We struggled through the crowd, chasing after them until we reached the third floor. As soon as we stepped into the third-floor corridor, we realized this place was worlds apart from the two floors below. If the lower floors were a cosplayer's paradise, the third floor felt more like a venue for business meetings—quiet, secluded, and upscale. I cautiously led Fu Qinghan deeper into the floor. At the far end of the hallway stood a double-leaf alloy door, flanked by four tall, burly men who looked like security guards or bodyguards. Just as I was moving closer, the alloy door suddenly swung open, and several men dressed in luxurious attire stepped out. They appeared young but wore expensive clothing—likely the offspring of wealthy families.
"Those two girls earlier were so innocent. What characters were they cosplaying again?"
"Think it was Sailor Moon. One of them seemed like a virgin."
"That means she was a virgin—just bled from what the guys did. But virgins do cost more, huh?"
"Why did the boss suddenly kick us out, though? Are those two women behind the door that precious? Not even allowed to look?"
"Not sure, but we can't afford to mess with this boss anyway. I've had my fill for now. Next time, I'll just ask the boss for two other women."
As these rich heirs chatted and walked out, I gleaned some hints about what lay behind that alloy door. We were heading inward as they passed by, and their gazes immediately landed on the exceptionally beautiful Fu Qinghan today. Their greedy eyes lingered over her, and one of them couldn't resist speaking up.
"Oh? Such a pretty cosplayer! You've got quite the luck, buddy! Here to sell your wife on the third floor? Why bother going in? The boss here is busy. Just sell her to us directly."
"You—" I was about to retort when the four bodyguards by the door rushed over in three quick strides, blocking our path.
"This young master is a distinguished guest of our boss. Please show some respect. If you continue like this, we won't mind teaching you a lesson on behalf of your parents. After all, even the families behind you must show deference to our boss?" The four burly men surrounded us, though I was puzzled—since when had I become a distinguished guest?
"Understood..." The wealthy heirs gritted their teeth and left resentfully.
"Your boss..." After watching them depart, I immediately shielded Fu Qinghan behind me and inquired about the identity of the person backing them. Their earlier respectful demeanor had left me both suspicious and curious.
"Our Mr. Wang has been waiting for you inside for quite some time..." The bodyguards ignored my question, instead gesturing for me to enter.
Mr. Wang? Wang Sen! So this place is also owned by Wang Sen! This man's background truly runs deep.
I took Fu Qinghan's cold hand and prepared to step inside, only to be stopped once again by the bodyguards.
"Young Master Xu, the things inside may not be suitable for Miss Fu to see. Our boss has prepared a VIP lounge for her nearby. You can have her wait there and leave together once everything is concluded," the bodyguard said to me very gently.
"Alright..." Based on my understanding of Wang Sen and the conversation I overheard from those wealthy heirs, I could already guess what kind of scene awaited inside. I patted Fu Qinghan's head, signaling for her to wait for me in the VIP lounge and assuring her that I would be fine. Then, I turned and followed the bodyguards into the reception room at the end of the corridor. At the doorway, a bodyguard handed me a white fox mask that looked strangely familiar—the mask from the Nightingale Theater! Could it be...? Was that also Wang Sen's property? The mysteries surrounding Wang Sen grew thicker, sending a chill down my spine.
Entering the reception room at the end, the interior was elegantly decorated in a retro style, reminiscent of a European castle. The ceiling soared over four meters high, and several oversized shutters were covered by curtains of the same size. Between the windows hung various portraits of famous figures, while the cement-gray floor reflected a faint glow.
The bodyguard led me to a single sofa and gestured for me to sit. He then handed me a voice modulator to clip onto my collar, indicating I should put it on. After I did so, he quietly exited the room. Uneasy, I settled into the sofa and cautiously surveyed my surroundings. Arranged neatly around the center of the room were seven black sofas, forming an irregular circle. The host's seat was a slightly larger red leather two-seater, presumably reserved for Wang Sen. The other sofas were already occupied, each person wearing the same fox mask, though the color of the feathers adorning the sides differed to distinguish their roles. Mine was white. Everyone remained silent, as if awaiting the start of an opera or anticipating a sumptuous feast.
Click. Suddenly, the overhead lights in the hall were extinguished. Thump... thump... thump... From the depths of the room came muffled, shifting sounds—heavy and chaotic, unlike the footsteps of a single person. It must have been the two cosplayers I had been tracking earlier. No wonder they had vanished; they had ended up in this mysterious room.
The chaotic sounds grew closer, and only when they were near could I faintly discern that the irregular thumping wasn't the sound of human footsteps but rather something crawling on the ground.
