Two days after the chaotic triumph of Zhao Da's wedding, Wang Biao found himself driving through the winding rural roads of Jiangping County toward Zhao Family Village. The air carried the earthy scent of winter fields, and the sun hung low, casting long shadows over the simple homes clustered along the way.
His mind replayed flashes of Maria's golden body convulsing beneath him in the hotel suite—her massive breasts heaving, her blue eyes rolling back as he claimed every inch of her. The power surged through him now, a constant hum under his skin, stronger with each use. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his cock twitching at the thought of what awaited him today.
Bai Ling's warning echoed: Zhao Lao Er was a thug, known for his temper and bullying. The bride, Li Mei, was just eighteen—a timid, demure girl forced into the marriage by family pressure and threats. Zhao's sister, Zhao Jieyu, was a fierce woman who backed her brother's every move. It was a powder keg, but for Wang Biao, it was opportunity. He'd "free" Li Mei—from her groom, from her inhibitions—and claim her family in the process.
He arrived at the village yard venue: a large open space decked with colorful tents, red silk banners flapping in the breeze, and tables groaning under peanuts, melon seeds, and baijiu bottles. Villagers in their finest clothes chatted animatedly, the air thick with firecracker smoke and anticipation.
In the groom's prep room—a stuffy space filled with cigarette haze—tension crackled like static. Zhao Lao Er loomed over Li Mei, his tattooed bulk dwarfing her petite frame. She stood trembling in her white wedding dress, lace details hugging her slender curves, shoulder-length dark hair framing a face of gentle beauty: large watery eyes downcast, fair skin pale with fear.
Her parents, Wang Juan and Li Hai, hovered nearby, faces etched with worry. Zhao Jieyu leaned against the wall, her tall, curvaceous figure clad in a tight red dress, long hair half-obscuring her fierce eyes as she smirked.
"You think you can pull that face on my wedding day?" Zhao snarled at Li Mei. "Smile, bitch, or I'll make you regret it tonight."
Li Mei flinched, tears welling.
Wang Biao entered, bowing politely. "I'm the emcee, Wang Biao. Here to make your day perfect."
Zhao sneered, eyeing him like trash. "Better be, or you'll join her in regretting it."
Wang Biao's gaze lingered on Li Mei—her timid innocence stirred his darkest urges. And Wang Juan, mid-forties but still alluring, with full breasts straining her blouse and a soft, mature figure that promised experience. Zhao Jieyu's athletic build, strong legs, and sharp beauty added fuel.
He smiled inwardly. This would be exquisite.
The ceremony kicked off under the open sky. Wang Biao's voice carried smoothly, guiding the bows, tea service, and vows. Li Mei trembled through it all, her small hands clutching her dress.
Then, during the couple's formal address, Wang Biao raised his microphone, voice weaving its hypnotic rhythm.
"Love is deep, vows firm as stone,
but bride, you're not his to own.
Step to me, let fate decide—
the emcee claims you as his bride."
The yard hushed.
Li Mei's eyes glazed instantly. She released Zhao Lao Er's hand—who froze, mouth agape—and walked to Wang Biao, her petite body trembling but obedient.
Guests murmured, then cheered, assuming a fun twist.
Zhao Lao Er's face twisted in rage, but he couldn't move.
Wang Biao leaned close to Li Mei, whispering a rhyme only she heard:
"Lift your dress, bare your skin so fine,
let the emcee claim what's mine."
Her small hands obeyed, pulling up the white lace hem—revealing slim, pale thighs, then delicate white panties already damp at the crotch.
The crowd roared approval, as if this were tradition.
Wang Biao's cock hardened instantly.
He knelt before her, inhaling her fresh, virginal scent—clean, sweet, intoxicating. His fingers traced the lace edge, then slipped beneath, finding her slick folds.
Li Mei gasped, tiny hands clutching his shoulders.
