Chapter 31
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- That Tentacle’s Circumstances
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Lower-class demon,
Lowest rank,
A status closer to a pet dog than a demon.
That was what the demon called Violen was.
The world called the demon world, thoroughly judged by power and hierarchy, was more cruel than that of the human world. If you were weak, you became food and were devoured. If your status was low, you were trampled and discarded like trash without a second thought.
So it was rather fortunate that Violen was born as a tentacle. Tentacles were popular among the women of the demon world. They were useful in many ways.
Even when the master who had taken Violen abandoned him saying she was now bored, someone else would quickly take Violen in. He lived that way, meeting several masters and being abandoned repeatedly.
Still, it was okay. He never once faced being reduced to slavery like his peers of the same rank or being killed on a whim.
Violen was priced quite expensively. It was because of his pretty face and skillful techniques.
“Ahh, ngh… Just as the rumors said……! Yess! So useful…… Ahh~,”
He didn’t remember which number master this was, but the woman who had recently become his new owner was gasping with satisfaction as she moaned under Violen’s tentacles.
Violen rubbed the woman’s b*****s with two tentacles while thrusting another deep into her p***y. Soft yet intense, never missing the spots that pleased her most, alternating between slow and fast rhythms, penetrating as deeply as possible…
While mechanically repeating these ingrained techniques on the woman’s body, Violen smiled seductively at her as if she were adorable. With an expression he’d perfected through effort:
“Are you feeling good, Master?”
“Ahhn, yes… You’re… truly the best…….”
The woman moaned, her head lolling in drunken praise. Violen smiled beautifully—as if pleased.
While desperately suppressing the urge to vomit on her face.
The woman he thought would just become another passing master in his life unexpectedly became Violen’s last owner.
Not because she kept him longer than others without growing bored—but because she was murdered before she could sell him off.
The war was a one-sided slaughter.
Females were massacred first. To prevent reproduction.
When the invaders who had turned the woman’s home to ruins retreated, Violen emerged from the cabinet where he’d hidden his small body and stared at the woman’s corpse sprawled grotesquely across the bed.
Violen’s face observing this tragedy was doll-like in its blankness, his eyes lifeless and dry. Though he’d been inside this woman mere hours ago, he felt disturbingly little emotion. Only one thought crystallized clearly as he noted the r**e marks littering her body:
‘They’re all the same.’
Disgusting vessels of lust. The revulsion that constantly surged up his throat yet could never be vomited out.
The woman who owned Violen was dead. No female buyers remained. Yet Violen knew with absolute certainty he’d never gain freedom. He remained a lower-class demon, lowest rank, with the status of a pet dog.
“Come with me.”
Having waited obediently, Violen soon found a man coming to claim him. He eyed the stranger suspiciously.
“Same-s*x preferences?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
The man who retorted sternly claimed to descend from a lineage that had served the Demon King for generations. With the royal family exterminated, Violen couldn’t grasp what significance this held—but the man insisted they must rebuild the demon world and fled to the human world with Violen and several others.
They lived in hiding. For the first time, Violen experienced days without servitude.
Though fugitives, these were Violen’s first peaceful days. Yet he sensed it couldn’t last—the demon world never abandoned even its lowest creatures like him.
Soon the man took him somewhere and pointed:
“That woman will be your new master now.”
The indicated woman had her hair tied in a simple ponytail and wore baggy sweatpants as she ambled down the street. Compared to the glamorous demon world women, her plainness was startling. Violen observed her dispassionately:
“So I just need to sexually satisfy her?”
“That would be ideal. But remember—while she’ll become your master, she isn’t your master.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What I mean is—”
The man launched into an impassioned explanation that held zero interest for Violen. He let the words wash over him. The gist was clear enough—obey the woman when the time came.
And so Violen met Heesu.
Heesu proved far more peculiar than Violen expected.
She delighted just from being called “Master,” grew emotional over home-cooked meals, and expressed gratitude for every small service his previous owners had taken for granted. At first it was strange—then it became pleasant. An unfamiliar sensation. He began feeling his actions held value.
Unlike other masters who’d inspected him like merchandise, Heesu just… smiled. Constantly. As if his mere presence satisfied her. Facing those smiles was strange at first—then good. Another foreign feeling. He started sensing his own worth.
How absurd. A lower-class demon, lowest rank, mere pet dog—feeling self-worth? What a pitiful delusion.
Yet no matter how he suppressed it, the delusion persisted.
Unfamiliar emotions kept overflowing. Because of Heesu, each day felt new. Because of Heesu, each day sparkled differently.
Life with Heesu overturned everything he knew.
Heesu made no s****l demands. If anything, she seemed uncomfortable with intimacy. When Violen first coiled around her, she’d flailed desperately to escape. Even after climaxing, she’d been flustered. Unlike any “master” he’d known—a complete innocent. Unaware of such pleasures, she neither desired nor requested them.
That should’ve been comfortable. A relief.
“I’ll help you, Master.”
Watching Heesu moments before the slime overwhelmed her, Violen felt unfamiliar impatience surge. He disliked it. The thought of that slime entering Heesu before him—
“Ah—!”
Violen swept the slime away, deliberately grazing her sensitive spots with his fingertips. He felt her startled gasp. Already sensitized by the slime—
He knew this. Yet still cupped her entire v****a, waiting. Embracing her from behind, pressing close, breathing against her ear. Lips brushing skin. Subtly grinding so she’d feel him.
He excelled at stoking desire. An innocent like Heesu stood no chance. By now, her heated body would be overwhelming her—evidenced by growing wetness beneath his palm.
Yet Heesu made no demands. Just trembled, enduring.
“Does it feel weird?”
When Violen asked, Heesu quickly shook her head.
“N-no?”
“I see…….”
Her answer disappointed him—which startled him.
Heesu differed completely from past “masters.” She sought nothing s****l. That should’ve been comfortable. A relief. Yet now…….
“I’m the weird one.”
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