The World Is Mine For The Taking

Sunday, or as we called it in this world, the 7th day of the week.

I stood outside the Leonamon cake shop, the sweet aroma of freshly baked goods wafting through the air. The shop was managed by one of my women, Amy. Though she had always been a bit slow, she was dependable and tackled her tasks with dedication. After she positioned the "Open" sign with a practiced hand, she turned and greeted me with a beaming smile.

The cake shop had been thriving, its sales blossoming under the diligent efforts of its staff. While it didn't rake in the kind of profits some of my other ventures did, it was far from struggling. In fact, its steady success had led to the opening of several new branches across the kingdom.

The Leonamon cake shop might have been the underdog in terms of revenue, but it was carving out its own niche, and that was something to be proud of.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the person I was waiting finally appeared. Her floral dress clung to her curves, the white fabric fluttering around her legs as she walked. She looked stunning, her beauty only amplified by the casual elegance of her attire. Her hair was styled in the familiar twintails she always wore, giving her an air of youthful defiance.

The moment she spotted me, her expression darkened into a scowl. It was clear that breaking her spirit and completely dominating her would take time. But that was expected. After what I'd done to her, there was no way she'd warm up to me quickly. Well, that's fine. I'd just have to make sure she became addicted to the feeling of my dick, so she wouldn't stay so hostile.

It had been a while since I'd deflowered her, and I hadn't tasted her again since.

Today, however, I was planning to have my way with her again.

"Sorry I kept you waiting," she said, her voice dripping with sweetness, as if she were trying to sugarcoat the situation.

It was probably because this was supposed to be a date—one of the dates she'd promised after I rescued her from those kidnappers. Now, I was finally going to cash in on that promise. But despite her sugary tone, her eyes were filled with scorn, glaring at me with pure hostility.

Her name is Charlotte Sierra. She's the daughter of a fallen duke, sold to me as a prostitute. To earn her freedom, she had to have sex with me multiple times—an arrangement she agreed to in order to avoid becoming my lifelong sex slave. This was her only path to escape my grasp.

Charlotte had lost her noble title, and with it, her place in the social hierarchy crumbled. Once the proud daughter of a duke, she had plummeted from the heights of privilege, leaving those who once flocked to her side out of loyalty to her status to vanish like rats from a sinking ship. Now, she was a loner—a woman with no one left to stand by her.

Even the prince, her childhood friend, had been thrown in jail because of her. The irony was delicious, though no one at the academy knew this little secret except for me.

She had become invisible, ignored by all, as if she no longer existed. Her fall from grace had been swift and brutal, taking her from the top straight to rock bottom. It didn't stop there. Those who were now higher in status, especially the sons and daughters of barons, took to bullying her without mercy.

They whispered behind her back about the shame of having a father who had disgraced the kingdom, saying that the daughter of such a man should be put to death, her head displayed on a stake for all to see. Watching her downfall was nothing short of entertaining.

I watched as Charlotte's facade slowly shattered. Much like Kaori, my childhood friend back on Earth, Charlotte thrived on attention. Without it, she was vulnerable, and it showed. Visit us at m-vlem,pyr

Since I had barred her from contacting her cherished Professor Sesillian, she had been left in total isolation.

The only person she had left was me. I exploited her need for attention to bend her to my will. I texted her, arranging a date despite the fact that she despised me. Her isolation had driven her to accept, despite her loathing.

"That's a lovely dress," I said. "You look cute."

Offering a compliment was just a basic part of gentlemanly etiquette when going on a date. It was expected, and so I did it.

Charlotte shot me a withering glare when I complimented her. "I don't want your praise. I'm only wearing this because you told me to."

She was right. I'd chosen that dress specifically because it complemented her so well. It was a piece from Leonamon's latest collection, and I knew it would probably be one of our top sellers this month. It was designed perfectly for a date.

"Well, let's step inside, shall we? I've arranged a VIP area just for you," I said with a knowing smile.

As we entered the shop, the enticing aroma of freshly baked pastries, bread, and cakes enveloped us, a warm, comforting scent that filled the air. Amy was at the counter, looking as detached and preoccupied as ever, her mind clearly elsewhere.

Slowly, Amy turned her head toward me, her gaze lingering as she tilted her head to one side. It took her a moment, but she eventually remembered her role and led us to our reserved spot.

"This way, Master," she said, addressing me with a casual "Master" that she apparently forgot was a bit too informal for public. I'd already told her to refer to me as "customer" when we were in the shop, just like she did with everyone else. But it looked like she hadn't quite caught on.

She led me to our reserved spot—a spacious area, fittingly lavish given its VIP status.

I pulled out a chair for Charlotte, gesturing for her to sit, before taking my own seat.

Amy went off to get our orders, leaving us alone.

"Why all this fancy treatment?" Charlotte asked, her tone edged with skepticism.

"Because it's only right when I'm on a date with a beautiful woman like you," I replied.

"Cut the jokes," she said, rolling her eyes. "I know you don't really mean that."

"I do mean it," I assured her.

She clicked her tongue, a clear sign of her disgust, as if she couldn't stomach the fact that I was laying it on so thick. "Alright, just cut to the chase. You want to have sex with me again, don't you? So why are you dragging this out with a date?"

Her tone had the bitter edge of someone who's used to the transactional nature of compensated dating.

"Well, I prefer not to rush things," I said smoothly. "I've only got five times left with you, remember? I want to savor every moment."

"You're trying to make this sound romantic," she retorted sharply. "Even though you're nothing more than a rapist."

"Didn't you agree that it's mutual consent, since you accepted the conditions?"

She fell silent after that.

As we waited for our order, I slowly removed my foot from my shoe and slid it deliberately between her legs. She tried to close them instinctively, but I stopped her with a firm command.

"Keep them open. Let's have a bit of fun before our order arrives," I said.

She shot me a look of shock, her teeth clenched as she hissed, "Pervert…"

Despite her words, she hesitantly spread her legs, allowing my foot to press against her. With a subtle, teasing motion, I used my toe to trace over her vagina through the thin fabric of her underwear.