Nephis's fingers loosened—just a fraction.
The crushing vise eased into something worse: a steady, pulsing pressure that kept the sharp edge of pain alive while letting pleasure bleed through in cruel, equal measure. Sunny's cock throbbed helplessly in her grip, trapped between agony and the unbearable ache to thrust into her palm. Every heartbeat sent a fresh spike of need up his spine.
She leaned in again, lips barely brushing the shell of his ear, voice serene as still water.
"You are my slave," she whispered, calm, almost gentle. "You may request. You may ask. You may obey. You may beg. But you do not demand."
Her thumb stroked once along the underside of his shaft—slow, deliberate, maddening.
"Now look at the brunette over there," she continued, tone unchanged, peaceful as a prayer. "The freckled bitch who winked at you and gave you extra stew like you were hers to feed. I want you to call her here."
Sunny's breath came in shallow, ragged pulls. Pride flared hot in his chest, warring with the fire she was stoking between his legs.
He swallowed, voice strained but still edged with that familiar cockroach's defiance.
"And… if—if I don't?"
Nephis didn't answer with words.
Her grip snapped tight again—vicious, unrelenting.
Pain exploded white-hot through his groin. A choked yelp tore from his throat before he could clamp it down. Heads turned at nearby tables; someone coughed awkwardly and looked away. Sunny's free hand slammed flat on the stone tabletop, knuckles bleaching, body rigid as iron. Tears of pure reflex stung the corners of his eyes.
Nephis held him there for three long, merciless seconds.
Then she eased off again—just enough.
Her voice never rose, never lost its tranquil calm.
"Next time," she murmured, lips still ghosting his ear, "I won't stop at a yelp. I'll make you come in your armor right here, in front of the entire hall, shaking and whimpering like the desperate little cockroach you are. And then I'll leave you to sit in your own mess while everyone pretends not to notice."
She paused, letting the image sink in.
"But I won't have to do that," she continued softly, almost kindly, "because you're going to be good. Aren't you?"
Her fingers flexed once—gentle threat, velvet promise.
Sunny's pride screamed. His body screamed louder.
He exhaled through clenched teeth, voice barely audible.
"…Yes."
Nephis's smile was small, invisible to anyone but him.
"Good boy."
She released him completely.
Sunny slumped forward for a heartbeat, breathing hard, sweat beading along his hairline. His cock strained painfully against the confines of his armor, leaking steadily now, the pomegranate scent faint but unmistakable under the table.
Nephis lifted her spoon again, took another calm bite of stew, chewed, swallowed.
Then she tilted her head toward the serving counter.
"Go on," she said quietly. "Call her."
Sunny stared at his plate for one long second.
Then he straightened—slowly, painfully—and raised a hand toward the freckled brunette still working the line.
"Hey," he called, voice rougher than he intended. "You. Freckles. Come here a second."
The brunette looked up, surprised, then grinned—bright, oblivious—and started weaving through the tables toward their shadowed corner.
Nephis never looked away from her stew.
But under the table, her knee pressed firmly against Sunny's thigh—a silent, possessive claim.
He belonged to her.
And she was only getting started.
The freckled brunette—Sid, from the registry desk—slid onto the bench beside Sunny with a bright, expectant grin, clearly thrilled at being summoned. She leaned in close, freckles dancing under the faint blue light, whispering something flirty about "extra dessert" that died on her lips the moment Nephis's silver eyes locked onto her.
Nephis's lips curled upward—not a full smile, just a subtle, predatory curve that made the air feel colder.
She spoke quietly, voice low and intimate, pitched exactly for the three of them.
"Sunny," she said, serene as ever, "pull your pants down. Just enough to free your cock."
Sid froze. Her eyes widened, mouth opening in silent shock. Color drained from her face, then rushed back in a violent blush. She started to rise, stammering, "I—I should go—"
Nephis didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to.
"Sit."
One word. Calm. Absolute.
Sid's knees buckled. She dropped back onto the bench like strings had been cut, hands trembling in her lap, eyes darting between them in horrified fascination.
