Dungeon+Harem+Master

The maid is fine.

That's what I thought the collector would make while watching Pordina standing in the kitchen.

I like the headdress with the hair fastening.

I like the whiteness of the decorative apron.

I like the shades of understatement.

Slightly better skirt length that looks wild.

The very notion of a maid that unites all of that is preferable.

"Your husband. What can I do for you?

"Oh, 'cause I don't need anything in particular. Go on."

When Pordina, who noticed the gaze of the collector, wipes her wet hands with a wash, she approaches early enough. I gently controlled it with my hands and saw a face that looked anxious somewhere. Fine. It's really good. It's so good.

"... you're thinking of something else."

Victoire, who was holding the egg and stirring the pan, immediately frowned and towed it.

- Oh, this is no good.

Victoire's distinguished appearance is further advanced by the fact that he has long hair on his hands for cooking. In one way, beauty is in the way. The attire is the same as Pordina's, but the nobility and standing behavior that she was born and raised in makes her feel somewhat fortitude, undermining the maid she wants.

"Thirty points."

"Something tells me it's a terribly unscrupulous fluctuation."

"Ah, my lady. The brave man and his eyes are close together. Rabbub."

Hannah, who was peeling off a potato peel, gets her head pounded by Victoire and tongues out. Hannah is out of the maid's standard according to the collector's standard.

"Pordina's still number one,"

"Your husband...... I'm just doing what I have to do."

Pordina was dyeing her cheeks cherry and shaking her tail violently from left to right as she moistened her black eyes.

"Ah, ah! Also, Pordina, thank you so much. I envy your daughter, so please don't do that. too."

"So, I don't know what to say. There must be no boys in the kitchen in the first place. If you're the head of the family, don't come fishing for the fluffy bottom!

"Ahhh. Don't kick it."

The collector dispersed the scene with awesomeness after his ass was kicked up by Victoire.

After a while.

As I groaned my belly, Victoire and Hannah brought me breakfast. The dining room stops bustle as soon as possible, and prayers before meals are often held.

"Hey, Klando. What the hell did you mean earlier?"

"Hmm? Uh, what were you talking about?"

The collector was running his eyes to the amber soup Victoire clings to the plate and his tongue nodded. When people are distracted by other liquids that raise the hot air, people become heartless.

"So look at how I behaved. Ooh, mister. Or something like that. What does that mean?"

"Oh, that. That one. A made-up score. Or my appreciation of you."

"Huh? Hope you don't know why again.... by the way, how do you rate Pordina? Don't get me wrong. Yikes. I don't care what your rating is, it's just a reference value."

"Pol has a hundred points. I'm sure it's settled."

"Nah."

Upon hearing the words of the collector, Victoire rambled the pot in his hand onto the table. Hot soup flies bitchy. I screamed, "My eyes peeled," when I got into Hilda's eye, which was next door.

Victoire turned his back on his mind. Then he shook his head from a still state so that the Kabuki actor could cut his sight and moved his hands exaggerated, opening his eyes cuttingly with an expression that was difficult to describe.

With the faces drawn by the little elves who looked directly at the sight, they pour out the pungent potatoes on the forks. After adulthood, it was a scene that produced intense trauma that could overinterfere with the child he had given birth to.

"Correct...! This is unlikely to be a hundred points. If Pordina has a hundred points, I am proud to say that I have exceeded one hundred twenty points, no, two hundred points!

"- At least you're a maid of honor now."

Did Tsuba hit his face? Sizka took out the handkerchief with cold eyes. Meryandale looks around left and right in severe agitation, lightly despairing that both neighbors Karen and Liza continue to eat as if nothing had happened. In the furthest seats Dorothea groaned, "Also, after I started in the morning from Ichi..."

"Look, it's also about getting Sizka's consent. I mean, there's no one on Maid Road who leads to Pordina. I knew Por would be the best."

"Ugh, hehe..."

"What's up? Your brain let go of reason to a reality that's too harsh?

Sizka moves her palms sassy in front of Victoire's face.

