An Extra’s Rise in an Eroge - Chapter 175

Chapter 175: Masochist knight [1]***

Swallowing hard, Althea’s reply came out as barely a whisper. “Yes.”

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

A startled cry tore from Althea’s lips as Arthur’s hand came down hard against her already sore backside.

“Louder,” he ordered, his voice a velvet growl. “And you will address me as sir.”

Althea’s face burned. If there was any mercy in the gods, at least he couldn’t see how humiliated she was.

She sucked in a shaky breath, forcing herself to obey.

“Yes, sir.”

Arthur smirked triumphantly. “Well, well. Who would have guessed? Our holy knight—a masochist.”

Althea pressed her lips together, refusing to take his bait.

His smirk widened. His palm smoothed over her reddened skin, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve of her trembling thighs.

Goosebumps erupted along her flesh. She shivered, betraying herself once again.

“See?” Arthur murmured. “Telling the truth wasn’t so difficult. Let’s try again, shall we?”

Althea braced herself.

His fingers drifted lower, teasing, testing. “Tell me, Miss Knight, what exactly were you planning to do tonight?”

She tensed immediately.

“I—I’m not sure, sir.”

Arthur hummed, clearly amused by her hesitance. His fingers wandered lazily, barely skimming over heated skin.

“Were you hoping to be caught? Hoping to be punished… like this?”

Her breath hitched. The humiliation burned through her, but she knew what he wanted.

“…Yes, sir.”

Arthur’s smirk deepened. “How honest of you.”

His touch became bolder now, trailing lower, testing boundaries.

He wanted to see just how far he could push her.

“Now tell me, Althea—” his voice dipped into something darker, more dangerous. “Have you been touching yourself while thinking of me?”

She froze.

Her entire body went rigid.

Her face burned hotter than the sting on her ass. Gods… Should she even answer that?

Arthur leaned in, his breath ghosting over her ear. “Well?”

Althea swallowed hard. Her hands clenched the sheets beneath her, her shame threatening to drown her—

But her voice betrayed her.

Barely audible. Humiliating.

“…Yes, sir.”

“Do you want me to touch you the way you touch yourself?”

Arthur’s voice was low, teasing, yet firm. His fingers traced the lingering redness of her spanking, traveling lower, gliding over the sensitive skin of her upper thighs.

Althea’s breath hitched. Her hips shifted involuntarily, seeking something more, something she couldn’t quite name.

“I’m not sure, sir,” she whispered.

Arthur arched a brow. “No? Then tell me, Althea… have you been fumbling with a cucumber inside you?”

Shame and arousal tangled inside her. Heat rushed to her cheeks. “No, sir.”

His fingers hovered just above the damp curls at the apex of her thighs, so close yet maddeningly far. The anticipation was unbearable. The cool air from the open window ghosted over her feverish skin, making her shudder.

She whimpered softly as her hips lifted again, a silent plea her mind refused to acknowledge.

Arthur noticed everything. His gaze sharpened, darkening with hunger as she arched into his touch, thighs trembling as they parted wider in offering.

His fingertip barely skimmed her, and he exhaled sharply as he felt the slick heat waiting for him.

Althea gasped. A desperate sound slipped past her lips before she could stop it.

“Please.”

The word shattered the moment, raw and undeniable.

Arthur stilled. His jaw clenched, his teasing smirk fading as he stared at her, processing what he’d just heard. Had she really begged?

He dipped his fingers toward her core, a testing stroke, a silent question.

Her body answered before she could—her thighs fell open, an invitation she could never take back.

Arthur’s lips curled at the edges, slow and wicked. He let his fingers slide toward her heat—only to veer off at the last moment, teasing the sensitive crease where her thigh met her pelvis instead.

“Shall I stop?” he murmured.

Althea heard the shift in his voice. Once sharp and taunting, it had deepened—rough, commanding, almost hungry.

The sound alone sent another pulse of heat through her, tightening the ache between her thighs.

Was she affecting him? The thought sent a fresh wave of need crashing over her, leaving her trembling.

“Please, sir,” she whispered, voice small, needy. “Please don’t stop.”

Arthur inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, his gaze locked on the glistening heat between her parted thighs.

“So eager,” he murmured, his tone laced with something dark and amused.

A single finger traced a slow path down, gathering her slickness, teasing—until he found the swollen bud nestled between her folds.

Althea’s breath stuttered. The second he brushed her clit, she jolted, hips bucking against his touch.

A low chuckle rumbled from him. “Dripping already,” he mused, dragging his finger through her wetness again. “Such a desperate little thing.”

She whimpered, thighs trembling. “Sir…”

He ignored her plea, taking his time as he slid lower, circling her entrance. Not pushing in—just resting there, teasing the edge of where she needed him most.

She gasped, fingers curling into the sheets, frustration twisting inside her. “Please,” she begged again, voice breaking.

Arthur smirked. “So polite all of a sudden.”

Then, without warning, he pressed inside.

Althea’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp as the first finger sank into her, her walls fluttering, clenching instinctively around the intrusion.

“Fuck,” Arthur muttered, his control wavering for the first time. “Tight.”

He tested her, wiggling the digit before pulling back, then sliding in again—this time with another.

A sharp inhale, a soft whimper—Althea squirmed at the stretch, adjusting to the sensation.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice a slow command.

She exhaled shakily, body melting into his touch.

