He Proposes A Trade

For the second time in her life, Rias loathed her beauty.

The first had been the day her engagement to Riser was announced. She had offered him an alternative then—power, influence, anything to escape the gilded cage of marriage—but he had refused with a smirk, spouting hollow words about pure bloodlines and duty. Yet his gaze had betrayed him, lingering on the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips. No matter what she proposed, nothing would ever outweigh the temptation of her body.

Issei wasn’t just a pervert like Riser—he was worse than Riser.

Riser, for all his arrogance, had at least possessed some decorum. He’d never skulked around locker rooms, never planted hidden cameras, never bellowed his harem fantasies where the entire school could hear. His indiscretions—and his vapid conquests—had been kept discreet, tucked away like shameful secrets.

But Issei? He was raw, hungry—a virgin with no patience for subtlety. If Riser had refused to let her go, then this boy—repressed, ****, his every glance scalding her skin—would never relinquish a woman like her. Not when her body was already his to command.

And that was the cruelest twist of all. With Riser, she had bargained as an equal—a Gremory heiress, her family’s wealth and lands hers to leverage. But now? She was property. Anything she might offer, Issei could simply take. There was no negotiation, no deal—only his whims, and her obedience.

So when he didn’t immediately dismiss her plea, when Issei's gaze turned thoughtful, Rias’ breath hitched. Hope—foolish, fragile—fluttered in her chest.

Then he spoke.

"You're best friends with Akeno, right? Help me capture her and I'll let you go."

The words slithered through Rias' mind, hot and poisonous. For one terrible, endless moment—

(Freedom.)

—she considered it.

The thought flickered to life before she could smother it: Akeno in her place, Issei's name branded on her skin. Herself walking free—indulging in silly human pleasures, losing herself in flashing screens and meaningless entertainment while Akeno endured his groping hands, his wet mouth, his—

A jolt of electricity raced down Rias' spine, equal parts horror and something darker she refused to name. The revulsion came next, thick as tar in her throat, **** her. Her stomach twisted violently.

(How could she?)

Akeno—who had braided her hair when they were children, who had whispered secrets to her under shared blankets, who had stood beside her and promised to help her fight for her freedom when her family sold her to Riser. To sacrifice Akeno would be to carve out her own heart.

"I can't." The words tasted like ash. In that instant, she felt the last shred of her freedom slip away forever.

A thousand devils would have leapt at the offer without hesitation. The Underworld brimmed with nobles who saw their peerage as livestock—bodies to be used, then discarded when the flesh grew boring. But the Gremory's were different. Their servants were their family, and one did not sell their family members into slavery.

"Oh. Okay." Issei shrugged, as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "In that case, I order you to help me capture her."

The command slithered under Rias' skin like a brand fresh from the forge. Her despair curdled into something hotter, sharper—rage. "Then what was the point of giving me a choice?" she hissed, her nails biting into her palms.

Issei tilted his head, considering. "What I really want," he said slowly, "is to be a Harem King. You?" His gaze dragged over her—assessing, comparing. "You're interchangeable."

The word struck like a slap.

"Akeno’s an upgrade," he continued, and despite herself, Rias' stomach twisted as Issei listed all the ways Akeno was better than her: "Bigger tits—40 inches to your 39. Matsuda’s never wrong about these things. She’s Japanese, polite, knows how to coo- Total Yamato Nadeshiko. Wifey material. My parents would adore her."

Each syllable was a needle pressed into Rias' pride. She could feel herself being weighed, discarded—her body reduced to measurements, her worth to utility.

"The truth is, I don't need you to capture Akeno. I've watched her for months—knows which classroom she visits after lunch, when she showers at the gym..." A low, throaty chuckle. "Had it all planned out before you walked in. You'd just make it... easier. Koneko-"

Rias' heart stuttered at the mention of her other peerage member.

"-Is the same. You really think I wouldn't want Kuoh's precious mascot for myself?" His gaze slid to Sona, "Tsubaki, Momo, Tsubasa... please. I don't need your help for them. Any girl at this school?" His voice thickened. "Murayama's toned thighs, Katase's pouty mouth... if I want them, they're already mine.

"Here's the deal, Rias: Want your freedom? Bring me someone better than you. Hotter. Someone... rare. Like—" A hungry pause. "—do you have a hot older sister?"

The question hung in the air, thick as syrup.

"No." The denial leapt from Rias' throat too fast, too sharp. Her pulse hammered against the delicate skin of her neck where Issei's eyes now lingered.

(Too quick. Stupid.)