"Ah, my lady. Lady, it's your favorite candy. Be peppery and conscious."

Hannah tries to take the candy balls wrap out of her nose and make her grip, but Victoire quickly pays off the wrap. I could hear Hannah's grieving whine that "Mr. Candy..."

"Kland.Apparently, you're the one who doesn't recognize reality. If you knew what I was capable of, you wouldn't want to talk about it anymore."

"No, you were a knight."

"Shut up! If this happens, the name of the prestigious Barthelmy family that flows into this blood will be abolished, without correcting this misperception. One day, one day today. In just one day, I'll show you my true service as a maid to reverse your rating......! Oh, I say no, but don't expect me to behave impolitely. It's only a matter of skill as a regular maid."

"Oh, your daughter is on fire. This is brave. If your daughter really serves you, the first seat of compassion will slip off your Pordina."

"Stupid, that Victoire, huh? Ariem."

The collector shouted his nose when he saw Victoire laughing high with his hands on his hips as he stabbed the fudge potato with a fork.

"Let's start with scene ① Your husband's wake-up scene."

"Hey, I just woke up for breakfast, but I need to start over here. Am I right?"

Hannah pointed her lips with a disgruntled look as she ate the sayings of the keeper as she tried to beat the two tree cuts that made her look like a cock.

"Isn't that obvious, brave man? For the most part, Hannah woke you up this morning, and now she's a young lady again. Where are you dissatisfied with the unlikely super harem state of being fu by two beautiful women in one morning? too."

"Two beautiful women? Anyway...... ok! Okay, so if it swells like a cake like that. Anyway, you just have to pretend you slept here, right?

"The discerning lords love Hannah. Okay, let's stick together."

Hannah sent me a tossing kiss with a cute wink. The collector shook his neck left and right and sounded cocky as he carried it to the fictional left-stand with a one-legged method.

"Whatever you want."

The collector complained of a bump when he entered the blanket with a mess in his own bed. Apparently, the scene of waking up is pretty important as a maid serving situ.

(Hmm. On second thought, I don't know how many times Victoire has ever come to wake me up properly with all the patterns of hiding and poking surprises under my bed or in my closet. Funny. Why don't you let me see it? Something called Victoire's true service...!

Not yet, I guess. I'm also a little excited to see how Victoire acts. As I was deciding to fall asleep raccoon in a muddy bed, my sleepiness gradually plunged in from the fullness of breakfast.

Last night, Rudge - Karen - Dorothea - and I had a night battle in a harsh rote, and I was not feeling tired or hoarded. His hips are callously light, but he's in that state where his flimsy legs are uncertain trying to get up.

(ah... yabe... ah... something right now... go to sleep...)

"Excuse me."

In a fading consciousness, Kathari and the door knob heard the sound of the revolving door opening at a distance. The carpet in this room is unusually luxurious, with long hairy feet and super mundane.

As the person coming in approached him without making him feel any signs, he found himself staying perfectly by the bed.

The collector was a "fetal" pattern where he slept with a blanket from his head and completely covered his vision when he slept.

For some reason, this is the best way to sleep. Because of the early loss of his real mother, his pattern of life was prominently seen by the way in the colour of the search for maternal love. It's still summer, so it's a little hot.

"Good morning, your husband. It's morning."

It was, as usual, a Rin voice but a rich round one.

Is this - Victoire's?

Then the thin blanket that was on his face is removed. It was a gentle, polite and unobtrusive move to deal with broken goods.

What was included was a force colored by a strong belief that woke my husband up on time, not just to spoil him. Then I don't feel messy. I had her face when I put it out of the blanket.

"Are you awake, my lord"

That was a beautiful smile.

"Oh, wow."

"Good morning, master."

"Ah, oh. Good morning."

The collector responds as if under pressure. Victoire kept a smile filled with that refreshing freshness. I wonder if she has put it back through her hair, and it is rounded everywhere. The contours of her overly self-assertive beauty were so calm that I could only think of a change in the way she wore makeup. A sweet smell mixed with flutter and soap passed my nose tip. It was beginning to be sweet and sour, not pure lust, among the collectors.

