I sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her body still trembling in the aftermath of her release. My hand gently stroked her disheveled red hair, brushing it from her tear-and-cum-stained face.

"How do you feel, Ms. Fiona?" I asked, my voice returning to a flat, professional tone, a stark contrast to the roughness moments before. "Do you feel a release of tension? Any change in your bodily sensations? Did my therapy help you?"

Ophelia opened her eyes with difficulty, her gaze still foggy. Her swollen lips moved, producing choked words.

"Very... very helpful," she answered, her voice hoarse and broken. "I... can't think. My head is empty. But my body... feels light. Like years of burden have been lifted."

She paused, then her eyes met mine. A smoldering desire still burned within them.

"But... it's not enough," she whispered, ashamed but honest. "I feel... there's still tension not released. In... in my womb. It still feels hollow. As if it needs... longer therapy."

'Wow, what a total slut,' I thought inwardly with a thin smile. This SS-Rank woman, this respected headmistress, was truly beyond help.

"The standard therapy session is usually just one round for basic release," I said, feigning hesitation while starting to wipe my still-wet cock with a towel. "But sometimes, for chronic tension cases like yours, follow-up sessions are necessary."

Ophelia reacted immediately. Her limp hand grabbed my arm.

"Do it. Do the follow-up session. I'll pay... whatever you ask. Double? Triple? Name your price." She sounded desperate. The need in her body was stronger than any remaining logic or dignity.

I sighed, as if considering. Of course, I had no intention of leaving. I just wanted her to beg, to ask for more, to debase herself further by paying for this violation.

"Alright," I finally nodded.

"Since you are a very cooperative and needy client, I will provide an intensive therapy package. Three follow-up sessions. But remember, this will be more... physically demanding."

"I don't care! Just do it!" she hissed, her eyes shining with wild hope.

I smiled. "As you command."

I stood up, then with a firm movement, I grabbed her slender ankles. Ophelia's flexible legs folded easily as I pushed them up, towards her own face, until they were behind her head.

"This position will focus the pressure precisely on the uterine and pelvic area," I uttered, spouting lewd nonsense in a serious tone. "It allows for deeper penetration and more targeted stimulation."

From this position, the view was utterly vulgar. Her red, swollen, leaking pussy was spread wide and throbbing right before me. Her tight pink asshole was clearly visible below it. Both holes of the proud headmistress were now completely open, on display, waiting to be used.

Ophelia herself looked immensely ashamed. Her beautiful face was now hidden between her own thighs, but I could see her ears flushing red. Yet, she didn't resist. She just bit her lip, waiting.

"Please... Freyden..." she whispered, her voice muffled by her own position. "Put it in again... I can't stand it... it feels so hollow..."

"Well then."

I knelt between her wide-open legs, aiming my cock at her wet pussy. With one smooth thrust this time, I entered her again.

"Ahhh~! YES! THAT'S IT!" she moaned long and full of satisfaction.

From this position, the penetration was even deeper. I could feel the tip pressing against her cervix more firmly. And I began to move.

From this angle, every thrust made her plump buttocks lift and fall, creating an extremely lewd sight.

I held her hips, digging my fingers into her smooth skin, and began to pound her with a fast, hard rhythm.

Every thrust shook her body, her large breasts swaying wildly, and her beautiful face, visible between her own thighs, was contorted in an uncontrolled ahegao expression—mouth wide open, eyes glassy, tongue lolling, drool dripping. She had completely lost control of her own face.

"Ah! Ah! Freyden! Harder! Shatter my womb! Fill it completely!" she screamed, her words becoming increasingly vulgar and nonsensical. She no longer cared.

I sped up, thrusting with full force, enjoying every moan, every roar of satisfaction escaping her mouth. A few minutes later, I felt another wave of orgasm building.

I pulled my cock out just as I reached the peak, and a second hot spray of cum landed on her flat stomach and full chest. Ophelia herself climaxed again, her body shaking violently, fluid from her pussy gushing out, soaking the sheets and my stomach.

But I didn't give her time to rest.

Before her breathing evened out, I had sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed. Then I pulled her limp body, seating her in my lap facing me. My still-hard cock slid easily back into her pussy as she lowered herself.

"Wuahh...!" she gasped, her hands immediately grabbing my shoulders for balance.

"Now, Ms. Fiona," I whispered in her ear, while my hands grabbed her buttocks and began to guide her movement. "This is active therapy. You will control the rhythm. Listen to your body. What does it want? Roughness? Gentleness? Depth? Speed? Don't hold back. Release everything. Sounds, words, tears, anything. Here, no one will judge."

My words were the permission she'd been waiting for.

Ophelia began to move. Hesitant at first, slowly rising and falling on my deeply embedded cock. But the longer it went, the wilder she became. She started moving her hips with passion, rising and falling with increasing speed, sometimes rotating, sometimes grinding her body to feel every angle of my cock inside her.

"Ah...! I... I feel like... like a whore!" she cried out between moans, but her voice was full of joy. "But... it feels... so freeing! I don't need to think!"

