(A/n: First of all, I thank you guys for being this patient with my delay. I tried writing an orgy with 14 females at once which didn't turn out how I wanted it to be, which delayed the release so much as I couldn't think of a way to perfectly show a man with 14 women at once.
I tried looking for inspiration but apparently I couldn't find someone as lustful as me to show sex with 14 women at once which didn't help at all, plus the writer's block which apparently happens quite a lot especially with smuts. I even thought about making the whole sex behind the scenes, but it wouldn't do justice to the build up I did in previous chapters.
So I decided to group the women into 3 groups, where I'll show properly in detail foreplay and sex with 5 women, which turned out quite long already. So I'll let you guys decide if you want sex and foreplay and all that of the other 9 women or not. If the majority vote for it then I'll post it on Webnovel; if not, then I'll just make it behind the scenes for the rest of them.
Although if you wish to read full sex, I'll be posting a full version of it showing sex with the remaining 2 groups on my Patreon where you can access it and read. If not, then I'll just finish the first group's sex in this and the next chapter and be done with the sex and move on with the plot.
Today is Thursday, 6th November. I'll be waiting for your comments till 7th November, 9:00 PM IST. After that, as per the comments, I'll decide whether to upload the remaining or make it behind the scenes and move on with the plot.
And also one more thing, I'll not be showing R-18 of every single female from now on, only those that are in the core harem. Because writing sex for every single woman is not only time consuming, plot progress getting hindered and slower, but also mentally draining, leaving me unable to think or write anything further. I hope you understand, and once again thanks for your patience.)
The air in the penthouse felt charged, thick with the scent of jasmine, sweat, and a palpable sense of anticipation.
My harem surrounded me, nineteen women in various states of undress, their eyes soft with a unified, pink glow. I could feel their collective desire, a powerful current, and I was its focus. But tonight, we wouldn't be separate. Tonight, we would become one.
A faint, crimson-pink aura shimmered around me, the energy inside me awakening. Susan, the most devoted of them, sensed the change.
"Together," she said, her voice clear in the quiet room. "They are ready to be joined, Master. Their souls are open. Their bodies are eager for you."
The five original attendants—Susan, Linda, Karen, Sarah, and Diane—moved with a new purpose. They weren't just guides now; they were binders, weavers, the hands that would tie this beautiful chaos into a perfect knot.
The five original sluts—Susan, Linda, Karen, Sarah, and Diane—moved with a new purpose. They weren't just guides now; they were binders, weavers, the hands that would tie this beautiful chaos into a perfect knot.
"Since I am not some kind of sex hungry friend I won't be taking you all of you together, I'll split you guys into groups. Group One will consist of Mrs. Kim, Mrs. Lee, Mrs. Min, Mrs. Suh, and Ms. Choi.
Group Two will contain Mrs. Kang, Mrs. Shin, Ms. Han, Mrs. Jung, and Ms. Song. The last group, Group Three, will contain Ms. Yoon, Ms. Oh, Ms. Kwon, and Ms. Bae."
"Susan, Linda, Sarah, Diane, and Karen: your task is to keep the other groups occupied and stimulated while I focus on one. Prepare them. Make sure they are ready and eager for when it is their turn."
"Alright. I will take Group One first."
The world narrows to the space between Mrs. Kim and me. She kneels, a vision of surrender, her pale lavender blouse spilling open like a parting curtain. The city lights catch the tremor in her throat as she looks up, her eyes a turbulent sea of need and vulnerability.
I let the silence stretch, a tangible thing that makes her awareness of her own exposure sharpen into a fine point. Then, I lower myself, meeting her on the sacred ground of her submission.
I work slowly at the silk sash binding her wrists, my fingers lingering on the faint, warm impressions it has left. I replace it with the plush, midnight-blue velvet of the cuffs, and as I secure the first one, I brush the pad of my thumb over the delicate, blue-veered skin of her inner wrist. Her pulse is a frantic bird against my touch.
"Tell me," I murmur, my voice a low vibration in the quiet room. "The truth that lives in your bones. Do you want to be touched, or do you want to be worshipped?"
A full-body shiver wracks her. "I want to be worshipped, Samuel," she whispers, the words breathless. "I want to know you see every hidden part of me, every secret curve."
"Close your eyes." The command is soft, absolute. Her eyelids flutter shut, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow rhythms.
My hands begin their pilgrimage. They glide up the satin skin of her arms, over the graceful slope of her shoulders, until my thumbs find the elegant soft skin of her collarbones.
