Chapter 95 - Ninety-Five: Vesper V

Chapter 95: Chapter Ninety-Five: Vesper V

The tightness was maddening. A hot, velvet fist clenched around my dick, resisting every inch, then yielding with a wet, lewd surrender that made my vision haze red at the edges. It wasn’t just tight; it was hers. The asshole of a demon-kin noble, never meant for this, forced open and fucked raw by common hands.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her face, twisted in the sheets. I needed to see it. I needed her to see me seeing it.

My hand, slick with sweat, shot out from her hip and grabbed her chin. I yanked, pulling her head around, forcing her to look over her shoulder. Our eyes met.

Fury. Blazing, homicidal fury in those violet and amber depths. Humiliation, deep and corrosive. But beneath it, swimming in the pupil-dilated black, was something else. A raw, frantic, undeniable arousal. Her lips were swollen, parted, panting. A thin line of drool connected her lower lip to the mattress. Her gaze wasn’t just hateful; it was hungry, even as it cursed me.

The sight was like a dose of pure, concentrated aphrodisiac shot directly into my bloodstream. It drove me insane.

A guttural sound, more beast than man, tore from my throat. My hips, which had been pounding a steady, brutal rhythm, became a piston of pure frenzy. I fucked her ass faster, harder. The wet slap-slap-slap of my pelvis crashing into her backside became a continuous, violent drumbeat.

My other hand, still on her hip, slid up her side, over the curve of her waist, and closed over one of her massive, soft breasts. I squeezed, hard. Then I brought my hand down in a sharp, stinging slap against the pale, trembling flesh.

SMACK!

A bright red handprint bloomed on the perfect snow-white curve. She cried out, a sharp "Nghya!" that was equal parts pain and startled pleasure.

"Filthy... animal!" she sobbed, even as she pushed her ass back against my next thrust, taking me deeper. "Commoner... rat! Nnngh!"

I slapped her other breast. SMACK! Another red mark. I squeezed them both, feeling their heavy weight, marking them as mine. All while my hips never stopped, fucking her ass with a pace that was punishing, claiming, absolute.

She cursed me with every foul name she could think of, her voice breaking on the syllables. She moaned, low and ragged, when I hit a spot deep inside her that made her whole body convulse. The two reactions bled together until they were indistinguishable... A continuous, slutty soundtrack of hatred and ecstasy playing out to the rhythm of my cock ravaging her backdoor. She was my angry, beautiful, broken toy, and I was going to fuck her until neither of us could remember a time before this.

The conflict on her face was a physical thing. I could see the veins standing out in her temples and neck, throbbing with furious, trapped blood. Her jaw was clenched so tight I thought her teeth might crack. Yet, her eyes... Those heterochromatic pools were glazed, unfocused, the pupils blown wide with a dark, unwilling need. That angry, horny look... The sheer, impossible contradiction of it... Was a spark to the tinder of my own lust.

A dark chuckle rumbled in my chest. My hands left their brutal grip on her hips and rose to her breasts, which were swaying heavily with every one of my pounding thrusts. They were massive, soft, perfect handfuls. I squeezed them, kneading the flesh, my thumbs rubbing rough circles over her stiff, dark nipples. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath that hitched into a moan as I pinched one nipple, then the other, twisting just shy of pain.

"Nnn—! Stop... playing with me... you brute!" she snarled, but the words lacked their earlier fire, diluted by the breathy, helpless quality of her voice.

"Playing?" I grunted, slamming into her ass with renewed vigor. The wet, rhythmic squelch was the only music in the room. "This isn’t play, princess. This is fucking."

I kept fucking her, my rhythm becoming more erratic, more desperate as the pressure built in my own core. The tight, hot clutch of her ass, the sight of my hands mauling her perfect tits, the symphony of her curses and moans... It was too much. I let out a series of low, guttural groans, my own voice joining the lewd chorus. "Fuck... your tight ass... gonna milk me dry... yes... take it..."

She was beyond words now. Just sharp, punched-out cries. "Ah! Ah! Guh! Nnngh!"

I felt the tell-tale tightening in my balls, the electric tingle shooting up my spine. With a final, savage roar, I buried myself to the hilt in her ass, crushing her against the mattress, and let go.

I came. Not a trickle, but a flood. A massive, pumping release of pent-up seed that shot deep into her bowels, jet after hot jet filling the tight space I’d carved out for myself. It felt endless. I groaned, my body shuddering with the force of it, painting her insides with my claim.

She screamed into the sheets, a long, ragged sound that trembled on the edge of a second, anal-triggered climax, her own inner muscles convulsing around me, milking out every last drop.

When I was finally spent, I slumped over her, breathing like a bellows, my softening cock still lodged inside her, a thick trickle of my cum already beginning to leak out around the seal. The room stank of sweat, sex, and victory. Vesper lay beneath me, a trembling, used mess, her noble fury momentarily drowned in a sea of physical overwhelm. The system had given me her obedience, but it was rather nice to test its limits.