(Whoa, whoa. What the hell is this...! Is this who you really are?

"I'll be ready to congratulate you."

Victoire speaks only in a mellow tone, whilst soaking hot water from the pot into the sink in an elegant and sophisticated motion. I would call sleeping faces and mouths shabby with this hot water.

- But it's Victoire! He doesn't like warm water.

The collector knew that Victoire's standards, a vibrant personality, were far removed from the ordinary man by everything. She hates halfway things. When it comes to cold water, the tighter your hands and feet freeze, the hotter it is when it comes to hot water, like a burning flame.

(Hmm. Anyway, the hotter and tougher it is when it comes to Victoire water. The cup noodles are set on a level of hot water that can be eaten in two minutes. Come on, let's throw this self in full and get drunk......!

The collector stuck his hand without hesitation towards the washer carried to his chest. Whatever death is, it is the spirit of - But the facts didn't. It's muddy.

This is it! It's soggy.

Not too hot. Don't overdo it. It was too temperate to soak up his face, soak up his drowsiness, rinse his mouth and blow away the heavy, sticky remnants of the night.

I've been trying to trick you into this since the beginning. I couldn't help but unravel the solidity of the body that was wrapping my eyes in black and white.

I jump over the notion of "scratch" and wash my face, and I get a bump. On the other side, Victoire, nagging with a lukewarm and understated look, had taken his gaze off to such an extent that he could not be disrespected. Usually you say, "What do you say!" He should be striking his satirical wit forward all the time.

Victoire was supposed to be sticking out that muffled chest and showing off her proud part of the work, but now she deserves a maid to push herself to death, enough to call it a chunk of humility.

(What the heck... Hey, hey, hey? Are you really Victoire? Aren't you replacing me with a devout nigger or something where I don't know?

Regardless, Hilda has nothing to do with it. Hilda, who double-pieces "yep" behind the zodiac's brain, smiles and fades out. She is the person furthest from clarity.

"Oh, you know. Your husband? What are you doing? Come."

"No, kind of."

The collector stretched his neck and searched hard to see if there was a zip around Victoire's back or something, but he couldn't find any such marks. Now the replacement theory is gone.

"I'm not convinced."

"Already. Funny, your husband"

Victoire spills an elegant laugh when he puts a small fist on his mouth. Even that was imprisoned by the intense discomfort of some elegant young lady who had preceded others somewhere far away.

(Chicks, right there! Normally, what are you staring at, Sukehei? Or lighten up. You're about to bash me in anger. - Shit. Is that some kind of weird drug you decided to take one shot at and transform yourself? Come back...)

"Hmm."

"Yikes!

Inevitably, the collector went out by hard means. In other words, it is a broken tit touch. It's almost like traditional entertainment when it comes to sexual harassment of a maid, but in the case of a collector, it wasn't on such a cute level, it was "to moro" and "eagle".

Stick out your hands, Muggle. It is such a manly "rub..." that you can no longer argue with any statutory

Victoire's breasts were mercilessly rubbed vertically and horizontally with huge palms like a bowl of tea bowls for the treasurer, and she was pinched with a cat.

- How about this! Show me your nature. Hey! And angry madness. Eh!

It is a ruinous principle of action, almost as if expecting it to be done. The pains of the collector could be read from there. He had also begun to remember something slightly closer to fear in Victoire's attitude, which had become unusual.

"Oh, no, it is.... Goodbye, my lord."

"Ah. Yeah, sorry."

Victoire just dyes his cheeks shyly against the beast that strips his fangs and strikes him, turning his face to the side and modestly mouthing words of resistance. The zodiac's brain was temporarily confused, and for this man it was the beginning and end of rarely letting go of his own hands.

"I'm already kidding. Your husband."

"That. I'm sorry."

Victoire wasn't really reluctant either, it was a modest one that made him feel the professional ethic that he should not cross the hedge of obedience only, and yet the kind that stirred a man's desire from the inside out. The collector was violently confused - unusual for this man - and illuminated.

