Dungeon+Harem+Master

"You're a psychopath."

"I don't care what it is. You're not gonna get out of there."

Victoire niggered in front of him with a cuddly voice, cursing Jean Clown, the little man of the sesame.

If you notice, Victoire was suspended from the ceiling in chains in the middle of the room. Lead chains are attached to both wrists and throats and secured by piles struck by the ceiling.

Carefully, both ankles are bracketed in one piece and wrapped around in rough rope. It was subtly balanced in a small box at my feet, a situation where my neck would tighten and choke if I moved senselessly.

Giampiero was looking up at the hung Victoire, stroking a red and black mushroom casa moving into small pieces beside him.

(That's right. I keep remembering. arguing with this man about not letting him out of here. Then he summoned a strange summoner to attack him)

"What's up? I was asleep. I guess my head's about to wake up. Ome. You're going to get framed for not listening to the pavilion owner. hehe. I am a summoner. [M] We can call the demons we've contracted anywhere. This guy is called Sleep Matango. If you tap hard, you spit out a spore that invites you to sleep. If you smoke this guy, you're a tiger or a lion. Hey, a big woman like you got stuck trying to pick it up. Well, the body is as good as I thought. You gave me your word, to the general of Balmunk. I can't sleep with my legs turned."

Kiki, you! Wow, you behaved badly on my body. Depending on that, I won't forgive you. I'll slap you in two, so fix it there!

"... hey, you are. Sometimes someone tells me you're an idiot. Oh, no. Why did you slay me in that hanging state?

"Shit, take these chains off! And then, as you wish, your bareback will fall off!

"I wonder if there are idiots who just let that go. You're weak."

Giampiero scratched his head, and he was an outgoing idiot, what if a missing kid was born, and drove Sleep Matango, who was twinkling and shivering, into the corner of the room.

The location is one of the rooms of the Hotel Royal Blossom. The windows are due so I don't know how much time, but Victoire figured out that he was hungry and would be about past the afternoon. Fearless Victoire belly clock.

"What the hell are you gonna do with me?"

"Ihihi. Thank you for everything. You know, I don't know what a couple would do in a room in the middle of the day like this. Huh?"

"Amnesty, maybe"

"Not at all. The answer is adult pleasure."

"Geez! Silly! Don't touch it. I'm gonna bite your tongue. Really."

Before I knew it, my knee socks had been stripped and my bare feet had been rounded out. Whenever Giampiero's long and savvy fingers crawled around over his thighs from his calf, the discomfort of a caterpillar running all over his body like it had been cursed.

He tries to escape by twisting himself, but if he kicks and rolls the little box at his feet, he dies of suffocation. Besides, the ankle is also secured with rope to prevent both legs from opening. All Victoire could do was cry out with blame if she was just like a little girl.

"Hey. Don't make that crow sound like it's been twisted. I don't know how I feel."

"Do you know how you feel? Get those filthy hands out of my way! I'm gonna throw up!

"Damn it, Victoire. If you look at that collar, it looks like your previous husband didn't give you a rock. Here, I'll re-teach you to obey the pavilion master. Be prepared. Hey, don't be nice."

Giampiero chanted a murky spell as he turned his hand away from his bright white complexion as he grinned in the deep, cloudy, swampy shade.

Occasionally, a lightly glowing subpoena emerged on the carpet of the room, from which it began to make gutsy noises and anchor the reality into the space so that green objects could stain out.

"What are you doing?"

"Sora, no more. You're a dressed partner to tailor you to a good meth hole slave."

The green object gradually appeared as it was wrapped in countless bubbles.

Victoire felt distracted by the sight of the monster said to be Green Gel.

I can't. What doesn't work is that there's nothing worse.

She doesn't take things that were born drooling. In recent times, there had also been achievements in training to overcome weaknesses, and the degree of paste applied to toast had managed to grow to be acceptable.

but there was a certain amount, and yet the noodle amorphous organism that moves with a certain orientation, could not yet be accepted.

Satisfied that Victoire was pulling her blue face, Giampiero grinned, gleefully peeling out her yellow teeth like a monkey.

"What are you enjoying? Sorayuke."

"Stop. Whoa."

Greengel jumped on Victoire's body as if to respond to the Lord's call.

The mucus life ravaged her thoughtlessly unable and irresistible to move 10,000 times with the unpleasant sound of melting clothes when entangled in made-up clothes.

