Chapter 4: Chapter 4
The air in the Golden Vault still tasted of spent lightning and salt. Albedo lay where she had fallen, a stark contrast of alabaster skin and dark spill of hair against the polished black-gold floor. The cold seeped into her bones, a pleasant counterpoint to the raw, throbbing heat between her legs.
She heard him before she saw him—the heavy, methodical clank of gilded armor. Gilgamesh paced around her prone form, a predator surveying his territory. His helm was off, tucked in the crook of his arm, revealing a face of arrogant, sculpted beauty, his eyes two chips of polished amber holding no warmth, only appraisal.
“You’re awake,” he stated, his voice echoing in the cavernous silence.“Good. I prefer an audience.”
Albedo pushed herself up onto her elbows, every muscle protesting. The evidence of their encounter slid down her inner thigh, a sticky reminder. She made no move to cover herself. Here, in this temple of avarice, modesty was a currency with no value. “Your… hospitality is overwhelming, Gilgamesh.”
He stopped his pacing, looking down at her with a smirk. “Inventory is a tedious affair. One must find ways to… alleviate the boredom.” He gestured lazily to the towering Wall of World Items behind her, where the imprint of her body was still faintly visible against the cold metal. “You made an excellent clerk.”
A flush, half-anger, half-arousal, warmed her neck. She stood, her legs trembling only slightly. “My purpose was to assess our assets, not become one of your diversions.”
“Everything in this vault is an asset,” he corrected, stepping closer. The aura of his power pressed against her, a physical weight. “Including you. A succubus crafted by the Supreme One Himself. A treasure in your own right. Do you think I collect only inanimate objects?” His hand came up, not to strike, but to trace the line of her jaw with a cold, metal-clad finger. “I collect power. I collect uniqueness. Your obsession, your design… it’s a rare piece.”
His words slithered into her, insidious and flattering in the most debased way. He saw her not as a person, but as another artifact for his hoard. The thought should have revolted her. Instead, a dark, slick thrill pulsed in her core.
“Alucard-sama would not approve of you speaking of me this way,” she said, but her voice lacked its usual iron conviction.
Gilgamesh laughed, a short, derisive bark. “The King in Crimson? He deposited you here, did he not?He understands utility. And trade.” He closed the final gap between them, his armored body clicking against hers. The cold of his gold plate bit into her breasts and stomach. “I lend my power, my collection, to his wars. And in return, I take my… comforts. He gets a more agreeable ally. You get to serve your master in a new, wet, little way.”
His hand slid down from her jaw, over the swell of her breast, pinching a nipple until she gasped, then down the plane of her stomach. He didn’t ask. He simply claimed, his fingers parting her folds with a crude, familiar intimacy. She was still swollen, still soaked from his previous use of her.
“See?” he breathed into her ear, his voice a low rumble. “Your body understands commerce far better than your mouth does.”
He turned her, abruptly, pushing her forward until her hands were splayed against the cold surface of a different stack—this one holding crystalline orbs that pulsed with captured nebulas. The arcane cold of the orbs radiated through her palms, a shocking contrast to the heat building inside her.
She heard the clatter and shift of his armor, the release of a clasp. Then the blunt, insistent pressure of his cock, not at her entrance, but pressing rudely against the tight, forbidden pucker of her ass.
“Gilgamesh—” she started, a note of real alarm finally cutting through the haze.
“Quiet,” he commanded, and spit into his hand, the sound obscenely loud. He slicked himself, and then pressed two wet fingers against her, working them in with no preamble, stretching her roughly. It burned, a sharp, bright pain that made her toes curl against the floor. “This vault holds every treasure. I will explore every one.”
He replaced his fingers with the head of his cock, a broad, unforgiving pressure. He didn’t wait for her to adjust. He shoved forward, burying himself inside her in one brutal, shearing thrust.
Albedo screamed, a raw, shattered sound that echoed off a thousand world items. The pain was immense, a ripping, claiming invasion that dwarfed anything she had felt before. Her knuckles turned white against the crystalline orbs, her vision swimming with tears of agony.
Gilgamesh grunted, a sound of pure satisfaction. “Tight. Virgin here, too. A delightful bonus.” He began to move, pulling back almost all the way before slamming home again, each thrust a punishment, a conquest. The slap of his armored pelvis against her flesh was a rhythmic, mortifying percussion.
The pain began to mutate, blurring at the edges, tempered by the sheer overwhelming fullness and the degrading knowledge of what was happening. He was taking a part of her even Alucard had not touched, claiming it with a barbaric entitlement that bypassed her mind and spoke directly to the primal, submissive core of her succubus nature. A choked sob escaped her, mingling with a moan.
“That’s it,” he goaded, one hand tangling in her hair, yanking her head back. The other reached around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing rough, circling patterns. “Let the vault hear you. Let all these dead gods know who fucks Alucard’s whore now.”
The dual assault was unbearable. The deep, painful friction in her ass, the ruthless attention on her clit. Her body, betraying her utterly, coiled tighter and tighter towards a climax. Shame and ecstasy fused into one white-hot wire. She babbled, nonsense, pleas, curses.
“Please—fuck—you animal—don’t stop—!”
He laughed, his rhythm becoming jagged, frenzied. The orbs before her eyes blazed with stolen starlight. “Gonna come, treasure? Gonna come on the cock in your ass while you think of your precious king?”
It was the final degradation. Her orgasm ripped through her with the force of a supernova, a silent, screaming convulsion that locked her muscles and milked his length inside her. With a final, guttural roar, Gilgamesh followed, pumping his release deep into her bowels, a hot, claiming flood that seemed to sear her from the inside. He held her there, impaled, for a long minute, both of them panting in the humming silence.
He withdrew, the sensation making her whimper. The proof of his victory leaked down her thighs, a viscous trail on the pristine floor.
He stepped back, fastening his armor with casual, clinking efficiency. He looked at her, slumped against the treasure stack, breath coming in ragged hitches, covered in the marks of his possession.
“The inventory,” he said, his voice once again that of a dispassionate curator, “is proceeding adequately. We will continue tomorrow. Be here at the same time.”
He turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the labyrinth of gold.
Albedo slowly sank to the floor, the cold a shock against her ravaged skin. The humiliation was a live wire in her gut. But beneath it, coiling like a serpent, was a dark and terrifying understanding. He was right. This was a transaction. And for Alucard-sama’s glory, she would pay any price. Even if it meant becoming a living, breathing part of Gilgamesh’s collection.
She touched her stomach, where the heat of him still lingered inside her. A single, treacherous thought flickered.Let him collect. Let him think he owns this. She looked up at the unblinking dark eye in the ceiling, a symbol of the vault's master.
Every treasure has a will. And every will can be weaponized.
Pushing herself up, she summoned a cleansing spell. The physical evidence vanished, but the memory, the calculation, remained. She walked from the vault, her step regaining its steady, overseer’s cadence before the great doors sealed behind her, locking the golden shame within. The game was far from over.