Either way, our sights intertwined with each other. As the collector gently took Victoire's hand, her cherry blossom lips shivered shyly. Somewhere, it was even as compelling as hoping to be taken away.

It has a good vibe. Perhaps the atmosphere was good enough to be the best since these two met under the rubble of the king's capital.

Hannah, who watched it from a distance, initially pretended to be spare but now blued her complexion with a daze and a cold sweat on her forehead.

"Suttop. At the end of this scene."

"Ugh? What the fuck? Suddenly you sprang up and left!

I felt some dangerous fluctuations. Hannah jumped out of the shadow of the curtain and pounded her cock up and down like a bee and crazy. So the unspeakable slutty atmosphere of the place was misty.

"I don't know, but I felt something unusually dangerous, so I'll force it to end with admin privileges"

"What is it, Hannah? Some crazy GM..."

"Hannah is a brave man. I don't understand you."

Because of a forced stop by Hannah, the collector left his room to cry.

"I mean, I'm the Lord, Lord. I don't know, just let it go like this."

The collector moved to the living room of a shared space where everyone gathers when he leaves his room with a good bump. This place is open all day, and each one of them spends their time doing whatever they want independently.

If you finish your assigned duty chores, pretty much everything is free time when you're not diving into a dungeon. Especially here the number of small elves is noticeable.

With the exception of the kids who play outdoors, the so-called youth group spends time here. As the collector sat on the couch and circled his gaze, Emmanuel was baking a cup of care while holding the toddlers still unscrupulous with a melting face.

"Emma, stay. Oh, my God."

"Come on."

"Shijuki."

"Yes...... yes"

This place was like paradise for her, the only expectant woman and her eldest son taken up. The little elves instinctively admitted Emmanuel as their mother. Now Emmanuel's small elf popularity was enough to separate Artemisia from the forces.

"To adore a child, Yoshi...... hmm?

When he pulled his hem off and dropped his gaze as it creaked, Lucille, the collector's favorite little elf, was there with a shorter string to make a garlic grin.

"Mr. Klund. It's like this kid wants to pull and play."

Lynette, the little elf's summariser, gave her an up-and-coming look with her long ears pierced. Speaking of which, I haven't had much time to communicate with her lately either. You'll want to hang out with Lucille. The collector stepped off the couch and sat down on the carpet.

Pulling is a play conceived by Lucille, simply pulling each other with strings at both ends. There's no reason or anything. Toddlers like simple things like this.

Usually, the collector predicts the match and loses about two of the three times, but this time, the addition or subtraction is on the other side because it will be in the form of a linet. A little bit of a pussy drawstring?

"Okay. I'm a powerful man, so hey. Good luck, Lucille."

Lucille raised her eyebrows and raised her mouth angle. "Ha" leaked a laugh at the almost indescribable.

"Ah, Krander. I'm watching you sweetly because you're a woman about us. You're really strong."

"Right. If you're wrong in the future, be some kind of power-based elf and bully me."

"- I can hear you. Or something. You want me to go to war with you and rip your arms off."

"Excuse me, Mr. Dorothea, give him a break. I still use a lot of things, this arm."

"Dorotheer. Mr. Klund, don't bully me."

"Just kidding, Lynette. It's such a pain in the ass. Oh, Lucille, don't throw the building blocks."

Often soothing scenes unfold in the living room. Of course I have Hannah as a watchman, but for some reason I don't try to pinch my mouth when the collector is talking to Lynette. I always wondered why they weren't close when they were the same age, but I think I caught a glimpse of one end of it on my last trip in Woodless. All of which was one of the challenges that needed to be addressed.

- Ugh. I feel like Hannah's gaze is heavy, but don't worry about it.

"Ah, your husband. Would you mind if I had it mixed up, too?

"Oh, I don't mind."

"Ah. Mr. Victoire. Do you want to play with me? Well, let's work with the three of us to get rid of Mr. Klund. Ugh. Uh-huh."

