Chapter 88 -90
I showed her. My hand — the one not holding my cock — found the vibrator and pressed it against Renna’s anal. The tip touched the ring — the muscle, still loose, still sensitive — and I turned it on.
The buzzing was soft, mechanical, a sound that did not belong in this world. The vibration traveled through the tissue, the nerve endings firing, and Renna’s body jerked.
“NO — what — that feeling — what is — HAAANGH—”
I pushed the vibrator in. One inch. The anal swallowed it, the muscle closing around the base, the vibration traveling inward, the walls clenching around the intrusion.
“NO — that is not for — please — what is — the buzzing — I cannot—”
I fucked her. My cock drove back into her pussy — the double penetration, the cock in her pussy and the vibrator in her anal, the two sensations merging into something that her body could not process. I kissed Mirra. The French kiss — my tongue finding hers, the Tongue Mastery activating — swallowed her gasp of surprise.
The wetness of Renna’s pussy — the arousal, the cum from the previous hours — ran down through her ass crack, pooling around the vibrator, the liquid providing lubrication that let the device slide deeper. Three inches. The vibration traveled through the thin wall between her anal and her pussy, and my cock — driving into her from the other side — felt it.
The sensation was — mutual. The vibration on my cock, through the wall, the buzzing adding a dimension that no medieval technique could replicate.
[ Double penetration (vibrator + cock) — 70 pts ]
[ Modern device usage (fantasy world) — 30 pts ]
[ Assisted penetration (Goddess-vessel) — 20 pts ]
The system chimed. The points were small — thirty, seventy, twenty — but they were flowing, and the flow was continuous, each thrust generating a new notification, each orgasm a new bonus.
I fucked Renna while kissing Mirra while the vibrator buzzed in Renna’s ass. The three-body configuration — the bartender on the bottom, the healer on top, me in the middle — was a machine of sensation, every part moving, every contact generating points.
The night fell. The morning came.
Dawn light filtered through the window. The room smelled of sex — the thick, heavy, unmistakable smell of bodies that had been fucking for hours, the combination of sweat and cum and wine and the faint, chemical scent of the aphrodisiac oil.
Renna stood at the bar. Her hands shook as she poured tea — the motion practiced, automatic, the muscle memory of a bartender overriding the trembling of a body that had been fucked all night. The vibrator — still inside her, still buzzing, the seventh mode, the most intense — made her legs shake. Each step shifted the device, the vibration traveling through her pelvis, the sensation making her gasp between pours.
I sat at the counter, clicking the remote. One click — the intensity increased. Renna moaned, the tea sloshing in the cup.
“You cannot keep it in while working,” I said, sipping the tea. It was good — the country blend, strong and bitter, the kind of tea that woke a man up.
“Then — take it out — HAAANGH — please—”
“No.” I clicked again. The intensity increased. Renna’s knees buckled, her body gripping the counter, the tea spilling.
“Do not — if I leak — the smell — everyone will—”
“Then keep your legs together. And pour the tea.”
She poured. The tea was perfect. The vibrator buzzed. Her pussy — swollen, overstimulated — leaked a thin, continuous stream of arousal that ran down her inner thigh and dripped onto the floor.
“Sir,” she gasped, her brown eyes wet. “Please — I beg you—”
“Call me husband.”
“Hus — HAAANGH — husband — please—”
I clicked. The vibrator stopped. Renna gasped — the sudden silence, the sudden absence of the buzzing, the relief and the loss mixing into a sound that was half sob and half moan.
The door opened.
Mirra entered first, followed by Seraphine, Elwen, and the two sisters. The procession filed into the bar — the blonde warrior in a borrowed dress, the elf with her wand at her hip, the two commoners with their bags of loot.
“Lord!” Seraphine’s voice was sharp, worried, the voice of a woman who had spent the night wondering where her lover had gone. She crossed the room in three strides, her hand finding my cheek — the touch warm, possessive, the touch of a woman claiming her man. “Are you all right? We searched for you—”
The sisters hugged me. Sera first — her arms around my neck, her body pressing against mine, the familiar warmth. Then Lira, her crutch clattering as she leaned into me, her stump pressing against my leg.
I noticed the stump. The wooden prosthetic — crude, functional, the kind of thing a village carpenter made. It held her weight, but barely. The way she leaned, the way her hip twisted to compensate — the body adapting to a loss that should never have been permanent.
‘Fleshforge,’ I thought, looking at the stump. Five thousand points. The ability to regenerate lost limbs. I could have purchased it — should have purchased it — but the Dimensional Ring had eaten my reserves, and the Infinite Torrent had eaten the rest, and the balance was gone.
‘I need to be alive to purchase it,’ I thought. ‘I need to earn the points. I need to farm more women, clear more dungeons, survive more fights. And then — then I can heal her.’
I pulled Sera onto my lap. She yelped, her body falling against mine, her legs straddling my thigh. My hands found her hips, rubbing the thighs through her dress.
“Are you all right?” I asked, and the question was genuine — the concern real, the warmth in my voice not performed.
“Yes — I am — my lord—” She hugged me. Her breasts pressed against my chest, the nipples stiff through the fabric, and she nuzzled her head against my neck.
The other women gathered. Mirra stood apart, her face still flushed, her eyes avoiding mine. Elwen — the elven healer, the woman who had sucked my cock in the dungeon — stood beside Seraphine, her green eyes scanning the room with the analytical precision of a woman who catalogued everything.
Her gaze found Renna. Found the vibrator — visible, the base protruding from between the bartender’s legs. Found the cum stains on the floor. Found the wine stains on the table. Found the rope — the Binding Rope, self-tying, unbreakable — still knotted to the bedpost.
Her internal voice was a murmur of clinical observation:
‘Bodily fluids on multiple surfaces. The vibrator is — I have never seen a device like that. The construction is — the material is — not metal, not wood, not glass. It is something else. The vibration it produces is mechanical, not magical. The woman — the bartender — she has it inside her. She is — she is aroused. Her pupils are dilated, her breathing is elevated, her skin is flushed. She has been — he has been—’
“Come here,” I said, looking at Elwen.
The elf stiffened. “What? I am not like those — those immature women. They do not understand — I am a healer. I am a scholar. I do not—”
“You also sucked my dick.”
The silence was absolute. Every woman in the room turned. Seraphine’s yellow eyes went wide. The sisters’ jaws dropped. Mirra’s blush deepened from pink to crimson.
“Did you?” Seraphine said, and her voice was low, dangerous, the voice of a woman who had just learned that her lover’s cock had been in another woman’s mouth. “Did you?”
Elwen’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened. Closed. The analytical mind — the mind that catalogued and classified and understood — was short-circuiting.
“Damn you,” she whispered, her face flushing from pointed ears to collarbone. She grabbed a cup from the counter, slammed it on the table, and sat down with the rigid posture of a woman who was pretending she was not dying of embarrassment.