Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Let's Do It Well From Behind Too (5)
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I made a bet with Gentia.
-"I, I believe in my husband! My husband, Kite, will definitely choose me!"
She declared her trust in her husband.
That was trust in her husband, of course, but-
'It's distrust that's hit its peak.'
The belief that at least the last one would pick her.
The conviction that, others aside, this one person would choose her.
Among the seven men dragged here as prisoners, she was clinging desperately to the final lifeline after six straight betrayals—the toughest thread she could grasp.
The other six prisoners had thrust into Gentia just to survive.
And this wasn't wrapping up in a single day; if it repeated tomorrow, who knew what new choices might pop up.
Gentia made her choice.
Without even grasping what serving the Demon King's army entailed, she bet confidently on her husband picking her.
"Trainer."
As we headed to fetch her husband, my secretary Lilith tugged at my sleeve.
"I have a question."
"Something on your mind?"
"Do we really not need to stake a 'contract'?"
"Contract?"
"Yes. A magical contract—[Gears]."
"Ah, that branding they etch onto slaves?"
Lilith was masking advice as a question.
"Worried? That Gentia might back out later, throwing up conditions?"
"......Yes."
"Because she's human?"
"Yes."
She feared Gentia might renege even after losing the bet, tacking on demands.
"It's fine. This time, skipping those restraints is actually more effective."
"No contract or magic makes it more effective...?"
"Pretty much."
I pulled Lilith by the shoulder as we walked the corridor.
"No need for restrictions or extra conditions. And no whispering secrets to the husband on the way."
"That's..."
"Were you thinking of pulling him aside where Gentia couldn't hear, spinning some other tale?"
"......."
"What would you do in my shoes?"
"Are you asking me, sir?"
"Yeah. If you were the Trainer, what then?"
"Th-that!"
Lilith's voice spiked as she waved her hands wildly.
"H-how could I ever presume to your position...!"
"Not a loyalty test or probe—just your honest take. If yours sounds better, I'll wheel around and slap a magical contract on Gentia right now."
"......."
One dose of position-aware social savvy is plenty.
And spotting what someone truly craves? Peak social game.
"......I'd tip off the husband. Secretly."
"Tip him off. About what?"
"That the first six thrust into his wife."
"......."
Intriguing. Effective, too.
"And the payoff?"
"It'd gift the adventurer captain pure despair—his wife passed around by his own men."
"Exactly. That'd hit hard. Males flip out baseline when another guy's eaten their woman."
Even knowing it's rape, guys get extra touchy sometimes.
"Leak that, and you'd spark infighting among the prisoners for sure. Rift between six subs and one captain."
"Yes. Classic divide-and-conquer."
"Sure. But... does spilling it cause the rift?"
"Huh?"
"Need to tell them at all?"
We neared the prisoners' cells.
"They're pounding away nicely."
"...Guess they were starving, ahem."
Succubi Two and Three were already deep into 3:1 gangbangs, milking cocks from the male prisoners with gusto.
"Stop! Cumming in a succubus drains your essence—your life's at risk!"
The adventurer captain—Gentia's husband, Kite—clutched the iron bars, bellowing at his men till his voice cracked.
Deep down, he'd kill to yank those arms back from the succubi slits.
But no dice—subs and Kite were split across the passage, prisons facing off.
"Fun."
I stomped deliberately forward; the prisoners' hips froze mid-thrust.
"......!!"
Captain Kite's eyes bugged out, pupils jittering.
Subs who'd seemed lost to the succubi haze despite his screams—the ones he'd warned about mortal peril—
"You, you guys...?"
My arrival halted their hip-snaps cold.
Cocks still buried in succubi pussy, yet they just gulped, eyes on me.
Even inching to withdraw, distancing from the succubi.
"Eh, keep fucking."
I turned from Captain Kite, index finger raised calmly at the six men railing the pair of succubi.
"Just here for the final offering."
Shhh.
Finger to lips, a smirk—that alone had the prisoners gulping, flashing awkward grins.
Then hips eased back into slow motion, gangbang resuming.
"Secretary."
"Yes."
"Last one. Drag him."
Clank.
