NTR: Stealing wives in Another World

The sun beat down on the port quarter like a lash, bringing the scent of salt, sweat, and seaweed to the surface in waves. Allen stood at the edge of the old harbor plaza, eyes scanning the tangled streets, the crooked balconies, the sails flapping like flags of surrender in the wind. Behind him trailed a quiet procession—priestesses, acolytes, even a few temple guards in nothing but flowing wraps and inked symbols on their bare skin. The corruption that had bloomed in the temple had started to spill outward, and the port was the first place he'd chosen to let it take root.

Rinni walked beside him, practically bouncing with each step. "This place smells like fish and whore sweat. I love it."

Fina rolled her eyes but smirked. "You'd love anything that smells like sin."

Allen didn't respond. His gaze was locked ahead, where a squat stone warehouse had been converted into a kind of unofficial brothel and tavern. A banner hung over the door, frayed at the edges, marked with the sigil of House Jekal—a minor noble family that handled most of the city's merchant fleet. He could already hear the music from inside, the uneven laughter, the sound of boots on wood and hips on hips.

He pushed the door open without knocking.

The inside was dim, loud, and thick with the scent of cheap ale and cheaper perfume. Men crowded the long tables, some half-dressed, others already with their hands under skirts or cupping tits in the open. Women moved between them—dock girls, smugglers, tavern wenches—each painted with the messy charm of someone who knew exactly how to get what she wanted.

Allen didn't pause. He walked straight through the main floor and toward the far dais where a girl in red leaned against the railing, sipping from a goblet like she owned the room. She didn't flinch when he approached—just looked him over with an arched brow, her thigh casually draped over the arm of her seat.

"Didn't think you'd come in person," she said. Her voice was a low, husky thing, smoke wrapped in silk. "Thought you'd send one of your painted sluts."

Allen's smile was slow, dangerous. "Why send a priestess when the god himself is here?"

She smirked, leaning in just slightly. Her hair was wine-dark and her skin sun-kissed, freckles scattered across her nose and chest like spilled sugar. "Big talk. Got anything to back that up, temple boy?"

Fina stepped forward before Allen could speak, her eyes glittering. "He flipped the entire high temple in one night," she said. "Turned a holy altar into a breeding shrine. Your little den here doesn't scare us."

Rinni plopped herself into the nearest chair, helping herself to a half-finished drink. "We're here to spread a new gospel. And we brought lube."

The woman laughed—a real, throaty laugh that sent ripples through the room. "You're insane," she said. Then she stood, slow and deliberate, letting the red fabric slip off one shoulder to reveal a bare, ink-kissed collarbone. "Fine. Let's see your sermon."

Allen didn't hesitate. He grabbed her by the hips, spun her around, and bent her over the edge of the dais railing. She gasped, caught between laughter and heat as her goblet tumbled to the floor. The room quieted just enough to hear the soft rip of fabric and the heavy breath before Allen pushed himself inside her.

She wasn't expecting him to be so thick. Her body jolted forward, hands grasping for something to hold onto as the crowd around them stirred with excitement. No shame here—this was dockside law. This was entertainment and worship and dominance all rolled into one.

Fina moved behind her, fingers trailing down her spine, whispering something low that made the woman shiver. Rinni was already in someone's lap, tugging at her top while the tavern erupted into wet sound and rhythmic pounding. A converted priestess dropped to her knees and began crawling between bodies, kissing thighs, tracing Allen's name across chests with her tongue.

The girl in red moaned as Allen slammed into her harder, the wood beneath her groaning. He leaned in close, lips brushing her ear. "What's your name?"

"C—Captain Sera," she panted.

"You're mine now, Captain," he growled, gripping her ass. "Your ships, your crew, your cunt—they all serve me."

"Yes," she hissed, biting her lip. "Yes, fuck, yes."

Fina pulled Sera's top fully off and smeared ink down her spine—crude, swirling symbols of devotion and ownership. Not holy, not clean, but unmistakably his.

The tavern tipped into a storm after that. More women joined in—drawn from the tables, the corners, the balconies. Some dropped to their knees to serve the priestesses. Some begged Allen directly. A guard with tattoos down her arms begged for permission to be bred on the floor, and Allen gave it to her without pause, pinning her down beside a crate of salted fish while her moans echoed louder than the sea outside.

By the time the sun dipped low and the evening wind blew through the broken windows, the warehouse was silent save for the gentle hum of exhaustion and worship. Bodies lay sprawled everywhere—inked, slick, breathless. Fina and Rinni curled up beside Allen, who sat against the wall with Sera straddling his lap, lips swollen and eyes dazed.

"We'll sail under your banner," she whispered into his chest. "Every ship in the fleet."

Allen stroked her hair. "Good."

He looked up, eyes catching the stars through a cracked beam. A new night had begun, and already, the city was tilting toward him. The Rhelgars would feel it. The nobles would hear the whispers. Every moan in the port tonight would ripple through the streets like a call to prayer.

And tomorrow?

He'd take the merchant district next. And after that, the palace.

One body at a time.

The morning crept in quietly, golden light slipping through shattered shutters, casting crisscrossed shadows over Sera's bare back. Her cheek rested against Allen's chest, sticky with sweat and still-heaving breath. Fina had curled up against his side like a smug fox with a full belly, one leg draped lazily over his thigh, while Rinni was sprawled on a pile of pillows, one arm outstretched over a twitching guard girl who hadn't quite recovered from her third orgasm.

