NTR: Stealing wives in Another World
Chapter 105: The box(18+)

Chapter 105: The box(18+)

Kael was sobbing now.

He knelt on the floor, naked, trembling, his cock still slick from fucking Lira—his body coated in sweat, his face streaked with tears. Lira slumped beside him, her thighs glistening, cunt pulsing from overuse, her voice lost to hoarse moans.

But all Kael could look at was his wife.

Veyna.

She was draped backward over Allen’s lap, her legs hooked over the arms of his throne, her mouth slack with disbelief as Allen’s fist disappeared up to the wrist inside her stretched, twitching cunt.

Schluck.

"Look at that," Allen muttered, his other hand casually stroking Fina’s thigh. "She’s taking it better than I expected. You sure this is her first time being fisted, Kael?"

Kael whimpered. "M-Master, please—"

SPLOORCH.

Allen twisted his arm inside Veyna with a slow grind, his knuckles dragging along her inner walls, and her whole body convulsed.

"GhhhhuuuNNNNHH!"

She came. Again. Loudly. Shamefully.

Her cunt clenched around Allen’s wrist with a desperate slurp, squirting weakly around his arm, juices dribbling down to the floor in a puddle of glistening defeat.

Kael choked on his breath.

Allen looked down at him, smiling coldly. "You pulled out of Lira without permission, pet."

Kael flinched. "I—I couldn’t—"

"Couldn’t what?" Allen’s voice dropped to a low, amused rumble. "Couldn’t watch your wife get turned into a sleeve in front of you?"

He flexed his hand inside Veyna again, and she let out a helpless wail.

Kael didn’t answer.

Allen smirked. "Fine. Since you’re feeling so emotional, go fetch the wooden box. The one in the storage room. The big one. The one that could fit, oh... two girls. Maybe three if we fold ’em."

Kael hesitated.

Allen curled his fingers into a fist inside Veyna’s cunt and punched forward just once.

THWUMP.

She screamed through her teeth.

Kael bolted.

The throne room was silent for a moment—except for the sound of wet flesh squelching as Allen slowly pulled his fist free with a glistening shhhhhhllorp. Veyna collapsed against the throne’s edge, twitching, her cunt gaping wide and leaking a stream of cloudy filth down her thighs.

Fina giggled. "She broke real fast."

"Didn’t even get to the elbow," Allen sighed. "Disappointing."

Then he turned to his throne.

To the five girls kneeling at his feet—his fuck throne—each one quivering, their thighs pressed tightly together, their faces contorted in silent agony.

Their pussies were raw. Inflamed. Red, swollen, twitching. Every girl had been stuffed with cursed itching leaf nearly an hour ago. Fina had personally administered it with a smile and no gloves.

Now the heat was unbearable.

The sting was maddening.

And none of them had scratched.

Allen’s gaze swept over them, voice deceptively casual. "Tell me something, girls."

They flinched.

"Which of you can write?"

The five stared at him, eyes wide. Calla, Mira, Niva, Tessa, Brin.

Calla—the young one with straw-blonde hair stuck to her forehead—was panting, her freckled cheeks damp with sweat. She opened her mouth—

"Don’t lie," Allen said smoothly. "If I find out you’re lying, I’ll use your tongue to scrub Elira’s asshole clean."

Calla whimpered.

Then, quietly, "I can write, Master..."

Next, Mira. Dusky skin, jet-black hair clinging to her neck. She nodded slowly, voice a whisper. "I—I can too..."

Niva, the redhead with haunted eyes, didn’t speak at first.

Allen tilted his head. "Niva?"

She swallowed. "I... I can, Master."

Tessa was next. Pale skin. Lips trembling. She nodded. "Yes, Master..."

Last was Brin—olive-skinned, sharp-jawed, defiant eyes. She held Allen’s gaze a second too long. Then nodded. "I can."

Allen smiled. "Good girls."

The five maids shifted slightly, a ripple of hope sparking in their filthy minds.

"Because I’ve decided to give one of you the chance to scratch."

