From Now On, It's Legal Rape
It didn't feel bad, exactly. But it didn't feel good either.
Pantyhose Woman squeezed my spent cock to the very last drop, determined to wring out even one more bead of cum—yet even after my cock slipped free of her pussy, it kept dribbling semen like a faucet that hadn't been shut all the way.
Naked Woman, crouched beneath us, gulped down the cascade with pure delight, letting out a long, satisfied huuuuuh like someone who'd just drained a cold beer.
…I'd been milked dry in a position so inventive I'd never even imagined it in my previous life.
But the fact that I hadn't been allowed to cum on my own terms left a sticky, unsettled feeling that refused to fade.
Ruined orgasm…
If Shirt Woman hadn't whispered that single phrase right before I came, I could have finished properly, riding the afterglow of climax. Instead, the orgasm just now had been nothing more than semen being forced out of me—hollow, empty. All that remained was a quiet seething resentment.
"…"
Still, holding a lasting grudge over that one line was hard when the aphrodisiac was still burning through my system. My balls remained swollen to three times their normal size, and my erection was still rock-hard under the drug's influence. If not for that lingering frustration, I would have been the one begging to move on to the next round. But that deliberate little whisper made me wary, watching their faces for cues.
"Pwah…"
Naked Woman, having swallowed every drop, began licking the cum still smeared across her own face. From the expression alone she looked less like someone drinking semen and more like a woman thoroughly drunk on booze.
"Ssshh…"
Pantyhose Woman, who had been bouncing her huge ass toward me and making wet pap-pap sounds in cowgirl, was stretching out her body with an unsatisfied look of her own. But since the chance to play with me had now passed to Shirt Woman, she merely clicked her tongue as if to say there was nothing she could do about it.
"Alright! My turn."
The shirt Shirt Woman was wearing had already slipped halfway down her shoulders from rubbing her chest against my back. Still, since everyone else was already bare-chested too, she didn't seem to care much.
"No need to draw this out—we can just start, yeah?"
Just as she had when Naked Woman first mounted me, Shirt Woman began by straddling my face in a facesitting position. She ground her ass down hard enough to make wet smacking sounds, toying with the me pinned underneath, then immediately bent forward into a sixty-nine.
"I'll say this up front—I'm planning to use up my whole quota in one go. You don't want to get cut off halfway either, right?"
The casual remark about not wanting to be cut off halfway scraped at me. The very person who had just ruined my orgasm was saying that with a straight face, and it pissed me off.
"…Haaah…"
But a person with an ass planted on their face can't make much noise. Shirt Woman told Naked Woman and Pantyhose Woman to take a break, as if she had no intention of sharing her turn. Then she locked both arms around my waist and took my entire cock into her mouth.
"Chup… huu…"
The hands that had been hugging my waist began slowly exploring lower, eventually reaching my balls and ass. The position itself was so violent that "good" wasn't the right word—my lower body was being yanked so hard it felt like my neck and spine might snap.
"Uub, uu…"
Normally a sixty-nine has one person lying on the bed while the other braces above them. Shirt Woman ignored that rule completely. She crushed me under her ass so I couldn't move, then simply scooped up my small body in her arms. It felt like taking a sixty-nine and standing it completely vertical—closer to being locked into a piledriver.
"Haah, ahh…"
Even so, a little pain in the neck and back wasn't enough to kill the erection. As climax approached, my balls began to tremble; tension coiled in my lower belly… the first orgasm was imminent. And at this pace, unlike last time, it felt like I might actually get to cum properly.
Sure enough, the cock inside Shirt Woman's mouth started to twitch and shudder, fully primed for a good finish.
"Ah, right. I forgot to let you breathe."
Byuut—
"Uweh…?"
Byururururut—
Right before I came, Shirt Woman not only spat my cock out of her mouth—she also lifted the ass that had been smothering my face. She didn't even glance at the cock still weakly leaking semen; she just looked down at my stupid, pussy-juice-covered face.
"Pfft, look how red you are…"
Once again, there was no sense of a satisfying orgasm. Second ruined orgasm. I had tasted that same incomplete, frustrating climax all over again.
"Ah… what a waste. Cum all over the bed."
After thoroughly mocking me, Shirt Woman walked to the far side of the bed, planted her ass right on the spot where my semen had landed, and casually murdered every last sperm still wriggling in it. Then she grabbed my ankles, shoved one foot between my legs, and looked ready to start stomping my cock with her sole.