I trace their delicate wings, then journey up the column of her neck, feeling the wild, fluttering rhythm of her pulse beneath my fingertips—a silent, desperate prayer.
The only sound is the soft, broken sigh that escapes her parted lips.
My lips find the delicate shell of her ear. "I am going to show you what real worship feels like, Kim." My breath stirs the fine hairs at her temple. "Every freckle, every slope, every hollow of you is a sacred text."
I cup her face, my thumb stroking the high curve of her cheekbone, then I lean in. My mouth begins a slow, deliberate descent—a soft press against the hinge of her jaw, a lingering open-mouthed kiss to the frantic pulse at the base of her throat, the tip of my tongue tracing the path of a vein.
A low moan vibrates through her, and I feel her body go pliant, all resistance melting away.
My hands ease the blouse and bra down her arms, revealing the gentle swell of her breasts. The city's ambient glow gilds her skin, catching on the tightened, rosy peaks, making them look like precious stones offered up on silk altars.
"Open for me," I whisper, and my palm spreads wide over her bare sternum, feeling the frantic, hammering beat of her heart. She gasps, arching into the contact, her body begging for the weight and warmth of my hand.
I do not rush. Worship requires patience.
My hands slide around to cradle the undersides of her breasts, feeling their perfect, heavy warmth. My thumbs begin a slow, hypnotic rhythm, sweeping back and forth over the peaks of her nipples.
They harden further into tight buds under this attention, and a sharp, breathy sigh escapes her lips. I lower my head, my breath washing over the sensitized skin, and she trembles in anticipation.
"Such exquisite offerings," I murmur against the soft valley between them.
My tongue follows the path my thumb blazed, a slow, flat stroke over one pebbled crest. Her back arches off the floor, a silent, desperate plea. I answer by closing my lips over one of her peak, drawing it into the warm, wet cavern of my mouth.
I suckle, gently at first, then with increasing pressure, my tongue swirling and flicking relentlessly. Her fingers twist in my hair, not to guide, but to anchor herself as a cascade of moans falls from her lips.
I lavish the same devoted attention on its twin, my hand taking over where my mouth left off, rolling and pinching the damp nipple with a precise pressure that makes her whimper.
I move between them, my mouth and hands a synchronized dance of adoration—sucking, kneading, licking—until her breasts are glistening and her cries become a continuous, breathless melody.
I finally pull back, both nipples taut and beautifully abused in the cool air. I blow a soft, gentle stream of air across them, and the resulting shudder that wracks her body is a testament to the raw, sensitive nerve I have awakened.
"You see?" I whisper, my voice husky with my own desire. "Every part of you is worthy of this devotion."
I then let my hands drift lower, mapping the graceful taper of her waist, the subtle flare of her hips. My fingertips savor the tremor that ripples across her stomach. "You are so devastatingly beautiful," I say, my voice thick with a reverence that is entirely real. "And tonight, you have no need for armor. Only sensation."
My fingers slip beneath the waistband of her skirt, hooking into the fabric. "May I?" I ask, giving her the power of the moment.
"Yes, Samuel," she breathes, the words a prayer of consent. "Please."
I peel the skirt away, baring the elegant length of her thighs, the graceful symmetry of her hips. My hands glide back up the silken skin of her legs, from her ankles to the delicate crease where thigh meets torso. I lean down, and my lips find the incredibly sensitive skin of her inner thigh, just a breath away from her secret cave.
I kiss the tender flesh, once, a soft press of my lips. Then again, letting the tip of my tongue taste the salt and warmth of her skin. A sharp, ragged hitch escapes her throat, her fingers digging into my shoulders as if I were her only anchor.
I continue my worship—a trail of soft, sucking kisses along the inside of one thigh, moving agonizingly slowly toward her heat, then repeating the torturous path on the other.
Each kiss is a vow, a promise of the devotion to come, making her feel profoundly seen, utterly adored, and safe in her total surrender.
I pause, lifting my head to look into her heavy-lidded eyes, dark with a need that mirrors my own. "You are ready for so much more than this. You don't just crave my touch, you hunger for my complete approval, my awe."
She nods, a desperate, breathless motion. "I want it. Desperately."
A low, possessive sound rumbles in my chest. I don't break eye contact as I lower my head between her thighs, the scent of her arousal—musky, sweet, and entirely her—filling my senses. I let my hot breath ghost over her damp, delicate folds, and she trembles violently, a broken sob of anticipation tearing from her lips.
