Professional Ethics of the Academy's Exclusive Prostitute (6)
“♡♡♡♡♡♡”
It didn’t take long after both of her holes began to be violated at once for Gyeoul to pass out.
“Kkheuheuk♡”
She would regain consciousness only to be struck by another wave of pleasure and faint again, repeating the cycle. The ecstasy was so overwhelming that the strain showed on her face, bursting a blood vessel in her nose and sending a trickle of red liquid down her lips.
Any ordinary woman would have hit her physical limit quickly—violent vaginal spasms, seizures that looked genuinely life-threatening, full-body convulsions. But Gyeoul’s body, essentially a gift from the supreme succubus, was nowhere near fragile enough to break from pleasure of this intensity. In truth, it was abnormally resilient.
Even so, whether she was blacking out or waking up, even as her vision flickered and the salty taste of blood filled her mouth, that loose, dreamy smile never left her face. A true professional prostitute. She might have been technically unqualified, but in mindset and sheer mental fortitude she had reached a level that could rival the greatest masters. Whether the title “Master of Prostitution” counted as praise would depend on whom you asked.
“Haa… haa…”
“Hoo… huuu…”
At last even Kazuha and Alejandra had emptied their lust. Each had climaxed four times—no, five? Six? The exact number was hazy, but it was far more than usual. Perhaps the competitive instinct between males had been triggered despite their cursed forms.
Their cocks slid free at the same time. It wasn’t planned; it simply happened. Immediately afterward, a massive volume of semen poured from both of Gyeoul’s holes. There was so much that “gushing” felt more accurate than “trickling.”
A single release was roughly one hundred milliliters. Five times that was five hundred—the contents of a large beer can. That quantity had been pumped into her rectum and vagina respectively before surging back out in a single rush. The load in her ass had filled her rectum completely and overflowed into her colon; the load in her pussy had swollen her passage like a water balloon, forced its way past the cervix, and flooded her womb.
The semen that had traveled deeper into her colon and uterus did not come out with the first wave. The colonic sphincter and cervical entrance had held it back. Only after the initial flood from her rectum and vagina escaped—accompanied by lewd popping and plopping sounds from the gaping holes—did the rest begin to trickle out in a slow, thick stream.
Gyeoul lay with her arms spread limply to either side and her legs splayed in a wide W-shape, looking exactly like a flattened frog. “He♡ Ehehe…♡” she giggled, her limbs twitching faintly. It was a scene one could witness several times a day inside the sexual relief room—beautiful and obscene no matter how often it appeared.
“Huu…”
Alejandra poured water from the provided pitcher into a cup and drank it down in heavy gulps. Thrusting with one’s hips demanded real stamina. She did feel as though her endurance had increased since receiving the curse, however.
She considered offering some to Gyeoul, but decided against it; touching her now would almost certainly trigger an afterglow orgasm. Incidentally, both the term and the phenomenon itself were things she had only learned after arriving at the academy. The other students were probably the same.
Among the words Gyeoul tossed out so casually, there were many that even the well-read professors, the dean, and Miel—the succubus who possessed a vast vocabulary when it came to vulgarity—had never heard. Miel in particular treated every new phrase like valuable study material, jotting them down in her notebook. That little book was steadily becoming her most prized possession.
Alejandra was about to set the cup aside when she noticed Kazuha.
“Haa… haa…”
The oni was catching her breath just as she was, her cock now soft and spent like Alejandra’s own.
“…”
Without a word, Alejandra refilled the cup and held it out. Kazuha frowned at it but accepted and drained it in one go. An awkward yet not entirely awkward silence hung between them—hostile, yet not completely so.
They turned their backs to each other and began to dress. The only sounds were the rustle of fabric against skin, the click of buttons, and the tightening of laces. Soon they looked exactly as they had when they first entered, the only difference being that their cocks no longer strained against their clothes.
There were no fixed manners for leaving the sexual relief room. Every situation was simply too different: Had someone else been using it with you? Were you leaving at the same time, or was the other person still busy? Was someone waiting for you to finish? Was Gyeoul conscious? If so, was she in a state where conversation was possible?