Tap-tap... tap-tap... tap-tap... tap-tap. Slowly, ever so slowly, two figures—one in purple and one in black—gradually emerged under the spotlight in the center of the living room. They were unmistakably the very same Raisen Tearu and Mrs. Yor that Fu Qinghan and I had been tracking earlier. Their silhouettes swayed gently under the spotlight, and as I focused, I could make out their outfits more clearly. The cosplayer portraying Mrs. Yor stood around 175 cm tall, dressed in a black off-the-shoulder, backless A-line mini skirt. Attached to the back of the skirt was a black leather train that extended all the way to her ankles, with the inner side of the train dyed a striking red. Her enormous breasts, pulled downward by gravity, hung prominently in front of her chest, creating a truly spectacular sight. She wore black leather stockings that reached up to her thighs, the tops tightly cinched around the upper part of her legs. On her feet were high heels of the same black hue, featuring pointed toes and lace-up straps that complemented the ensemble perfectly. The most exquisite detail of this cosplay outfit, however, was the black leather grid-patterned decoration across the chest, which gave the model a queenly aura while simultaneously evoking a sense of being restrained.
Turning my gaze to the other cosplayer, Raishō Namida, her outfit was far less intricate than Mrs. Yor's. She wore a full-body purple catsuit, with a yellow scarf tied around her neck to match the anime character's look. Her high heels were seamlessly integrated into the catsuit, creating a cohesive and fluid appearance that made it seem as though the outfit and the cosplayer were one. However, simplicity did not equate to a lack of impact. In fact, when Raishō Namida entered the crowd's line of sight, the excitement in the room noticeably surpassed that for Mrs. Yor. There was no other reason—only one word could describe her: perfect. Her flawless demeanor, combined with her impeccable figure, perfectly captured the anime character's essence. Standing at 170 cm tall, she embodied the character's stature, while her 36D breasts stood firm and rounded, forming a perfect curve in front of her. Though they couldn't rival Mrs. Yor's ample bust, what suited her was what made her most beautiful, wasn't it? Most importantly, it was their personas. Mrs. Yor's "married woman" vibe felt slightly off when portrayed by an overly mature woman, but Raishō Namida was the epitome of a refined, mature beauty. The character and the cosplayer blended seamlessly, creating true perfection.
As the two crawled into the spotlight, I finally got a clear view of their faces. The upper halves of both were concealed by half-masks—Mrs. Yor's was black, while Raishō Namida's was purple. Only the areas below their noses were visible, likely to protect their identities—a considerate touch from the club. Both wore collars around their necks, with the other end of the leash held in their mouths. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, they began to crawl slowly, seeking to surrender their control to someone in the room, allowing that person to become their master.
Raishō Namida started from the left, moving right, while Mrs. Yor began from the right, moving left. They took turns offering themselves to the men seated around them for their "training."
"Am I first? Then I won't hold back!" Raishō Namida handed the leash of her collar to the first man, who stood up from his chair. His voice, filtered through a voice modulator at his collar, came out slightly hoarse.
"To prevent Miss Raishō Namida from reaching climax too quickly and spoiling our fun, I've prepared a little gift for her," the man said, pulling a tube of gel from an elegant box beside him. It looked somewhat familiar, though I couldn't quite place where I'd seen it before.
"Rip—" With the sound of fabric tearing, three neat openings were made in Raishō Namida's purple catsuit—one over each breast and one at her private area. Freed from the constraints of the suit, her firm breasts sprang forward, while a trickle of arousal dampened her neatly trimmed pubic hair. "Hmm?" I took a closer look. At her clitoris, a silver ring glinted. "What a slut, even pierced her clit," I thought, but before I could speak, the voice of another man beside me came through his collar's voice modulator—a slightly deeper male tone.
"Everyone, everyone, this gel can significantly suppress a woman's pleasure while boosting her stamina. Don't hesitate today—let loose and play without worry," the first male guest announced cheerfully. After explaining the effects of the substance in his hand, he prepared to begin his "heart-pounding" session.
"Mm," a woman's low moan sounded as Man Number One pulled his cock out from his trousers and stripped his suit pants down to his ankles, ready to enjoy the woman's service.
"Oh... mm... mm... mm..." Rhythmic low moans accompanied Man Number One's thrusts into Raizō Namida's mouth, echoing through the hall.
"Ah!!!! So good!!! Ah~" Just as I was intently watching Raizō Namida's technique, Mrs. Yōr, who had begun serving from the other side, let out a high-pitched moan. I turned to see her sitting squarely on the man beside her, using her slightly sturdy thighs to clamp around his waist as she rode up and down, engulfing his cock with her pussy.
"Shut her up!" Just as everyone's attention was drawn to Mrs. Yōr, a rather unremarkable man beside me issued a command. His voice was the only one not altered by a voice changer, and it sounded somewhat familiar, though I couldn't quite place it due to how little he had spoken.
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