[Usually, the only way to break charm magic is to reach the main target]

What...?

Did the system just fucking speak?

"...System?"

[...]

No reply came.

... Whatever.

◇◇◇

The heavy, panting silence stretched. The only sounds were the drip of cum from where we were joined and the ragged rasp of our breathing. Slowly, I pulled out. A thicker flow followed, staining her inner thighs and the ruined sheets beneath her.

I rolled off, lying on my back, staring at the water-stained ceiling. The manic energy was gone, leaving a hollow, satisfied exhaustion.

Vesper didn’t move for a long minute. Then, with a stiffness that spoke of deep, humiliated pain, she pushed herself up. She didn’t look at me. She kept her back turned as she gathered the torn remnants of her clothing. The sheer black panties were unsalvageable. Her trousers were stained. She pulled them on anyway, wincing as the fabric rubbed against her sore, leaking asshole. Every movement was stiff, careful.

After a while, Vesper sat on my bed like she owned it. She’d rearranged the pillows.

"So. This ’inventory.’ I go in. I come out. I don’t remember being in it."

"Correct."

"And I give you... what?"

"Stat bonuses. Magical Resistance."

"So you NEED me. You need my stats. You need my abilities." She leaned close. Cold breath against my face. "Which means I have leverage. You can’t throw me away because I’m too valuable. And I know it."

She was right. 90 SP invested. She was the most expensive acquisition I’d made and she figured out her leverage in under five minutes.

"How many women do you have stored in this... inventory?"

"Seven."

"Seven." She processed this. "And I’m the latest."

"You’re the most expensive."

"Obviously." She adjusted the pillows behind her. "What do the other six do?"

"Rose bakes bread. Sable and Silk are ex-gang members. The others are various."

"Bread. Gang members. ’Various.’" She said each word like she was biting it. Then she laughed.

"One more thing," she said.

"What?"

"Rules." She held up fingers. Counting. "One: you summon me when I want to be summoned. Not when you want. When I want. I will communicate my preferences through the inventory somehow. If no mechanism exists, I will make my displeasure known the next time you DO summon me, and my displeasure involves shadow daggers."

"Two: you dismiss me when I’M done. Not when you’re done. Not when your wolfkin is growling. Not when your Franken breaks something. When I decide the interaction is complete."

"Three: you don’t put me in inventory during anything I’m enjoying. If I’m eating, you wait. If I’m fighting, you wait. If I’m..." She glanced at the bed. "You DEFINITELY wait."

"Four: when you summon me outside of this apartment, you do so in environments that meet my standards. I don’t materialize in alleyways. I don’t materialize in guild halls. I don’t materialize in any location that smells worse than this apartment, which already sets a LOW bar."

She looked at her hand. Four fingers raised.

"Five." She paused. Her expression shifted. Something beneath the cruelty. A flash. Gone before it fully formed. "Don’t lie to me. About what this is. About what I am to you. Don’t perform warmth. Don’t pretend this is something it isn’t. I was lied to by my father for sixteen years. He told me my mother was away. He told me she’d come back. He told me the Covenant was protecting us." Her voice went flat. Flatter than before. "She was dead. He knew. He lied because the truth was worse and he was a coward."

The room was quiet.

"..."

So even after the system do its brainwashing, the core personality stays intact.

"Don’t lie to me," Vesper repeated. "I’ll tolerate everything else. Not that."

"I won’t lie."

"Good." The vulnerability vanished. Replaced by the mask. The bored, cruel, demanding mask that was so well-constructed it was almost indistinguishable from the real thing. Almost.

"Go home," I said, my voice hoarse. I didn’t look at her either. "And please, do pretend that nothing happened to you."

She let out a short, bitter laugh. It sounded like broken glass. She finally glanced over her shoulder, her mismatched eyes cold and flat, all the earlier fire banked into embers of pure, icy hatred. "Yeah, yeah. I know how that stuff goes." Her voice was scraped raw.

She finished fastening her trousers, then pulled her shirt back into some semblance of order. It did little to hide the state she was in. She walked toward the door, each step deliberate, her back straight with a pride that was now purely performative, a shield against total collapse.

I watched her go. My eyes, against my will, were glued to her ass, where the dark fabric of her pants was already darkening in a damp patch where my cum was slowly seeping through. A profound sense of loss, stupid and visceral, hit me as I watched her massive, perfect breasts get reluctantly confined back into the tight shirt and jacket she shrugged on. They were a treasure I’d plundered, and now they were being taken away, back into a world where I was just a commoner and she was a noble’s betrothed.

She paused at the door, hand on the knob. She didn’t turn. "This changes nothing between us, humph!" she stated, her voice clipped and formal. "Or our... arrangement. You will still service the staff. You will still be summoned when it pleases me."

"..."

"Also: get a bigger apartment."

Then she was gone. The door clicked shut with a soft, final sound.

"..."

Brainwashing someone while keeping their personalities was rather unsettling...