Lynette welcomed Victoire with pleasure, who had suddenly expressed her participation because she seemed to have no subordination. She looked like three sisters and smiled, but I felt Hannah's gaze stretched out even stronger. Is it in the mood that they took my sister if I try Hannah?

Nothing, it wasn't the will of the collector that got Victoire involved. I hope you don't add anything with matching moves.

- Mend you. I knew you were a mend bitch, Hannah.

"Oops. Oh, yeah."

"Uh, yes, yes. Ha, I knew when Vee came in, it was different."

I don't know if I'm serious or not, but the collector, with both hands, outlined Lucille, Lynette and Victoire against him.

Especially around Victoire. I guess you just don't mean it, you pull the strings together pretty well with that power.

Innocent Lynette and Lucille, on the other hand, were cute things where they turned their faces bright red and poured all their strength. Unexpectedly, I felt empowered. I didn't even intend to win, but did I have the strength in my arm? What, and lost the pulled back power lightly, the three fronts fluttered into the universe.

"Ya, ba-"

And it was too late when I thought. The treasurer fell into a shark that took the three of them with his chest, falling like avalanches.

"Ah, ah... hmm? I fumble."

"Yan."

I felt a fluffy mass move slightly as the collector moved his loosely stretched arm while buried in the meat. As Lucille pushed her groin against my face, the collector was positioning himself with Victoire on his back.

- After a while.

"Excuse me."

Victoire, shy of herself, ran away from the living room in a patchy manner.

It is as if we remain pocan together to the appearance of a different person than usual.

"Yeah, you smelled it..."

Sizka was biting her thumbnails gazily with her madly conceived eyes in the corner of the room when she saw the collector squirming like a fluke.

"Kind of chills"

I should have had a good thought, but what is the blunt pain sticking up to this downward belly? The Zao returned to his chamber shaking at the alarm that rang like a heavenly drum from within himself.

"We still have time for dinner, but get some sleep. I'm tired of everything today."

When I opened the door and walked in, there was a sizuka dressed as a maid and cleaning the room.

"Ah. You're late, Cland- not late, sir."

The soothing shade of clothing on the moist dark hair suited me well. She is in a good mood with a "hum hum hum hum" all over her nose while sticking to a pot that was decorated in the corner of the room. The collector lamented his own fate if he hadn't seen Pordina at her feet restrained and rolled like a potato worm and screamed violently, "Mmm-hmm," he probably put it to sleep with happiness.

There were traces of some fighting indoors, but if it was Sizka who was plainly wearing a made-up costume on this occasion, it was clear what was done and how.

Pordina is roaring with her eyes running blood in her underwear. Sizka, however, is immersed in the work that the maid would have to do in a flat manner that does not go without such intent.

There is no analogy between striking Pordina's surprise in Sizka's face, which was in the process of being cleaned considering that there were only about two or three scratches.

When I looked at the desk with a lot of agony, I noticed that the tight liquor (he) I kept in secret was calla, and I heard a tall voice from the top of my head.

"You...! Did you open this all by yourself?

If you look carefully, Sizka's face is slightly stained with cherry blossoms. The alcohol I treated was almost the same as oil, and I took it out of Lacey's store, but I drank it a little bit every day. A person who is vulnerable to alcohol is a substitute for flipping with a glass of one bottle instead.

The treasurer swept a cold sweat from his forehead with a daze. Gaze in with Instant Maid. Sizka's eyes were cloudy with alcohol, and he sat still.

"What's the matter? - No, what has been done, sir? Please relax and wait while we finish cleaning."

"No, that, you know. You... what are you doing?

Sizka keeps her face close. The exhaling smelled like alcohol. Exactly. I'll give you the keeper.

"No, sir. I am a maid of honor. You are the only cute maid of honor. The maid is to take care of the Lord. hey -"

My eyes aren't laughing. My eyes aren't laughing at all. What am I supposed to do! What am I supposed to do with this situation? The zodiac stared into Sizka's beard-like eyes and tormented him violently.

"Ahh."

Was the sizka that was tapping pushed too far at the tip of the stick, or the kettle that was on the desk fell out of balance, making a soggy noise and smashing and scattering.

