Chapter 14: The Vampire’s Reckoning

Shalltear Bloodfallen, Nazarick's spearhead, unrivaled in combat, a True Vampire of breathtaking beauty. Yet, her intellect? Questionable.

"Super Muteking Dragon crushed a snail. Shell shattered, guts squished. 'Oops, my bad! Bite me back, and we're even,' it says."

Dragon's that dumb? Just a big lizard. No, some dragons are smarter. Sister's right, not all are fools. Opinions swirled, settling on: "Don't mess around!" Nazarick agreed. Solution, humans, beastmen, lizardmen—any sentient being would nod.

Yet, Shalltear thought, How noble of the dragon.

She stood, earnest and unyielding. The young master and Solution exchanged glances.

What's she saying? Not human, a vampire. Seriously? She's serious. Maybe Shalltear's… Don't say it. Everyone knows? She doesn't think so. Nobody says it? Pointless.

"Solution, leave! I won't let a human see me disgraced," Shalltear declared, hand on hip, deadly serious.

"…Understood. Be careful," Solution replied, eyes lifeless. She trusted Shalltear's remorse but not fully. Preparing a healing scroll, she waited nearby.

The door closed, leaving Shalltear and the young master alone.

He studied her. Perhaps fourteen, petite, a head shorter. Red-and-black ball gown, gloves, headdress framing silver hair. Destined for peerless beauty, yet her waxen skin and crimson eyes betrayed her vampiric nature a perfected imperfection.

Her dress's ample bust? Padded. Her spine was too straight. Large breasts, like Sixth's, would tilt her posture slightly back. Shalltear's rigid stance confirmed it.

"Hurry up!" she snapped.

"Sure?"

"Hmph! A human's blow won't scratch me!"

Her glare burned. He drew back his arm, hand open. Shalltear's eyes widened. A sharp crack echoed as her face turned slightly right. Without pause, he slapped her other cheek for the near wall stain, for insulting Albedo, for Solution's predicament, for the maids' cleanup, and one more for good measure. Five relentless slaps.

Shalltear touched her faintly reddened cheeks.

"As you wished. Does it hurt?" he asked.

"…Hurt? Me? A human's slaps? I could take thousands! Keep going till I'm satisfied."

"What?"

Her cheeks flushed, but her gaze was resolute. If she wanted more, fine. Aiming for soft flesh to spare his hand, he struck again.

"Doesn't faze me!" she cried.

He continued as she demanded, her cheeks reddening—not from pain, but something else. His hand ached.

"Use your foot!" she urged.

"If you insist."

A kick to her ample rear sent her stumbling, hands and knees hitting the floor.

"You okay?"

"Shut up… It's my punishment…"

Her breathing grew heavy, cheeks flushed deeper, eyes molten as she looked up.

Shalltear's creator, Peroroncino of Ainz Ooal Gown, the "Winged Bombardier" and "Eroge Master," infused her with every fetish: homosexuality, necrophilia, sadism and masochism. Once, Ainz ordered her to serve as a "vampire chair," thrilling her. But nothing else sated her. Ainz hesitated, her Vampire Brides were too timid, and battle wounds didn't compare. She craved compassionate yet merciless pain.

His slaps dealt no damage, yet humiliated her a human striking her. Each blow stirred something. The kick buckled her, not from pain, but desire. Kneeling before a human was pure shame, yet she craved more.

"Panting… Kneeling before a human… Such humiliation…"

"Need a hand?"

"Quiet! Kick me more… It's my penance…"

Her lustful gaze sparked déjà vu. Larna, kicked and degraded, had reveled in similar shame. Shalltear, hips raised, mirrored her.

Another kick to her slender rear.

"You want more abuse, Lady Shalltear?"

"No…!" A moan escaped as he pressed his foot harder, her voice dripping with allure.

"Enough. You've been punished plenty."

Sincere words. Larna's past taught him this, but Shalltear was a Floor Guardian. More risked trouble, and he hadn't wanted this to begin with. Denying her further could be worse.