Satisfied, Arthur angled his palm, fingers curling—searching—until he found it.

That hidden, sensitive spot deep inside her.

He pressed against it.

Althea’s whole body jolted, pleasure crashing through her as a strangled cry tore from her lips.

Arthur’s smirk widened. “There you are.”

Althea felt as if she had stepped into another world—one where pleasure ruled, and Arthur held complete dominion over her body.

She was unraveling beneath his touch, every stroke, every movement pulling her deeper into sensations she’d never known before.

His fingers worked her expertly, pushing her toward the edge, and then—

His thumb found her clit.

Her body seized, and she shattered.

A cry tore from her throat as waves of ecstasy crashed over her, drowning her in pleasure so intense it stole her breath. Her mind emptied, lost in the blissful void of release, nothing but sensation left in its place.

Arthur groaned as her walls pulsed around his fingers, gripping him in a tight, desperate hold.

His grin turned feral as he felt the warm rush of her climax coat his hand. “That’s it,” he murmured, watching as she melted over his lap, completely spent.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was her ragged breathing.

Slowly, thought returned to her fogged mind. Her body still trembled, sensitive and weak, and that’s when she became acutely aware of something hard pressing against her hip.

Arthur.

Her gaze flickered downward, heat rushing to her face as she saw the prominent bulge straining against his trousers.

He slid his fingers from her with deliberate slowness, and the sudden emptiness made her whimper before she could stop herself.

Arthur leaned back against the headrest, releasing her, watching her reaction with mild amusement. He half-expected her to scramble away, mortified by what had just happened.

Instead, Althea slid to the floor, her knickers twisted around her ankles.

She hesitated, eyes darting toward him, as if gauging his response. Then, as though drawn by some undeniable force, her gaze drifted lower—to the hands that had just undone her, then further down to the obvious tent in his trousers.

Arthur followed her line of sight, amusement flickering in his dark eyes as he caught the hunger there.

She was still flushed, still trembling, and yet… she was staring at him like she wanted more.

He smirked. He wasn’t ashamed of what had transpired—why should he be?

She had been given the chance to stop. Instead, she had begged for more.

He was no saint, nor was he a boy easily undone by guilt. He was a man. And men had needs.

And from the look in Althea’s eyes, she was starting to realize she had them too.

Still catching her breath, she hesitated, nerves and lingering arousal warring within her.

“Sir? May I…?”

The words barely left her lips before her confidence faltered, dissolving as quickly as it had appeared. Her gaze dropped to the floor.

Arthur’s brow arched. “If you have something to say, Althea, say it now.”

Her cheeks burned, but she forced herself to speak before she lost the nerve entirely.

“May I help you with that?”

She didn’t look at him as she said it, but her eyes flickered toward the unmistakable outline of his erection.

Silence.

Had she dared to meet his gaze, she would have seen Arthur in a rare moment of pure astonishment.

For once, he had no immediate response.

Was she still drunk on the aftershocks of her orgasm? He could think of no other reason why she would make such a bold request.

And yet, there she was—kneeling before him, trembling but determined.

Arthur exhaled slowly, watching her carefully, then gave a slight nod of permission.

He shifted back, parting his thighs just enough to wordlessly invite her closer.

Althea pushed her knickers off the rest of the way, ensuring she wouldn’t trip over them, then rose to her knees between his legs.

She hesitated for the briefest of moments, seeking some kind of reassurance or instruction. None came.

Arthur merely gazed down at her, amusement dancing in his dark eyes, as if to say: “Let’s see the holy knight’s bravery now.”

Then, as if to push the challenge further, he widened his legs.

Althea bit her lip, steeling herself.

Her hands—still unsteady, still tingling from before—reached for him, gliding hesitantly over the fabric of his wool trousers. Beneath the rough material, she could feel the hard strength of his thighs. Solid. Tense.

When she reached the rigid swell behind his placket, her breath caught.

Arthur watched intently as her trembling fingers traced along the length of him, exploring, learning.

He stifled a groan but couldn’t suppress the sharp inhale when she finally pushed at his waistband, beginning to slide his trousers down.

He gave no further instruction, but his breathing had deepened, his muscles coiled tight beneath her touch.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Arthur truly exhaled.

He could finally breathe again. Though he was enjoying the “game”, his dick was straining in his pants.

Althea’s eyes widened as Arthur pushed his boxers down, freeing himself completely.

She stared—genuinely stunned.

Sure, she’d seen pictures on the internet before, but this… this was entirely different.

It was much bigger than she had imagined, thick and veined, flushed with heat. It looked almost angry—swollen, rigid, demanding.

Her throat went dry.

Arthur smirked at her reaction, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well? Get on with it.”

The teasing lilt in his voice made her snap out of her daze.

“It won’t bite, you know.”

Tentatively, Althea reached out, her fingertips brushing lightly over the bulging head.

The moment she made contact, his cock twitched.

She yelped, snatching her hand away. “It moved.”

Arthur let out a low chuckle, the sound rich and knowing. “It does much more than that.”

The amusement in his tone only deepened as she gaped at him, her expression a mix of wonder and uncertainty.

Was he laughing at her?

She narrowed her eyes, unsure if he’d gone mad—or if she had, for kneeling there, utterly entranced.

Arthur smirked, shifting his hips slightly. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

A challenge.

Althea swallowed hard. No, she wasn’t afraid.

She was curious.

And that curiosity burned hotter than her hesitation.