No Dick Until You Beg
I'm not giving you dick, got it? At least I'd succeeded in getting Rasca halfway there.
Oh, sure, physically speaking, I'd completely conquered her.
What I meant was mentally.
Rasca still harbored some defiance. Of course, if I kept things as they were, I could steadily absorb her essence.
If I want to maintain my current rank, the status quo works fine. But that's impossible in the long run.
As I absorbed more essence, my rank would naturally rise, demanding even greater quantities.
The system is nudging me toward more women—and deeper bonds.
It was forcing my rank up, ramping up the essence requirements.
That's why I planned to go beyond Rasca and target Morgana Bloodveil too.
Hell, I might even need to seduce others.
To prepare for that, I had to fully break Rasca right now.
She's the boss of a werewolf gang, after all.
It might look like a nothing organization, but in terms of scale and the toughness of its members, it was one of Terranium's top powers, they said.
Comparable to the vampire mafias. If I could bring them under my thumb, it'd be a huge help.
Looks like I've stumbled into playing power broker behind the scenes.
Not that I'd planned it, but opportunity knocked, and my philosophy was to grab it with both hands.
I won't touch her until she begs for my dick herself...
Bang! Crash!
As I schemed my wicked plot, a racket erupted from somewhere.
"Morgana! Morgana! Where the fuck is that bitch?!"
Someone kicked open the bar door. It was still dawn, so chilly air seeped in.
"You know what this place is? Better sit your ass down unless you want holes punched in you."
"Fuck off with the rookies. Bring out Morgana. Nice and easy."
Click.
The guy who'd burst in raised a submachine gun—a Thompson, drum magazine and all.
"Where the hell did he get a gun like that...?"
"Bought it off the dwarves. Guaranteed quality. Wanna test it? Then drag that Morgana bitch out here!"
"Yaaawn. So noisy and undignified. What business do you have here?"
A tall woman in a blood-red cloak—Morgana—strode out from the back room, heels clicking.
Her ruby eyes gleamed with demonic mirth. Staring into them felt like you'd get sucked right in.
I was dead certain: if Morgana just locked eyes with me, I'd pass out on the spot.
"You witch bitch! You think you can throw our boys in jail and walk away scot-free?"
"Oh my? Whatever do you mean by such harsh words?"
"Shut your trap! Don't play dumb—we know you colluded with the cops to fuck us over!"
Looks like Morgana had sold out a rival gang to the police, and it had blown up in her face. That guy must be their boss. Tommy gun said he was here to terrorize the place.
"Drum mag stuffed with silver bullets. Even a true ancestor like you won't walk away from this."
"Please don't point such a scary thing my way."
"Still with the snide tone, huh? Let's see if your face melts the same."
In that instant, Morgana's fingers cracked—her nails extended razor-long.
They looked sharp enough to slice, but the real shocker was the invisible speed: she slashed his throat clean open.
"Guhk..."
"I hate chatty guys like you. Finally quiet. What are you all standing around for? Get to work."
She looked like a beautiful woman on the surface, but way more dangerous than she appeared.
Roses have thorns, right? Spot on.
"Work's got my throat parched. Waiter? Pour me one."
"...Yes, ma'am."
Lucky for me, the vampires saw me as trustworthy.
No idea why, but they raved about my cocktails.
"Hmm. This stuff's unforgivable for what it does, but damn if it isn't delicious."
"Thank you."
"Imps must brew this swill, huh? Always chasing the cash. What's the difference from watered-down premium booze?"
Yet she downed it better than anyone.
Of course, the taste came from my secret sauce. She was getting hooked without realizing it.
"Forget what you just saw. Happens sometimes with guys badmouthing the lovely Lady Morgana."
"Got it. Will do, ma'am..."
"They twist one dinner with the cops into some conspiracy? Ridiculous."
Didn't seem all that innocent. What was she whining about?
The police, huh...
If the cops were women, it'd be easy to approach them.
The lewd dreams kept coming. Each time, Rasca had to feel her utter powerlessness.
Fuck... Why do I keep having these dreams? It's not even mating season.
Waking up with her thighs soaked wasn't so bad. But the pleasure bleeding into reality? That sucked.
That puny little shit's not even a handful...
If there were a thousand Asmodeuses and Rasca went to war with them, she'd slaughter them all in an hour.
That big a power gap.
Worse than adult vs. kid—more like lion vs. chick.
Despite the physical disparity, Rasca had never once beaten Asmodeus in a dream.
Fuck... I wanna punch him, but I can't even swing. Today, for sure...!
She couldn't win even in reality.
"Welcome! Lady Rasca. Early today, huh?"
"Yeah..."
"Two Cuba sandwiches, right?"
"Y-yeah."
One look at the sandwiches, and her rage vanished. The smell hit, and bliss surged instead.
She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't deny the joy on her tongue.
Driving me crazy.
The spiced meat touched her tongue, and her brain melted in ecstasy.
If happiness chemicals existed, they were firing like mad right now.
Every swallow of sweet-savory juices left her aching for more.
"Ah."
She wolfed down both in no time. Rasca stared blankly at her empty hands, eyes hollow.
In that moment, she hated her past self. Why scarf them down without thinking ahead?
"Hey, uh, any sandwiches left?"
"Sold out. Ingredients gone for the day."
"Wha—no! Why prep so little? Didn't I tell you to make plenty? You mocking me?!"
Of course he was. But Asmodeus couldn't say that, so he bullshitted.
"Sure, more base ingredients mean more sales. But quality drops. I don't want that. This setup gives peak flavor."
"...Fuck."
In the end, Rasca gave up. Lame excuse or not, it sounded legit to her.
"Sorry, Lady Rasca. Come back next time..."
"Ughhh! Make more, damn it!"
If not for these sandwiches, she'd have beaten that little dream pest to death by now.
The sandwiches are working great.
He'd figured cigarette-level addiction was no big deal. But it was way stronger.
Cigs? Grab 'em anytime at a store. Not so with these.
Just a little more push, and...
No dick yet. That was her deepest craving. Pros don't work for free, after all.
Asmodeus would torment Rasca until she surrendered verbally.
And it wouldn't take long, in his eyes...
Yeah, I'll train her slow. Time's on my side.
Rasca wouldn't hold out much longer.