"You can look forward to this one. It's been my specialty since I was a kid."
With soft, skilled footwork she began grinding and trampling my balls and cock. She bent her knees to control the tempo, then stretched her legs out to intensify the stimulation.
"You're holding up pretty well. Alright—let's get rougher."
She had been using only one foot; now she planted both feet on my cock and began tormenting it far more violently. She trapped the shaft between her big toe and second toe and shook it, stroked the glans with her sole, used the leaking fluids as lube, and sandwiched my cock between both soles, rubbing furiously. She planted both heels precisely on my balls, pressed down hard to deliver pain, then kept that exact position while vibrating her legs at high speed—an electric massage that didn't stop until ugly, broken moans spilled from my mouth.
"Aaaah, aaagh…"
But no matter how good the process felt, the ending was always the same. Third ruined orgasm. Shirt Woman stopped the vibration the instant before I came.
"You're doing this on purp— uup!…"
There was no room to resist or even ask questions. As if telling me to shut up, Shirt Woman grabbed the back of my head and buried my face in her chest. She pulled my head out just long enough to meet my eyes and check that my mouth was closed—then shoved my face back into her breasts every time I tried to speak.
Thump—
These were the same breasts I had thoroughly enjoyed against my back earlier. No reason to fall for them now.
"Stop…"
Thump—
Big tits are everywhere in this world. Somewhere out there is definitely a pair I can do whatever I want with.
"Just listen for one sec—"
Thump—
…Every time my face was driven into her chest my breathing got unnecessarily rough. That was just because I was angry at Shirt Woman. Nothing more.
"Hey, just—"
Thump—
"…"
I couldn't get a single proper word out—only pathetic, panting moans. Then I looked up at Shirt Woman with eyes that were clearly begging her to shove me back in already.
"Ah… you're seriously so fucking cute."
Squelch—
Powerlessly toyed with by a woman's chest, I rediscovered the essential truth I had momentarily forgotten. Even right after being humiliated, my pride-less cock was already hard again, silently begging to be violated the exact same way once more. The pure defeat of it hit me all over again.
"Heh heh."
Shirt Woman wrapped both legs tightly around my waist, settling into something close to a face-to-face seated position. But—whether to keep teasing me or not—she didn't insert anything; she only let me barely rub against her lower belly. And once again, right before I came, she shoved my shoulders away and gifted me a fourth ruined orgasm.
"Aaaah, aaagh!!…"
I was going to lose my mind.
Just once. I wanted to cum properly—spurt-spurt—just one single time. She wouldn't allow even that. And the knowledge that I needed permission to finish nicely felt exactly like being under orgasm control, which somehow only made me more aroused.
"Uuuuaaah…"
Something that was neither a scream nor a sob leaked out of me. It was the whining of a pathetic mutt begging its owner for a treat—pleading to be allowed to cum without a ruin, just once.
"Euuuh…"
I reached for my own cock, thinking I would just jerk off and fire one clean shot. Shirt Woman, who had been watching quietly, simply swatted my hand away and stripped even that right from me.
"Nope. Not allowed."
Cum. Cum. Cum. Cum…
My head was so full of the desire to shoot a proper load that I threw myself at Shirt Woman's body, determined to rub against her until I finished. But with a body this small, all it took was one of her hands to pin me down completely.
"Ubbub…"
As if punishing me for what I had tried to do, Shirt Woman ground my face into her pussy and started using me as a masturbation tool. At the same time she toyed endlessly with my limp, ruined cock using her toes, never giving it a moment's rest.
And so I reached the fifth ruined orgasm…
Resentment, arousal, passion, and a deep sense of degradation were pulling me further and further from sanity. It made sense—I had not once been allowed a proper orgasm since entering this room.
The first time, I had been so panicked by the fear of being raped that I didn't even know whether I had cum or not. The second time I had finished somewhat nicely while being ordered alternately "Don't cum" and "Cum already"—but even in doujinshi that kind of play was more like foreplay before the main event. And from the third orgasm onward, five consecutive ruined orgasms in a row… my body was shaking with how wronged and furious I felt.
"Uuuuuh…"
Cum. Cum…
I wanted to cum so badly. Any one of the three would do—I just wanted to rub my cock frantically against those huge, perverted bodies until I finished. But I couldn't. The only climax permitted to me was the ruined kind, and that could never feel good.
