QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)
Chapter 187: Punishment 3 [M]

Chapter 187: Punishment 3 [M]

187 — Estela POV

I think... I lost count after the fifth time.

I don’t even know anymore.

My wrists are aching, shoulders sore from pulling. The restraints dig into my skin, damp from sweat and tears. The silk tie over my eyes is soaked through, my lashes clinging to it. My thighs? They’re trembling so badly they barely feel like they belong to me anymore. My entire body is a mess—sticky, sore, utterly wrecked.

I don’t even know who I am anymore.

I think I was a person once.

Now?

Now I’m just... this desperate thing tied to a bed, too far gone to care.

"D-Daphne... I... I can’t do it anymore..." I gasp, voice shaking, nearly a sob.

I’m broken. Surely. This time... surely...

She hums. Soft. Devious. Right by my ear.

"Okay, okay... this is the last time," she croons, palm caressing my thigh.

"That’s what you said hours ago!" I cry out, voice cracking.

A warm chuckle.

"It’s different this time, I promise."

Liar.

Beautiful, evil liar.

I can’t fight. I can’t even think straight. I feel her shift above me—the bed dipping slightly with her weight.

The tie slips away from my face—soft, slow—and I feel the tug of the restraints at my wrists loosen, falling away.

I blink.

Once. Twice. The room is dim, soft golden light spilling from the bedside lamps.

My arms drop limp onto the sheets. I’m exhausted. Every muscle feels like melted butter. My skin is hot and sticky, chest still rising and falling in shallow gasps.

I blink again.

When my eyes finally focus—

She’s there.

Kneeling beside me.

Smug, gorgeous, hair mussed from hours of tormenting me, eyes gleaming with heat and mischief. Her robe is half falling off one shoulder, the line of her throat and collarbone gleaming with sweat.

She smirks—no, snickers. The sound is low and sinful, rolling from her throat.

She looks so damn handsome, the worst part is I can’t even glare properly.

I try.

I really do.

I manage a weak glare, brows furrowing. My lips pout in protest—though they tremble, because I’m still coming down from the last shattering orgasm she dragged out of me.

She has the audacity to lean in and plant a light kiss on my cheek. "There she is. My pretty little wife."

I want to curse her. I can’t find the breath.

I turn my head, trying to look away—

And that’s when I see it.

The corner of the bed.

A towel. And on it—

The evil culprits.

A slick, glistening collection of toys, laid out like some sinful weapon display:

The sleek black remote egg.

That cursed string toy that wrecked me at least twice.

My personal enemy—the damned rose.

And more... too many more.

Each one gleaming, damp with slick and oil. Mocking me.

I groan and cover my face with my arm. My cheeks burn hot.

I can still feel it—

The ghost of the last orgasm, clenching low in my belly, thighs trembling uncontrollably. My core is aching—sore—too sensitive to even think about more. My skin is sticky, flushed, every nerve raw and tingling.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to will myself into recovery.

But then—

I feel the shift in the bed.

Weight pressing onto me—warm, familiar.

I blink my eyes open just in time to see—

Daphne.

Shrugging off her robe, tossing it aside with a flick of her arm, that lazy, dangerous smirk curling on her lips.

Completely, gloriously naked.

And in her hand—something pink.

I freeze.

She flops on top of me, her weight pinning me down, and casually reaches over to the corner of the bed—retrieves the thing I had spotted with dread.

I stare in horror.

A pink dildo. Sleek, shiny, mock-innocent.

No.

No, no, no, no—

"Daphne—!" I gasp, voice wrecked and shaky. "I... I don’t think it’s physically possible for me to do anything anymore."

I look up at her with wide pleading eyes, half desperate, half disbelieving.

She looks back at me, unbothered.

"Oh come on," she purrs, turning the toy playfully in her fingers. "This is just a good, solid four inches. That’s nothing."

She tilts her head, amused.

"I mean, I’m sure you’ve had men much bigger than this."

I choke—"That’s not the point!!"

She laughs.

Then leans down and kisses me—

Slow and deep, her mouth claiming mine, tongue sliding lazily between my lips.

Her bare chest brushes against my overly sensitive skin—warm, soft, perfect—

And damn her, she knows exactly what she’s doing.

I melt into it despite myself—moaning faintly, my hands instinctively tangling into her hair.

She’s so good at distracting me.

Too good.

But I know this trick—

She’s stalling. Giving me just enough softness before she pounces again.

Her lips part from mine by a breath, her voice warm against my cheek—

"You know..." she murmurs, fingers sliding down to grip my thigh, "for hours... I haven’t had any release."

A teasing squeeze.

"Care to help me?"

Before I can answer—

She grabs one of my legs and lifts it, hooks it over her waist—her body pressing in, hips sliding against mine, and I gasp out loud.

I love the toys.

I really do.

But nothing—nothing—compares to this.

Her bare skin on mine.

The heat between us.

Her breath, ragged and desperate now, finally letting herself take what she’s been denying all night.

She’s so wet.

I’m so wet.

It’s an ocean here—slick and hot and messy.

