Dungeon And Slave: The Lustful and Violent Slave Harem of the Guard and Students Chosen as Testers for the Succubus Dungeon - Chapter 26: Meanwhile, the Slaves, Part 1 - Sayaka Tsukigase

Chapter 26: Meanwhile, the Slaves, Part 1 – Sayaka Tsukigase

Test Dungeon, Lake Field, Training Facility, 2nd Year, Sayaka Tsukigase

“Alright! Next, let’s go for a deep-throat stroke blowjob!”

At the command of the boyish, short-haired blue succubus, we stop licking.

We bury our faces in the 15-centimeter dildo, molded like a penis, protruding from the groin of a life-sized mannequin, wearing only panties in our half-naked state.

The mannequin, made of a silicone-like material, stands fixed to the floor of this room, called the First Great Hall.

Over 100 of us simultaneously take the dildo in our mouths, stroking back and forth.

“Come on, deeper into your throat!”

The succubus shouts, forcibly pushing the head of what looks like a first-year girl.

“Ugh, gah!”

The girl, having the dildo shoved deep into her throat, naturally grimaces in pain.

Hearing their exchange, others desperately take the dildo deeper to avoid being targeted.

My best friend Sanae, beside me, looks frustrated, tears in her eyes, as she forces the dildo down her throat. It’s tough, but I follow suit.

“Nice, that face! That’s the kind that excites men. Oh, might die if you keep going, huh?”

Noticing the girl’s face turning blue, the succubus releases her grip.

“Geh, ugh, cough cough!”

“Don’t puke, okay? That’s a turn-off for guys. Hurry up, keep going. Or I’ll kill you. Wanna be a soulless doll?”

“Y-Yes! I’ll continue!”

The girl, now pale for a different reason, takes the dildo as deep as she can. The succubus watches her with amusement.

Her desperation is understandable. The succubi kill us without hesitation.

Nine days ago, in the classroom, everything went dark, and I lost consciousness. When I woke in a cave, the Succubus Queen explained that the academy was dragged into creating a test dungeon. The boys are testers, and we’re their sex slaves.

Naturally, the teachers protested fiercely. But the older ones were beheaded by the succubi on the spot. The cafeteria ladies and dorm cleaners, too, as if it were an afterthought.

I was speechless at my first sight of death. Kind, gentle teachers and cheerful cafeteria ladies were killed instantly. Tears flowed endlessly, my body trembled with fear, and I noticed my crotch was wet.

It wasn’t just me. Almost everyone there was the same.

I later heard they planned to dispose of women over 40 from the start. They had no value as sex slaves.

Frozen in shock, the succubi introduced a soulless doll with beast-like ears, looking our age with a cute face.

But her eyes were lifeless, a living puppet silently obeying the succubi.

The succubus made her kneel and lick her boots, threatening that poor performers would be killed and turned into soulless dolls like her.

Soulless dolls are sealed in crystals, used as dungeon chest drops or kill rewards. Testers—our male classmates and teachers—use them for chores or sexual release.

Even without becoming soulless dolls, our fate as sex slaves is sealed. Sold for DP, the dungeon currency, we’re bound to absolute obedience once bought.

The faint lust tattoo on our lower abdomen proves it.

The only difference between us and soulless dolls is being alive or dead.

I don’t want to die. I want to escape, to see my family. Becoming a soulless doll is like death—no will of my own. If I die, my body will be toyed with by boys. I absolutely refuse.

Being a sex slave is awful, too. But we can’t resist commands. Our bodies move on their own. If bought, it’s easy to imagine what boys will do.

Still, it’s better than dying or being humiliated as a soulless doll. If I live, I can reunite with my family.

Everyone feels the same. That’s why we train so hard in these sexual techniques.

After oral training, we get a short break, then move to cowgirl position training with the mannequin lying down.

When laid down, the dildo shrinks to thumb-sized.

