The Brothel Madam's Tempting Deal
To sum up this insane world in a nutshell: it's a perfectly twisted gender-reversed society. Magic power—a supernatural, absolute force—can only be wielded by women, so all the authority, military might, and wealth in this world belong entirely to them. Elves, beastkin, demons, and other diverse subraces shed rivers of blood in the past just to claim the woefully scarce men. Eventually, they formed a massive alliance under the banner of the demon race and elected an absolute Demon King for efficient distribution and management of males. A brutal world of pure survival of the fittest. A savage society where noble titles like duke, marquis, and count are bestowed solely based on strength.
Of course, a few human kingdoms still linger in the corners of the continent, unvanquished. But that's not because the demons lack the power to conquer them. No, those kingdoms are nothing more than massive "male farms" deliberately left intact to steadily supply high-quality men. They could be swept away anytime on a whim, but they're kept penned like livestock for periodic harvests of fresh studs. On top of that, the men in this world have been bred like cattle for ages, used only as pleasure tools, so they're basically dumb as rocks—low intelligence across the board. They can't think deeply for themselves; they just wag their tails and writhe in ecstasy if a woman touches their dicks. Well... not all of them, but most of the guys I've seen fit that bill.
Shaking off those grim thoughts, I realized my feet had carried me to the end of the top-floor corridor in Monghwan-ui Jan—Illusion's Banquet. A massive double door covered in ornate gold decorations and crimson carpet. This was the private office of Lilith, Count of the Demon Capital and absolute owner of this colossal brothel.
"Gulp."
I swallowed hard without thinking. Just the thick perfume wafting through the crack in the tightly shut door, mingled with the suffocating pulse of faint magic power, made every hair on my body stand on end.
......
I cautiously pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside. A wave of heady, musky perfume assaulted my nose. There she sat behind a massive desk under a glittering chandelier: Lilith, Count of the Demon Capital and unchallenged ruler of Illusion's Banquet. Her red bob hair swayed at shoulder length, and her dizzyingly plunging dress revealed cleavage that threatened to burst free. She was breathtakingly alluring, the kind of beauty that stole your breath away.
"Come on in~ my cute little cleaner♡"
Lilith curled her red lips seductively and beckoned me with a slender finger. I bowed stiffly, tense as a board, and shuffled toward her.
"Don't just stand there all rigid—sit down and relax~"
At her soft urging, I perched gingerly on the edge of the plush reception sofa.
"What would you like to drink? Coffee? Or maybe some fragrant tea?"
"Ah... just water's fine."
She let out a light chuckle at my cautious reply, then smoothly poured iced water from a pitcher into a glass and slid it toward me. The clink of ice sounded unnaturally loud.
"How's it going? Enjoying the work lately?"
I was the only man in this massive den of desire who didn't sell his body. While the others stripped bare every night and rolled as male prostitutes for female demon guests, I alone gripped a broom and mop, steadfastly scrubbing up bodily fluids from the floors.
"Yes, it's fine. Manageable."
As I gave my curt answer, Lilith leaned forward over her desk, propping her chin on her hand. Her heavy breasts pressed against the wood, their jiggling curves filling my vision in a dizzying display.
"Really~? The pay's so low—doesn't it suck? Your fellow newbies are already earning ten times what you make, you know~"
Her sultry voice dripped with sticky temptation. It was the classic brothel madam whisper: Why bother with that broom? Climb into a soft bed right now, spread those pretty legs, and rake in the cash.
"I'm... fine as is. This is easier than selling my body."
I averted my eyes from her gaze and refused firmly. Lilith smacked her lips and let out a long sigh.
"What a shame~ Such a waste. A pretty boy like you rotting away as a floor-scrubber? Way too bad♡ Just spread those legs nicely, and you'd be swimming in gold."
"Haha..."
I forced an awkward laugh, ignoring the cold sweat trickling down my back, and gulped down the icy water. It felt like swallowing shards of ice.