Although it was often an inconsiderate product, the atmosphere was full of awkwardness. The collector reached for his shoulder to comfort Sizka, who remained solidified when he swallowed the raw spit.

"Right. Sizka, you don't have to worry about it. Anyway, Anemon..."

"Ahhh. What have you done? Ugh. My husband's precious pot of family heirlooms."

"Huh? No, it's nothing. It's not a family heirloom or anything, it's a cheap antique I bought at the flea market -"

Sizka threw herself out to bed with an exaggerated act of stage actress and twisted herself in mourning as she waved violently or for the first time as she attached one hand to her cheek.

"Sir. As a maid of honor, I have made an unforgivable mistake. To get there, my husband himself, punish me - ugh!

"Um, Sizka...... Are you listening? Are you listening to me?

(Far away. I can feel the distance between Sizka and me never before...)

Sizka sliced her flaky hair into her mouth, and when she put both hands on her desk, she stuck her glutes out toward the collector and took a slutty stance of skirting herself up.

"Yep. What? What? Come on."

"I'm bored."

"Uh, wow... what?

"Wow style. Ahhh. Don't embarrass Sizka any more."

I'm drunk. Completely drunk behavior. Otherwise, even my girlfriend is shy of the lights. There's no way I'm going to go into this kind of behavior from midday so brilliantly sunny.

"Muggoo!

"Hip?"

The collector feels the fiery, burning rage that sprays up from the restrained pordina behind him, nature, retreats about a few steps.

"Punish me, punish me..."

"No, that Mr. Sizka. Boki's story, can you hear me...?

Nevertheless, it's such a rare case that the maid, Sizka, sticks her ass out against the collector herself and begs for punishment, etc. that even if she's reborn two or three more times, she doesn't know if she'll see it. Just here, I'll never forget to burn it in the back of my brain looking at the buttocks of a round, white girl. A glossy voice spilled out of Sizka's mouth as she stroked her flat, spotless ass meat.

The zodiac felt like a frizzy current on his spine, but Pordina quickly returned to me by the smell of anger emanating from his whole body.

"Now... with this whip, please hit this stubborn maid... come on... saah!

Sizka handed me a whip that seemed softly black and sturdy with one hand as she pretended to have a round ass to invite her. The collectors couldn't really understand why we were so ready.

"No, this whip is for horseback riding, isn't it? I'm gonna rip your butt off. Okay?

"So much so that it rips... blah blah"

"Yes, no. But... you know what?

I shifted my gaze to Pordina, where the collector was rolling while lowering the horseback whip he was handed. She stares at Sizka's defenseless ass with her eyes with an angry burning beast as she exhales her rough breath from a blocked mouth towel.

"Ya, but"

"Come on."

An inviting sizka sweet nose. When the confusion of the collectors reached its culmination, the silent closet opened all the way, and Victoire with the judging bass leaped towards Sizka.

"What are you thinking -! You Ha!"

"Begin. Get out of my way. How long have you been there?

"From the beginning." You crazy bastard. Well, where is the true made-up? I was an idiot in your truck! What are you looking at in silence? You porn freak. "

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. I almost had a strong bond of subordination between me and Klund. No. Also, get out of the way."

"Ugh, you dumb-ass. Perverted Sexual Woman -!

"Victoire is the one. I don't have a nose for watching, Ese. It was you! Damn radish actors."

"Ugh. Smells like booze. You... Are you drunk?

"You're the one who snuck your messy hands onto Cland's sheets. I know."

"Nah, what a basis for such a demeanor. Oh, that's impossible. Hey, Klund. Because he's lying! Don't believe me!

Sizka and Victoire begin to grasp each other with a kicky voice as they roll around the room unraveling. There was not even the illusion of the humble lady that the collector had seen until earlier.

"... well, either way, it doesn't make any difference that Pol is the number one maid of honor"

"Yes."

As the collector held Pordina aside tied, he ran off the hallway in a light foothold.

Lessons learned.

People have a sense of proportionality. You shouldn't be unfamiliar.