She couldn't lie, but truths came in shades. Grayfia's image flashed behind her eyes - her sister-in-law's pristine maid uniform crumpled under Issei's grasping hands, those ice-blue eyes wide with betrayal. The thought sent a sickening jolt through her—part revulsion, part terrifying calculation.

(He'd release me for her.)

Her nails bit deeper into her palms. Gremory's don't betray family.

A glance at Sona revealed taut shoulders, lips pressed into a bloodless line. Germory's didn't betray family and evidently, neither did Sitri's. Sona could have volunteered information on her older sister, Serafall, and how her magical girl costumes how they clung dangerously to her curves, yet she kept her silence.

Issei's shrugged. "Pity. Could've been your ticket out."

Sona's voice cut through the thick tension. "'Could have'? So release isn't guaranteed?"

"Don't sweat it, prez." Issei's grin turned predatory. "You're not the prize here. Get me someone half-decent and you're free to go." His attention swung back to Rias like a physical weight. "She's a special case."

His gaze mapped her body with clinical precision - the flare of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the way her uniform stretched taut across both. Rias fought the urge to cover herself, to hide from that devouring stare.

"Busty goes without saying," he mused. "But I want exotic too." A blunt finger traced the air before her face. "This hair..." Drifted lower. "These eyes..." His voice grew thick. "Foreign for foreign. Blonde and green could work. Silver and violet..." His breath hitched at some private fantasy. "Maybe the same age group. I can enjoy Rias for decades before she becomes unusable. Don't want to shortchange myself."

"Akeno wouldn't have met half those criteria." The words tasted bitter on Rias' tongue. True, Akeno's voluptuous curves and violet eyes matched Issei's desires, but her dark hair lacked the exotic allure he now demanded. A cold realization slithered down Rias' spine. "Would you have released me if I'd given her to you?" Her voice barely trembled, but inside, her thoughts churned like storm clouds. She could see it now - how he'd have found some flaw, some imperfection to justify keeping them both. Akeno's Japanese heritage suddenly becoming "too plain." Her devotion recast as "clinginess." There would always be some excuse.

"Oh ye of little faith," Issei whined, his lower lip jutting in a parody of hurt. The childish pout looked grotesque on his flushed face. "I said I would, didn't I?"

"Look—" His tongue flicked over his lips, leaving them wet, shining. "What I really want..."

The words slithered into Rias’ ears, thick with hunger.

"Hot girls travel in flocks."

A collector’s cadence. A hunter’s logic.

"Murayama and Katase—joined at the hip, both in kendo gear. Sona’s got three stunners glued to her on the Student Council. You and Akeno? Package deal. And Koneko?" His grin turned wolfish. "Why’s the school’s mascot cozy with you on the Occult Research Club? Doesn’t matter. Point is—"

A finger jabbed toward her chest, stopping just shy of brushing the swell of her breast.

"—you know others. Girls who’d fit. Exactly what I’m after."

He smiled his perverted, gross, smile.

"Trade up. One perfect girl—exotic, busty, the whole fantasy—or a few who check most boxes. Your choice."

A pause. The silence throbbed between them.

"Or don’t."

Issei shrugged, the motion slow and indulgent, like a predator savoring the twitch of trapped prey. His phone appeared in his palm with a magician’s ease. A swipe up—his thumb gliding over the screen. A flick right—the display shifting with a soft click. Then his fingers danced, tapping open a folder labeled only with a grinning, winking emoji.

When he turned the screen toward her, Rias’ stomach dropped.

A grotesque archive.

Videos. GIFs. A meticulously organized catalog of depravity.

Her breath hitched as flickering images seared into her vision—bound wrists straining against silk, flushed skin glistening under artificial light, mouths stretched obscenely around—

No.

She jerked her gaze away, but the damage was done. The images pulsed behind her eyelids, lurid and inescapable.

Issei tilted the phone, ensuring Sona saw too. A GIF played on loop—

A man, thick-fingered and greedy, clutched a buxom woman against him, his mouth latched onto her nipple like a starving infant. Her back arched, breasts spilling against his face as he suckled with wet, obscene noises. At his feet, a smaller woman knelt, her lips stretched around his cock, bobbing with practiced devotion.

Rias’ stomach twisted.

"You know," Issei mused, his voice thick with arousal, "I saved this imagining Akeno and Koneko. The contrast—black hair and white, petite and voluptuous…" He sighed, wistful. "But you two? You’d fit just as well."

His gaze crawled over her then flicked to Sona, assessing her slender frame. "You’re plenty busty, Rias. And Sona?" A slow, filthy grin. "She's petite enough."

Her skin prickled with revulsion.

