Elrin was already drooling, head lolled to the side, eyes glassy and empty like a broken doll someone had tossed in the corner. The noble was basically a glorified vegetable now, all the arrogance and cruelty scrubbed clean until nothing but a breathing shell remained. John didn't feel triumphant. He just felt tired, the kind of tired that sat heavy in his chest and made every step feel like dragging chains he couldn't see.
he spoke over his shoulder without raising his voice. "Marrianetta. He's yours. Full control. Kill him, rape him, keep him as a toy, whatever you want. I don't care. Just make sure he never forgets what he did to me before you finish with him."
From inside the room came her smooth, velvety reply, that low breathy tone that always sounded like she was sharing a secret meant only for him. "Oh, master… you spoil me rotten. Full control over such a cute little toy? I promise I'll make very good use of him. He'll sing for me in ways he never sang for anyone else."
John cut her off before she could get any more poetic about it. "Yeah yeah, cool enough. Just handle it." He kept walking, forcing his posture straight, shoulders back, trying to project the calm, collected aura of someone who had everything under control.
Aura farming, he told himself. Walk like you own the world because you technically do. The corridor stretched ahead, empty and silent except for the soft click of his boots on the stone. He focused on the rhythm, one foot in front of the other, breathing steady, face neutral. No one was watching, but it felt important to practice. If he could fool himself into looking calm, maybe the nervous knot in his stomach would loosen eventually.
By the time he reached his office door he was still holding it together on the outside. He pushed the door open, stepped inside, and let it swing shut behind him. The moment the latch clicked, the mask cracked. John's shoulders slumped, his hands came up to cover his face, and a shaky, disbelieving laugh bubbled out of him. He staggered over to the gaming chair and dropped into it hard enough to make the leather creak. His legs bounced. His fingers drummed against his thighs. He was grinning like an idiot but his cheeks were burning hot.
He had just fucked a femboy.
The thought hit him again, raw and unfiltered. Not in a fantasy. Not in a video he paused and restarted a hundred times. In real life. He had bent Elrin over that rack, heard the noble beg in that broken, slutty voice, felt that tight heat clench around him while the blond came untouched over and over. And holy shit, it had felt good. Better than good. The way Elrin's body had surrendered, the soft whimpers, the way his plump ass had jiggled with every thrust, it was everything the gooner part of his brain had secretly craved for years.
The mile-high club of porn-addicted freaks.
The forbidden final boss of degenerate fantasies.
And it had been real.
He had done it.
He had made the arrogant lord who once pissed on him moan like a cheap whore and thank him for it.
John leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face still buried in his hands, and let out another shaky laugh that bordered on a wheeze. His cock twitched in his pants at the memory, half-hard again just from thinking about it. He was officially ruined for normal. There was no going back. The next summon had to be a femboy. No question. Something cute, something eager, something he could dress up and break in without any of the guilt that had flickered when he looked at what was left of Elrin. Maybe with cat ears. Or fox ears. Or something with a tail he could pull. The possibilities made his brain short-circuit in the best way.
But first he needed to figure out who to punish next.
The anger at Elrin had cooled into something quieter, more calculated. The noble was handled. Marrianetta would make sure of that. Now the list in his head started rearranging itself. Zedrik and Alrick—the tax collectors who had ordered the village massacre because the women weren't attractive enough. Loki, the Wolf God who had slaughtered Marcus's entire family in front of him. Gregor, the burly bastard who had speared Lui and grabbed Selio like they were toys. The chief who had sentenced them to death by dishonorable combat and changed the rules the second John flipped him off. Even the adventurers who had raped Selio's corpse and laughed about it afterward. They all still owed him.
John rubbed his face, trying to push the flustered heat out of his cheeks. He couldn't just sit here giggling like a virgin who discovered porn for the first time. He had a palace the size of a small country, skills that could rewrite reality, and a growing list of people who needed to suffer. The gooner part of him was still buzzing, still replaying the feeling of Elrin's body yielding, but the rest of him knew he had to keep moving. Punishment wasn't finished. It had barely started.
He straightened up in the chair, took a slow breath, and pulled the glowing globe interface back up. The map spun lazily in front of him, continents and cities waiting to be zoomed in on. His fingers hovered over the controls. Who next? The duke? The tax collectors? The god who thought he could throw people away like garbage? Or maybe he should start smaller, work his way up, make sure every step hurt exactly the way he wanted it to.