. Unconsciously, her hips began to move, seeking more stimulation.

“Aah, ngh… Hugo… ahh, ahng!”

Her clouded rose-colored eyes fluttered closed, lost in the overwhelming sensations. Hugo, his lips wrapped around her nipple while his gaze flicked upward to watch her reactions, frowned in annoyance.

“If you’re only like this with him, I’ll get jealous, Giselle.” Ian’s voice cut in, tinged with playful reproach.

Ian, smiling sweetly with narrowed eyes, licked along Giselle’s neck while his fingers toyed with the sensitive area near her perineum. When he slipped his fingers into her slick, overflowing entrance and began to move them, Giselle let out a desperate, trembling moan, her body quivering uncontrollably.

One finger became two, and then three, stretching her further as her hips jerked reflexively.

“You’re taking my fingers so greedily,” Ian teased with a soft laugh. “Well, I suppose this hole is already used to handling two cocks at once, isn’t it?”

The overwhelming pleasure left Giselle’s ears ringing, unable to catch Ian’s murmured words.

Had she known that the beastly acts she believed were mere dreams had actually occurred, she might have questioned things, even if only briefly.

But in this moment, all Giselle could do was pant and sob under the ministrations of her disciples, her body betraying her completely.

As Ian’s fingers thrust rapidly inside her, her inner walls convulsed, clenching and quivering as if pleading for something more to fill her. Each tremor seemed like her body’s desperate demand for fulfillment.

Under normal circumstances, Ian might have teased her further, rubbing his arousal against her slick entrance just to watch her squirm in desperation. But the sharp, predatory glint in Hugo’s eyes over her pale shoulder made such mischief unwise.

Ian understood—after all, even he had been startled by how deeply their mutual obsession had flared tonight. Still, he prided himself on being more rational and composed than Hugo. With that thought, Ian decided to relent, stepping back to let his older brother take the lead this time.

As Ian withdrew his fingers from her dripping entrance, Hugo wasted no time. Positioning himself between her trembling thighs, he thrust his length into her in one swift, decisive motion.

“Hhhuuhk!”

Giselle cried out, her body arching as the sudden intrusion sent waves of overwhelming sensation coursing through her. Her inner walls clenched instinctively, gripping him tightly as if to keep him there.

Hugo’s thick length forced its way into her trembling, convulsing walls, stretching her to the limit as it sank in to the base. The swollen head of his shaft pressed firmly against her most sensitive spot, sending jolts of sensation through her body.

As usual, Giselle’s body was unbearably sensitive and hot, but there was something distinctly different this time—Hugo’s demeanor.

Normally, he would manipulate her guilt, coaxing her to move on her own as if seeking absolution through her actions. But now, his thrusts were intense and relentless, as though he were driven by some unspoken urgency, his hips snapping with an almost desperate fervor.

Giselle reached her peak several times, unable even to voice her cries as her body trembled uncontrollably. Her inner walls quivered and clenched tightly around him, as if trying to draw him deeper. The warmth spreading along the back of her neck signaled her heightened sensitivity, and Hugo felt the urge to release surging within him, but he grit his teeth, holding himself back.

“Feel more, Master. Even more, and more,” he growled.

He moved with fierce determination, intent on overwhelming her completely, to turn her into a slave to pleasure so that she could never entertain such rebellious thoughts again.

Hugo’s words were nothing short of cruel to Giselle. Her mind was already reduced to a hazy, melted state from the consecutive waves of climax, and now he demanded she feel even more. Yet her foggy, broken sense of reason could barely process his command, let alone resist it.

Hugo shifted her body, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist. Ian moved in from behind, firmly supporting her, ensuring that Hugo could thrust without any hindrance.

With their bodies locked together so intimately, Hugo’s length pressed relentlessly against her deepest spot, as though it might pierce through her very core. The sensation inside her belly wasn’t pain—it was an achingly sharp, electrifying pleasure that made her entire body quiver.

Ian, who had been silently observing, leaned forward and buried his face against Giselle’s nape, inhaling deeply.

“Haa… ah… mm…”

The soft sounds that escaped her throat were indistinguishable—was she crying, or simply drowning in pleasure? The fragile, trembling noise resonated in his ears, stirring something dark and unyielding within him.

He had intended to remind Hugo to take it easy, considering they planned to leave by dawn. But instead, he muttered bitterly,

“You and I… we’re the same kind of bastards.”

Hugo’s narrowed eyes, filled with quiet intensity, seemed to respond as if to say, So, you’re just realizing that now?

For once, Ian didn’t hide the low chuckle that slipped from his lips. Without hesitation, he brought his still-slick fingers to the point where they were joined, his touch adding a new layer of stimulation. As Giselle flinched in response, he matched the rhythm of her movements, drawing slow, deliberate circles before beginning to press inward again.

