273: Return to Reality (18+)
-63.4 AP
“Phew!” Beatrice breathed out as she slowly came to from a mind-blowing orgasm. By the time Brittany fainted and fell into Beatrice’s tits, the succubus still spurted a few more shots of cum into her own giant tits. And Beatrice would’ve lied if she said it did not feel amazing to get fucked with such pure passion, to feel the futa female’s cum splash across her pussy out of the throbbing cock that made her moan with pleasure, to cum onto her own body, to feel the warmth of her satisfied, resting mate as they smeared the cum across their sexy, sweaty bodies.
Holy hell! Beatrice certainly wasn’t expecting things to turn out quite like this when she went to this place for a quick “half hour’s rest”. If it was up to her, Beatrice would’ve happily stayed here, holding Brittany in her arms, watching her sleep after a life-changing event, waiting for her to wake up, and helping her through the change that she underwent. But Beatrice could not stay here. Even with all the gains she made, she had obligations toward herself to continue her combat training. She looked past Brittany to see if her escort still remembered that they had places to be.
Of course not! Beatrice sighed. While Bob’s two erections finally had subsided, the masked man lay on the ground and contemplated what he had experienced. How am I the one reminding my official guide-slash-guard that I’m supposed to be back on time? Beatrice gently moved the sleeping futa girl off of her body and placed her on the ground next to her.
If I’m the one to also the role of the responsible one here, I might as well make herself be more presentable first, Beatrice thought as she got up and adjusted her erotic fantasy schoolgirl outfit. Squeezing her tits back into the confinement of her crop top and adjusting her tiny skirt to cover her waning cock that was adequately satisfied, for now.
“Bob,” Beatrice said the masked man’s name only when she stood over him, looking down on her minion as if he was a fool for still lying on his back with his cum-smeared cocks exposed as if she wasn’t in the exact same position a minute ago.
“Eh… Huh?” Bob moved his eyes in the direction of the voice while still reliving in his mind the pleasures he experienced. Only when his mind screamed at him repeatedly to get his shit together in front of the being that gave him that very pleasure he reminisced so blissfully did Bob finally move, suddenly and haphazardly, collecting himself into some semblance of anything that wasn’t utterly pathetic.
“Y-yes!? I-I mean… T-thank you!” Bob got on his knees in front of Beatrice, with his forehead against the rocks. “I… Words fail me to express… What you have done for me… How can I even—”
“Don’t we have to be somewhere?” Beatrice asked a question she already knew the answer to. However, maintaining authority was crucial in this situation.
“A… ah… AH!?” Bob raised his head and looked at Beatrice with an expression that rapidly changed from obliviousness, to worry, to realization, to pure horror.
Bob brought up the palm of his hand and conjured a small fire in his arm that formed three symbols. The burning, morphing numerical symbols appeared and were quenched in his clenched fist so fast that Beatrice did not even get a chance to grasp what they represented, besides the fact that they seemed to be numbers, akin to the ones that formed the half-hour countdown during the first round in the arena.
“We have to go now!” Bob declared clearly, with a tone that would suggest that their very lives depended on it.
“… Very well,” Beatrice agreed, maintaining a tone that suggested she had a say in whether they did in fact return or not. “But make yourself presentable first! You can’t possibly be thinking of walking out of here looking that that!”
“A-ah!?” Bob rose up and looked at his naked, sticky self as if waking up from a dream. “O-of course! A moment!”
Beatrice smiled while Bob scrambled through the cell to find some cloth to clean himself with. Beatrice had no intention of being even a second late to the next round of the Forge of Champions. If the previous events were anything to go by, lateness could indeed result in a swift or, worse, slow and painful death. And Beatrice was the one that had to keep track of the time, after all. But if she somehow allowed Bob to be the one to come to his senses and demand their return while Beatrice basked in erotic pleasure, most of her work would have been undone.
“H-how do I look?” Bob asked Beatrice nervously while adjusting his kilt to make sure it covered his flaccid cocks. The old, ragged cloth he used to wipe himself clean laid next to Bob, his muscles still glistening in a few places where he failed to properly wipe the cum, sweat, and female juices.
Like you’re already mine, Beatrice thought, doing her best to hide her thoughts from Bob. She walked toward the man whose chest rose rapidly from nervous breathing. She adjusted his mask, lowering it to fully cover his face like it used to before they walked into this cell, and said, “Take a deep breath! It’s fine! You’re going to be fine as long as you remember who you’re loyal to.”
Bob adjusted his mask, fell to one knee, and announced clearly, “I’m loyal to you, my goddess!”
And don’t you forget it! Beatrice thought but kept it to herself, so that she didn’t sound too much like a villain. Something positive, positive… Ah! “Then let us move toward a brighter future!”
“Yes!” Bob shouted and slammed his fists into the rocks so fiercely that small pieces of rocks broke off and flew in all directions, away from the impact.