The Hundred Heirs
Copyright© 2026 by Victoria Kane
Chapter 5: The Abyss of Excess
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 5: The Abyss of Excess - One woman. One week. One hundred masked men. The Institute demands heirs from the world’s most powerful bloodlines. Victoria Kane is the Vessel they chose. She has other plans. Raw group ritual. Power reversal. Legacy mindfuck. No escape. No mercy.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Consensual Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction FemaleDom Humiliation Group Sex Orgy Interracial Black Male White Male White Female Oriental Male Hispanic Male Indian Male Cream Pie Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy Voyeurism
Day 5 began at dawn.
Victoria had not been released from the chair once since the ritual started.
Her body had become a living altar: centre permanently open, swollen to twice its resting size, inner lips flushed dark crimson and glistening without pause. Constant leakage traced warm paths down her perineum into the collection tray below. The tray was swapped out multiple times each day; yet the atmosphere never fully cleared. Faint resin fought the heavier note of spent seed; the air thickened with layered warmth. Her breasts had grown heavier, nipples perpetually peaked and sensitive from unrelenting arousal. Belly showed the first faint rounding from the sheer volume already sealed inside. Skin shone with a permanent sheen of sweat despite the precise twenty-two degrees Celsius maintained by the vents.
The internal camera never stopped. It zoomed unsparingly on her cervix: a swollen, waiting mouth now drowned in surge after surge of seed. The massive gallery screen displayed every detail in unsparing 4K. The one hundred men — now eighty-two finished, eighteen waiting — watched in masked silence. Some stood rigid. Others shifted; low grunts escaped modulators at irregular intervals. The sound grew deeper as the days wore on.
By the start of Day 5, eighty-two men had bred her.
Her voice was hoarse from hours of narration and orgasm, yet her control remained absolute: calm, untouchable.
Numbers 83–90: The Descent
The men came one by one.
Number 85 — a Japanese tech mogul, fifty-four, public ascetic, private collector of underground breeding footage — was forced to eat her first. He knelt between the stirrups and lapped the overflow of eighty-four loads while Victoria narrated his secret visits to Tokyo’s hidden breeding clubs in calm, precise detail. Names of the women, prices paid, exact acts filmed. Only then did she permit him inside.
As he thrust, she spoke clearly to the gallery.
“Number 85 is giving respectable volume: warm, thick, consistent surges. Better than Number 80’s thin offering yesterday. But nowhere near Number 57’s dense release. Step up, gentlemen. The tray doesn’t lie.”
He finished with a muffled groan through the modulator. Warmth joined the pool below.
Number 88 — a South American dictator’s son, forty-two, heir to a blood-soaked fortune — lasted three minutes under her mockery of his father’s “legacy of bastards.”
She laughed as he finished: soft, low.
“Quick, but potent. More than Number 83 managed. The gallery saw that sad dribble, barely coated the entrance.”
Number 89 approached with confidence. Entered her with a boastful growl. Midway through, he softened. Hips still pumped while his hand stroked furiously to regain hardness. He managed it barely; wanked himself to a weak climax inside her. Victoria’s voice cut through:
“Self-service, darling? How modern. At least you finished the job — barely.”
The tray filled faster now. Her body could no longer contain it all. Overflow dripped in steady, viscous strands.
At the end of Day 5, the reclamation was the longest yet.
Attendants wheeled in the crystal funnel.
The collected warmth — opulent, creamy, from eighteen men that day alone — was poured back inside her in one continuous ritual.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.