SMASH or PASS

The second fuck was anonymous.

Literally.

Now you might ask, ’How the fuck didn’t you know who you were fucking?’

Now that’s an interesting question.

A dormitory key was slipped into my bag during alchemy lab. The note attached was written in small, precise handwriting: "I heard that you are quite the lustful man, come to room 31 tonight and you won’t be disappointed. Also, no talking."

Sounds shady but...

Free SP!!!

I considered the instruction. "No talking" could mean many things. Discretion. Anonymity. A preference for silence during intimacy. Or something darker... a woman who couldn’t afford to have her voice recognized, whose identity needed protecting for reasons beyond embarrassment.

Someone’s fiancé?

I shivered a little. I really can’t afford to anger that many noble houses...

But the SP points...

Fuck it.

I cannot be weak.

◇◇◇

I went.

Room 31 was on the third floor of the north dormitory wing. The door was unlocked. The room was dark. Not dim. Very DARK.

The curtains were drawn. Candles extinguished.

Whoever she was, she’d removed every source of light.

I stepped inside.

The door clicked shut behind me, swallowing the last sliver of hallway light. Pitch black. The kind of dark that presses against your eyelids.

I heard the soft breathing of a woman...

I could hear her breathing. Steady, but a little too quick. Nervous. Excited.

"I’m here for what you asked me for... tap me once if you really want to... do it."

After a couple of seconds, I smelled a slight yet fancy perfume, the ones that noble ladies use as I felt a shadow come closer.

Tap.

A soft hand tapped my shoulder.

’That’s kinda weird but... meh.’

I felt her soft hand holding my arm, she slowly pulled me towards... A mattress? Or a whole bed. I couldn’t really see it right.

But I sat on it. It was strangely soft.

I heard multiple sounds next. Clothes rustled. Fabric hitting the floor. Followed by a soft, shuffling step, then her hands found my chest. Cool fingertips traced down my shirt, fumbling with the buttons. Her breathing hitched. I stayed still, letting her work.

Her hands went lower, undoing my belt, then my pants. They slid down my hips. Cool air hit my skin, then her hand wrapped around me. Her grip was tentative at first, then firmer. She sank to her knees in front of me. I felt her breath, warm and shaky, against the head of my dick.

Then her mouth. Warm, wet, clumsy. She didn’t seem to know what the fuck she was doing, but she was enthusiastic. All hungry, sloppy sucks and the flat of her tongue. It was kind of a mess, but a hot mess. The obscene, wet sounds filled the dark room. Schlick. Slurp. Gulp.

She gagged once, pulled back with a wet pop and a gasp, then dove right back in, moaning around me like she was fucking starving for it. The noises she made were unreal. High, whiny little breaths every time I nudged the back of her throat. Desperate, slutty little hums that vibrated through my entire fucking spine.

"Fuck," I breathed out, my hand finding the top of her head in the dark. Her hair was silky, long. I gathered a fistful, not yanking, just holding. She froze for a second, then moaned, deep and needy, and took me deeper.

"Gulp~ Nnngggh~"

That did it. I guided her, setting a rougher rhythm. She took it, her throat working, her nose pressed into my pelvis. The sounds were fucking filthy. Gagging, choking, wet, open-mouthed sucking. Her free hand was between her own legs, I could hear the frantic, slick rubbing even over the noise of her mouth.

I was getting close. "Gonna come," I gritted out, a warning she probably didn’t need. Her moan turned into a frantic, encouraging keen. I thrust up once, twice, deep into that wet heat, and let go.

"Gulp~ Nnngggh~ Gulp~"

She swallowed. Every fucking drop. I felt her throat convulse around me, heard her gulping, desperate swallows. She didn’t pull off until I was soft, and even then she gave a final, kittenish lick, panting against my thigh.

I hauled her up by her hair. She came easily, stumbling against me. My hands ran over her body. She was naked. Soft everywhere. Plush tits, a narrow waist, and then... goddamn. An ass. A huge, perfect, jiggly handful of an ass. Each cheek was a soft, heavy weight in my palms. I squeezed. She yelped, a sharp, breathy sound, and ground back against me.

