Today, It Won't End with Just Fainting
Ian opened his eyes to the dull pain surging from below.
"Hah... haa... huff..."
Even before he was fully awake down there, one of her clones was clinging to his cock, sticky and wet. It wrapped its tongue slowly around the thing that wasn't even hard yet, sucking it in like it was handling something precious. The caress wasn't rushed. If anything, it savored every tiny tremor he felt, taking its time.
"Ngh..."
Even in its soft state, the pleasure came through sharp and clear. He could feel his body reacting on its own.
"Haa..."
His thighs quivered faintly but relentlessly. And at the same time, Ian's cock began to stiffen, slowly.
The process felt embarrassing, yet strangely liberating at the same time.
"Hehe, you're so healthy today too. Which part should I play with first?"
Maritia, who had been watching the scene from the side, approached with a grin tugging at her lips, clearly amused.
"You fucking bitch..."
His voice was hoarse, but the hatred burning in it remained undimmed. Something unbroken—unbreakable—still burned in his eyes.
"Hehe, yeah. If you gave up easily, it wouldn't be fun."
She still looked delighted, like a child fiddling with a toy.
"Think I'll use this today."
Maritia pulled a single sheet of paper from her bosom.
"This is a scroll used for engraving Slave Marks."
The paper was densely covered in intricate magical symbols. Just looking at them sent an unpleasant aura seeping into him.
"Once I engrave this... we can have a lot more fun."
She shook the scroll lightly as she drew closer.
"H... don't..."
Ian tried to resist, but his hands and feet were still firmly held by the clones. He twisted his body, reached out—but he couldn't touch her.
Maritia slowly placed her hand on his chest. Then—riiiip—she tore his shirt clean off in one go.
As the cold air brushed his bare skin, Ian instinctively shrank back. And on his exposed shoulder, a red pattern hummed faintly to life.
"Huh?"
Maritia showed her first sign of unease. Her eyes flickered.
"You... you have an owner?"
She stared at the red mark, muttering.
"Owner? What the hell are you talking about?!"
Ian bellowed. Confusion and rage tangled in his voice.
"This..."
A brief silence.
"This is a Slave Mark, isn't it?"
Maritia pointed at the red trace, stating it flatly.
His eyes filled with confusion at her words. His mind went blank.
"What bullshit! Don't say crazy shit!"
But Maritia's expression didn't look like a lie. She was genuinely surprised, genuinely annoyed.
'No way. Arcia... wouldn't engrave something like that on me.''She absolutely wouldn't.'
He gritted his teeth, shoving the reality away in his mind. But the red glow on his shoulder existed there coldly, clearly.
"Hmm... this is a problem."
Maritia clicked her tongue, muttering. Her smile lingered, but her eyes sharpened.
"I have to erase it before I can engrave a new one."
She tapped the mark on his shoulder with her finger, looking down at him.
"But to erase it, I'd have to go back to the city..."
She trailed off with a sly grin.
"Well, I could just play with you like this anyway."
"Bullshit."
Ian spat it out like a seizure. His voice trembled.
"I don't know what the hell it is... but with that mark, Arcia will find me."
At Arcia's name, Maritia's eyes twitched faintly. Ian didn't miss that tiny flinch.
"You think you can beat Arcia?"
"Hmmm..."
Maritia tilted her head as if unconcerned, but her fingers had stiffened slightly. She was definitely afraid of the name Arcia.
"Fine!"
Suddenly, Maritia shot to her feet as if resolved.
"We'll head back to the city."
The playfulness vanished from her voice, replaced by a sharp edge.
"Move."
At her gesture, the clones sprang into action.
Clank.
The shackle around his neck yanked roughly, forcing Ian's body upright. His knees, still weak, buckled, but the clone showed no mercy, pulling the chain harder.
"Ngh...!"
While one clone gripped Ian's shackle tight, the others rushed to prepare for departure. The tent came down, gear packed away in seconds—it all flashed before his eyes.
"But."
Maritia swept her gaze over the ready camp, then turned slowly to Ian.
"What's this?"
In her hand was a crude, heavy lump of black iron. The thing Aymdel had given him. Somehow, it was in her possession now.
"Thought it might be some magic item, so I infused it with mana, but it didn't activate."
She must have poked and prodded at it while he was out cold.
"...I don't know."
Ian's reply was curt and dry. Even if he did know, he had no intention of telling her.
"Oh?"
Maritia tilted her head slightly, then smirked as if uninterested.
Whoosh—her hand flicked lightly.
The black iron lump sliced through the air and vanished into the forest. A small thunk echoed as it hit branches, followed by a heavy thud on the ground.
"Shall we go, then?"
Her voice was still bright, but the cruelty hidden beneath rang clear.