Jalajara and chains are intertwined and loose, and Victoire's rich posture is exposed from beneath dissolved and peeled garments.

Sleek neck muscles, luscious peachy breasts, cuddly creased hips and round asses that make you want to sift off as a munchkin float around leaving a fracture in a truly exquisite balance.

Her skin was not scratched and glowed like fresh snow, as the green gel used in this jean clown preferred only fabric for digestion as a characteristic.

"Don't look. Stop it. Stop it..."

A beautiful woman with a tremendous color fragrance while messing with her honey-colored hair is constantly twisting her body with her breath as well.

Both arms and neck are chained, so the outer passages remain intact.

Giampiero had conceived a fever in his eyes, and as he turned behind him, staring at Victoire's tight glutes, he reached out and stroked them tightly.

"Ya, meh. Don't touch it."

"That's a good one, too. Look, you're not gonna get away with it, no matter what you do. We have plenty of time. Prepare yourself for a thorough twist until you twist your hips off yourself and want mine. Hmm?"

"Kill. Absolutely, I'll kill you!

Victoire stood up to his spinal hair against the hot snort of a man descending on his own ass and continued to scream in an all-out voice.

The treasurer, holding Pordina resting on his chest, turned his back on the wall and stared jiggly at the lights of a huge lamp that emitted brilliant light. Although spring is near, temperatures drop a lot after the sun sets. As a dog-based subhuman habit, Pordina was savvy in reducing the area her body touches the air in a rounding pose she takes when falling asleep.

Royal Blossom is a luxury hotel with super power. The blankets given to the hostages are supreme, freshly grated and spotless. The merchants, including Shylock, are lazy as mud with all their might, but the nobles were different even if they were just the same prisoners themselves.

Even the old Sir Warren, who is supposed to be more than eighty, sits in a chair and sticks his wand to the floor, not breaking his posture even dust, and staring at the soldiers on the lookout. The degree of kneeling is used, but the posture as if there were iron bars in the spine made those who saw Rin feel so majestic and stylish that they could not help but feel the difference between nobility and civilians.

The shimmering cold, which didn't bother me until earlier, gradually crawls out of my ass.

The demands of Balmunk, the leader of the Liberation Alliance, should have been communicated by now to the army on the Lord's side that is besieging the hotel.

But at any rate, the ransom demand is an uninterrupted sum of 4.3 billion P (pounds sterling) for nobles and merchants combined. You can't possibly pay for that. No, even if I could pay it, it's not the amount I can align in the morning, demand, and at dusk.

(These guys knew they couldn't pay from the start and demanded a lot of pounds. Why? In the first place, you're not going to let the hostages go)

Too little information to discuss anything. The only rule of thumb that the collector can see is that you won't get locked up either way. Besides, since I was brought here, I've also been concerned about the existence of Victoire and Hannah, who haven't looked at each other at all.

(Ma, I think you'll be okay with those two...)

By and large, if you were found to be the daughter of a lord, your treatment of Victoire and yourself would be more than Sir Warren. And, if so, it means that their identities are unknown to the Liberation Alliance side.

(Heta would be easier to find out and avoid being turned into a card for these guys' negotiations)

Pordina, who was burying her face on her chest, shook her body piquely. It was a sensitive way of reacting, as if it had read the Lord's distortion of heart.

The collector exhaled heavily as he combed Pordina's exposed hair with his fingers. The wounds of the assault on the soldiers have almost recovered. It's always resilient to fall in love with.

The exhaling breath is white. The temperature in the room, probably, would be ten degrees apart. Regardless of the young and powerful collectors and warriors, they will be indulgent for the elderly.

From earlier on, to get some warmth, I desired something to put in my mouth, but what the warriors silently came by was ice cold water and a chunk of dry, dried meat. With your belly still teasing and something in it, your temperature is different on the surface.

When I threw the dried meat into my mouth with little hesitation, I fine-tuned the movement of my teeth and chewed the meat hard as a stone. The weaker the jaw, the chewier it is. Crushed and chewed until the prototype ran out, pulling saliva out of his throat. At any rate, satisfaction is not achieved in this degree of quantity. Then there is only one way to pseudo-deceive the center of fullness by chewing on it for a long time.

There seemed to be no advanced man in the hall ranked high enough to see Balmunk or at first glance. The PLA warriors on the tension were, uniformly, just boys who were still thought to be teenagers. He leaves his cheeks red, carries his spear foolishly, and stares at the hostages with upright immobilization without breaking the tension for a moment. This won't keep you focused for long.

