The World Is Mine For The Taking-Chapter 1127 - 172 - Natasha’s Effort (3)

I should have ignored it. I really, truly should have. From the very first moment that sound reached my ears, I knew I should have turned around, walked away, dropped my things somewhere safe, and pretended that I hadn’t heard a single thing. That would have been the sensible choice. The professional choice. The choice that aligned with the person I believed myself to be.

But her voice reached me anyway—clear, unmistakable, impossible to misinterpret—and before logic could catch up to me, curiosity slipped in through the cracks. It didn’t rush. It didn’t force its way in. It crept, slow and subtle, settling into my chest like a weight I couldn’t shake.

I don’t know why I looked. Even now, thinking back on it, I wish I hadn’t.

But I did.

And when I did, this was what greeted me.

Considering that it was him—that man—I suppose scenes like this were normal. He was always like this. Always surrounded by women, always with someone hanging off his arm, gazing at him like he was the center of their universe. It was honestly absurd how many women seemed willing—no, eager—to throw themselves at him without hesitation, without restraint, without dignity.

It made my stomach churn.

And yet, there I was.

"Nnnn... ahhngh, aahh...~ M-Master, it feels good...~! More...~! Moreeeeeee...~!!!"

That voice.

I recognized it instantly.

It belonged to Trisha.

Trisha—the same woman who had always been composed to a fault. Calm, collected, and meticulous. A doctor who took her work seriously, who carried herself with grace and authority, who never let her emotions slip through the cracks while on duty. That Trisha was gone.

In her place was someone else entirely.

She was bent forward, offering her butt without shame, letting herself be taken so easily that it felt unreal. From where I stood, I couldn’t see her face clearly, but I didn’t need to. My mind filled in the blanks on its own, painting an image of her expression—eyes unfocused, mouth open, features twisted with pleasure. Debauched. Ruined. Nothing like the professional woman I thought I knew.

The contrast was jarring.

And yet, for some reason, I couldn’t look away.

My eyes stayed locked on the scene as if glued in place. My body felt stiff, frozen, like if I moved even an inch, something terrible would happen. It felt as though an invisible force had wrapped itself around me, holding me there, even as my thoughts screamed at me to leave. To turn around. To run.

But I didn’t move.

I just kept watching.

And then, something else made itself known.

A strange tension began to build between my legs, subtle at first, like a warning I chose to ignore. But it didn’t fade. It grew, tightening, coiling, until it felt like it was about to snap. It started to feel sticky down there, and a hot, stinging sensation pooled around my crotch. The feeling was distracting, overwhelming, and honestly terrifying in how fast it escalated.

I hated it.

I hated that my body was reacting like this.

It was hard not to get swept up in the sensation, hard not to focus on it. My thoughts became scattered, my breathing uneven. A part of me wanted—no, begged—to touch myself, just to ease that maddening itch.

I didn’t want to feel this way. What I was feeling right now was disgusting. That was the only word that fit. Disgusting.

Especially because it was him.

A man who clearly didn’t respect women. A man who treated them like disposable objects, trophies to be collected and used. He didn’t even bother to hide it. And yet, there he was, proving it all over again.

I had never believed that a man with multiple women was acceptable. Never. I believed in monogamy—firmly, stubbornly. I couldn’t imagine myself falling in love with someone who already had a line of women waiting for him. A man who didn’t truly love any of them, who only wanted their bodies for his own satisfaction.

I refused to believe that a man with a harem could love all his women equally. The idea felt absurd. Impossible. I didn’t care how charming he was, how influential, how powerful—someone like that couldn’t possibly be capable of genuine love.

And yet.

Right now, the man I had hated since the day I was hired—the man whose company built the hospital I worked in, the man I collaborated with on medical research meant to save lives—was having sex with a woman I respected deeply.

And somehow, impossibly, I felt myself being dragged into the moment.

My hand moved before I could stop it.

I reached down, touching the spot that itched so badly it felt unbearable. The instant my fingers made contact, a sharp jolt shot up my spine, like electricity ripping through my nerves. My breath hitched, and for a brief second, I almost lost myself completely.

But it wasn’t enough.

The sensation lingered, unsatisfied, still demanding more. Maybe it was because I was only touching myself through my pants. Maybe that thin barrier was dulling everything.

Maybe if I touched it directly, it would feel better.

That thought alone should have scared me.

Instead, I acted on it.

My hand slipped inside my pants, then past my underwear, and finally found what it was looking for. I started rubbing myself properly, cautiously at first, then with more intent. I hadn’t noticed it earlier, but I was wet. Unmistakably so.

Why was I wet?

The answer came immediately, whether I wanted it or not. My body was reacting on its own, secreting the juices meant to ease penetration. Biology, plain and cruel. This was happening because I wanted sex—right here, right now—even if I despised the reason.

My breathing grew heavier as I struggled to keep quiet. I swallowed my voice, pressing my lips together, terrified they might hear me. But the sensations kept building, climbing higher, making it harder to stay silent.

It felt too good.

Far too good.

I brought my other hand up and bit down on a finger, using the pain to anchor myself, to keep my voice trapped in my throat. All the while, my eyes never left the scene unfolding in front of me.

"Nnghhh, aaahh...~ Y-Yes, Master...! Yesss, yeesssssssssssssssss...~ I’m going to cummm...~!!!"

Trisha’s voice was nothing like I’d ever heard before. Raw. Unrestrained. She arched her back as she screamed, her composure completely shattered. And at the same time, something inside me reached its breaking point. My legs clamped together instinctively, my body trembling.

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn~!!!"

That was when it happened.

Something came out of Trisha—and at the exact same moment, a blinding wave crashed over me. My vision went white, my thoughts scattering as the sensation overwhelmed every part of me.

"Mmgggg...~!!!"

I barely managed to keep my voice down. But what followed was something else entirely. My body gave in completely. I peed in my pants, unable to stop it, unable to control myself. My legs shook violently as I tried to stay upright, but they failed me.

I collapsed onto the floor, still peeing, my body trembling, and my mind completely blank.