Chapter 23: Volume 1- [ - 24 ]
The marketplace hovered in my vision, glowing soft blue against the darkened room.
Two items. That was all I needed. The Serpent’s Fang — that beautiful, impossible pistol — at three hundred and fifty points. And Body Reading, the arousal meter, at sixty. Together, four hundred and ten points. I had three hundred and seventy-five.
Twenty-five points short.
I stared at the number the way a gambler stares at a hand that is one card away from perfect. The discrepancy sat in my mind like a splinter — small, irritating, and impossible to ignore. I had earned four hundred points from a single pregnant woman, a staggering haul by any measure, and yet it was not quite enough. The universe — or whatever sadistic algorithm ran this system — had a sense of humor, and I was not laughing.
My gaze drifted to Elira.
She lay on her side, asleep, her body curled around the great curve of her belly, her knees drawn up, her back facing me. The candle had died, but the thin moonlight through the window outlined her form in silver — the slope of her waist, the flare of her hip, the heavy upper curve of her ass where it rose from the small of her back. She was breathing slowly, deeply, the rhythm of a woman whose body had been wrung out like a cloth and left to dry.
My hand found her hip. Traced the curve downward, over the roundness of her ass, my fingers spreading her cheek with a slow, deliberate motion. The moonlight found what I was looking for — a small, tight, pinkish-brown circle nestled between the soft flesh of her buttocks, almost hidden, almost shy.
And above it, visible only through the system’s overlay, a faint red glow pulsed.
[ Anal Zone — 25 pts ]
I looked at it. It looked at me. It was, I decided, calling my name.
My cock was already stirring — the Viagra pill I had swallowed from the drawer was doing its work, sending blood southward with the urgent enthusiasm of a river breaking a dam. I stroked myself slowly, feeling the shaft thicken and lengthen in my grip, the head flushing that deep crimson that seemed to signal readiness the way a war drum signals battle.
I pressed the broad, blunt tip against her anal.
Elira’s body flinched.
The contact was minimal — just the head, just the pressure, just the heat of my cock against the tight, puckered ring of muscle that had never been breached in her life, if her reaction was any indication. She stirred, a small sound escaping her throat — not a word, not yet, just the unconscious murmur of a body registering unexpected stimulus.
I pushed. Just the tip. The head of my cock pressed against the resistance, and the muscle clenched — tight, virgin, completely unyielding. Her body tensed in her sleep, her legs drawing tighter together, her belly shifting beneath her.
She woke up.
"Lord — wait—" Her voice was thick, disoriented, still half-drowned in sleep. Her hand reached back, finding my thigh, fingers pressing against it. "My body — I cannot — what are you—"
"You were sleeping so peacefully," I murmured, my hand finding her breast from behind, cupping the heavy weight of it, my fingers closing around the nipple. "I did not want to wake you. But I need something. Just a little."
Her body trembled. "Please stop. That — that is not — it is not the right—"
I pushed. Slowly. The head of my cock pressed past the initial resistance, the tight ring of muscle stretching around the broad flare of the crown. The sensation was intense — not the wet, welcoming heat of her pussy, but something drier, tighter, more resistant, the muscle fighting every millimeter of intrusion with a stubbornness that bordered on hostility.
Elira’s leg moved — a violent, involuntary jerk, her thigh tensing, her foot kicking against the sheet. Her whole body was trembling now, and when I glanced at her face, I saw tears.
"One inch," I whispered against her neck. "Just let me—"
Two inches. The muscle stretched around the shaft, the tissue pulling taut, and Elira made a sound — a high, thin whine that came from the back of her throat, not pleasure, not quite pain, something in between that she had no framework to process.
Three inches. Her hand on my thigh was clawing now, nails digging in. "Please — it hurts — it is too—"
Four inches. Her back arched, her belly pressing forward, her ass pressing back against me in an involuntary motion that took me deeper. A sob escaped her — raw, wet, the kind of sound that comes from a place beyond words.
Five inches. I stopped.
I kissed her neck. Soft, gentle, my lips tracing the curve where her shoulder met her throat, tasting the salt of her sweat.
"Are you crying?" I asked.
"It hurts," she whispered, and her voice was so small it could have fit inside a thimble. "It hurts. It hurts. Please."
I held still inside her for a moment. Felt the clenching, the trembling, the desperate grip of muscles that did not know how to accommodate me. Then I kissed her ear, her temple, the corner of her eye where the tears were gathering.
"Fine then," I said softly. "We will do it some other time."
I pulled out. Slowly — inch by inch, letting her feel the withdrawal, the gradual relief of pressure, the slow unclenching of muscles that had been stretched past their experience.
Elira gasped as the head popped free, her body immediately curling forward, her hands reaching for herself, her whole frame shaking with the aftershocks of an experience her body had not been ready for.
She cried. Softly, quietly, the tears falling onto the pillow as sleep pulled her back under, her body too exhausted to sustain consciousness against the tide of fatigue. Within a minute, her breathing had evened out, her trembling had subsided, and she was gone.
The system chimed.
[ Anal stimulation (partial) — Elira Thorne — 25 pts acquired ]
Current balance: 400 pts
I smirked.
’System. Purchase Serpent’s Fang and Body Reading. Immediately.’
[ Purchases confirmed. ]
[ Serpent’s Fang (Pistol) — 350 pts deducted ]
[ Body Reading (Arousal Meter) — 50 pts deducted (Level 1 discount applied) ]
[ Remaining balance: 0 pts ]
[ Items materialized in inventory. Equip? Y/N ]
’Equip Body Reading. Passive. Now.’