Knees splayed, Benard was now gripping a certain someone’s shoulders.

And the person was none other than the demon king, who was kneeling on the bed and cradling Benard’s hips. The king was making him go up and down his formidable length, not at a slow, steady rate but at a disquietingly fast pace.

At one point, he could no longer grasp the king’s shoulders. Instead, he took hold of the king’s forearms. “Aahh~ Ahghh~ My king… Aah~ Aaah~ My king... p-please… S-slow down... Haaah~! H-uhh... H-augh~ I’m begging you... Haghh~”

It was as if he were talking to a deaf person. Instead of getting his wish fulfilled, the speed...