I had just arrived in front of the house, still holding my wounded arm which continued to seep blood despite partially freezing.

The night air bit into the wound, making it sting even more. As I was about to open the door, the phone in my pants pocket vibrated with a hard, persistent buzz.

Bzzzt.

I pulled it out with my bloody hand.

Unknown number.

I answered, holding it to my ear without speaking first.

"H-Hello?" A voice came through, soft, hesitant, like someone struggling against their own shame. "Is this... the massage service listed on the poster? The one that... specializes in stress relief and... muscle tension?"

Even though the voice was small, muffled, and full of doubt—I recognized it instantly.

Ophelia.

The voice of the academy headmistress, usually so confident, authoritative, even arrogant, now sounded like a shy teenager asking about something taboo.

Hearing her voice, my mind immediately raced to the plan I'd laid out a week ago.

After I gave her the pill to restore her virginity only to take it again—after I implanted a modification in her body, turning her pussy into one that could only be satisfied by me, by my cock—I knew she would seek me out, or more accurately, seek out my cock. But I didn't want to approach her directly; that would be boring.

So I came up with the idea of becoming her masseur. But then I had to figure out how to approach her. I could only think of two ways.

First, using Arianna.

I could leverage their mother-daughter relationship, making Arianna recommend me to her stressed mother.

Or second, distributing flyers.

Over the past few days, I'd distributed small posters around the academy area and places Ophelia frequented.

The idea was simple: let Ophelia's own lust-driven body force her to seek a solution. Let her sexual frustration, her unmet physical needs since her pussy only responded to me, drive her to take a risk. I hoped that, in her desperation, she would call.

But the consequence was that for a week, that number became a prime target for prank calls. Men laughing, dirty jokes, people who clearly just saw the poster and wanted to mess around. It was annoying. I even briefly considered removing the posters.

But finally, the patience paid off.

On the other end of the line, Ophelia sounded increasingly anxious from my prolonged silence. "H-Hello? Is anyone there?"

I immediately pulled the [Faceless Mask] from my system inventory. I put it on, with the mental command to only change my voice. I felt the change in my throat; my voice became deeper, rougher, nothing like Adam's.

"Yes, that's right," I finally answered in my new, heavier voice. "I'm the one offering specialized massage services. Deep tissue and stress relief for adult women. How can I help you?"

"Deep tissue... and stress relief," Ophelia repeated, as if trying to convince herself. "H-how does it work? Where are you located?"

"Everything can be arranged," I answered while looking down the street. "I can come to you, or you can come to my place. Privacy guaranteed. No one will know."

A pause on the other end. I could hear her slightly heavy breathing.

"How much... does it cost?"

"Depends on the package and duration. We can discuss details when we meet." I purposely made her curious. "Rest assured, satisfaction guaranteed. I specialize in handling... tension that's difficult to release."

I put emphasis on that last line. I could imagine her face, definitely blushing on the other end.

"O-okay," she finally answered, her voice small. "But I... I'd be more comfortable in a neutral place. A hotel. I know a hotel in the central district, the Grand Aurora Hotel. I can book a suite."

"That's fine," I replied. "What room number?"

"I... I'll book a suite on the 12th floor. Room 1207. I'll be there in an hour. Is that okay?"

"Alright. I'll head there."

"Okay," she said, then hung up quickly, as if afraid her hesitation would return.

My plan was proceeding smoothly. Just as I finished, car headlights approached from down the street. A familiar luxury car stopped in front of me. The door opened, and Charlotte stepped out.

She was still in her work attire—a gray blazer, a tight pencil skirt, high heels. Her blonde hair was still neatly tied up, but I could see her eyes immediately searching for and finding me. The moment our gazes met, her body stiffened slightly, then she walked over with steps that tried to be confident but failed.

"Adam," she whispered when she was close enough.

I looked her over from head to toe, then my eyes stopped between her thighs, covered by the tight skirt. I knew exactly what was happening beneath that fabric.

"You're on time," I said with a sinister smile. "The wound on my arm needs treatment."

Charlotte immediately moved closer, her eyes full of concern for the wound on my arm. Her delicate yet firm hands touched my torn skin.

As her fingers touched the wound, a faint golden light emanated from her fingertips. I felt a cool, warm sensation, as if muscle and skin tissue were being gently rewoven.

Within seconds, my wound was completely healed without leaving a single scar.

My free right hand immediately moved, gripping her plump buttocks through the tight pencil skirt fabric. Their perfect, round, firm, and enticing shape filled my grasp completely.

[Charlotte's Sexual Arousal increased to 69 (+1)]

What a slut.

"The size of your ass always drives me crazy," I said while squeezing, making Charlotte let out a small moan.

She flushed from her ears down to her neck, nodding, not knowing how else to respond.

I glanced at the house—towards the main bedroom window on the second floor. There, three women were likely waiting: Delilah, Angeline, and Gwen. They'd probably already bathed, maybe were already dressed in their special outfits, waiting for my return to continue the nightly family care. But tonight, something was more important.

"You're going to drive me somewhere," I ordered, releasing my grip on her ass, though my fingers gave it a hard smack before letting go completely. "Grand Aurora Hotel, suite 1207. Now."

Charlotte nodded again, turning and walking with determined steps towards the driver's side, though I knew behind that determination was a trembling she tried to hide. I got into the car from the passenger side, sitting on the luxurious black leather seat.

