NTR: Stealing wives in Another World-Chapter 82: Tell the truth

The silence in the council hall hung like a guillotine, ready to drop. The elders didn’t speak. The maids barely breathed. Only the wet, degrading squelch of the carrot sliding deeper into Nyra’s stuffed pussy made a sound, courtesy of Rinni’s gleeful hands.

And then came the soft, awful noise of knees scraping against polished marble.

Allen turned slightly, one brow raised.

Elder Lira.

The once-feared fox matron was crawling toward him again—her sagging tits swinging beneath her, her fur patchy with sweat, humiliation, and age. Her face was still bruised from Veyna’s open-handed slaps, and her once-proud tail dragged lifelessly behind her like a banner of defeat.

But the worst part?

Her wrinkled, crusty old pussy was leaking. A wet trail followed in her wake, shining red and glistening from abuse and arousal she didn’t want to admit.

She lowered herself so low her chin nearly scraped the floor.

"M-Master..." she whispered, voice shaking like glass on the edge of a shelf. "Please... I was wrong... forgive me..."

Allen said nothing.

He didn’t need to.

Her mouth trembled. Her back arched. Her tongue touched the floor—licking the tile in front of him, eyes wide and wild, desperate for a scrap of mercy.

And then—

Another blur of movement.

One of Lady Rhelgar’s maids broke free from Fina’s grasp with a sudden shriek, scrambling toward Allen like a terrified animal. Her half-peeled dress flapped around her knees, and her face was flushed—not with lust, but pure, bone-deep fear.

She fell to her knees and wrapped both arms around Allen’s leg, clutching him like a lifeline.

"Please!" she cried, voice shaking. "Please don’t hurt me! I didn’t want to come here! I didn’t know what she was planning!"

Allen looked down.

She clung to his leg like a child, trembling, lips brushing against his pants.

"Spare me, commoner... I—I’ll do anything..."

The word cracked through the air like a whip.

—Commoner.—

Fina froze mid-step, eyes sharpening like blades. Rinni actually gasped from across the room, she momentarily forgot her carrot-filled playdate with Nyra.

Even Lira raised her head slightly, her ruined mouth curling into a shaky grin—like she thought someone else was about to get it worse than her.

Allen tilted his head, slowly.

"Say that again," he said, voice ice-cold and soft.

The maid looked up, tears streaking her cheeks, lips trembling.

"C-Commoner... please... you’re not like them. You’re not cruel... I can be good—better than the others—I swear—just please don’t make me strip, or kneel, or—"

SLAP.

It wasn’t Allen.

It was Fina.

She’d crossed the space in a blur, grabbed the maid by the hair, and yanked her head back hard—forcing her to look directly into Allen’s eyes.

"You don’t call him that," Fina growled. "You’re not even worth speaking to him."

The maid whimpered.

Allen stepped forward.

Lira crawled even lower, moaning the word "Master" again like it was her only prayer.

And Allen... simply looked between them.

An elder fox bitch leaking like a broken faucet and begging like a mutt.

And a pampered maid clinging to his leg, sobbing through her pathetic dignity while insulting him in the same breath.

It was time to teach them both.

Allen looked down at the trembling maid still clinging to his leg, her fingers white-knuckled in desperation. Her breath came in frantic, shallow gasps, eyes wide and glossy as tears streaked down her soft cheeks.

He crouched slowly, elbows resting on his knees.

His voice was quiet. Almost kind.

"What’s your name?"

The maid flinched.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her throat bobbed once, twice—panic locking up her voice.

"I..." she breathed. "It’s... I-I..."

Then—

A fistful of her silky black hair was yanked backward with brutal force.

Fina stood behind her, eyes blazing, tail stiff with fury. Her other hand clenched tight, arm raised.

"I said speak, bitch," Fina snarled. "Or I’ll make your spine kiss the floor."

The maid yelped.

But before the strike landed, Allen raised a single hand.

Fina froze.

He didn’t shout. Didn’t glare. He just looked at her, and that was enough. Her ears twitched, jaw clenched, and she backed off with a huff—but not before shoving the maid forward roughly into Allen’s waiting grip.

Allen caught her chin with two fingers, lifting her face gently.

His thumb brushed away a tear.

"No more stuttering," he said softly. "Just the truth."

The maid trembled harder, face streaked with panic.

"What’s your name?" he asked again. "And how do you really view beastkin?"

He smiled.

Not cruel. Not mocking.

Just calm.

Terrifyingly calm.

The kind of calm that came before someone’s world was turned upside down.

She stared into his eyes, her lips trembling—caught in that razor-thin space between defiance and surrender.

"I... My name is... Elira," she whispered.

Allen’s smile didn’t move.

"And the second part?"

Elira’s breathing hitched. Her legs shifted like she might crawl away—but Fina’s looming presence behind her made it clear there was nowhere to go.

Allen tilted his head slightly.

"Elira," he said, voice silk and steel, "I’m only asking for honesty. And if you lie to me, we’ll both know."

The air felt like it had been sucked out of the room.

Lira whimpered softly from the floor beside them, still on all fours, her old hips swaying like she was waiting for punishment that never came.

Rinni was still playing in the background—squatting beside Nyra and rhythmically pumping that carrot in and out, like a metronome of perversion.

Elira gulped.

"I... I never saw beastkin as anything more than... than filth," she said, shame absent from her tone, replaced by the cold edge of ingrained disgust. "Not even living beings. Not worth the dirt under their claws."

Her lips curled slightly, bitterness seeping through her voice. "Unlike the ladies in higher society, I never had a beastkin slave. Never needed one. Their very existence is an insult. Their stench, their filth, their presence—it’s all wrong."

Allen gave a small nod. "Go on."

Elira’s voice hardened. "They’re a disgrace. Born from sin, spreading disease. Nothing more than pests in need of extermination."

Allen’s hand slid gently down her cheek, thumb brushing her lower lip.

"But now?" he asked softly. "Now that you’ve seen the truth?"

Elira’s body trembled, but the defiance in her eyes hadn’t dimmed.

"I still hate them," she whispered. "I always will."

Allen leaned in, lips nearly brushing her ear.

"Oh, don’t worry," he murmured. "I’ll fix that."