I spun her around, bent her over. My hands mapped the generous curve of her hips, the dip of her spine. She was dripping wet; my fingers slid through her folds easily, and she cried out, a broken, wordless sound. She was so fucking ready.

"Uhnnn~ Nnngggh~!!"

I lined up and pushed inside in one smooth stroke. She screamed. A raw, ragged, thank-fuck kind of scream that she immediately tried to stifle by biting into her own arm. Her back arched, pushing that incredible ass back against me.

"Fuck, you’re tight," I grunted, setting a brutal pace from the get-go. There was no finesse here, just dark, anonymous, animal fucking. The room was filled with the sound of it. The wet, rhythmic slap of my hips against her ass. The creak of the bedframe. Her choked-off, sobbing moans with every thrust.

"Uh! Uh! Ah!" she chanted, each syllable punched out of her. I gripped her hips hard, pulling her back onto me, burying myself to the hilt every time. She felt incredible. Hot, clenching, desperate.

I reached around, my hand finding her clit. She jerked violently, a shriek tearing from her throat. "Yes! There!" she finally gasped, breaking her own rule before clamming up again, her whole body trembling.

"Nnnnnngh!~"

That was all it took. Her inner walls clamped down on me like a vice, milking me, and I came again with a low groan, pumping into her deep. She collapsed forward onto the bed, me on top of her, both of us gasping in the profound, secret dark.

The only sounds were our ragged breathing and the wet, messy proof of what we’d just done dripping between us. I still had no idea who she was. But goddamn could she moan.

When it was done, she touched my shoulder. Two taps. The universal signal for "we’re done." I stood. She pointed at the door. I knew she pointed because I heard her arm move through the air.

I left. The corridor was empty.

[+50 SP]

!!!!???

Who the fuck was she—

No.

Rather than wondering about it, It’s better to leave fast.

She wanted it to be secret for a reason after all.

I got my SP. Let’s just leave.

◇◇◇

The next day in alchemy lab, I scanned the room. Thirty-six women. Any of them could have been Room 31. Smooth skin and controlled breathing described half the noble students in the class. Nobody made eye contact that lasted too long. Nobody avoided eye contact either. Room 31 had been designed for total anonymity, and it worked.

She meant it about the no talking. The entire encounter happened in silence and darkness. I never saw her face. The only data I had was the feel of her skin (smooth, soft, noble-class skincare), her height (slightly shorter than me), and her breathing pattern (measured, deliberate, someone trained in self-control) And her very soft voice.

SP gain: +50 from her. Though with that level of operational security, she might have been Rare tier. The darkness made tier assessment impossible.

End of Week 1 SP gain from academy encounters: approximately 80 SP.

Total SP: roughly 165.

The farm took three days to generate 70. The academy generated more than that in four casual evenings. Without travel. Without contracts. Without Della.

Without 623...

I wonder if she’s alright...

No, what the hell am I thinking about!?

I have to lock in. Let’s focus on the fucking grind.

◇◇◇

Week two. The word was out.

I didn’t tell anyone. The women talked. Thalia told her combat class friends. Estelle told her merchant daughter circle. Clarisse told nobody but her servant told everybody. Brennan told the entire dormitory floor. I don’t know if Room 31 woman told anyone, but someone saw me leaving her corridor and the observation traveled faster than the silence she’d requested.

By Monday of week two, every woman at the academy knew: "The commoner says yes."

In a 99:1 world where the average woman applied for a three-month breeding queue for the CHANCE to spend two days with a male. Where noble families negotiated for YEARS. Where the guild charged 30 silver just for the APPLICATION.

The commoner said yes. For free. No contract. No queue. Just ask.

The approaches didn’t triple.

They went exponential.

Monday morning. Walking from the gate to the lecture hall. Seven minutes of pathway. Stopped four times.