Before Charlotte started the engine, a depraved idea I'd never tried crossed my mind.

I've never had sex in a car.

I opened my pants button, pulled down the zipper, then lowered my pants and boxers together down to my thighs. My cock, already heavily erect from seeing her ass, was now free, quickly hardening fully and standing upright, pointing upwards with a reddened tip already glistening from pre-cum.

Charlotte, who had just inserted the key, turned and immediately gasped. Her eyes widened, her cheeks flushed crimson. Her hands reflexively covered her face, but her fingers were spread, and through the gaps I could see her dark eyes, full of panic but also... full of interest.

"A-Adam, you... why are you taking off your pants? What do you want to do?" she stammered.

"You know exactly what I want, Charlotte," I answered calmly, my right hand stroking the hard shaft of my cock.

"I want to feel your slutty pussy while we drive."

"I-In the car? While driving? That's insane! It's not safe—" she protested, but her voice was weak.

I gave a sinister smile.

"Have you forgotten your position, Charlotte? You're my slave. You have no right to refuse anything I ask." I paused, enjoying the mixed expression on her face—shame, anger, fear, and something dark she herself didn't want to acknowledge.

"Tonight, you're going to drive this car while sitting on my lap, with my cock buried deep inside your pussy."

Charlotte bit her lip, her eyes glistening. She knew her protests wouldn't be heard. But I could see the conflict in her eyes—the part of her that was educated and professional rebelled, while another part... another part that had been contaminated by the pleasure I introduced to her, churned with embarrassing anticipation.

"Come on," I urged, my voice louder. "Take off your skirt. Now."

With trembling hands, Charlotte unbuckled her seatbelt, then her hands fumbled to the side, searching for her skirt's zipper. The sound of the zipper opening was loud in the car's silence. She lifted her hips slightly, pulling the tight pencil skirt down to her thighs, then removed it completely.

Now, only an elegant black lace panty covered her lower body—and in the middle, a dark, wet stain had already soaked through the thin fabric.

"The panties too," I ordered.

Charlotte sighed, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down. As the panties came off, the distinctive, intoxicating musk of a woman immediately filled the car cabin—the scent of a pussy already wet, ready, and waiting. Her neatly trimmed blonde pubic hair was visible, and between her swollen labia, I could see a glistening wetness reflecting the streetlights.

"Good," I murmured. "Now, you're going to sit on my lap in the driver's seat. Come on, let's switch places."

I got out briefly, and obediently Charlotte moved to the passenger seat. I then sat in the driver's seat, adjusting for comfort. My cock was still erect, pointing upwards like a challenging pole.

"Get on," I commanded shortly.

Charlotte glanced outside the car for a moment before closing the door, the night air touching her exposed skin. Her eyes darted around, afraid of being seen, but the street was quiet. With a heavy breath, she bent over and carefully lowered herself onto my lap.

First to make contact were her smooth thighs. Then, as she slowly lowered herself, I felt the hard tip of my cock touch her wet folds. She gasped, her body trembling.

"Slowly," I whispered in her ear, my hands holding her slender waist. "Feel every inch going in."

Charlotte nodded, biting her lip again. She began lowering herself, and the tip of my cock started to enter, parting her wet labia. The sensation of heat, moisture, and tightness enveloped my shaft. I let out a soft moan. Her pussy was indeed incredible—still tight like a virgin's.

"Ah... nngh..."

She continued lowering herself, inch by inch of my cock being swallowed by her deep pussy. Charlotte's expression changed—from tense to a mixture of pain and pleasure. Her eyes closed, her lips parted, and a small groan escaped her throat as finally the base of my cock pressed against her skin, signaling I was fully inside.

"Ah... A-Adam... it's... so deep..." she whispered, her voice hoarse.

I felt the deep recesses of her womb touching the tip of my cock. Her pussy pulsed around my shaft, as if trying to adjust to a size too large for it.

"How does it feel?" I asked while my hands crept up under her blazer, found her blouse, and began undoing the buttons one by one.

"You... you're the most perverted... most depraved man in the world..." she answered, but her voice was weak, and when she turned her head to look back at me, her eyes were teary from the shameful pleasure.

I smiled, having now successfully opened her blouse and bra. Her plump, white breasts sprang free, her hard, pink nipples tempting before my eyes. My hands immediately grabbed them, pinching her sensitive nipples.

"Start the car, Charlotte," I ordered while pressing her clitoris with my thumb through her pubic hair.

"And remember, I'll control the rhythm. You just need to drive. I promise I won't move too actively... at least not until we're on a quieter road."

Charlotte nodded, a tear finally rolling down. But her trembling hand turned the key in the ignition, and the engine started with a soft hum. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, her feet searching for the pedals.

With ragged breaths, she shifted into first gear, and slowly released the clutch while pressing the gas.

The car began to move forward slowly.

And inside the car, with my cock buried deep inside her wet pussy, with her breasts that I squeezed and her nipples that I pinched, Charlotte began driving through the night streets—with every jolt of the car, every turn, every time her foot pressed the brake or gas, my cock rubbed deeper inside her, making her constantly moan and groan while trying to keep the car on the road.

I just sat behind her, enjoying every vibration, every contraction of her vaginal muscles, while occasionally whispering dirty words in her ear about how slutty she was, how wet she was, and how she was actually enjoying every second of this humiliation.

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