Chapter 42
He was simply a man with a graceful, beautiful face, who treated his fake fiancée gently. Perhaps his harsh demeanor aside, his true nature was not so bad. Cynthia found herself reassessing him.
His face was beautiful, his body was perfect, his fingers were long, and his lips were lovely…
“……”
Recalling the moment his lips had drawn her down there, and how he drank her essence and whispered that it was as sweet as honey made her so filled with shame she felt she’d choke herself with her own hair. Cynthia buried her reddened face between her arms.
But soon she changed her mind.
After all, Segleninde might still be the true villainous mastermind of this game.
“…I’ll say it in advance. I didn’t know.”
“Ridiculous..! You did this on purpose— Nnngh, s-stop it! Haa, ngh…..!”
The moment Segleninde forced the black dress he’d somehow found onto her, trouble began.
One of this game’s gimmicks was that if you wore certain clothes you found during exploration, your skin would melt or the clothing would consume you whole, resulting in a death scene.
That scene had changed. The instant she slipped into the dress, the interior began to move as if alive, transforming into soft, sticky tentacles that started to roam over her entire body.
The lining, now like bumpy flesh, pressed on her chest and suctioned both n*****s, while thin tendrils coiled around her b*****s and kneaded them firmly as if kneading dough.
Cynthia was certain Segleninde had done this on purpose. Otherwise, why would he just stand by, smiling, instead of helping? If so, that bastard was still definitely the villain.
By the way, between the aphrodisiac smoke and all this, why had this game suddenly shifted from a G19 rating to an R19 rating?
“Uuuhn, stop staring— Take this dress off me! AAAAHNGH!”
The lining’s long, thick tentacles had wrapped around her legs and forced them open. As her soaking wet entrance was fully exposed, Segleninde, who had been approaching to help, halted. Then he folded his arms and watched, laughing.
His angelic face mocked her with a teasing look as he delighted in the tentacles’ ministrations.
“Well? You look like you’re enjoying this. Enjoy it more.”
“You—bastard—nngh!”
The tentacle bundle rubbed her wide-open p***y. Its thicker tendrils roamed over her entrance without penetrating, while thinner strands gathered to circle and roll her c**t.
It was only after Cynthia had climaxed twice more that she finally escaped the living dress, utterly spent.
She collapsed on the floor, panting as she cursed the damned game, while Segleninde hummed a tune and went to the wardrobe to fetch new clothes.
Cynthia jumped up, snatched the yellow dress he brought, and flung it over his head.
“Ugh!”
“Now you can have a taste of your own medicine!”
Inside the folds of the skirt that covered his head, the lining shifted and wriggled. She had almost been caught again.
He was the villain who wouldn’t die from scorching or stabbing or being cleaved by an axe—he certainly couldn’t be smothered to death. Cynthia cursed as she turned away, leaving him to battle the tentacled dress, and walked directly to the wardrobe.
Through the mirror beside it, she surveyed her body. From thighs to b******s, drenched in her own secretions, and on her chest, red blotches as if octopus suckers had latched on and been torn away. Her n*****s were swollen bright red from having been sucked so long.
She examined her own state with troubled eyes, then went into the bathroom attached to the dressing room and washed herself clean. Only then could she finally find and put on normal clothing.
It was a shirt similar to Segleninde’s, long trousers cinched at the waist, and ankle-high boots. Though she couldn’t find underwear, this outfit was much more comfortable and gave her a sense of security.
“This one’s not bad.”
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