Then, I begin.
My tongue finds her in one long, slow, flat stroke from her entrance to the very apex of her pussy. It's a claiming, a baptism. Her taste explodes on my tongue—rich and complex. Her back arches off the floor, a wordless cry echoing in the quiet room.
I settle into a rhythm, my hands holding her hips steady. I use the broad of my tongue to lick her entire pussy, painting her with worship, before focusing into more precise, teasing flicks.
I circle her swollen clitoris, tracing around the hypersensitive bud without touching it directly, feeling it harden further under my attention. She is bucking against my mouth, her pleas a continuous, breathless stream. "Samuel... please... oh god..."
I grant her silent plea, closing my lips over the aching pearl and sucking gently, while the very tip of my tongue dances over its peak.
Her cry is sharp, her body seizing. I slide one hand from her hip, tracing a path through her slickness, and slowly, so slowly, I press one finger inside her. She is impossibly hot and tight, clenching around the intrusion as my mouth continues its relentless, worshipping assault.
I curl my finger, finding a spot deep within the pussy that makes her jolt and scream my name. I add a second finger, stretching her, filling her, my palm grinding against her as my tongue and lips continue their sacred work on her clitoris. I am consuming her, drinking her in, lost in the rhythm of her pleasure.
Her breathing is ragged, her body bow-string tight. "I'm... I can't... Samuel, I'm going to—"
I redouble my efforts, my tongue lashing her, my fingers pumping deeply, my gaze locked on her bliss-twisted features. "Let go," I growl against her wet flesh, the vibration tipping her over the edge. "Come for me. Now."
A shattered, guttural cry is torn from her as her orgasm crashes through her. Her body convulses around my fingers, her hips lifting off the ground as she rides the waves of sensation, her inner muscles fluttering wildly around my thrusting fingers while my tongue gentles, lapping at her through the storm, drawing out every last shuddering ripple of her release until she is boneless, spent, and utterly worshipped.
Next was Mrs Lee. "You crave to be seen, even when you can't see at all. Dare to let them watch you collapse, Mrs. Lee?" I tied the silk blindfold, plunging her into darkness. "Let the others watch as I touch you. Let your composure shatter."
"My heart is racing, Samuel," she murmured, as I guided her to stand.
"Tell me what you feel when I do this." My palm pressed flat against the front of her dress, over her lower belly, before my fingers began a slow, deliberate glide upwards.
I cupped the weight of her breast through the fabric, my thumb circling until it found the hardened peak of her nipple. I pinched it gently, rolling the bead of tight flesh between my thumb and forefinger.
She gasped, her head falling back. "Exposed… I feel… torn apart. Afraid, and desperate, and so damn alive."
"Good." I unzipped her dress, letting it pool at her feet. Her bra followed. I turned her to face the watching room, my hands on her bare shoulders. "They see your beauty. But only I feel your tremors."
My hands slid down her sides, over the curve of her hips, and around to the front. I splayed one hand low on her stomach, holding her against me, while the fingers of my other hand traced the wet seam of her panties. She was already soaked.
"Please," she whimpered, a tear of sheer exposure tracking from beneath the blindfold.
"Shhh. I see you." I hooked my fingers into the lace and pulled it aside. I found her clit, swollen and eager, and began a slow, torturous circles with my fingertips. Her body jerked in my arms, her back arching.
"Now let them hear you." I increased the pressure and speed, my other hand anchoring her as her legs began to buckle. Her moans escalated, loud and unashamed, filling the room.
Her body tightened, a bowstring pulled to its limit, and then she shattered, crying out my name as the orgasm ripped through her, her inner muscles fluttering wildly against my circling fingers. I held her through the waves, until she was boneless and panting, supported only by my arms.
On to Mrs. Min next. "No speaking unless I permit it. Now spread your knees and hold that pose." My demeanour changed completely.
Mrs. Min obeyed, her body rigid with tension, her breath coming in shallow pants. I knelt before her, my hands stroking the insides of her thighs, feeling the fine tremors there. I leaned in and blew a soft, warm breath against the damp silk of her panties. She flinched but held her position.
"Good girl," I murmured, and her whole body shivered at the praise.
I peeled her panties down roughly, revealing her neat, trimmed triangle of hair. Her glistening folds were already parted, begging for touch. But I denied her. I used my thumbs to part her further, exposing her sensitive, pink flesh to the cool air. I simply looked, watching her clit pulse with her heartbeat.