"No! More… I want more!"

Her brazen desire sparked an idea. Vampire or not, she was female, unlike Solution. Risky, but for Albedo, he'd hone his skills. Even if it meant his end.

"Lady Shalltear, a request. Whether you accept or not, I swear tonight stays secret. Punish me if you must."

"Speak."

"Let me practice… hand techniques."

"Start now!"

"Instantly!?"

She lifted her skirt, slipping off soaked black panties. Standing boldly, legs spread, she bared her hairless groin, cheeks flushed with anticipation, a radiant smile on her girlish yet masculine demeanor.

"Here goes…"

He knelt before her pale abdomen, her immature slit glistening. Spreading it gently, he marveled at the rosy, slick interior. Clear fluid dripped, threading to the floor. He paused, guiding her to the bed. From behind, he cradled her petite frame. She clasped her hands over her abdomen, pleading they stay still, as his hands caressed her thighs—cool, smooth, youthful.

A finger brushed her slit.

"Hurry… Make it wetter…" she urged.

"It's practice. I'll go slow."

"My pussy's already soaked… Rougher!"

Ignoring her, he eased his finger in, inch by inch. Her pleas faster, harder, deeper faded, replaced by ragged breaths. She leaned into him, hands gripping his. Five minutes to reach her bud, unmoving, her hips squirming. He peeled back the hood, her clitoris swelling under his touch, a sweet ache building.

"Ah… Ahh…!"

"Painful?"

"Fine… More…"

"Like this?"

"Yes! More in my pussy!"

A finger slid in, gentle, probing her walls, searching.

"There! Rub it… My breasts too!"

She kneaded her padded chest, then tore off her dress and bra, revealing modest, perfect breasts. "Pinch my nipples!"

Her lustful gaze, lips glistening, seized him. She yanked him close.

"Kiss me! Tongue!"

"Don't bite."

"I won't."

Their tongues entwined, her cold saliva blending with his warmth. She climbed atop him, unrelenting.

"Deeper… Not just fingers…"

Her clumsy hands tore his pants, exposing him.

"Your cock's not hard yet! But I'll fix that," she giggled, straddling him, rubbing her slit against him. "Feel my juices? It's hardening!"

Her lascivious grin dripped saliva onto his chest as she licked his nipples, stroking him.

"Lady Shalltear, this is my practice—"

"Shut up! You teased my pussy, now I want your cock!"

No retort came.

"So big… Can I take it all?"

Her gloved hands coaxed him fully erect. Her youthful beauty belied her skill, crafted by Peroroncino's desires. Resistance was futile; her drenched slit and expert touch overwhelmed him.

"I'm a virgin… Your cock's my first. Thrilled?"

"Uh, that's pressure—"

"Just get hard!"

She straddled him again, guiding his tip to her entrance, rubbing it against her dripping slit. Aligning it with her tiny, virgin opening, she sank down, her hymen yielding as she gasped.

"Ahh! My virgin pussy… Your cock's inside!"

The pain of her torn flesh was ecstasy. She climaxed instantly.

"Don't move… No, move more!"

He thrust upward; she matched his rhythm. Her tight, blood-streaked passage gripped him, her abundant juices warming her cold flesh. Claws dug into his back as she clung, kissing him fiercely, their union squelching with each thrust.

"More! Rub my pussy! Kiss me!"

Her relentless tightening signaled repeated climaxes. Despite her slurred pleas, she rode him fiercely. At the peak, she slammed down, and he erupted inside her with a scream.

"Gotta… go!"

Panting, Shalltear vanished via Gate. No farewell.

He dressed, informing Solution of her departure. She sighed in relief but noticed his torn clothes. Inspecting the room, she gasped, "Brother, you're the worst!"

"I couldn't stop her! Nazarick's strongest, and I'm just a man."

Solution relented, unaware it started with his "practice" suggestion.