I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

The third floor of The Leaping Stag was suffocatingly quiet.

Chloe tossed and turned in her small, unfamiliar bed. Her muscles ached with a deep, throbbing soreness. She had cast more stamina and speed buffs today than she had in her entire life. Her mana pool was completely drained, leaving her body feeling hollow and feverish.

She sat up, throwing the heavy quilt off her legs with a frustrated sigh. Her throat was incredibly dry, scratching painfully with every breath. She needed water.

Chloe grabbed her wire-rimmed glasses from the nightstand, slipped them on, and stepped out into the dark hallway. The wooden floorboards were cold against her bare feet. She remembered seeing a water barrel in the small kitchenette near the back stairs on the ground floor.

She walked quietly, her long white nightgown brushing against her ankles. The tavern below had finally quieted down, the boisterous roaring of the hunters replaced by the low hum of distant snores.

But as Chloe reached the landing of the back staircase, she froze.

A sound drifted up from the floor below.

It wasn’t the ambient noise of a sleeping inn. It was a heavy, rhythmic thudding. Wood violently hitting wood. Followed by a sharp, breathless, desperate gasp.

Chloe’s heart skipped a beat. She stood paralyzed on the stairs, her grip tightening on the wooden banister. Her logical mind screamed at her to turn around, to go back to the safety of her room. But an intense, inexplicable curiosity completely gripped her chest.

She crept down the back stairs, holding her breath. The sounds were coming from the slightly ajar door of Roxanne’s office.

The heavy, musky scent of sweat and intense beastkin arousal leaked through the crack in the door, hitting Chloe’s senses like a physical weight. She pressed her back flat against the hallway wall, her face flushing bright red. Slowly, she leaned her head over, peeking through the two-inch gap in the doorway.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Her blue eyes went incredibly wide.

Inside the dimly lit office, the scene was raw, violent, and incredibly primal.

Roxanne, the confident, terrifyingly beautiful beastkin who ran the tavern with an iron fist, was on her hands and knees on the heavy oak desk. Her clothes were entirely gone. Her thick, voluptuous curves quivered as Arthur stood directly behind her, his hands gripping her wide hips with absolute, bruising dominance.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

The sound of Arthur driving his hips into the older woman echoed loudly in the small room.

"Arthur..." Roxanne whimpered, her voice completely broken, her face smashed into the wood of the desk.

Chloe stopped breathing.

A sudden, overwhelming heat exploded in her lower stomach. Her legs felt instantly weak, her knees actually trembling as she watched Arthur lean over Roxanne’s back. She had always was cold, calculating, and ruthlessly pragmatic in the dungeons. He was the boss. The leader.

But seeing that exact same ruthless dominance applied here, in the dark, completely breaking down a powerful, confident woman until she begged... it completely short-circuited Chloe’s introverted brain.

She wasn’t disgusted. She was utterly captivated.

A heavy, undeniable dampness flooded between her thighs. Chloe’s chest began to heave, her breathing turning shallow and erratic. She pressed her thighs tightly together, trying to rub away the sudden, aching throb in her core, but the friction only made it worse.

What is wrong with me? Chloe thought frantically, her eyes glued to the crack in the door. I should look away. I have to look away.

She didn’t.

Instead, her hands moved entirely on their own. Trembling violently, Chloe brought her hands up to her own chest. She pressed her palms flat against her small, sensitive breasts right through the fabric of her white nightgown. She squeezed them, letting out a faint, entirely involuntary whimper as a shockwave of pleasure shot down to her crotch.

Inside the room, Arthur grabbed the base of Roxanne’s long, velvety rabbit ears, pulling her head back with a sharp tug.

"AHHH!" Roxanne screamed, her spine bowing backward.

Chloe’s sanity snapped.

She visualized what it would feel like to be on that desk. To have those heavy hands pin her down. To completely surrender all her anxiety, all her fears, and just let a monster like Arthur take absolute control of her body.

Unable to control the overwhelming heat melting her core, Chloe reached down under the hem of her nightgown.

Her cotton panties were entirely soaked. The fabric was practically glued to her swollen slit by the sheer amount of slick arousal pouring out of her. She hooked her thumbs under the waistband and shoved them down her thighs.

Schluck!!

The wet fabric separated from her dripping pussy with a highly audible, sloppy sound. Chloe kicked them off her ankles in a frantic rush, letting the soaked, clumped cloth fall forgotten onto the wooden floorboards of the hallway.

She spread her legs slightly, her knees shaking as she pressed her bare fingers directly against her slick, throbbing heat.

She was incredibly wet. Her fingers glided effortlessly over her swollen folds. Chloe let out a muffled, pathetic sob, violently biting down on her own knuckle to keep from crying out. She began to rub her clit, mirroring the brutal, relentless rhythm of the wet slapping echoing from the office.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

"Yes! Gods, please, Arthur!" Roxanne sobbed inside the room, her plush tail thrashing wildly.

Chloe closed her eyes, imagining Arthur’s dark, commanding voice whispering in her ear. She slipped two slender fingers directly into her own tight, dripping hole. She was so unused to being touched, the sudden intrusion made her entire body jerk.

She pumped her fingers in and out of her soaking pussy, her thumb aggressively grinding against her highly sensitive clit. Her introverted, "good girl" persona completely shattered in the dark hallway. She was a voyeur. She was getting off on watching her squad leader completely ruin another woman.

"I’m—I’m breaking!" Roxanne screamed wildly from the other side of the door. "Arthur, I’m coming! I’m coming!"

The sound of Roxanne’s absolute surrender pushed Chloe directly over the edge.

"Ah—!" Chloe gagged around her knuckle, her head throwing back against the hallway wall.

Her internal walls clamped down violently around her fingers. The orgasm hit her like a physical blow. Her thighs locked up, trembling uncontrollably as endless waves of blinding, searing pleasure ripped through her pelvis.

The pressure inside her core peaked, completely overloading her senses.

With a final, muffled sob, Chloe squirted. A hot, heavy rush of slick fluid shot out from her tight pussy, splashing heavily onto her inner thighs and pooling directly onto the dark wooden floorboards beneath her. She shuddered endlessly, her legs completely giving out as she slid down the wall to her knees, panting heavily.

Inside the room, Arthur let out a guttural grunt, followed by a long, heavy silence, broken only by their ragged breathing.

The sudden quiet snapped Chloe back to reality like a slap to the face.

The adrenaline completely vanished, replaced instantly by sheer, blinding panic. He’s done. They’re going to come out. He’s going to see me.

Chloe scrambled to her feet, her inner thighs completely slick with her own juices. She didn’t bother grabbing the water. She turned and sprinted silently back up the dark stairs, her bare feet making almost no sound as she fled back to the safety of the third floor.

She slammed the door to her room, locking it instantly, and collapsed into her bed, pulling the quilt completely over her head. Her heart was hammering so hard it hurt. She was terrified, humiliated, and incredibly exhausted.

But as she lay there, she realized she had made a massive, catastrophic mistake.

Down in the dark hallway, resting directly on the wooden floorboards right outside the slightly ajar door of Roxanne’s office... lay a completely soaked, clumped pair of white cotton panties.