NTR: Stealing wives in Another World

The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the former Rhelgar estate, painting everything gold—the velvet drapes, the polished stone floor, even the line of kneeling bodies at the foot of Allen's throne. They were perfectly still, heads bowed, the markings on their skin catching the light like ceremonial tattoos. Elira stood just beside them, dressed only in her collar and a chain that trailed down between her breasts. She held a scroll in one hand and a switch in the other.

Allen sat sprawled in the throne like it was molded for him, shirt open, muscles relaxed, but his eyes were sharp. Behind him, Rinni sat on the armrest with her legs curled, nibbling on a skewer of fruit, while Fina leaned against the wall with her arms folded, watching the display with a contented smirk.

"Names," Allen said, voice lazy but commanding.

Elira stepped forward and unrolled the scroll. "From left to right: Mira, Brin, Calla, Tessa, Niva."

Each girl lifted her head slightly when named, their faces flushed, eyes wide, hair tangled from restless sleep and the sweat of morning duties. Mira's lips were swollen, evidence of earlier use. Brin had red welts along her thighs, like she'd asked to be punished harder than necessary. Calla trembled, but she didn't shy away. Tessa was visibly wet already, the anticipation undoing her. And Niva—quiet Niva—stared up at Allen like a devout worshiper waiting for judgment.

Allen didn't speak at first. He let the silence stretch.

"You've all done well this week," he said finally. "I've seen your hands raw from cleaning. I've heard your moans through the walls. Some of you cry while you serve. Some of you beg for more. I don't care which it is—as long as you obey."

Mira's breath hitched. Tessa whimpered. Fina chuckled under her breath, clearly enjoying the shiver that passed through the line of girls.

Allen leaned forward slightly. "I asked for loyalty. I've received worship. Now I ask something else."

He stood, his shadow stretching over the five girls.

"Devotion."

At his word, Elira snapped her fingers. The girls responded like trained pets, crawling forward until they were at Allen's feet. He took a slow lap around them, inspecting every inch, noting how each girl kept her posture despite the trembling in her limbs.

He stopped behind Calla, gently brushing his fingers through her tangled hair. "Did you like being used by the guards last night?"

She nodded shakily.

"Speak."

"Yes, Master."

He turned to Brin next, his voice a whisper. "When you begged to be whipped again after fainting… did you mean it?"

"Yes, Master."

He moved to Mira and slid his hand along her jaw, tilting her gaze up to his. "You cried when I denied you release."

Mira's lips parted. "I'm still aching, Master."

Allen smirked and finally returned to the front, looking at Elira. "They're ready."

Elira didn't ask what for. She simply clapped twice.

From the side hall, three young beastkin entered—freshly inducted into the house staff, still uncertain, their eyes wide at the scene before them. All were nude, save for a white sash marking them as new. They were trembling, but didn't stop walking.

Allen turned to them. "Today, you will watch. Tomorrow, you will serve."

Fina walked behind the girls and gently guided them toward a nearby bench. "Don't worry," she purred, running her fingers down one's spine. "You'll be begging for a place on the floor soon."

Rinni giggled and licked juice from her fingers. "Or under the throne."

Allen returned his attention to the five kneeling girls. "You've earned indulgence. But it won't be easy."

He gave Elira a look, and she moved quickly, opening a nearby chest. From it, she drew out restraints—collars, cuffs, gags, and more. One by one, she helped Allen bind the girls in different poses. Mira on her back, legs spread and tied to the floor rings. Brin straddling a padded bench, her wrists clipped behind her back. Calla bent forward, head to the ground, hips raised, waiting. Tessa was cuffed to a low bar, spread wide, helpless. Niva, however, remained untouched.

Allen gestured to Niva. "Come here."

She rose, unsure, her eyes locked on his.

"I'm not binding you," he said. "You've been silent for days. I want to hear your voice."

Her throat bobbed as she nodded.

Allen sat back down in the throne. "Speak."

Niva hesitated, then stepped closer, her voice soft. "I don't know what I am to you."

Allen tilted his head. "You're mine. That's enough."

She knelt before him, her head resting against his thigh. "Then I want to prove it."

And she did.

While the others moaned and whimpered behind her—Elira circling with her switch, flicking red lines across trembling flesh—Niva remained on the floor, her mouth worshiping Allen with slow, reverent grace. Every sound behind her became a chorus: Mira gasping through her gag, Brin biting her lip as the bench rocked beneath her, Calla mewling each time the switch kissed her ass, Tessa panting in raw need.

But Niva never stopped. Not until Allen tensed, groaned low, and rested a hand on her head, holding her in place until she swallowed every last drop without question.

The room quieted after that. Even Fina looked a little stunned.

Allen stood, towering over them all again. "Elira."

She stepped forward, flushed and grinning.

"Take them to the bathing chamber. Wash them. Feed them. And let them recover."

"Yes, Master."

He looked to the three new beastkin girls, who were frozen on the bench. "Watch closely. What you saw here… this is obedience rewarded."

And with that, Allen left the throne room.