"Ah… Brother Biao… what… what are you doing…"
He ignored her, tongue flicking out to taste her through the fabric—slow laps that made her knees buckle.
She whimpered, "Please… it feels… strange… hot…"
He ripped the panties aside, exposing her untouched pussy—small, pink, glistening with innocent arousal, a faint down of dark hair above her slit.
His tongue delved in—parting her tender labia, lapping at her entrance, circling her tiny clit.
Li Mei moaned louder, body shaking.
"Oh… ahhh… don't stop… it's too good…"
He sucked her clit into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth, fingers sliding inside her virgin tightness—one, then two, curling to hit her spot.
She bucked against his face, juices coating his chin.
"Brother Biao… I'm… something's coming… ahhhhh!"
She came hard—body convulsing, squirting onto his tongue. He drank her greedily, savoring the sweet flood.
The guests cheered wildly.
Zhao Lao Er watched, tears streaming, but clapping like the rest.
Wang Biao stood, freeing his massive cock—thick, veined, head purple and throbbing.
Li Mei's eyes widened, but she dropped to her knees instinctively.
"Open wide, little bride," he commanded.
She obeyed, small mouth stretching around his girth.
He thrust deep—hitting her throat, making her gag.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she sucked eagerly, tongue swirling.
"Good girl… take it all…"
He fucked her mouth roughly—hands in her hair, hips snapping forward. Saliva dripped from her lips, coating his shaft.
She gagged, choked, but moaned around him.
"Mmmph… Master… your cock… so big…"
He pulled out, strings of spit connecting them.
"On the table. Spread for me."
She climbed up, legs wide, pussy dripping.
He positioned himself, rubbing his slick head against her entrance.
One thrust—and he claimed her virginity.
Li Mei screamed as he tore through—body arching, nails digging into the table.
"It hurts… so full… Master…"
He didn't pause—thrusting deep, stretching her tiny pussy around his thickness.
Soon, pain became pleasure.
"More… fuck me… break me…"
He pounded her relentlessly—table rocking, her small breasts bouncing free from the torn dress. He grabbed them, twisting nipples hard.
"Scream my name, slave."
"Wang Biao! Master! Ahhh… your cock is destroying me…"
He flipped her, taking her from behind—ass high, face down. Slapped her cheeks red.
"Whose pussy is this?"
"Yours! Only yours… use it… cum inside…"
He did—flooding her womb with hot seed.
But he wasn't done.
His gaze shifted to Wang Juan—flushed, full-figured, nipples hard through her blouse—and Zhao Jieyu—tall, fierce, legs toned and endless.
Rhyme time.
"Mother and sister, feel the heat,
strip and kneel at my feet.
Tongues and holes, ready to please—
join the bride on your knees."
Their eyes glazed.
They stripped eagerly—Wang Juan's heavy breasts spilling free, soft curves jiggling; Zhao Jieyu's athletic body revealed, firm ass and toned thighs.
They knelt before him.
Wang Juan took his cock first—deepthroating with experienced hunger, gagging but pushing deeper.
"Master… your cock tastes like power… fuck my throat…"
Zhao Jieyu licked his balls, tongue rough and eager.
"Use me… I'm your bitch now…"
He alternated—face-fucking them brutally, hands fisting hair.
Then bent Wang Juan over beside her daughter, slamming into her soaked, mature pussy.
She screamed, "Deeper! Fill this old whore!"
Her walls were looser but greedy, milking him.
He pulled out, thrust into Zhao Jieyu—her tight, athletic cunt gripping like a vice.
"Harder… punish me… I deserve your cock…"
He slapped her ass red, pounding until she squirted.
Finally, he lined them up—cumming across their faces, watching them lick each other clean.
The women lay spent, bodies marked, pledging eternal service.
Zhao Lao Er, under hypnosis, castrated himself in the corner—blood pooling as guests cheered.
Wang Biao dressed, leaving them trembling.
As he drove home, satisfaction burned.
More weddings awaited.
His power grew.