The morning sun of the Sabaody Archipelago filtered through the opulent windows of the rented mansion, illuminating Arlo as he stretched with theatrical laziness.
He was already in character, his hands not idle for a moment. His right hand was kneading the enormous, soft breast of a sex slave, who stood obediently by his side.
His left was cupped firmly around the tight, rounded ass of another slave, fingers digging into the pliant flesh beneath her sheer shorts.
He stepped outside, the two women attached to him like living, breathing accessories. And there, waiting with a posture so rigid it looked painful, was Captain Hina.
Her Marine coat was draped over her shoulders, and her arms were crossed tightly beneath her chest, a defensive gesture that did nothing to diminish her allure.
Her dark eyes, sharp and intelligent, were narrowed, radiating a pure, undiluted disgust that she could barely contain.
"Captain Hina is here for duty," she stated, her voice clipped and cold.
"Yes, I hope you can serve me well," Arlo drawled, not removing his hands from the women.
The man let his eyes roam over Hina's body, from her strong legs to the curve of her hips and the defiant set of her jaw.
"The world waits for me. But I must say, the view this morning is… invigorating."
Hina's jaw tightened. "My duty is to ensure your safety, not to be part of your… entourage. This frivolity will only get in the way of my work."
"Work, work, work, that doesn't matter," Arlo tutted, finally releasing his slaves.
He took a step closer to Hina, invading her personal space.
"Perhaps you need to learn how to relax, my dear Captain," he purred, his voice dropping.
Before she could react, his gloved hand came up and traced a slow, deliberate line from her chin down the column of her neck, over the fabric of her uniform, and stopped just above the swell of her huge breast.
Hina felt furious, but she couldn't do anything. Arlo was a celestial dragon; injuring him in any way would mean the death penalty.
She wanted to break his arm, to throw him to the ground, but the weight of her obligation, the symbol on her coat, froze her.
But to begin with, why was it the Marines' obligation to protect such useless and cruel nobles? Was there really any justice in the Marines?
Hina began to doubt her position for the first time. She knew about the corruption in the organization, but never before had she felt so much rage.
Even so, she decided she could only stand there, remaining a statue of simmering rage. She wouldn't let the noble have any pleasure from touching her.
Hopefully, this would make him stop and lose interest.
However, as his hand roamed all over her body, it was hard to deny that she was feeling a filthy pleasure.
A treacherous heat was building low in her belly. His touch, though repulsive, was expert, igniting a spark against her will. Her skin prickled where his fingers had been.
Her breath hitched, and she felt a faint, damp warmth between her thighs. She was horrified to feel her body betraying her, teetering on the edge of a climax she didn't want, her mind screaming in protest while her flesh responded to the skilled violation.
Just as the tension peaked, as Hina's resolve was about to crumble into a humiliating climax, Arlo's attention snapped away as if he'd grown bored.
He turned back to one of the sex slaves, his gaze hungry.
He didn't kiss her; the translucent helmet he wore made that an impossibility, but his embrace was far more invasive.
He pulled her flush against him, one hand fisting in her hair to tilt her head back, exposing the long, vulnerable line of her throat.
The other hand slid down the curve of her spine, palming the full, generous swell of her backside and grinding her body against his, leaving no space between them.
His gloved hand then roamed upwards, slipping inside the flimsy fabric of her top. He didn't caress her; he claimed her, his fingers tracing the heavy weight of her breast before pinching a hardened nipple, making her gasp.
Then his hand journeyed downward, past the waistband of her bottoms, his fingers finding the slick, heated wetness of her cunt.
With a few deft, practiced movements, rubbing tight, insistent circles against her most sensitive spot, he manipulated her body, forcing a response she couldn't suppress.
A choked, shuddering cry was torn from the girl's throat. The pleasure, sharp pleasure, took over the woman.
Her body convulsed in his arms, her giant breasts pressing against his chest as she arched against him. Then, her legs gave out entirely.
She collapsed, crumpling to her knees before him, her forehead resting against the cool fabric of his trousers as she shuddered through the aftershocks, her breath coming in ragged, helpless pants.
The image was one of complete and utter subjugation, a victory of physical sensation over mental fortitude.
Arlo held her, before looking back at Hina. Her face was flushed, her fists clenched at her sides, her entire body trembling with unspent, furious energy. She was left hanging on the precipice, utterly and humiliatingly unfulfilled.
"Much better," Arlo said cheerfully, shoving the dazed slave toward another female slave who took her back to the room where she could rest a bit.
"Now! To the auction. I'm in the mood for a new toy. Do try to keep up, Captain. Your 'work' is just beginning."
He strutted past her, giving her a strong smack on the butt, which made Hina clench her fists in anger. But at the same time, her pussy felt even wetter.
The ghost of his touch still burning on her skin, and a deep, frustrated ache throbbing insistently within her.
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