"You are holding still for me. Such an obedient bitch." I lowered my head and, without using my hands, traced the very tip of my tongue in a single, slow, flat stripe from her entrance to her clit.
A choked, silent scream was torn from her throat. Her hips twitched, desperate to buck, but she forced them still.
"I didn't say you could move." My voice was harsh as if a father was punishing his daughter. I did it again, this time circling her clit with the very point of my tongue, once, twice, then biting the vulva and pulling it towards my face, then taking my face away just as she began to tense.
I repeated this cycle of rough play and pleasure denial until she was dripping and her body was shaking with the effort of control. Finally, I gave her the command. "You may come."
I sealed my mouth over her clit, sucking firmly while two of my fingers slid deep inside her. The permission was all she needed. Her composure broke with a sharp, guttural cry.
Her back arched off the chair as her orgasm seized her, intense and silent but for her ragged breaths, her inner walls gripping my fingers in rhythmic pulses until the last tremor subsided.
Next I moved to Mrs. Suh. "Tomorrow you'll walk the city knowing only I saw you experience your best orgasm." I touched the secret necklace nestled in the valley of her breasts, revealed by the daring black lace.
She squirmed, keening softly as I slid a hand under her skirt, my palm warm against her thigh.
"What do you want from me?" I asked again.
"I want you to own me in private, Samuel. I want you to strip me with a word."
"Then undress for me. Slowly just like a stripper."
With trembling fingers, she obeyed, removing her twin-set and skirt until she stood in only the black lace bra and panties. I guided her to a plush ottoman and had her lie back.
"Consider it done," I whispered. My fingers trailed along her waist, then up to unhook her bra. I took her breasts in my hands, weighing them, my thumbs brushing over her dark, taut nipples until they were pebbled and aching.
I leaned down and took one into my mouth, sucking deeply, my tongue flicking the peak. She cried out, her hands fisting in the fabric beneath her.
I moved down her body, my lips and tongue painting a path of fire over her stomach, to the waistband of her panties. I removed them with a slow pull. "Open for me," I commanded, and she spread her legs, her pussy glistening and utterly exposed.
I didn't touch her with my hands. Instead, I used my mouth, licking and sucking at her inner lips, delving my tongue inside her, before zeroing in on her clit. I worshipped her there, with slow, devoted laps and gentle suction, my hands pinning her hips to the ottoman.
"You taste of surrender," I growled against her wet flesh. "And it's mine." The possessive words tipped her over the edge. Her orgasm was a quiet, deep, rolling thing—a series of broken sobs and convulsive shudders that made her dig her heels into the ottoman, her body bowing as she pulsed against my mouth.
Finally on to the final of first group Ms. Choi. She broke the first rule, leaning in to press a soft, daring kiss to my wrist. "Because I want you to want me for more than obedience."
I caught her face, my thumb stroking her jawline. "Your honesty pleases me more than perfection ever could." Her shiver was full-bodied. "But honesty deserves a reward. Stand up."
I turned her to face a full-length mirror. "Watch," I commanded. I stood behind her, my hands on her shoulders, then sliding down to cup her breasts through her blouse. I pinched her nipples, and she gasped, her eyes locked on our reflection.
"See how you respond to me? That is real." I unbuttoned her blouse, my fingers making quick work of the buttons. I freed her breasts, my hands kneading her soft flesh, my thumbs circling her areolas until her nipples were hard, dark points. I watched her watch my hands on her.
"Now, the final rule to break," I whispered in her ear. "Tell me what you want. Precisely."
Her eyes, dark with desire, met mine in the mirror. "I want your fingers inside me. I want to come watching you take me."
I smiled. "A perfect request." I pushed her skirt up around her waist. My right hand slid down her flat stomach, into the warmth between her legs. I parted her slick folds with two fingers and slowly, watching our reflection, pushed them deep inside her.
She moaned, her head falling back against my shoulder. "Yes…"
I began to move my hand, a steady, penetrating rhythm, the heel of my palm grinding against her clit with every thrust. My other hand remained on her breast, tugging and rolling her nipple.
"Watch yourself come apart for me," I urged, my voice husky. "See how beautiful you are when you're honest."
Her breath hitched. Her eyes, glued to the mirror, saw the flush on her skin, the pleasure contorting her features, my hands possessing her. It was the sight of her own surrender that finally undid her.
Her climax built quickly, then broke with a sharp, gasping cry. Her inner muscles clamped down on my fingers as she came, her body trembling violently in my arms, her gaze never leaving our entangled reflection until the last wave passed.
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