Under the table, Nephis's hand was already moving.
Sunny's armor zip parted just enough at the front—her hands to assist—and her fingers wrapped around his freed cock. He was still painfully hard from earlier torment, leaking steadily, the pomegranate scent blooming stronger in the confined space between their bodies.
Nephis began to stroke him—slow at first, deliberate pulls from root to crown, thumb circling the slick head on every upstroke. Sunny's face went through stages in rapid succession: the lingering pain from her earlier grip twisting into flushed red embarrassment as blood roared in his ears, then melting into something softer, more helpless—light, erotic pants slipping past his lips despite his best efforts to stay quiet. His hips jerked involuntarily into her fist; his breathing grew louder, ragged, barely muffled.
Sid watched, transfixed and mortified, cheeks burning crimson. She couldn't look away. Couldn't move. Her thighs pressed together under her ragged skirt, breath coming in shallow, uneven hitches.
Nephis's pace quickened—firm, slick strokes that made wet sounds only the three of them could hear beneath the hall's ambient chatter.
"Are you close?" Nephis asked Sunny, voice still perfectly calm, almost conversational.
Sunny's head tipped back against the pillar, eyes half-lidded, sweat beading along his jaw.
"Y-yes," he gasped, voice cracking. "Fuck—yes—"
Nephis released him.
In one fluid motion she shifted, swinging one armored leg over his lap and settling down onto him—facing forward, as though she were simply sitting comfortably in his lap while they ate. To anyone whose gaze drifted their way and a few did, curious or bored, it looked innocent: the tall silver-haired woman perched on her shorter companion's knee, sharing a quiet moment in the shadows.
But under the table—
Sunny's cock was buried to the hilt inside her.
Nephis had lowered herself in perfect silence, cunt swallowing him whole in one slow, scalding glide. She clenched once—hard—and Sunny's entire body jerked. His hands flew to her hips, gripping the armor plates like lifelines. A choked groan escaped him, quickly swallowed.
Sid's eyes went impossibly wide. Her mouth formed a silent "oh." Horror, embarrassment, jealousy, heartbreak—all of it crashed across her face in waves. She watched Nephis rock subtly, almost imperceptibly, grinding down in tiny circles that made Sunny's face contort with helpless pleasure.
Nephis leaned forward slightly, bracing one hand on the table as though reaching for her spoon.
Then she clenched again—rhythmic, merciless—and came.
Her inner walls fluttered and spasmed around him in tight, milking pulses. Sunny followed instantly, hips bucking up into her as he spilled deep inside—thick, hot ropes flooding her cunt until it overflowed, leaking down his shaft and onto his thighs in warm, sticky rivulets. The pomegranate scent intensified, wrapping around the three of them like smoke.
Sid made a small, broken sound—half sob, half gasp—and bolted.
She scrambled off the bench, nearly knocking over her own untouched plate, and fled toward the far doors without looking back, face buried in her hands.
Nephis stayed seated on Sunny's lap for several long seconds, riding out the last aftershocks, letting him throb inside her while his cum slowly dripped out around where they were joined.
Only when his breathing steadied did she lean back against his chest, lips brushing his ear once more.
"You made a girl cry," she murmured, voice soft, almost fond. "How cruel of you, little cockroach."
Sunny couldn't form words. His mind was fogged, body limp and trembling, cock still twitching weakly inside her. Exhaustion and lingering horniness had short-circuited every coherent thought. All he could do was pant against her shoulder, hands loose on her hips, utterly spent.
Nephis finally lifted herself off him—slowly, deliberately—armor plates shifting back into place with a faint metallic sigh. A final thick strand of cum stretched between them before snapping, dripping onto the stone floor beneath the table.
She straightened her posture, picked up her spoon, and took another calm bite of stew.
"As if I'd ever let anyone else have what's mine," she said quietly, more to herself than to him.
Sunny slumped against the pillar, eyes glazed, chest heaving.
Dinner continued around them.
No one noticed a thing.