And the look in her eyes—hungry, wild—makes my heart stutter.

Daphne, using me for her own release, finally.

It’s so raw. So intimate.

The thought alone makes me whimper.

Her hips start moving in slow, steady rolls—friction building between us, maddening and sweet. Every glide of her slick heat against mine pulls a shaky sound from my throat.

God.

She’s finally letting go—finally letting herself need.

And I can’t stop watching her—how her lashes flutter, how her lips part with soft, breathless moans as she moves.

"Ah—" she gasps, voice cracking slightly. "You... you feel so good, baby..."

Her hands grip my hips tighter, guiding me, grinding down harder—faster now.

The pressure builds fast—my poor body trembling again, every nerve still raw from everything she’s done tonight.

But I don’t care.

If this is for her—I want it.

I tilt my hips up to meet her, wrapping both arms around her neck, pulling her closer, pressing my mouth to her ear.

"Take it, Daphne... I want you to..." I whisper, barely able to speak.

She lets out a wrecked sound—almost a sob.

"F-fuck—Estela—"

Her pace loses all rhythm—messy, frantic now, every movement desperate. Her body trembles above me, chest heaving, breaths ragged.

I hold her tighter.

Then she gasps—sharp and loud—her body locking up, shaking.

A broken moan tears from her throat as she crashes over the edge, hips jerking against me, riding out the waves of her release.

I kiss her temple, holding her through it—her body going slack, breathless against me.

For a moment there’s only warmth. Skin on skin. The steady beat of her heart against my chest.

She buries her face in my neck with a low groan.

"I needed that... so bad..." she mumbles, voice hoarse.

I smile faintly, petting through her damp hair.

She stays like that for a while, breathing slowly. Her body warm and heavy against mine, heartbeat finally calming, breath fanning softly against my neck.

I think it’s over.

Finally.

I melt into the sheets, boneless, body trembling faintly, but... content. Maybe finally time for some sleep.

She lifts herself off me—careful, deliberate. The bed dips and rocks beneath her.

I blink up blearily, still dazed.

Then—oh no.

The pink demon.

That stupid, evil, terrifying thing.

My poor, wrecked body tenses instinctively.

"D-Daphne," I croak, voice wrecked and shaky.

She glances back at me with a wicked little smirk—eyes glinting, hair mussed, skin flushed.

"Oh come on, baby," she purrs, dragging the toy down between my trembling thighs. "You didn’t think we were done, did you?"

I try to glare at her—try to muster some protest—but I can barely move. I’m sore, raw, boneless. I can still feel the echoes of the last orgasm rolling through me, thighs twitching helplessly.

"Please... I-I can’t..." I whisper, breath catching.

She leans in, presses a gentle kiss to my cheek, then the corner of my eye—her tone soft now, almost sweet.

"This is the last time," she promises softly. "I swear, love. Just one more for me. You’ve done so well..."

Her praise melts through me like butter.

And then—without waiting for another protest—she guides the stupid thing inside me.

My breath stutters. My back arches helplessly off the bed. I can’t do this I close my eyes.

The pressure is intense.

Too much.

Too soon.

I can’t stop the way my hips jerk, a broken gasp falling from my lips.

"Wow," Daphne murmurs, voice rough with awe.

I force my eyes open.

She’s watching me—utterly transfixed—as she presses that evil thing deeper, inch by inch. Her gaze burns, almost reverent, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"I’m so jealous, you know," she says softly, almost like it’s a secret between us. "That I’ll never know what you feel like..."

Her eyes flick up to mine—hungry, dark, wanting.

"The way you clench around my fingers... it’s amazing. I can only imagine how tight you’d be... if I had a cock..."

My breath hitches—body trembling violently as she begins to move it, slow at first, dragging it out torturously.

I moan—ragged, high, desperate—and she groans softly at the sound.

"You would like that, wouldn’t you?" she breathes, voice low and dark against my ear.

Her wrist flexes, the pink demon moving inside me—slow, deliberate thrusts that make my toes curl, my body arch helplessly off the bed.

I whimper, voice high and broken.

She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t relent.

"I bet you’d beg for it," she purrs again, her free hand sliding to my thigh, fingers pressing in, spreading me wider. The toy keeps moving—deep, filling me, too much—too much—

I can’t do this anymore.

I turn toward her, blindly, trembling, barely able to form the words.

"K-Kiss me," I gasp. "Please—kiss me—"

"You want a kiss?"

But before I can answer—her mouth is on mine.

She kisses me, deep and claiming, her lips sliding over mine, her tongue teasing, stealing my breath.

And all the while—

Her hand doesn’t stop.

The pink devil keeps moving inside me, the pressure building again, unbearably fast, overwhelming.

I cry into her mouth, the kiss the only anchor keeping me from floating away—

I kiss her back, desperate, my fingers clutching uselessly at the sheets. My legs twitch against her hips.

She groans softly against my lips, drinking in my whimpering sounds, her pace maddening—steady, relentless—

Every thrust of the toy pushes me closer, her kiss dragging me under.

I’m drowning—overwhelmed—

And I love it.