With that in mind, Pordina's dog ears stood sassy up, closing her eyes in her chest. Undoubtedly, it is a reaction behavior due to feeling something strange.

"What's up, Pordina"

"Your husband. Coming."

"Ya, I'm sorry I'm late, hostages. Good news."

Balmunk, who opened the door and came in, snarled his thumbs over his ears, letting a dozen men carry several huge cabinets to arrange them in the center of the room.

"No way, even this one, I didn't expect them to move so agile. I've been waiting, it's a ransom. Most of all, I haven't reached my request yet."

When Balmunk signals, the men begin to knock down the cabinet simultaneously.

The hard metal noise rang so painfully in his ears that an avalanche of gold coins quickly let him fill the long hairy legs of the carpet.

"All in all, there are three billion p (pounds). Why did you scratch it? The most important breakdown is Shylock. Most of the two billion pounds your family sent over. That's right, a fat, thin, dirty guy who buys people."

From the nobles and merchants came the twist. When the Mansion was attacked by the Alliance for the Liberation of Slaves, the revelations of the household belongings have been received. On top of that, it was a broken pool of money.

On the other hand, the funds collected by the Duke of Erkühr for the Lords are one billion P (pounds sterling) and half of it. Even this alone, considerable hardship can be glimpsed, but when it was stuck that it was half of Shylock, the nobles couldn't help but snort the emotion.

"Well, my demands are four and a half billion, but this is not enough. There will be a limited number of people you can free."

"You said Balmunk or something. As for the merchant side, I would ask you to open up four people, except me. They don't feel so good. Mr. Klund, would you please bear with me until you, the guest, receive this painful but insufficient amount?"

"Oh. I'm the youngest of all. Hannah's gonna do it."

"Yes, did you say kland or something? You haven't been in the head count since the beginning."

Balmunk went like he was in trouble. The treasurer, his self-esteem was damaged, and he nodded.

"Lord Warren wants nobles other than himself to be freed first."

The men roared. Sir Warren is the oldest of the hostages. Everyone, naturally, was the first to be rescued with the billions of P (pounds) delivered was an arrowhead instruction that he thought was the great uncle of the present king.

Nor did the nobles heat their eyes when they saw the resolute will of Warren, hailed as no one in line of power, not to skip themselves and let themselves escape first.

Humans, if we get to the extreme, the skin we used to fix in normal times peels off beautifully. The PLA warriors were also distracted and stunned by Sir Warren's retreat, which embodied Knobless Obriege.

They are rebels against the system. For years, in the humility of being forced into obedience, a solid logic was established that "the one above will at all times step on the one below".

So it was that the old master, with the skin of a dead tree that was obviously much more noble than ourselves, and, moreover, about to collapse just by lightly touching it, showed the will to stay in the dead place harshly.

Humans are different from us. The warriors watched in silence as they squeezed in their morale.

Together, ten nobles and four merchants were supposed to be released. Even though he's about to let go of the tiger child's hostage, Balmunk's face doesn't see the color that Kakela is likely to regret either. It was a sign of confidence for him that he could captivate the nobles at any time.

"You feel like you can afford it at all."

Remaining hostages in the hotel were Sir Warren and three nobles following him.

Shylock the slave trader.

In total, there were five.

This procedure was also convenient for the collector. Sounds cold, but as far as he's concerned, I don't care about people other than basic Shylock and Pordina. Instead, if Pordina is alone, he is much more capable of fightin 'on foot than a collector in bare hands.

(All you have to do is find and escape Victoire and Hannah somehow...)

"Wait, wait. What are you going to do with Sarah?

It became liberating, and Yoran, one of the merchants, made a noise when Balmunk tried to bring the castle envoys into the hall. How obsessed he is with the woman who was his slave, he vibrates when he puts on thick fat, barking hard.

Shylock convinced me to give up one slave woman, but the stubborn old man didn't accept it as stubborn.

"Ridley, I'm sorry I had to keep the money for you, but I really need Sarah for you. Hey, Balmunk and I did. Non will stay here, so could you let Sarah get away from here instead!

Poor flow, the collector instinctively felt. Once again, upset ran over the Liberation Alliance warriors.

Yoran is also a well-known slave trader to the Romles.

Sarah was a beautiful female slave, but if she was a man like Yoran, she could buy as many alternatives as she wanted.