Steam rose in languid curls from the heated baths, thick with lavender and citrus oil. The bathing chamber wasn't just utilitarian anymore—under Allen's rule, it had been transformed. Stone walls gleamed from regular polish, with golden sconces casting a warm, flickering glow over the pools. Silken towels were neatly folded in woven baskets. But most notable were the chains—built discreetly into the marble, hung above low ledges or embedded into the bathing bench itself.

The girls were already there by the time Allen arrived. Elira had worked fast, guiding the five used, red-marked maids into the water. Mira sat chest-deep, her hair floating around her like dark seaweed, eyes still dazed. Brin leaned back against the side of the pool, lips parted in silent aftershocks. Calla hugged her knees, her skin blotched from the switch but glowing beneath the water's sheen. Tessa rested her cheek on the edge, too blissed out to speak. Niva sat apart, arms folded on the edge, quietly watching the others.

The three new beastkin girls knelt by the steps, still in their white sashes. They hadn't moved since entering. Fina had escorted them personally, making sure they didn't run. Not that they would. They weren't scared anymore. They were curious. Hungry, even.

Allen stepped in without a word, water swirling around his thighs as he made his way to the center. The heat enveloped him, relaxing his shoulders—but his expression stayed sharp, focused. The five used girls perked up instantly at his arrival, like worshippers catching a glimpse of their god.

"Elira," he said, not raising his voice.

She stepped down behind him, her toes brushing the water's surface, holding a tray with soap, oils, and a carved wooden comb.

"Start with Mira," he said, and she obeyed.

Mira floated toward him, dreamy-eyed. Allen pulled her gently into his lap, water sloshing as she settled on his thighs. Elira stood at his side, working soap through Mira's hair with slow, reverent strokes.

Allen brushed a thumb over Mira's cheek. "You begged with your whole body. Even gagged, I could feel it."

She flushed under his gaze, lips parting slightly. "I didn't want it to stop," she whispered.

"It won't. Not if you keep proving you deserve it."

She nodded, breath catching as he leaned in and licked a droplet of water from her collarbone.

Behind her, Elira was working efficiently. Her hands were practiced now—massaging, cleaning, tending. As if scrubbing away the filth was just another form of worship.

"Next," Allen said as Mira melted against his chest.

Brin was already moving before he called her name. She climbed into the water, her toned body covered in fresh marks—some from last night, others more recent. Her short hair clung to her forehead.

She didn't speak as she straddled his lap, knees on either side of his waist. Allen gripped her hips, steadying her. Elira moved behind again, lathering her shoulders, brushing over her spine and down between her cheeks. Brin flinched but didn't resist.

"You want to show the others how a good girl begs?" Allen asked.

She nodded, lips trembling. "Yes… please."

He pressed a firm hand to her lower back, forcing her forward until her breasts brushed his chest and her mouth was close to his neck.

"Then beg."

And she did—hot, panting, breathless words that spilled against his skin. She begged to be used harder, to be broken, to be claimed. Allen didn't move, didn't touch her further, just listened. He let her pour it all out until she was sobbing, not from pain but need.

He held her there, whispering praise, then passed her off to Elira for rinsing. His voice never rose. But everything he said carried weight.

Calla was next, small and delicate, but the look in her eyes said she was starved for his approval. Allen laid her back across his knees, hands under her thighs, and let the water rise up to her breasts. Her pale hair was already wet, clinging to her face. She looked up at him, lips quivering.

"You cried last night," he murmured.

She nodded.

"Was it too much?"

"No," she whispered. "It wasn't enough."

He smirked. "Good girl."

Elira washed her hair gently, humming under her breath. Calla never broke eye contact with Allen, not even when he reached out to drag his thumb slowly across her bottom lip.

Tessa was last among the bound five. She approached with the smallest steps, still shaky. Her freckles stood out even more under the soft lights, and she flinched slightly as the warm water touched her marked skin.

Allen took her hand, pulled her in, and let her sit sideways across his lap. She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in shallow puffs.

"You want a reward?" he asked.

"I… I don't know," she confessed.

He tilted her chin until she looked him in the eye. "Then I'll decide for you."

And she let him.

When he released her, he finally turned to Niva.

The quiet one. The one who hadn't needed rope or gags to show devotion.

She walked toward him on her knees, slipping beneath the water like a shadow.

"You served me without words," Allen said.

She met his gaze. "I wanted to listen more than speak."

He reached for her, pulling her close until her chest touched his. She trembled once, then relaxed.

"I've decided something," he said softly, voice only she could hear.

Niva blinked, waiting.

"I'm not going to mark you with ink like the others."

She froze.

"You're going to mark yourself… with actions. Starting now."

Her eyes widened slightly.

"You'll train the three new girls."

She glanced toward the bench, where the beastkin girls sat frozen.

Allen tilted her chin up again. "You'll teach them how to crawl. How to beg. How to serve."

"And if they don't learn?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, slow and dark. "Then they'll watch you being used until they understand."

Niva's breath hitched—but she nodded.

"I won't fail you."

"You won't," he agreed.

Behind him, Fina clapped slowly, amused and approving.

Rinni stretched lazily and kicked her feet into the water. "You gonna let us join in or just keep all the bath fun for yourself?"

Allen leaned back, arms resting on the edge of the pool as the heat wrapped around him and his girls.

"Come in," he said.

They did.

And the water never stopped rippling.