Rivals at the Door
The mortifying shame faded the moment the man left the room. Everyone already saw me as the boss's plaything anyway. I'd been lucky enough to stay a virgin, but there was no way for anyone else to know that. My image couldn't sink any lower, and neither could Daesik's. I'd just pinned the blame on him, after all. My conscience stung a bit, but whatever. No one pours cold water on a notoriously cruel boss by calling his tastes weird to his face...
With that rationalization, I indulged three more times. I'd originally planned to tidy up the bed amid the heavy post-nut clarity and crash, but the afterglow left my body hypersensitive. Then my eyes caught the priestess robes clinging sweatily to my breasts, outlining their shape along with the ropes—and the dying embers reignited into a blaze. The gulf between my female, ultra-sensitive flesh and my mind still thinking like a guy made me press my still-tingling entrance against the vibrating stone. The first two times were tough, but after that, two more orgasms took zero mental effort.
Long excuse short: I was horny, so I masturbated. If someone calls me a slut, fine. People can be faithful to their desires sometimes. I'm not hurting anyone. Daesik's rep might get a little dirtier, but slapping "pervert" on his already pitch-black image changes nothing.
Sorry about that, Daesik. I didn't want to apologize to your face and get socially buried, so I'd just atone silently and make it up to him later somehow. To cool my overheated, throbbing head from all the pleasure, I let out a satisfied moan and pulled my exhausted body together. The stone had stopped buzzing—probably drained. Ah, fantasy world, so maybe mana-powered instead of batteries. It won't work again until recharged, I guess. My stamina was shot, but mana was fine, so I cast Purify over the whole bed to clean the sheets I'd soaked. It only removed impurities, though—the dampness lingered, so drying them was still on the to-do list. Same with my clothes. Healer Purify skills have that drawback, apparently. A mage's version might dry things too.
The bed was huge anyway, so I wriggled like a worm to a dry spot, lay down, and rested. Utterly spent, I could've passed out right then, but falling asleep like this—if Daesik or Hanbyeol found me—would mean I could never show my face again. At minimum, I had to put away the masturbation stone and switch. Steel myself, stagger up, return both to their spots. Legs wobbling, I barely made it back to bed and flopped down, eyes closing. Sleep hit instantly.
Something noisy outside woke me sometime later. A week in this isekai-game-whatever world had made morning Purify a habit. No need to wash my face to avoid oiliness—super convenient—but anyway... I peeked out the window first. No clock in the room, so I gauged time by the sun. Thought it'd be evening after sleeping, but it looked just past noon. Why the yelling and screams in broad daylight?
Sudden anxiety hit. I slipped off the bed, crouching low. Footsteps thundered outside the door. Huddled on the bed's far side from the door, I prayed. Please don't let that door open. Let it just be rowdy passersby. But prayers went unanswered. Makes sense—I'd crossed into this world as a priestess and never once sought the goddess. If I were her, I'd be pissed and toss a trial my way. Even so, I'd been stabbed all over in prison right after arriving; any faith left would've hit rock bottom by now.
The door burst open. Strangers with swords stormed in, flipping furniture recklessly. Definitely not Daesik's crew.
"What the hell's that sweet smell? Aphrodisiac or some shit?"
Their savage tone made me shrink into the corner, but nowhere to flee. A sleazy Parasite Guy-looking dude stopped in front of me, boasting to the others ransacking the place.
"See? Told you—the bitch Onyx is obsessed with. Worth it."
"What'd I say? She's the type that gets you hard just sitting there."
"Thought you were bullshitting."
The ass-kisser was the guy from the prison who'd beaten me while threatening to toy with Hanbyeol. My body shook uncontrollably in the dead-end corner when suddenly Parasite Guy beckoned. An intruder instantly stabbed the ass-kisser in the back.
"Gahk! Urk!"
"Once a traitor, always one. Relax—we'll treat you better than Onyx's freakshow. Any master beats this hellhole. Heh heh..."
"Boss, ain't it a waste? Onyx probably sampled everything already, so why not us..."
Creepy chuckles rose as more men crowded behind the collapsing corpse. But Parasite Guy—called "boss"—smacked his lips and stopped them.
"Fucking here? Insane. We bail first. Find Onyx's ledger?"
"Not here."
"Thorough bastard... Still, unexpected haul."
Shockingly, he untied my ropes. After all the lewd talk, not just kidnapping? Wary, I stayed crouched as he squatted eye-level, grinning.
"Don't freak. We're here to bust you out too, as a bonus."
The ropes must've signaled "prisoner." Free-roaming would've made me seem like a kept guest, maybe earning me a stab too. They bought the captive act—for now. But following them screamed bad end. Sex slave minimum. Sure, I liked the stimulation, but actual slavery? No thanks.
Hesitating, Parasite Guy's face twisted.
"Look at this. Onyx dick-whipped you already?"
"Kyaaak!"
