NTR: Stealing wives in Another World-Chapter 80: Proposal

Allen barely spared another glance at the groaning knights, now twitching in puddles of their own misery.

Instead, he turned sharply toward the elders—his eyes locking onto one in particular.

"Lira," he said, voice low and venomous.

The old foxkin matron stiffened.

"You wanted me to lick clean your crusty old pussy, right?" he said, the words sliding out like a whip crack. "You old bitch."

The entire hall went dead quiet. The other elders turned slowly, horrified, toward Lira, who had gone pale beneath her grayed fur.

"I-I never said—"

"Don’t lie to me," Allen snapped, stepping forward. "You remember. You offered it up like it was some kind of reward for obedience. Thought I’d be honored to lap at your saggy folds like a starving dog."

His lip curled.

"I don’t lick what I wouldn’t even feed to my fuckdolls."

Lira trembled. "I... I was only—"

Allen turned his head lazily. "Veyna."

"Yes, Master?" came the sweet, obedient purr behind him.

He didn’t even look at her. "Slap her."

Veyna stepped forward instantly, leather creaking as she moved, tail high and proud. Her face was calm—too calm.

She didn’t hesitate.

CRACK.

Lira’s head snapped to the side, a cry bursting from her lips. She stumbled back, clutching her cheek.

CRACK.

Another slap. Louder. Harder. Lira fell to one knee.

"I—I’m an elder—!"

"Not anymore," Allen said. "You lost that title the moment you offered up that dried-out cunt like it was a gift."

CRACK.

Veyna’s palm hit her again, this time sending the old foxkin sprawling.

"Down," Allen commanded coldly. "On all fours."

Lira whimpered.

"Now."

She crawled forward, bones creaking, her pride shattered.

"Beg," Allen growled. "Beg like a proper fox. Apologize for thinking your wrinkled hole was worth a goddamn thing to me."

Lira lowered herself—shoulders trembling, ass raised.

"I... I’m sorry," she whispered.

Veyna stepped forward and shoved her head down to the floor. "Say it right, old bitch."

Lira gasped. "I’m sorry, Master Allen! I’m sorry for offering my... my unworthy pussy! I—I was wrong... please forgive me..."

Allen watched with a cool, predatory stare.

She sniffled, still on all fours, her tail low and shaking.

"Good girl," Allen said finally, turning away. "You can stay like that. Might be the most dignity you’ve shown all year."

Fina snorted.

Rinni was cackling, one leg up on a broken chair, mimicking Lira’s pose just to be obnoxious.

Allen exhaled slowly, eyes sweeping the crumbling remnants of the once-proud council.

"This is what power looks like," he said, voice low and calm. "Not robes. Not titles. Not bloodlines." ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

He gestured to the scene behind him—groaning knights, a humiliated noble, a broken elder licking the floor.

"Just obedience. Just truth. Just submission."

And with that, he turned toward Yoru—the only elder who hadn’t spoken yet.

"Well, old man?" Allen said, cocky smirk returning. "You gonna try me next?"

Elder Yoru didn’t say a word.

Not a growl. Not a hiss. Just that cold, unreadable glare from his ancient eyes as he weighed the chaos Allen had unleashed in his sacred council hall.

Allen smirked, eyes glinting like a predator sizing up prey.

"Rinni," he said, voice dripping with command.

Rinni’s tail flicked excitedly as she bounded off.

"Bring our cumrag."

The heavy doors creaked open again.

And in she came.

Nyra—still crawling on all fours, utterly naked, a trembling, raw mess of a foxkin woman.

Her swollen, purple nipples caught the dim light like bruised jewels. Her pussy still gaped, slick and leaking from the brutal punishments endured, and between her cheeks—Rinni had stuffed two long, thick carrots deep inside her ass, forcing her open even further.

Nyra’s eyes were glazed, unfocused, but still burning with a strange mixture of shame and fierce loyalty.

She shuddered as Rinni pushed her to stand before the council, still bent low like a broken animal.

Allen’s voice cut through the thick silence.

"Nyra. Tell them."

Her voice was cracked, soft, but she forced the words out, as if each one burned her throat.

"Tell Master Allen... tell the elders... what you and the other beastkin slaves suffered."

She swallowed hard, trembling.

"The six elders... including me... we brought homeless beastkin... broken, starving, desperate... into the tribe and put them in the prison."

Her voice wavered, memories flashing in her eyes.

"We sold them to the Rhelgar family. As sex slaves... sacrificial slaves."

The room seemed to shudder under the weight of her confession.

Allen leaned in, voice low but cutting.

"Every last one of those slaves was abandoned by you—all because you wanted to keep your precious ’peace’ with humans."

Nyra’s lips quivered, but she kept going.

"We... we thought it would protect the tribe... but it only made us complicit."

Her eyes flickered up, meeting Allen’s cold gaze.

"But Master Allen... you showed me the truth. That submission doesn’t mean weakness. It means control."

Allen smiled darkly.

"Good girl."

Nyra whimpered, collapsing to the floor once more, her ass still wide and leaking around those carrots.

The elders around the room looked pale, shocked, some trembling with silent rage.

Allen straightened, voice ringing out like a bell.

"This is your legacy, elders. You traded your own people like cattle. And now, you’ll watch as I rewrite that story."

He looked back at Nyra, still quivering but proud in her brokenness.

Allen’s gaze then flicked over to Lady Rhelgar, standing like a statue carved from cold, hard marble—but every inch radiating that cruel, untouchable arrogance. Her emerald dress clung to her like armor, flawless and expensive, except now, thanks to Allen’s merciless grip, it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

With a sudden, sharp movement, Allen’s hand shot out and grabbed the diamond choker hugging her neck—an emblem of her status, power, and pure, untouchable cruelty. The gemstones glittered mockingly in the dim light, but Allen didn’t hesitate.

He yanked. Hard.

The choker snapped with a sharp CRACK that echoed through the silent hall, diamonds scattering like fallen stars. The force left a harsh tear in the chest of her emerald gown—a long, ragged slash that exposed pale, flawless skin beneath, shimmering with sweat and trembling with silent rage.

Lady Rhelgar’s eyes widened, flicking down to the ruined fabric with disbelief and fury burning behind those cold, calculating eyes. The dress, once a symbol of her untouchable perfection, now betrayed her—torn and tattered, her skin laid bare for all to see.

Her lips curled in a vicious sneer, but before she could utter a word, she snapped, "Maid!"

From the shadows, a young woman stepped forward hesitantly—her cheeks still burning red, the sting of a harsh slap still visible on her pale skin. The cruelty of Lady Rhelgar’s hand was written all over the girl’s trembling frame, her eyes cast downward in submission and fear.

Lady Rhelgar’s gaze swept over her maid like a predator inspecting a favored toy—disposable, replaceable, but useful all the same.

Turning her icy stare back to Allen, she spoke with venom-laced calculation, "I’ll make you a deal."

She raised her chin, projecting the arrogant, untouchable air she wore like a second skin.

"If you don’t lay a finger on me," she hissed, "I’ll let you use her—my maid—however you want. And in return, I want you to return me to the Rhelgar estates alive. Safe. Untouched."

The threat lingered in the air like poison, but Allen’s dark smirk only grew.

"Oh, sweetheart," he said slowly, his voice dripping with menace and amusement, "I’m not here for bargains or deals."

He stepped closer, every movement deliberate and full of raw power.

"My plans for you," he whispered, voice low and dangerous, "are far more... entertaining than simple mercy."