Lilith whipped magical chains at Kite on cue, binding and hauling him through the bars.
I strolled the corridor leisurely with Lilith.
"Adventurer Kite."
And.
"You'll choose now."
Unlike the others, I kicked off the pitch right in the hall.
"Two pussies awaiting you."
Three holes total, but one's mine.
"One's your wife Gentia's."
"Wha...!!"
"The other's your comrade's."
"What mad...!"
"Skip both, you die."
"......!!"
Kite halted dead.
Lilith tugged the chain, but he stood petrified, jaw slack from shock—like a statue.
I gripped Lilith's hand, easing it down to halt the pull.
She yielded quick, and I beckoned Kite toward the corridor's end.
"Pussies inside? No clue who railed them."
"......!!"
"That's all."
No further deets.
No need—this was the full scoop the prior six got.
"No way...."
Kite snarled, eyes blood-veined.
"These fuckers...!"
"......."
I schooled my face.
Helmet hid it, but I dialed back any smirk risk, nodding Lilith ahead.
"......!"
Eyes dawning realization, Lilith sidled up, flashing a grin.
"Last in line, huh."
"Yup."
Last.
Preceding guys did something, just like him.
Same terms served up.
'Can't help but suspect.'
1/2. 1/2. 1/2. 1/2. 1/2. 1/2.
'1/64 odds subs didn't disillusion him.'
All six picking one pussy.
Odds they all went for the comrade's hole, not Gentia's.
Reality? 1/3 each pop—six times.
But Kite? Stuck seeing 1/2 shots.
"Inside."
Door to pussy-holes swung open.
"......!!"
Three slits there.
"Pick one of two. Mine's this."
#3—cloth-draped ass and slit—getting my cock-plug treatment.
"Choose. Which hole gets it."
Squelch.
Cock shoved in, #3 clenched sharp.
Stiff legs buckled knees a beat, but I seized those cheeks two-handed, stroking steady.
Onahole-style.
'Love doll vibes?'
Never owned or tried one, but yeah—this'd be it.
"Mmph! Mmmph! Mmmph!!"
#3—Dalia—muffled her scream.
No virgin bleed, but reborn-tight, her pussy gripped my shaft sticky.
"What? Oh, FYI—they hear zilch. Eyes, ears sealed."
"......."
"Spit it out?"
"Previous..."
Kite shuffled in, voice quaking as he grilled me.
"Those prior bastards... who they fuck...?"
"F-fuck?"
"......!"
Thud!
Lilith yanked; Kite dropped to knees.
"Manners. Who am I?"
"......."
"Who?"
"Young... Master Jake... Gilbert..."
He knew better.
Even if Jake got swapped, adventurer Kite wouldn't buy me as Jake Gilbert.
"Good. Mind your tongue. You're just a prisoner—nothing more, nothing less."
Squelch.
Dalia clenched deliberate, like pussy-speak to lash out.
Not just reflex from my rubs—calculated squeeze-attack sans words.
"Stalling? Spelled it out en route. Or Demon King orders cramp your style? Then... death."
"......!!"
Frankly.
Could layer extras here.
Your cock's pick lives; rejects die.
Or match priors' hole to survive.
Extra terms for torment? Viable play.
But already—
Kite's ear-deep in paranoia.
'Prison stint—subs eye Kite proper?'
Dunno.
'Clocked why they eyed him.'
Subs hauled to cells? Mums-the-word.
First dude rails "Gentia" (succubus fake), then holes up cornered, praying silence ticks time.
Second piles in post-thrust; pair trade glances.
Third creampies "her," joins.
No chatter, but finger-codes for picks? Likely.
Thus.
Camaraderie brewed.
Trainer's "spill ritual, die" threat morphed their shady urges into secret-bond brotherhood.
Kite? Outsider, vibes off.
Sub-gazes loaded: pity? Guilt? Smugness?
Conqueror's high from railing your wife to live?
"Stalling?"
No clue their history.
"Not thrusting?"
"Tell... me..."
Kite knelt.
"My men... whose holes got their cocks...?"
"...Heh."
No answer.
"Why tell? God's trial, too."
I pumped Dalia leisurely, locked on her.