As before, Ian’s fingers teased and stimulated near her perineum, drawing shivers from Giselle. But this time, his touch wandered, circling the tightly clenched entrance behind it.

“Ah! N-no, not there…!”

Her hazy, unfocused eyes suddenly sharpened with clarity, her reaction immediate and visceral. Hugo, watching her face from up close, quickly realized what Ian was doing out of his line of sight.

Narrowing his eyes with a predatory smirk, Ian leaned closer to Giselle, his expression sly and calculating. Slowly but steadily, his finger pressed inward, breaching the delicate folds and slipping deeper past the tight ring of muscle.

Until now, Ian had only ever teased around the area, never directly breaching it. This was the first time he ventured inside.

“Ah… ah… Ian, Ian, please, stop… That’s… that’s a dirty place,” Giselle pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation.

“What are you saying, Giselle?” Ian murmured softly, his tone almost tender. “There’s nothing dirty about any part of your body. It’s all beautiful. Don’t worry—if we take our time, it’ll feel good here too.”

The first joint of his finger slid in, met with tight, searing heat. Ian moved slowly, his motions deliberate, coaxing the tense, constricting muscles to relax as he began to gently stretch the sensitive passage.

The sensation was utterly foreign to Giselle. She wanted nothing more than to escape, but Hugo’s strong arms wrapped around her back held her firmly in place. Tears clung to her white lashes before sliding down her flushed cheeks.

Hugo, who had been intently watching the expressions of pleasure and shame flicker across her face, leaned in and kissed the corner of her eye.

Had she cursed them, screamed, or fought back desperately, it might have been easier to bear. But even now, their master could only sniffle and part her lips soundlessly, her resistance so pitiful it barely existed.

Hugo could feel her slick walls beginning to dry up slightly. The effects of the drug would wane without sustained stimulation—it was inevitable.

“Master,” he called softly.

The trembling gaze of her tear-filled eyes met his, uncertain and vulnerable. In that moment, she was impossibly beautiful, more radiant than a dew-kissed rose in full bloom.

“Master,” Hugo repeated, his voice gentle, his lips curving into a deceptively calm smile.

The warmth of his tone and the tenderness of his expression should have reassured her, but they didn’t. If anything, they only made her feel more uneasy.

As his smile deepened, Ian, without warning, pushed a second finger into her tight ring of muscle. Giselle gasped sharply, biting her lower lip as her body jolted violently. She clung tightly to Hugo’s neck, her entire frame tensing involuntarily.

Hugo furrowed his brow at the sudden pressure.

“You’re squeezing too hard, Master,” he said with a teasing lilt, though his voice carried a hint of strain. “Are you trying to chew my cock up?”

“Ugh…!” Giselle whimpered, her breath catching as her body quivered uncontrollably.

With their bodies still deeply connected, Hugo began to move his hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding against her. As Giselle’s body tensed again, Ian leaned in from behind, whispering softly into her ear.

“You’re squeezing so tightly, Giselle. I might lose my fingers.”

“I-Ian, not there… please, stop… ah…!”

The repeated pleas fell apart mid-sentence as Giselle’s eyes widened in shock. Ian had spread his fingers apart inside her, slowly beginning to pump them in and out.

Thanks to the drug’s effects, there was no pain, but the sensation of her sensitive, puckered ring being stretched and filled was entirely foreign. It was overwhelming in its strangeness, making it impossible for her to stay still or composed.

The truth she could barely admit to herself was even more mortifying: that unfamiliar sensation bordered dangerously close to pleasure.

But the brothers had spent far too long exploring and learning every inch of Giselle’s body. They could instinctively recognize even the smallest changes in her reactions.

And now, they knew. Right now, just like this, she was teetering on the edge of surrender to the new and forbidden sensations coursing through her.

“Master, did you know? Your pussy’s gotten so tight right now,” Hugo murmured in a languid, teasing tone, his lips brushing against her trembling ear before gently nipping at it.

The moment Ian added yet another finger to the ones already exploring her tightly clenching back entrance, Giselle shuddered violently, her body tipping over the edge once again into a quivering climax.

Ian’s gaze fixated on the way her arched back swayed so enticingly, her body bending in submission to the overwhelming sensations. Slowly, he licked his lips, his expression one of barely restrained hunger.

The relentless motion of Hugo’s shaft moving in and out of her left her feeling as though scalding water was being poured into her belly. Her entire body throbbed, achingly overstimulated, yet her traitorous flesh yearned for even more intense pleasure.