The liberation alliance has been hostile, so to speak, the enemy's big man is trying to save a woman with his own life who saw her only as a slave.

This, as Balmunk, would be seen as an action that goes beyond predictions, which should not be present in reality.

Yoran sticks out his thick pig's neck and stands up. I could see Balmunk doing his hand to the hips sword.

The collector stood up reflexively and popped out. I hit Yoran's meat all over my back, out of my mind. A pressed yoran fell upside down and Balmunk, who was stuck by accident, flipped upside down.

"You think it's critical?"

"What about you?"

In an unexpected streak, Balmunk kicked off the collectors who were so desperate to look bright red like monkeys at last.

He is angry with his eyes with outrage without doing so.

"Hey, Gina. If we follow the Liberation Alliance laws, how should we bring these men to justice?"

"If you physically or mentally harm a respondent during a rapprochement mediation, you will be punished after being called to an inquiry meeting, regardless of the degree of severity."

"Will every negotiation we had fall within the scope of harmonious conciliation?"

"It depends on the interpretation of the law. Perhaps in its scope."

"Okay. You said kland or something. Let us hold you in full custody, in accordance with the laws of the Alliance for the Liberation of Nations. Don't feel bad. Whoa, that's the subhuman woman there. You shouldn't make bad moves. Here, if you scream, more than a hundred warriors fill the hall instantly. I don't want to do that if I can. I don't want to. Don't get it."

Balmunk headed towards Pordina, who was floating on the heels of his legs, trying to fly. Then, when he commanded his men, he tied the collector handily as he twisted him behind his back with wilderness rope.

"Balmunk. Besides, let me talk to her for a second"

"That's good enough. But don't be weird."

"Your husband. Order Pol. In the blink of an eye, I'll take his neck."

"No. All right, just calm down and listen to me. Do something, run away and call for reinforcements. Until then, protect Shylock and the nobles. As far as I can. If it really sucks, run without thinking about it. I'll take care of myself."

"But......!

"This is an order. Please, I really don't want to do this. Hear me out."

"Nothing, as far as I'm concerned, if you say so. Just promise me."

"Anything."

"Please make sure you escape this scene alive. If anything happens to your husband, I'll be right behind you."

"What a slave to blackmail your husband."

Pordina's eyes were tensing a thin membrane of tears. There, it's just, it's just, there's only a red heart that thinks about the treasurer. Emotions are transmitted the stronger they are. The treasurer, whose back of his chest was filled with gin and hot, put his chest to her head. Pordina rubbed her nose tip against the chest of the treasurer and squealed.

Shortly after, he moved through the hall with four men guttering back and forth. The Royal Blossom is the premier super luxury hotel in Silver Villago. If I hadn't swept around and been surrounded by armed men, I would have immersed myself a little more in a hisso mood, but the rest of the way is the detention where the terrorists conveniently decided to do so.

Luckily, the room is essential. Gi, and with the door slammed, he entered the room with his shoulder poked small. There, already, there were dark blood stains all over the room, as if they had been used many times.

"That's a suite. Would you like a glass of beer?"

"Don't be ridiculous!

The man struck the forehead of the collector hard with a sheath of sword in his hand. Gah, my bones squealed dull. Oh, my God, I poked my butt on the carpet. It should be noted that a man shook up his score in an attempt to add lynch, and a ringing voice was emitted from the door entrance.

"Stop it! Is that how revolutionary warriors treat prisoners!

"Are you..."

Face up to a familiar voice. There, Raffaello, a beautiful priest in a black monastic hat, met a few days ago in the cathedral, was resolutely protesting against the man with his eyes shining.

"Chip, you're the messenger."

"Hey, it's not a good time to piss off the Romless Boy"

"No, anyway, this bastard is decided from death and Hannah. You don't have to worry so much."

"Wait. What did you say right now?

"Hmm, boy. You've been trying to keep your breadth in the church a lot, but it doesn't work here as a lady. If you want to know, let me tell you. The fact that he was brought to this room means that the man named Klund is no help anymore. You, too, gave Balmunk something to give you, and he told you to round your tail and run back!

"Hey, buddy. That's a lot tougher on a kid."

"Like me. The kid from the neighborhood church put Kakaa to bed. He said he was waving his back over his wife in the gap where he was just out to add up a little bit. Now you have to come to your head. You're not a man. I beat him up and knocked him out, but all of a sudden the church guys decided I was about to hit him. I don't know why they chased the village, and then I heard rumors of the wind that Kakaa had been delivered to the concubine of the smelly boy, so why not talk about it? Shit, I'm pissed off again."