Even so, most students tried to offer at least a few words—“Thank you,” “You helped me again today,” “Take care”—before they left. Alejandra and Kazuha were no exception. They turned toward her, assuming her consciousness was still flickering.
Yet Gyeoul had already recovered enough to turn her head toward them despite her heavy panting. With obvious effort she offered a bright smile.
“Did you have fun, big sisters?”
She asked it with the earnest professionalism of a dedicated prostitute.
At the sight of her working so sincerely, both Alejandra and Kazuha flinched. Had they ever lived with such earnest effort? Had they ever tried that hard at anything at all?
“Uh… uhh…”
“We… we had a really good time…”
Gyeoul gave them a soft “Hehe” in response to their awkwardness.
“Really? That’s a relief… that’s…”
Her eyelids fluttered once, twice… and then she was fast asleep, a quiet “koo” escaping her. It seemed she had been forcing her eyes open for a while just so she could ask them that question.
The two visitors were left with an indescribable feeling. They whispered “Sleep well” and “Sleep well” to the already unconscious Gyeoul and quietly left the sexual relief room.
Warm sunlight poured gently over her peacefully sleeping face, as if to comfort her for her hard work and labor.
Gyeoul’s nap continued until the next visitor woke her. That visitor, incidentally, was Eladriel.
“Kkheuk!?♡”
From that week onward, the academy began using the term “XX Week” according to Gyeoul’s “theme of the week.” The first was “Sexual Relief Committee Member Week,” the second “Prostitute Week,” and so on. It rarely matched the calendar week that ran from Monday to Sunday, yet in this academy the label carried real meaning. It was far easier to recall events by the week’s theme than by the actual days.
At the very beginning of “Prostitute Week”—which had started a day earlier than originally planned—the students had literally paid with whatever they had on hand. A random pebble, pocket trash, something lying around their room, a scrap of paper they happened to be holding. Anything.
Yet every time, Gyeoul would light up with genuine delight.
“Wow…! Something this precious? Thank you so much, big sister!!”
She would treasure the worthless items with sincere care. At first everyone thought it was fine. More accurately, they simply hadn’t realized she would react with such joy.
But the second time they visited and found themselves thinking “Oh right, payment” while picking up another pebble or scrap of paper, an uncomfortable guilt began to gnaw at them.
Not everyone felt it, of course.
“It’s just hypnosis—a role-play. What meaning could it possibly have?”
Some drew a cool line there and continued handing over stones without issue. Others, however…
“W-wait… you gave so much last time too… Big sister, are you really okay with this?”
…began to waver.
“Is it really all right for me to keep accepting this much? Do you truly feel that much value in spending time with me…?”
Gradually, those voices disappeared. And in proportion to the passage of time, the value of the payments began to climb.
Some students brought real money. They were daughters of monarchs from the empire’s major nations; even in this situation, their allowances and personal wealth were considerable. Others brought actual gifts—practical hair combs, mirrors, or pieces of jewelry. High-class desserts were also popular, though thankfully Gyeoul shared those with everyone on the spot instead of storing them away like treasures.
Up to that point it was still relatively normal. The amounts were large because of their lofty status, but they were roughly equivalent to what someone of their position might actually pay a courtesan.
But Gyeoul had more than one “customer.” Unlike ordinary situations, the visitors all knew exactly who had given what. Gyeoul displayed every payment openly in a basket. And sometimes multiple students arrived together and paid at the same time.
The result was inevitable: competition began to flare.
“Oh… you brought something rather plain today, didn’t you? Hehe.”
“Th-that’s not true! I just forgot, that’s all!”
The exact wording varied by person, but exchanges like that happened several times a day. Because the payments were displayed publicly, anyone who brought something especially impressive—or especially cheap—was quickly identified by name.
“Is that… all pure gold?”
“They say the dragon girl left it…”
And so, little by little, the situation began to overheat.
“…Heh?”