"Yes, that's it," I hissed, my hand caressing her sweaty back. "Release everything. Ophelia Blazinger is not here. Only Fiona. Fiona who is thirsty and needs to be satisfied."

"Fiona... yes, I'm Fiona..." she mumbled as if possessed, while her body moved even more savagely. Her face was filled with an almost childlike expression of happiness. She moaned freely, loud sounds she no longer held back, a mix of satisfaction and madness.

"Aah... ah... this... feels so good..." she moaned, her hands clutching my shoulders, her face pressed against my neck. "I... feel like... like I'm flying..."

I moved in sync with her, thrusting upwards each time she came down, creating deeper friction. The sound of our skin slapping, the wet sounds from her pussy, her moans, and our heavy breathing merged into a wild, lewd symphony.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Like that! Keep going, Freyden! Don't stop! Don't you dare stop!" she screamed, now with no shame at all.

But with my extraordinary stamina and libido, I could play like this all night. My cock never softened, always ready, always wanting more. And her perfect pussy always returned to its ideal shape, gripping my shaft tightly each time, as if never tiring or becoming loose.

We kept fucking.

I changed positions, each time choosing a more humiliating and degrading pose than the last.

I flipped her over, placed her in doggy style, and took her from behind while pulling her red hair to control the rhythm.

I had her lie on the edge of the bed, her legs on my shoulders, and rained down deep thrusts that made her scream praises to God and my name.

I even lifted her up, pinned her against the wall, and fucked her while standing, her body held aloft only by my cock buried inside her and my hands supporting her buttocks.

Each new humiliating position, each humiliating variation, was a new discovery for Ophelia. The woman she once was would have been furious, but now she accepted them willingly, even eagerly.

She had never experienced sex like this—brutal, merciless, tireless, yet filled with perfect sensations that satisfied every dark need of her body.

"I... I never... imagined I could feel... this..." she whispered as I fucked her from behind, my hands squeezing her breasts from the front. "It feels... like heaven..."

"You deserve it, Fiona," I whispered back, still thrusting. "You've worked too hard. Held back for too long. Now, release everything."

She nodded, crying again, but this time with tears of happiness. She felt understood. Felt. And satisfied in the most primal, fundamental way.

She truly felt she was in heaven. A heaven full of shame, humiliation, and undeniable pleasure. In her muddled head, a terrifying thought emerged: After feeling this, how can I return to a normal life? How can I ever be satisfied with my husband again? How can I live without this big cock satisfying me every night?

That thought made her even wilder, even more demanding, even more surrendered.

At one point, I carried her—her tall, voluptuous body felt quite heavy, but my strength easily held her. In an embrace, my cock was still buried deep inside her. I began to walk slowly while still thrusting into her, each of my steps a push that made her whimper.

"Ah... Freyden... we're... walking..." she mumbled, confused but too pleasured to protest.

I carried her around the room—from the bed to the carpeted floor, from the sofa to the small table, to the window overlooking the still-dark city of Gatehaven, even to the large mirror on the wall where she could see her ruined face and used body. In every spot, I kept moving my hips, fucking her while standing.

Ophelia could only cling to me tightly, hanging onto me, surrendering everything. She felt like a doll, but a very satisfied doll.

Hours passed. The sky outside the window was still dark, but dawn was perhaps approaching. Ophelia was exhausted, her body wet with sweat, her own juices, and my cum. But her pussy still throbbed, still wanted more. And my cock was still hard, still thirsty.

Finally, after maybe several hours, I carried her back to the bed. I pushed her onto her back, then with a quick movement, I began to pound her for the last time that night. The final thrusts, the fastest, the hardest.

"I'M... I'M COMING—!!!" Ophelia screamed.

I pulled my cock out right at the peak of her climax, and with a loud groan, I released what felt like the umpteenth spray of cum all over her body.

Hot semen landed on her face, her neck, her full breasts, her stomach. Ophelia just lay there, her body trembling with the aftershocks of orgasm, her breath ragged, her eyes blankly staring at the ceiling.

Then, slowly, her eyes closed. Her tense body finally went completely limp. She passed out. Or fell asleep. Or both.

I stood by the bed, looking at my handiwork. Ophelia Blazinger, Headmistress of Nine Stars Academy, one of the world's most powerful women, now lay helpless after sex. Her body was now covered in marks from my grip, bites, and most prominently—cum. Lots of cum. On her face, in her hair, on her chest, her stomach, even dripping down between her thighs.

She looked thoroughly used. And most importantly, she looked satisfied. Even unconscious, a small smile played on her red lips.

I took a towel, quickly cleaned myself. Then I looked at her one more time, an irrepressible smile of victory stretching across my face.

"Sex therapy complete, Ms. Fiona," I whispered to her unconscious form. "I hope you feel better."

I put on my clothes, picked up my small bag, and without a backward glance, I left the hotel room. Outside, the sky was still dark, but dawn probably wasn't far off.

'Damn, I'm exhausted. And I still have to participate in that ridiculous tournament and be the best so I can get a date with Ruth.'

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