"Anyway, stop making senseless assaults. And would you mind taking your seat off for a moment? I'd like to talk to him for a moment."

"Knock. You can't. I won't let that happen. If there's anything you can do, then so be it. Here, get naked and lick my ass hole. It's delicious. Then you can think about it for a second."

"I see. So there's no point in arguing."

"What? What, are you talking about, you fucking kid! If you don't want him engraved, you're gonna have to listen to me. Whoa."

Raffaello sighed as he lay down his long lashes. Then as I quickly protruded the cane in my hand, I pierced the man's throat precisely. The man who had his throat Buddha destroyed collapsed on the spot when he peeled off his white eyes.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Don't be ridiculous, you rotten boy."

The men screamed in a voice close to screaming. The collector slammed his forehead against his nose as he hit one from his shoulder and pressed it against the wall. I heard the ridge, and the nasal bone shaking. When the collector let himself go of the man, he saw Raffaello unconscious the other two.

"Wait. I'll untie the rope now."

"Are you Raffaello? Isn't that bad? There's no guarantee we'll get out of here alive."

"Actually I was watching you push down the merchant in the shadow of the door earlier. You covered him from Balmunk, who tried to pull out his sword."

"It's..."

"That's not all. I've heard a lot about you from the bishops, Artemisia, Cordura."

"Is that them? Anyway, you're just saying bad things."

"No. Everyone, at first, would lower Lord Klund, but at the end of the day, I complimented him. Even if I look like this, I'm a priest. You have a little eye for people. You have a lot of people waiting for you. I'm not a good person to die in here."

"Raffaello"

"Let's live here together. And now it's time to settle the bar."

Raffaello's tough face turns into something indescribably soft. The fisherman smiled nicely when he was caught.

"Oh, yeah"

Quickly exit the room and exit into the hallway. As expected, they were immediately spotted on enemy outposts.

Raffaello, urging him to loosen himself first with his gesture, swallowed down the Liberation Alliance warriors with his cane, protecting the back of the collector. The attack launched from the length of the top one hundred and ninety was overwhelming. Like dancing, he finally reached the stairs thanking the priest for kicking his chasing enemies.

It consisted of a long spiral of blowout. Numbers appear on the walls in Romeless. Sure, was it a number seven? Raffaello caught up with me on the way in.

"The chaser has been cleared up. That's a relief."

"Thank you so much. Thank you. By the way, how do we get out of here?"

"This hotel also has countless rooms. Besides, if we don't go back, sooner or later, the castle soldiers will launch an attack on the hotel. How about poking that gap and running away?"

"Oh, I see. The priest is a wise man, after all. Yeah, yeah."

"By the way, it's a strange story to ask in this situation. Lord Klund. I beg your pardon, did you not see a disc-shaped one in church, just about the size of a palm of your hand?

"Disc-shaped? Hmm."

"That was actually my treasure. It's embarrassing, but my wife in my hometown sent it to me when I was younger, and I think I dropped it somewhere. It's just an amulet change, but it's something I always carried around without letting go of my skin, and I can't help but miss it."

"Oh! Those green doughnuts! Is this it?

"Oh, yeah. That's it."

The collector remembered that, a few days ago, he had picked up "perfection" in the hallway of the church. When I immediately removed it from my inner pocket of nostalgia, I returned it to Raffaello.

"You, too, hey, hey, hey. But there's something familiar about it."

"Hi..."

"Anyway, why don't we just take the stairs and leave this place? I wish I had a good place to hide."

I grabbed it by the railing in the hallway and looked under the blowout that lasted everywhere.

At the same time, the back bone smashed and the burning heat ran.

The collector felt the circuit of the brain weather shorten and distant from consciousness because of so much intense pain.

A feeling of heat that is cold at the beginning of the sudden and about to burn down later.

Undisputed, it was slashed with a blade.

"Hey, why..."

"Hey, did you still have it? I've had a hard time. Looking for this."

Turning his neck to look back, Don and I were pushed back. Fluffy body dances. The pain delayed my response. To the bottom of the blowout Naruto, falling in a straight line. In a desperate floating sensation, the last thing I saw was Father Raffaello turning a refreshing smile as he glowed the blade of the planting wand.