"…You wanna cum?"
Like a beast that had lost the ability to speak, I answered by frantically nodding my head up and down.
"How many times?"
"Uh, uh…"
When she asked for a number, my mouth refused to work. I was terrified that if I gave the wrong answer I would be discarded on the spot.
"If you say you'll cum more than thirty times, we might consider it."
"That's… um…"
"If you don't need it, you can refuse. It's fine."
"I'll do it! I'll do it, so please… just once…"
"Hmm… just once what? What exactly are you asking for 'just once'?"
"T-to… cum… nicely… please…"
"You're saying that to us?"
I had no idea what she was playing at this late in the game. But I treated it as just another part of the scene and nodded so hard my head might fall off.
"Answer properly."
"…Yes."
"But still… a tiny weak thing like you probably can't satisfy all three of us at once, right?"
"Uh… th-then maybe if I use a stamina drug or something…"
"Well of course you'll need that. What I'm worried about is you running out of steam halfway and collapsing before we're satisfied. Or would you rather just start out collapsed? If you completely surrender your body to us… I think we could reach a result that satisfies both you and us."
"Th-then… however you want… as much as you want…"
"No. You can't put it like that. You have to tell us exactly what you want to do with us, how, to what degree, and until when—otherwise we can't properly agree, can we?"
"Uh… then…"
At that moment Shirt Woman completely shrugged off the half-open shirt. The lower hem that had been covering her pussy fell away, fully exposing her.
"For example, these tits—what do you want to do with them? It's okay. Be honest."
"Paizuri… I mean, I want to sandwich my cock between them and thrust like a maniac. I want to spray so much cum into your cleavage that it fills the valley…"
"Hmm… is that so?"
Shirt Woman held back a laugh, then turned around and presented her ass. It was already soaked with the spit I had drooled and her own juices.
"Then what about this ass…?"
"I want to bury my nose in it and smell it… and trap my cock between your feet and cum all over there too."
"Heh heh."
After that she made me describe, one by one, exactly what I wanted to do with her mouth, her armpits, her thighs, her feet, and finally her spread pussy. Confessing these desires so nakedly in front of women was a first for me; even while knowing how pathetic I looked, I was insanely turned on.
"So you want to take every last bit of our virginity, basically… Fine. Understood."
Ding—
Suddenly an electronic sound effect rang through the room—the kind that only comes from a device. The source was Pantyhose Woman's smartphone; at some point she had come over to the bed and had been listening to my entire confession along with the others.
"…Recording finished."
"I didn't mess up my lines or anything, right? Did I leave anything out?"
"Yeah, I checked everything from the back. Barely scraped past those ridiculously dense conditions."
The three of them began exchanging words I couldn't follow.
Recording? Messed-up lines?
…What the hell are they talking about…?
"Thanks. Now we've got material we can use as evidence."
"I already backed it up to the cloud, so even if you snatch the phone it won't help."
Ah.
Ah…
I'm fucked.
"Share it with me too. Just in case."
"Ah, me too!"
For the first time I understood exactly how social annihilation worked. The three of them would sue me, pocket a nice sum of money, and I… would be treated as a deranged pervert who needed to be isolated from society.
"You finally getting it? You're not still failing to grasp the situation, are you?"
"Y-you crazy bitches…"
"Complaining now won't do you any good. The recorder's already off."
…Fuck. My life is over.
They had hard evidence that I had rented a room with women and done perverted shit. There was nowhere to run.
Fuck, fuck… god fucking damn it!…
Haaah…
…
…
Wait. Hold on…
But… this world…
Isn't it different from the one I used to live in?
…
"Alright then… we don't have to hold back anymore, right?"
"Yep! We've got the recording, so we're invincible."
"But what if that master of his sues us?"
"Probably nothing will happen? Whatever gets done to him, it's the cheating bastard who takes the hit—not us."
"Ah… true."
"Pfft, it'd be hilarious if that so-called master of his castrates the little shit later."
Listening to their conversation, I finally understood completely.
This was a world where simply sharing the same space with women could lead to terrible things. And those "terrible things" meant men being jumped by women—a beautiful, fantastical utopia.
I had temporarily forgotten the most important fact of all.
"Don't feel too wronged. It's your own fault for picking up something you shouldn't have off the street."
"If you've got your head on straight, stop just sitting there and spread. You fucking bitch."
"From now on… this is completely legal rape."