"Hi, I’m from the History seminar. I was wondering if..."

"I know about your adventures commoner. Humph. My sister and I have little interest in you. You can be honored to entertain us. Come to Building C study room. At 8 PM."

"Oh! You must be Noel! I heard a lot about you! My mother is a great friend with Baron Vellmont’s second wife..."

"Hello, I don’t think we’ve met before but..."

"After alchemy class. Come to East corridor alcove."

"You don’t even know my name. But I was watching you from the first day Noel..."

"Ehehe~ Wonder if you are better than my good for nothing fiancé? You can visit my chambers at 12..."

Dozen... No. Much more than a dozen of women showed out of nowhere.

Now, someone in their right mind would just tune down their activity, right?

But...

"Free SP! Free SP!! FREE SP!!! MUHAHAHA! I’m rich! I’m FUCKING RICH!!!"

They were all walking and talking SP points! Just walking around! Coming right to me without doing anything!!!

I felt like a god. Hell, by the end of this week I might actually be a GOD.

Of course, I couldn’t just mess around and make a total chaos.

I developed a scheduling system.

Since I wanted to make sure to get as many women as possible per day for maximum SP. I had to make sure not to have any contradictions between plans with noble ladies.

Morning: classes. No encounters there. Education was the baseline product. If I failed academically, the Baron’s sponsorship collapsed, the academy enrollment terminated, and the SP farm died. I don’t really care that much about education now but I still need it to stay in the farming zone.

Afternoon: two or three encounters between second and fourth bell. The long break was the primary window. Two hours, enough for travel to a private location, the encounter itself, and return to the next lecture without triggering an attendance flag.

Location rotation was critical. Study rooms booked out after the first week.

I started using Cassius’s map: the groundskeeper’s shed courtyard, the unused storage room in the history wing, the library’s restricted section (which had a couch and a door that locked, placed there decades ago by someone who, I bet, had similar interest).

Each location had a maximum frequency. Using the same room more than twice per week created patterns. Patterns attracted attention. Attention attracted more women. More women meant more SP.

Evening: one or two encounters, rotating. Dormitory rooms (theirs, never mine; I didn’t have a dormitory ...Yet.).

The reserved parlors in the merchant quarter that noble families rented for private functions. On one occasion, the bell tower’s maintenance platform, which was technically off-limits but had a spectacular view of Brannock at sunset. We only managed to do it there because my partner was the Duke’s fifth daughter.

Night: All encounters I could handle were thrown here, sometimes four, sometimes up to even seven or eight.

In a 99:1 world, access to a male who said yes was the scarce resource. Most women I fucked didn’t even believe they were actually doing it for some reason. I felt like I was breaking a social taboo... Maybe I was.

Maybe this was the equivalent of a victorian noble lady fucking evry boy in her academy.

Looking at it like this, I do understand why women were very eager.

Most encounters lasted forty-five minutes to an hour. Most were longer. A few were shorter. It was anywhere from doing it with the haughty Duke daughters to the crying gratitude of another commoner classmate as I fucked her.

Last one was a little weird...

It went in three main ways: Arrival. Assessment. Fucking. SP tracking. Departure. Review. The system turned every woman into a rare item: tier, SP yield, location, duration, follow-up probability. And so on.

I didn’t really turn any of them into my Pokémon since I wasn’t crazy enough to anger any of the nobles.

But that alone made it worthwhile as I was rich now. Slowly becoming a god.

Uncommon-tier women generated 3x the SP of Common-tier for roughly the same time investment. Noble women with haughty attitudes scored higher on passive contact bonuses. Repeat encounters with the same woman yielded diminishing returns after the third visit but that wasn’t an issue as I didn’t seem to run out of new partners anytime soon.

TL;DR: I was getting filthy rich.

"Well, maybe I shouldn’t let it get into my head this far..."

That’s right, this world still has many stuff I should be careful of...

"How much SP do I have now?"

[Total SP: 448]

Forget it. I’m a fucking GOD—