Lewd Labyrinth : Sent to an Ero-Game with my Classmates [18+]
Chapter 78: New Players - 3

Chapter 78: New Players - 3

The slack-jawed nobles watched Selene with hungry gazes, cocks straining against their finery, pussies dampening beneath gowns.

Elira’s muscular frame tensed, her blackened armor accentuating her tall, scarred build, her short silver hair framing a face hardened by conquest.

"I came," she growled, her voice low and brutal, "to remind you that while you’re getting tongue-fucked on a throne, women like me are out there gutting boys who were suckling their mothers’ tits last week."

Her hand tightened on her sword, her tattooed arm flexing, the infernal script glowing faintly as if echoing her rage.

She stepped forward, the air shivering around her powerful presence, her boots echoing like thunder.

She didn’t bother with subtlety, her gaze locking onto Selene, who stood with her sheer white dress clinging to her petite, pale body, her small breasts heaving, her cherry-pink nipples stiff against the gauze.

"You ever kill a man, princess?" Elira demanded, her voice a gravelly challenge, her eyes raking over Selene’s virginal form with a mix of scorn and hidden hunger.

Selene smiled slowly, her violet eyes shimmering, her cherry lips parting as she licked them teasingly.

"Not with a sword," she purred, her sheer dress riding up to reveal the soft, glistening lips of her untouched pussy.

Elira snorted, her muscular thighs shifting beneath her armor, a faint heat blooming low in her belly despite her stoic exterior.

"You ever fuck someone with your eyes open?" she pressed, her voice dripping with disdain, her scarred body tensing as she imagined breaking Selene’s bratty facade.

Selene tilted her head, her silver-blonde curls swaying, her small breasts bouncing slightly.

"I... watch mirrors sometimes," she whispered, her voice a manipulative tease, her violet eyes wide with feigned innocence, her sheer dress shifting to expose more of her pale thighs.

Elira’s mouth curled into a dark, hungry grin, her eyes gleaming with predatory intent.

"Pathetic," she spat, her voice rough, laced with arousal she fought to conceal.

She unsnapped her chestplate with a metallic click, tossing it aside, the heavy armor clanging against the marble.

Her undershirt clung to her sweat-slicked abs, the thin fabric translucent, her stiff nipples visible, pressing against the material, her muscular breasts heaving with each breath.

The court’s eyes widened, cocks hardening, pussies dampening at the sight of her powerful, scarred form.

"None of you know what it means to take," Elira growled, her voice low and commanding, her tattooed arm flexing as she stepped forward.

"You prance. You flaunt. But you don’t own." Her gaze swept the room, lingering on Sereya’s voluptuous body, her amber eyes, then on Selene’s teasing display, a heat stirring in her core.

Sereya’s full lips curled, her amber eyes narrowing with intrigue, her fingers drumming faster on her thigh, her gown parting to reveal more of her slick mound.

"You sound jealous," she purred, her voice a velvet challenge, her arousal evident in the subtle shift of her hips.

Elira’s grin darkened, her eyes burning with hunger and dominance.

"I don’t want your crown, my Queen," she said, her voice a low rumble. "I want your throne. Bent over it." Her words hung heavy, laced with promise, her muscular body tensing, her nipples stiff against her undershirt, a faint wetness building between her thighs.

The court gasped, scandal rippling through the room like a wave of forbidden desire.

Selene’s violet eyes widened, her cherry lips parting in shock and intrigue, her sheer dress shifting to tease her stiff nipples.

Elira didn’t wait for permission, turning her back on them with bold arrogance.

She moved to the central dais, where sacrifices and entertainments usually played out, and sat down hard on the edge, her legs spread wide, her armored thighs straining against the fabric, her sword laid across her lap like a challenge.

"Next one who touches me without permission loses a hand," she growled, her voice rough, commanding, her eyes sweeping the room with possessive fire.

"But if you can earn it—I’ll make you cum until you forget your own name." Her words dripped with dominance, her body radiating heat, her nipples pressing against her undershirt, her pussy aching with unspoken need.

No one spoke, the court frozen in a mix of fear and arousal.

But one figure smiled behind a curtain of red silk—Lyra, her willowy form hidden, her long red hair cascading like blood, her translucent silks clinging to her pale curves, her amusement a quiet promise of chaos.

________

No doors opened this time. No footsteps. No warning. Just a ripple in the air, a sweet, intoxicating scent of jasmine laced with the metallic tang of blood—and suddenly she was there.

Lyra the Crimson Silk, perched atop the Queen’s private divan like she’d always belonged, her willowy form a vision of lethal grace.

Her legs crossed elegantly, one bare ankle glinting with silver chains that traced up her pale thigh, disappearing beneath her translucent red robes.

The fabric draped like molten wine over her porcelain skin, clinging to her subtle curves, revealing the soft swell of her small breasts, her nipples faintly visible, stiffening under the court’s collective gaze.

It hid just enough to tease, the sheer silk whispering against her body with every breath, hinting at the slick heat building between her thighs.

One hand lazily swirled a dagger across her inner thigh, the blade’s edge grazing her skin, sending a shiver through her, her masochistic nature stirring at the faint sting.

The other dipped into a small bowl of dark grapes, lifting one to her full, painted lips with two fingers.

She bit into it without chewing, juice bursting and running down her chin, trailing between her breasts, staining the silk darker, clinging to her skin like a lover’s kiss.

Every eye in the room snapped to her, cocks hardening beneath finery, pussies dampening under gowns, a wave of arousal rippling through the court.

But no one moved.

No one dared, their breaths catching at the sight of her—seductive, dangerous, her long red hair cascading like blood in water, her eyes a smoky haze of invitation and threat.