A low, husky voice slipped into her ear, sending a fresh wave of shivers down her spine.

“Say it, Giselle. Tell me you want this filled up too.”

Ian, standing behind the limp and trembling Giselle, continued to relentlessly tease her newly stretched entrance. The sensation of his hardened shaft brushing against the slick, prepared opening sent shivers down his spine—a twisted mix of pleasure and something almost too intense to bear. It was both maddeningly good and disturbingly addictive.

“Faster,” Ian urged, his voice clipped.

“Ah… ahng… hngh… ahhh, aaahng!”

As Giselle cried out, Ian let out an exasperated sigh, his patience fraying. His gaze shifted sharply to Hugo, irritation flashing in his eyes, as if blaming his brother for the delay.

Ian had thought she was on the verge of surrender, just a little more coaxing away, but Hugo’s relentless, vigorous thrusting made it nearly impossible for him to ease into her. Despite Ian’s sharp glare, Hugo remained unfazed, his golden eyes gleaming with greed and arousal, as if mocking Ian’s frustration.

Clicking his tongue, Ian scoffed and tightened his grip around Giselle’s waist, pulling her closer.

Her tear-filled eyes widened suddenly, and her lips parted, but what escaped wasn’t a plea—it was a raw, animalistic cry. The shaft that had been teasing her so persistently finally pushed past the softened, stretched folds, sinking deeply into her.

“Ah… ahh…” Giselle whimpered, her voice trembling as her body instinctively clenched around him, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar intrusion.

Hugo smirked crookedly. So much for his earlier talk about restraint—it had all been empty words, and now Ian had given in just the same.

The raw, unfamiliar sensation left Giselle paralyzed, her breath caught in her throat as her entire body tensed. Ian, fully seated inside her to the base, was slick with sweat. With a deceptively gentle smile, he leaned in and licked the curve of her ear before whispering tenderly.

“It’s all in, Giselle. All the way to the very end.”

Giselle couldn’t comprehend what had just happened to her, or what was happening now. Her senses were sharply attuned to every detail—the fullness, the pressure—but her mind refused to process it.

“Are those tears because it feels good, Master?” Ian murmured.

Was it good? She didn’t know. If the question referred to the pleasure coursing through her body, then yes, it was undeniably good. It reminded her of the first time she tasted something sweet, that overwhelming sensation of being consumed by something so alluring that she instinctively knew she could never let it go. It was like that, but far more intense.

If she hadn’t known anything, it might have been easier. But Giselle understood now, and that was what made it unbearable.

Her tongue faltered and moved hesitantly as she tried to find the words to respond.

“G-good… ah…”

The drug-fogged haze in Giselle’s mind had consumed everything—the lingering guilt, the fragile scraps of reason she’d been clinging to—all of it vanished. Her body, once limp like a pierced skewer, now tightened around them with startling intensity.

Her arms, which had merely rested on Hugo’s shoulders, suddenly gripped him with determination as she began moving her hips without hesitation, seeking more.

The sound of ragged breathing filled the air from all sides. Hugo’s thrusts were rough and aggressive, while Ian moved with a slower, teasing rhythm. Locked together so intimately, their movements blended seamlessly, creating a maddening contrast of sensation.

The quiet night was broken by the obscene, wet slapping of water splashing around them. Giselle, her snow-white body bare and trembling, cried out sharply, her flushed face betraying her complete loss of control. The two men, still partially clothed, were starkly composed in comparison, their focus entirely on the trembling woman between them.

Ian’s fingers brushed over the taut, stretched ring where he was buried, drawing a sharp, tearful whimper from Giselle.

“N-no, don’t touch that…!”

“That won’t do, Giselle,” Ian murmured with a soft, chiding tone. “You should only say it feels good.”

“Hnnngh!”

Giselle’s cry was both a protest and an admission as her body twitched helplessly in response.

Ian thrust his hips sharply, his words laced with teasing malice. Reflexively, Giselle’s walls clenched around them, the sudden tightness drawing a faint crease to Hugo’s brow. He suppressed a sigh of exasperation as he thought, How much more do we have to take her for this to loosen up?

Burying his face in her trembling nape, Hugo inhaled deeply, drawing in her scent. Despite everything, the fresh, almost innocent fragrance of her skin remained intoxicating, pulling a dry laugh from his throat.

“Master,” Hugo murmured, his voice low and rough.

“Haa… ahhh…” Giselle whimpered in response, her voice broken as her body trembled, unable to keep up with the overwhelming sensations coursing through her.

“I’ll fill your womb until it’s overflowing,” Hugo growled lowly, his words dripping with possessive hunger. “I’ll cover you in so much cum that just standing next to you will make the scent linger everywhere.”