Chapter 4: Jo's intoduction to the world of NTR

The brutal rhythm continued, relentless, for what felt like an eternity to Jo, trapped in Orin's motionless form. Twenty minutes dragged by, each second punctuated by the wet slap of flesh, the groaning protest of the bed, and Sona's escalating cries. Adam's movements grew rougher, more possessive. He gripped her hips tighter, his knuckles white, slamming into her with a force that seemed intended to bruise, to possess utterly.

"Whose slut are you?" Adam growled, his voice thick with exertion and dominance, pulling sharply on her hair again.

"Yours! Adam... Ahhh... I'm yours!" Sona sobbed back, the words broken by gasping moans. There was no hesitation, no reluctance in her voice, only a breathless eagerness to please, to submit. She twisted slightly, trying to take him deeper, her back arching impossibly. "Please... harder..."

Jo felt Orin's jaw clench so tight it ached. The jealousy was a physical pain now, a burning knot tightening in his chest. Yet, sickeningly, the arousal remained, a traitorous heat spreading through his limbs. He could feel Orin's rapid heartbeat thrumming against his ribs, feel the shallow, ragged breaths he took, hidden in the cool shadows of the balcony. The sheer degradation of the scene, Sona's willing debasement, Adam's casual cruelty – it was repellent, yet undeniably potent.

Finally, with a final, guttural roar, Adam drove deep one last time, his body convulsing. He slumped forward, bracing his hands on Sona's sweat-slick back, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Sona collapsed beneath him, boneless, emitting a long, drawn-out sigh that trembled with the ragged edges of spent ecstasy. The room was suddenly quiet, save for their heavy breathing and the faint crackle of the candle.

For a moment, they remained still. Then, Adam pushed himself up. He looked down at Sona, who lay sprawled face down, her breathing still uneven. His expression, caught in the flickering candlelight, was unreadable – sated, perhaps, but devoid of any tenderness. With a grunt, he used his foot, planting it squarely on the curve of her hip, and shoved.

Sona tumbled off the low bed with a dull thud, landing heavily on the rough wooden floorboards. She cried out, a soft sound of surprise and perhaps pain, muffled by the floor. Jo watched, horrified, as thick, stream of Adam's semen dripped from between her thighs onto the dusty wood. She lay there for a second, momentarily stunned, before slowly pushing herself up onto her hands and knees.

Jo expected anger. But there was nothing of the sort in her expression as she looked up at Adam, who was now leaning back against the headboard, stretching languidly like a predator after a satisfying kill. Her face was flushed, her lips slightly swollen, her eyes hazy with lingering pleasure. A smear of dirt marked her cheek where she'd hit the floor.

Slowly, deliberately, Sona crawled back towards the bed. She didn't climb back on. Instead, she moved between Adam's spread legs, kneeling before him on the floorboards still marked by her fall. Her coppery hair tumbled around her shoulders, partially obscuring her face, but Jo could see the intent focus in her movements. Without a word, she leaned forward and began to clean him with her mouth.

Her movements were practiced, efficient, yet tinged with a lingering reverence that sickened Jo to his core. The soft, wet sounds filled the small room, overlaying the continued crackle of the candle. Adam watched her, his expression impassive, occasionally shifting his hips slightly. He ran a hand through his short, damp hair, looking utterly unconcerned, utterly dominant.

Orin remained frozen on the balcony, a statue carved from conflicting agony. The jealousy was a raging inferno now, fueled by the sight of Sona's complete subservience, the casual intimacy of her act after such brutal treatment. He wanted to scream, to tear through the window, to pull Adam off her—no, to pull her away from him. He wanted to shake her, to demand how she could accept this, enjoy this degradation from the man who had just treated her like discarded meat.

But the arousal hadn't faded. If anything, it intensified, twisting the jealousy into something even darker, more complex. The sight of her kneeling, devotedly cleaning the man who had just used her so forcefully, the sheer power dynamic on display… it struck a chord deep within Orin, a chord Jo hadn't known existed, vibrating with a perverse fascination. He felt Orin's erection straining painfully against his trousers, a physical manifestation of the war raging within him. Jo holplessly tried to resist as Orin's hand stretched to grab his dick, but he was powerless.

Jo was utterly lost. The synchronization—now 21% complete—was already overwhelming him with Orin's tempestuous emotions. He hated Adam's cruelty. He felt betrayed for Orin by Sona's actions. Yet, he couldn't deny the unwilling surge of heat, the morbid curiosity, the sheer magnetic pull of the scene.