The dark elf stepped closer, silver hair swaying, blood still trickling from the shallow cut on her forehead.
Then she dipped into a graceful bow that made her tiny top slip dangerously low.
"My name is Sora," she said, voice soft and melodic despite the dirt on her knees. "Daughter of Chief Suwaira of the Obsidian Hollow tribe. Thank you… truly."
Then I opened my mouth to reply. "I'm Shirogane Yanen—"
"Unfortunately," Eirene cut in, tone drier than the wasteland itself, "there are no bushes for you to do your work, being the animal you are. But you could make do there."
She pointed one silver finger toward a large slanted rock that jutted out of the ground like a natural canopy, offering a thin stripe of shade against the relentless sun.
Sora's blue eyes lit up.
Before I could protest, her small hand closed around my wrist and tugged.
"Come, come! This way, kind savior!"
She practically dragged me under the overhang. The moment we were out of direct sunlight, she spun to face me, cheeks flushed, breathing already quick.
"You are truly desperate to get laid," Eirene observed from a few steps away. "Are you truly a female pig in heat?"
I whirled toward Eirene, ready to snap at her for hurling insults out of nowhere—then froze.
Sora had bitten her lower lip hard, with her thighs pressed together. As if a tiny, involuntary shiver ran through her frame.
...Does this mean what I think it means?
I turned back to her slowly.
Okay, let's check something out here.
"I'm not really game about sleeping with a girl I just met," I said, keeping my voice even. "Not to mention she's a filthy whore who's easy."
Sora's breath hitched and her pupils dilated. A fresh blush crawled from her cheeks down her neck.
"Y-Yes…!" she whispered, voice trembling with something very close to ecstasy. "Sora is a filthy cum-bucket unworthy to even lick your boots, Sir Yanen."
"That's Lord Yanen to you."
She whimpered—actually whimpered—and dropped to her knees so fast her skirt rode up completely, exposing black lace stretched tight across plump brown curves.
Okay, it's confirmed. She's a masochist.
I glanced sideways at Eirene.
"Don't look at me," she said, shrugging one shoulder. "Inseminate her either way."
Tsk. She isn't helping at all... This feels wrong somehow.
I exhaled through my nose, then crouched so I was eye-level with Sora.
"Hey, listen." My voice softened. "You should carry yourself with more value. Where I come from, someone who looks like you—strong, beautiful, brave—would be a real gem. Every guy would want you. So... stop bowing and trying to lick my sneaker. Hey—I said stop!"
I yanked her up by the upper arms before her tongue could actually make contact with my shoe.
And she looked crushed, with her brows furrowed, lower lip trembling, eyes glistening like she was seconds from crying.
"You don't understand, you human filth," Eirene said calmly. "Look at the dirty slut. She wants you to mess her up. Doing otherwise is making her sad."
I followed Eirene's gaze.
Sora was shaking.
Not from fear—from need. Her nipples were visibly stiff against the thin fabric triangles barely covering her chest.
And a thin, glistening trail already ran down the inside of one thick thigh. Her hands were clenched at her sides so hard her knuckles paled. The longer I hesitated, the more miserable she looked.
My throat worked.
"Uhm… fine." I swallowed. "But Sora—I don't mean the things I'm going to say to you, okay? It's just… role-playing. Understand?"
She brightened instantly, nodding so fast her silver hair bounced.
"Understood, Master!"
"Drop the Master, please."
She beamed anyway.
Then she simply… stood there, waiting for me...
I stood there too, waiting, as an awkward silence stretched.
"You… don't know what to do, do you…?" Eirene sighed.
"I'm sorry," I said, bowing lightly. "I've never been violent."
Eirene pinched the bridge of her nose.
"First," she said, "slap her."
"Wai—why?!"
"Just do it, clueless virgin."
I hesitated, then raised my hand and gave Sora's cheek the lightest possible tap, and she pouted.
Eirene rolled her eyes. "Harder, you worm."
I tried again—still gentle.
"Pathetic," Eirene muttered. "Again. Like you mean it."
I gritted my teeth and slapped her properly this time—open palm, solid contact.
Sora's head rocked sideways, as a bright red handprint bloomed on her brown cheek.
Her eyes fluttered shut. A long, trembling moan slipped out. Her thighs squeezed together so hard a fresh trickle slid down her leg and dripped onto the dirt.
"See?" Eirene said. "She's dripping already."
Sora's breathing turned ragged.
"Listen to me, human filth," Eirene continued, voice still calm. "If you're not going to do something for someone, say so. But if you choose to help someone, grit your teeth and do it."
I looked at her, and I think I knew where she was coming from.
Despite the insults, despite the cold tone… she was teaching me. In her own twisted way.
I exhaled.
Then I stepped forward, grabbed a fistful of Sora's silver hair, and yanked her head back so she was forced to look up at me.
"Open your mouth, slut," I said low.
"Yesh… ahhhhn…"
Her lips parted wide, tongue already out.
I reached down with my free hand and worked the front of my pants open. My cock sprang free—already painfully hard from the last few minutes of tension and visual overload.
Even Eirene's throat moved visibly.
"Hm?" I glanced at her. "Is something wrong?"
"F-Fool! Face your work!" A faint pink dusted her silver cheeks. She turned her head away.
I returned my attention to Sora.
"Ahhh, cock, cock!" she babbled, eyes dazed and glassy. "What should I do, Master?!"
"What do you mean, you horny elf? Suck it, of course."
She lunged forward like she'd been starving.
Her mouth was hot. Wet. Greedy. She swallowed me down in one long, smooth motion until her nose pressed against my pelvis. No gag. No hesitation. Just a happy, muffled hum vibrating around my length.
I groaned despite myself.
She bobbed eagerly—sloppy, noisy, spit already running down her chin and dripping onto her exposed cleavage.
Every time she pulled back she let her tongue drag along the underside, swirling around the head before plunging down again. One hand cupped my balls, massaging gently; the other braced on my thigh for leverage.
I tightened my grip in her hair and started to thrust—slow at first, testing. She moaned louder around me, encouraging. Encouraging.
After a minute I pulled out with a wet pop. A thick string of saliva connected her swollen lips to my tip.
"On your knees," I ordered. "Hands behind your back."