He brutally grabbed and twisted my breast. I writhed, screaming. It hurt. Breasts aren't for rough kneading like dough in porn—they're delicate, like intimate spots, needing gentle caresses... What am I thinking? Point is, sensitive tissue. No foreplay, just pain. I grabbed his arm to pry it off, but scrawny him was way stronger.
"You're enjoying it. Listen to those slutty moans. Onyx tuned her to need it rough, huh?"
"No..."
"No scars for that, boss. Face and legs too smooth."
"Check her belly or back for knife or whip marks."
Parasite Guy yanked my hair, dragging me. I'd grown it long for looks, not this.
"I'll walk... Let go, it hurts..."
"Fuck. Onyx teach you that? Hot as hell. If not their base... Fine, follow. Fuck around, I slice your ankles."
"Y-yes..."
Body trembling against my will, I trailed them—but quickly clocked their game. No ledger? Grab me as substitute: fucktoy, sell, or hostage for demands from Onyx/Daesik. Original brutal Onyx might not bite, but...
Exiting the room toward stairs at hall's end, chaos neared. Glancing at his followers, their faces soured.
"Shit, a trap?!"
Parasite Guy spat curses, then backhanded me. Not a soap-opera slap—dull thwack, skull ringing, I tumbled. No one helped—good thing. Mounting would've crushed any resistance. Just venting rage on me.
"That bitch was bait! Confirmed no ledger, should've bailed. They hit Scorpion instead, per that traitor fuck!"
"Boss, now what?"
After fuming, Parasite Guy pointed at shivering me.
"Hostage her."
Criminals moved fast. Goons yanked me up by arms, posted at stairs per orders. He drew a short blade behind me—chill edge on my back. Formation: him, his rearguard, me and flankers up front. Legs jelly, but grips let me just balance.
"Touch more brothers, she dies!"
First-floor fighters paused at his yell, staring. Daesik's baffled men spotted me, snickering.
"Kuk... Heh heh... Boss's toy hostage? Puhahaha!"
"What the fu—?!"
Daesik emerged, cold smirk mocking Parasite Guy. He counter-threatened.
"Scratch my toy, your punks all die here."
Our eyes met—his emotionless gaze chilled me; I gulped. Blindingly fast, he hurled a dagger into my shoulder. I screamed, clutching; flankers panicked, released. Daesik grinned viciously.
"Oops, scratched. You're fucked."
Couldn't even yank the dagger, groaning curled—then slicing sounds, thuds behind. Daesik's voice from my rear:
"Petty burglar shits. Your boss is dead. Surrender, live."
Clang—mass weapon drop. Shock of his toss faded quick; grasping it prevented disaster sent shivers. Stalemate, he might've backstabbed or kidnapped me. Chaos then blitz—smart. But shock at my filterless acceptance: Am I changing? Real life, I'd sue first. Body and mind altered? Am I me, or just spectator in this character's POV?
Confusion manifested as resentful glare at Daesik.
"...Sorry. It'll hurt—staunch it."
Whispered low, he ripped the dagger free. I screamed again. He twirled it cruelly, smirking.
"Gonna catch hell from that mage maid. Ivy, don't be dramatic—you can self-heal."
True. As long as alive, no scars. He'd braced for my wrath to land the hit. Still miffed, I sniffled, hand to shoulder. His men bound surrendered goons; glancing back, Daesik quipped:
"Speaking of, my toy needs new accessories. Dead guy untied her."
More bondage. For real? I rolled eyes to gauge him—saw only his back. Then the prison-rescue guy approached.
"Boss, she's a healer—treat her better? No heals if pissed."
"Beat to near-death then. Jimmy, mind your business."
His casual reply floored me. Which side his true heart? Pre-discussed or not, betrayal stung. Jimmy advocated again:
"Boss, top-tier healers cost big elsewhere. She snaps, our loss. That mage kid too—how you handling her..."
"Hm. Mage loyalty first, yeah. Never know when she jumps ship."
"Exactly. So from now..."
"Treat her like big sis? Can't play then—you provide entertainment."
Random proposal sparked backlash, but Jimmy's glares silenced them. He had pull.
"Fine."
"Good. Lock 'em in basement 3 cells. Injured to Ivy for heals. Anyone touches her..."
Daesik pointed behind me. I reflexively looked—gagged. Not dagger-kills: hacked corpses everywhere. Gaming years read wounds: assassin backstabs, instant kills, reset cooldowns, chain. Efficient.
"No one touches sis."
Daesik nodded to Jimmy, left. Me alone in corpse hall. Wanted to yell, but not gutsy amid thugs. Healthy subordinates herded prisoners; wounded clutched gashes, approached. Per his word, I prepped DoT Heal amp—but flesh already knit. Noob zone? Full HP from tick heal crushed my ego in lowbie trap. Healed guy bowed gratefully.
"We'll serve you as sis!"
Embarrassed, I glanced at guarding Jimmy. Arms crossed, watching—me or others? Either way, plan worked; I murmured unheard thanks.
"...Thanks for helping."
"No problem."
Jimmy nodded stoically.