With a wave, she directed the clones. The chain yanked again, jerking Ian's head back.
"Kgh...!"
His breath caught, but he didn't bow his head. His gaze lingered on the spot where the item had fallen.
Somewhere in the woods, hidden by leaves. But it was already gone, vanished into the shadows.
That night.
Maritia set up camp again near the portal. While her clones pitched the tent, lit the fire, and sorted gear, she remained utterly relaxed.
But Ian was different. His face was drained of color, pale as death. The shackle weighed heavy on his neck, digging into his flesh with every breath—but heavier still was the dread crushing his chest.
The pain from last night still lingered in his groin.
"What're you doing? Get in."
Maritia shoved his back lightly. The casual touch froze Ian's body like ice. His feet rooted to the ground, refusing to budge.
"What's wrong? Thinking about something again?"
Her voice was playful, but her eyes were sharp—reading his fear, reveling in it.
Ian clenched his teeth. No words came.
"I said get in."
This time, she pushed harder. Ian's body staggered into the tent.
The moment he entered, the clones surrounded the entrance like a door.
Women. Low laughter spread.
The sound burrowed into his ears.
"Today... I'll make it more fun."
Maritia whispered as she approached slowly. Her fingers seized his chin, lifting it. In her pitch-black eyes, he saw his own terrified reflection.
"That scared face... it's so pretty."
Ian's pupils trembled. His breaths grew shallow, vision narrowing. The portal's glow felt like that night's firelight.
The laughter drew closer. Hands reached first.
Cold fingers grazed his nape, dug into his chest.
"Ngh...!"
Gritting his teeth did nothing. One clone twisted his arms back from behind, locking them. Pain screamed through his bones.
Another yanked the neck shackle, forcing his head back. His feet lifted off the ground slightly.
Breath cut off. Vision blackened, tears welled.
Maritia pressed her lips to his ear, whispering.
"Try to endure to the end today."
The voice pierced like mockery—sweet yet razor-sharp.
"Today won't end with you fainting. I want to hear you scream properly."
His heart plummeted. Terror wrapped his body, but it wouldn't move.
"Hic... huff..."
He heaved his chest desperately just to breathe. Even that required thrashing.
"Begin."
At Maritia's curt command, the clones closed in slowly. Their deliberate pace made it more terrifying. Like they were savoring the agony to come.
"D-don't... come... closer..."
Ian barely pried his mouth open to resist, but his voice cracked, tongue useless. He knew it was pointless, yet he couldn't stop.
"Hic!"
A hot tongue forced its way into his gasping mouth, ravaging deep inside. Breath blocked. Vision darkened again.
"Hah...!"
At the same time, one dropped low, latching onto his cock. It sucked hard, rough—stimulating the still-soft flesh mercilessly, shoving pleasure and pain together.
Slurp... mm...
The other two latched onto his nipples. Softly, obsessively—wrapping tongues around, sucking. Nipping lightly, licking, sucking again in endless repeat.
His whole body felt torn and defiled at once.
"Mmph... mmhic...!"
Not even moans escaped properly. His mouth was full of tongue, throat choked by the chain—only beastly, whimpering sobs leaked out.
His brain begged for oxygen, body twisting futilely. Everything was in their hands now.
Maritia stepped back, watching. Satisfaction and cruel excitement gleamed in her eyes.
"Yes... scream louder."
Her low voice filled the tent. Ian's body shuddered violently at the words. Pain, shame, terror tangled—something deep in his chest cracked slowly, steadily.
He had no strength left to endure.
Then clank.
The shackle yanked hard again. His head snapped back, breath fully severed.
"Hic!"
Simultaneously, the clone sucking his cock pulled fiercely, shoving it deep into her throat. Hard, rough—like blocking his airway completely.
Choking pleasure and pain entwined, wracking his body. An indescribable sensation like his brain burning.
His body convulsed on its own.
"Ngh...!"
Ian's body rocked toward climax. The world blackened, and squirt—squirt—semen erupted.
Strength drained from his limbs, and he slowly lost consciousness.
But
"Hehehe..."
Laughter approached. Maritia drew close, pulling out a handkerchief. She clamped it firmly over his mouth and nose.
"Haah!"
Ian's eyes snapped open to an unknown scent. He gasped deeply, consciousness flooding back.
"Cough, cough...!"
Like someone dragged back from the grave, he sucked in ragged breaths. His chest pounded like it would burst, throat burned. Vision still blurred, but sharpening bit by bit.
"Hehe. I told you today won't end with fainting, right?"
Maritia smiled softly, coldly. Beautiful, but to Ian, it was pure terror.
Her fingers brushed his cheek. The touch on his fevered skin chilled him to the bone.