All five froze.

He chuckled. "Only one. The one I choose. And only if you tell the truth."

The itching got worse.

Calla’s knees buckled. Her lips trembled.

Allen leaned forward slightly. "You’ll each write something for me. A message. A declaration. And if it satisfies me... maybe I’ll let you drag your nails across those pretty, pulsing, desperate little pussies. Wouldn’t that feel nice?"

They all nodded, almost in unison, panting now.

Allen held up a quill. Then a flat wooden slate, smoothed and stained from use.

He passed the slate to Mira.

"You first."

Mira’s hands were shaking violently as she took the slate. Her dusky thighs were slick with sweat and arousal, and her lips were parted in a silent moan. The leaf inside her cunt throbbed like a demon trying to crawl out.

She scrawled something. Passed it back.

Allen read it.

"I am a worthless fuckrag and I deserve to burn for the privilege of scratching."

He smiled. "Not bad."

He handed the slate to Tessa.

She bit her lip, quill hovering, her whole body vibrating like she might cum just from the pressure. She wrote, tears dripping onto the wood.

"My cunt belongs to Master. The pain reminds me not to touch what I haven’t earned."

Allen let out a soft laugh. "You’ve been practicing."

Next was Brin. The olive-skinned one. She took the slate without a word, scrawled quickly, angrily.

"Let me bleed, let me burn, let me itch forever if it pleases Master."

Allen raised an eyebrow. "Poetic."

Calla took it next. The youngest. Freckled. She was crying, her face contorted with desperation, her thighs trembling so violently they clapped together with every breath.

"Please, Master. I’ll crawl forever. I’ll drink from the bucket. Just let me scratch. Please."

Allen traced the letters with a finger.

Finally, Niva.

The redhead looked hollow. Her hands were trembling as she wrote slowly, deliberately.

"I don’t deserve relief. I want to be seen suffering. I want to prove my loyalty with silence."

Allen set the slate down.

Silence fell.

Then—

CLUNK.

The doors opened.

Kael returned, dragging the wooden box across the floor. It was heavy, reinforced, with dark metal latches and barely any ventilation. Allen looked it over, nodding approvingly.

"Perfect."

Veyna whimpered on the throne’s armrest. Still twitching.

Allen stepped off the throne and approached the girls.

All five maids flinched.

Then Allen pointed.

"...Calla."

The freckled girl froze.

"Come here."

She crawled forward, her breaths shallow, every inch of movement pulling at her tortured pussy. Her clit twitched violently with every heartbeat.

Allen crouched beside her, voice soft.

"You told the truth. You begged honestly. You earned this."

She nodded rapidly, tears pouring down her cheeks.

He smiled.

"Scratch."

She sobbed with gratitude—and buried her fingers between her legs.

SKRITCH-SKRITCH-SKRITCH-SPLAT.

The sound was obscene. Like tearing wet fabric soaked in oil.

Calla screamed as her fingers clawed at her folds, her nails scraping skin, pulling cursed leaf fragments out in chunks. Her hips bucked violently. A weak squirt burst from her cunt, trailing down her wrist.

Allen watched, amused. "Messy little thing."

Fina laughed. "She might break her nails at this rate."

Calla didn’t stop. She was clawing like a beast, sobbing, mewling, cumming through it.

Rinni crouched beside her and whispered, "You’re still not clean enough."

She reached forward—and flicked Calla’s clit.

YANK.

Calla collapsed, twitching, eyes rolling back.

Allen turned to the box. Then to Kael.

"Put Elira inside."

Kael hesitated.

Allen’s tone dropped.

"Do it."

Kael obeyed.

Elira was limp. Broken. Her body leaking from every hole, her cunt still sagging open from gangbang. He lifted her like a discarded ragdoll and placed her inside the box.

Allen turned to the rest of the maids

"Next time, only one of you will write. And the others will get some really sweet punishment."

He smiled.

The box creaked as the lid closed.

Darkness. Sweat. Breathing.

And the slow hiss of a lock clicking shut.