We grind our hips over the smaller dildo, pistoning up and down. Being virgins increases our value as merchandise, so our group trains over panties, which is a small mercy.

It’s been nine days since we woke in the cave and were brought to this large mansion at the lake’s base.

For 240 of us, split into two groups, mornings are spent running around the lake for stamina and strength training for physique maintenance. Afternoons are endless sexual technique training.

This place looks like the surface but isn’t.

The lake and grasslands seemed real, so I thought we were in Europe. But the instructor succubus said this is a space within the dungeon.

A dungeon. I knew a bit from childhood anime. But creating a space like this?

Animation and voice acting students, including exchange students, explained this is a field-type dungeon floor with no apparent exit.

Running is brutal for cultural club members or chubby girls. If you don’t cover the set distance, you lose meals. The distance increases daily.

The food is already scarce and tasteless. Everyone runs desperately.

In this dim, cloud-covered space with no exit, we train daily in stamina and sexual techniques.

All to maintain or slim our figures to be more likely to be bought.

Those bought first use their skills to satisfy boys, making others want us. If not bought, we stay here, training on meager food.

If the test ends without being bought, leftovers are disposed of, the succubus said gleefully. So work hard. Our faces and measurements are shown real-time in a catalog for boys, so keep a good figure.

Our info is exposed to boys. It’s embarrassing, but necessary to be bought. If bought, I’m ready to serve fully to help my best friend, no matter who it is.

But about 15 of us, including me, Sanae, and some exchange students, are the most expensive. It might take longer to be bought. So we master these techniques to charm boys and get Sanae bought, too.

I’d love to help my swim team juniors and kind exchange students, but Sanae is my priority. She’s too proud to ever flatter a guy, so without me, she might be treated harshly. I need to be bought first and beg for her purchase.

But… who will buy me?

If I could choose…

Pistoning on the mannequin, I glance at the countless videos projected on the hall’s walls.

They show boys, gym teachers, and club coaches fighting horned rabbits in a cave-like place.

The succubi show these to make us see the boys fighting for us, so we accept and serve them, knowing they risk their lives.

I search for my target. Then I spot a man fighting a bipedal dog alone.

He wears leather armor, holds a shield and a machete-like weapon. His face has a large scar from cheek to jaw.

It’s guard-san.

I’ve watched him daily on the screen. He’s strong, fighting alone, advancing faster than anyone.

Half a year ago, when I first saw him at the main gate, he scared me.

But during summer training at the academy, when a junior failed a high dive, dislocated her shoulder, and nearly drowned, he saved her faster than anyone.

He was patrolling the pool more often on the academy’s orders and happened to be nearby. Still, diving in fully clothed in his guard uniform to rescue her before she drowned was amazing.

He used proper rescue techniques for drowning victims. Even the former Olympic coach was impressed.

Guard-san treated her dislocated shoulder on the spot, smiled to reassure her, and carried her to the infirmary.

My junior later said he covered her with a towel, kept checking if she was in pain, and, leaving the infirmary, wished her a quick recovery, saying he’d cheer at her meet and not to fear this incident. She was smitten.

Without the scar, guard-san’s chiseled features would make him handsome. Being saved and treated kindly by a guy like that would make anyone fall. I thought he was kinda nice, too.

So I started greeting him every morning to show gratitude. He always responded with a smile. He wasn’t scary anymore.

Now, I’m drawn to his strength.

Since childhood, I’ve loved the backs of brave, strong, kind men.

Strength alone isn’t enough. It needs courage, kindness, and a broad back to feel appealing.

My ideal man is fighting now, his back to me.

“Ah!”

Feeling my crotch dampen at the sight of his back, I blush and quickly look away from the video.

If I’m to be a sex slave, I want him to buy me.

But that’s far off, and I might not be chosen. So I’ll work hard to catch his eye, to be bought by him.

Resolved, I grind my hips diligently on the mannequin.