Everyone must wonder why I don't sell this money-making body of mine and instead cling to a stinking mop. Some noble chastity vow? Nah, nothing that boring or outdated. Truth is, when I first landed in this world and stumbled into this brothel, I was thrilled inside. Jackpot, I thought. Hot, voluptuous female demons lining up to fuck me senseless every night—and paying me for it? What sane guy turns down a dream gig like that?
I started as a male prostitute with stars in my eyes. But that was naive bullshit. Reality was pure hell.
For starters, every female demon here is a sadist to the bone. They get off on total domination—crushing, trampling, raping by force. Normal sex, where man and woman share warmth, affection, connection? That's fairy-tale crap in this fucked-up Demon Capital. Their "sex" is just violent milking. They force your dick rock-hard, slam it into their hot, slick pussies, and squeeze every last drop of cum mercilessly. No breaks—they pinch and suck your nipples nonstop to keep you erect, yank your hair to shove your face into their sloppy cunts, and even brutally ream your ass in endless cycles of degradation. And their stamina? Monstrous. They piston their hips for 5-6 hours straight without tiring. Truly irredeemable bitches.
But worse than the physical torment—the real reason I quit—was the drugs. To turn men into tireless pleasure machines, they force-feed potent aphrodisiacs and all sorts of shit. And unless the client foots the bill, that exorbitant drug cost gets tacked onto you. You break your back selling your body, but it all goes to meds, leaving you buried in snowballing debt to the brothel. Worst of all, chugging those mystery drugs nonstop felt like it was melting my brain. No wonder the men here are all brain-dead tail-waggers—I'd bet my life it's mostly those goddamn drugs. So I quit after just two weeks. Instead, I took this Illusion's Banquet janitor gig. Sure, I spend all day mopping up other guys' cum and fluids, and the pay's peanuts, but it's a thousand times better than drowning in debt as a brain-fried meat toilet.
At least Lilith here doesn't hold a knife to my throat and force me. Miracle of miracles—she's respecting my choice to stick with cleaning. For now.
I took another sip of the cold water from the glass, pretending not to notice her sticky stare.
"Well, if you really hate it, no helping that~"
Lilith shrugged with mock disappointment, pouting her red lips. I sighed inwardly in relief. Good—no plans to strip me and toss me in bed by force.
But my relief shattered with her next words.
"Instead, I've got an offer you can't refuse. Like it or not, Demian, you're doing one male prostitute shift this Friday."
"Y-yes...? M-me, prostitution?"
I was so shocked I nearly dropped the glass. Stammering, I finally managed to speak.
"But I signed on as a cleaner—why...?"
"No choice— we've got a very important guest coming~"
Lilith leaned over the desk, whispering conspiratorially.
"But there are plenty of star male prostitutes already..."
I protested meekly, but she shook her head firmly.
"She's already scoured every brothel in the Demon Capital and saved us for last. Super VIP—and honestly, even I, a count, have to tread carefully around her."
Lilith—Count of the Demon Capital and owner of this behemoth—treading carefully? What kind of monster was coming? A chill ran down my spine.
"Sure, I think highly of our pretty Demian and give you special treatment... but no guarantees she'll bite. Still, for satisfying that picky lady's tastes, our brothel's last hidden card has to be you, right? Hehe."
She laughed seductively, her finger lightly tracing my chin. Goosebumps erupted.
"So Friday, you're on exclusive VIP duty. In exchange, I'll give you a special 20 gold."
"Tw-twenty gold...?"
My eyes bulged. 20 gold—that matched two years of backbreaking janitor pay. For one night? One fuck? My mind went blank.
I loathed the drugged-up, bestial male prostitute life, but that number started madly churning in my head.
"What do you say? Tempted now~?"
I swallowed dryly, furrowing my brow as if deeply pondering. It was too sweet, too fatal—a venomous apple impossible to refuse.