Allen stirred first, his hand brushing strands of Sera's hair from her face. She blinked up at him slowly, eyes still glassy, lips raw and pink. "Do I have to call you something now?" she whispered, voice hoarse from screaming.

"Allen's fine," he said with a smirk. "Unless you want to call me 'Master' for fun."

She grinned and nestled closer. "Don't tempt me."

Fina yawned beside him. "Mmm. That was a good night. I'd rate it ten out of ten moans."

"Ten?" Rinni groaned from her pillow pile. "I heard fifteen from one girl. The one who begged you to mark her throat with your cum."

"That was Tovira," Allen murmured, sitting up slowly. "She'll be walking funny for a week."

He stretched, his muscles rippling in the new light, and surveyed the room again. Dozens of women—noble daughters slumming in disguise, dock girls, merchants' wives who "just came to watch" but never left—all laid bare and changed. His mark was everywhere. It wasn't just ink, it was in the way they breathed differently now. Eyes opened wider. Bodies shivered at the memory.

Sera shifted off his lap and reached for her cloak. "If you're still going after the palace," she said, "you'll need more than converted taverns and horny priestesses."

Allen stood, unbothered by his nakedness, and crossed the room to a cracked mirror propped against the wall. His reflection looked... different now. Like something ancient was slowly waking beneath his skin. "I'll take the palace the same way I took the temple," he said. "With lust, will, and noise loud enough to shake the gods."

Sera smirked. "Then you'll want Lady Velka."

Fina's head perked up. "Velka? The Ice Witch of the Inner Court?"

"She's not a real witch," Rinni muttered, rubbing her eyes. "Just cold, snobby, and thinks she's untouchable."

Sera pulled her hair up into a loose knot. "Exactly. And she runs the pleasure court now. Oversees noble entertainments, 'morality inspections,' all that bullshit. She's the one who makes sure everything stays 'dignified.'"

Allen's mouth curled. "Perfect. She's the next altar I'm flipping."

By midday, he was riding through the city in a repurposed pleasure cart, pulled by two of Sera's personal guards—topless, flushed, and still smelling like last night's debauchery. The cart had no roof, just red cushions, thick silk curtains, and a small throne at the back. Allen reclined with Fina and Rinni flanking him, each wearing sheer veils and smug expressions that made every merchant they passed swallow nervously.

Word had spread already. The people didn't look away anymore. Some stared openly. Some knelt as he passed, their eyes wide and hungry, lips whispering prayers not to the old gods—but to him.

The palace loomed by mid-afternoon. White stone. Gold trim. Cold as a virgin's promise.

Guards tried to stop him at the outer gate, spears crossed, but Allen just stared at them. Something in his gaze made their hands tremble. Made one of them lower his weapon without even realizing it. Fina stepped forward, bent over slightly so her tits nearly spilled out, and whispered something filthy to the other. His ears turned red and he moved aside without a word.

Inside the court's outer sanctum, the shift was immediate. No filth, no chaos. Just polished marble floors, elegant tapestries, and the soft sound of a harp from a distant room. Courtiers turned as Allen entered, their faces tight with horror—or interest. Mostly both.

Lady Velka awaited him in a domed chamber with silver filigree lacing the walls like frost. She sat on a cushioned bench, her back straight, her lips pursed. She wore blue silk, her hair in an austere braid, a crystal pendant resting just above the rise of her pale breasts. Everything about her screamed control.

"You will leave now," she said, voice like ice water over stone. "Or you will be removed."

Allen didn't slow his stride. "You don't remove gods. You worship them."

Velka stood. "You are no god. You're filth."

He smiled. "The kind of filth that gets under your skin."

Her jaw clenched as Fina and Rinni flanked her like lions circling a doe. Rinni tilted her head. "You ever touched yourself while looking at one of your girls? Or are you the cold kind who just watches and bites her lip?"

Velka flinched. Fina stepped behind her, close enough to whisper in her ear. "You don't have to admit it. We'll show you instead."

Allen took her hand, slow and deliberate. She didn't pull away, though her fingers trembled. "No one's ever made you burn, have they?"

"I am untouched," she whispered.

"Then let me defile you."

He kissed her—hard, possessive, with every ounce of the hunger she tried to deny—and she broke like wet parchment. Her hands clutched at him instinctively, legs buckling as Rinni reached up and pulled the crystal pendant from her chest.

Velka gasped as it fell. "That... was my chastity seal..."

"Not anymore," Fina whispered.

What followed wasn't chaos. It was rebirth. Allen stripped her carefully, not to mock—but to reveal. Beneath her cold was heat. Rage. Need. Shame that crumbled into moans when he pressed her against the cushioned bench and showed her what it meant to be wanted. To be claimed.

He didn't fuck her to dominate—he fucked her to convert. Slow at first. Then faster. Rougher. She whimpered, begged, clawed, screamed. The courtiers who hadn't fled were watching now, wide-eyed and red-faced, and some of them fell to their knees right there, unable to look away.

Fina grabbed the harp and strummed a filthy rhythm. Rinni rode one of the velvet benches like a toy, her gaze locked on Allen's cock pistoning into Velka's soaked cunt, her own moans syncing up like a hymn.

Velka shattered around him. Not once. Not twice. Her third climax was so violent her legs gave out and she slumped into his arms, sobbing softly, her lips repeating one word over and over:

"More…"

Allen stood, still hard, still glowing with that slow-burning power that made the walls feel like they might crack.

He turned to the onlookers.

"This is what loyalty feels like," he said, pulling Velka up and bending her over the central dais like an offering. "Join me, or watch forever."

Dozens of them stepped forward.