"Want to try?" he asked.

"No."

The word barely left her lips before Issei's grin widened—not in disappointment, but in dark amusement. His fingers twitched at his sides, restless, hungry. He had lingered outside the door all this time, a shadow pressing against the threshold. Now, he stepped forward, his shoe scuffing against the floor as he kicked the door shut with a thud that vibrated through Rias’ bones.

"Too bad." His voice was syrup-thick, dripping with anticipation. "I do."

Rias’ muscles locked—not by choice, but by the invisible chains of his command. Her body betrayed her, remaining still, pliant, as his hands slid around her waist. His palms were hot even through the fabric of her uniform, his grip possessive as he pulled her flush against him. The scent of him—sweat, cheap cologne, and something unnervingly male—flooded her senses.

The Student Council room, with its polished mahogany desk and plush leather couch, was far too luxurious for a high school. A decadent little den for Sona’s peerage, now reduced to a stage for Issei’s perversions.

He guided her toward the couch, his fingers digging into her hips as if testing their softness. Behind them, Sona moved stiffly. One command **** her to her knees and a second **** her to crawl after them, shattering her usual poise. The carpet muffled her movements, but Rias heard it anyway—the quiet, humiliated rustle of fabric as Sona moved.

Issei sank onto the couch, pulling Rias down beside him. The leather creaked under their weight, cool against the backs of her thighs. Too close. Much too close. His thigh pressed against hers, radiating heat, his breath coming faster as his gaze flickered between them—Rias, seated like a doll at his side, and Sona, who had come to rest on her knees before him.

Waiting.

Helpless.

“No.”

Sona’s voice was sharp, clipped—a blade of ice cutting through the humid tension of the room. A heartbeat later, Rias echoed her, lips parting around the same refusal.

They were Devils, yes—creatures of sin, heirs to temptation—but they were also nobility. Daughters of the Underworld’s most powerful houses. Lust had its place: behind closed doors, in the arms of a future husband, as part of a carefully negotiated alliance. Not like this. Not on their knees, breath hitching, with a human boy’s fingers tangled in their hair.

But Issei didn’t care about politics. Didn’t care about their names, their legacies, the futures that had been carved out for them since birth.

He only cared about the way Sona’s lips trembled.

“Doesn’t matter for Rias,” he mused, thumb tracing the seam of Sona’s mouth. “She doesn’t have to do anything.” His other hand slid possessively up Rias’ thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh just above her stocking. “But you, prez…” A dark chuckle. “Never given a blowjob before, have you?”

Sona’s silence was answer enough.

“Teeth would suck,” Issei muttered, tilting her chin up. “So here’s how this’ll work.”

Rias watched, pulse hammering, as he guided Sona’s jaw wider—testing, pressing, until her lips stretched obscenely around nothing. A thin strand of saliva glistened between her teeth.

“Good,” Issei breathed. “Now keep it like that.”

His free hand fumbled with his belt, the rasp of the zipper deafening in the quiet room. When his cock sprang free, thick and flushed, Rias’ stomach twisted.

“Facefuck yourself on it,” he ordered, voice rough. “Wide open. Take as much as you can—****, pull back, then do it again.”

Sona’s fingers twitched at her sides. For one hopeful moment, Rias thought Sona might be able to resist—break free from Issei's control.

But then her hands moved.

Delicate fingers wrapped around Issei’s length, guiding him to her parted lips. The first lick made Sona flinch and pull back, face scrunching up in disgust at the taste of Issei's precum. Then she pushed forward.

Rias couldn’t look away.

Sona’s throat convulsed as she **** herself down, gagging instantly, tears springing to her eyes. The wet click of her **** echoed in Rias’ ears, mingling with Issei’s groan.

“Fuck—yeah, just like that.”

His fingers tightened in Sona’s hair, holding her in place as she struggled, her body fighting even as his command **** her deeper. A thin trail of drool dripped from her chin, splattering onto her uniform.

Rias’ throat tightened.

Sona—proud, poised Sona—gagged around Issei’s cock, her lips stretched obscenely wide, tears glistening on her lashes. The wet, **** sounds filled the room, each one a knife twisting in Rias’ gut. They were royalty. Devil royalty. Sona’s sister ruled the Underworld alongside Rias’ brother and two others. As one of the only children with such distinguished lineage, Sona and Rias were often grouped together at social events. Sona was arguably her oldest friend.

And now Sona knelt, trembling, as a human boy **** himself down her throat.

A hot, shameful relief flooded Rias’ veins.

(Not me. Not yet.)

The thought sickened her. She should be fighting, screaming, clawing at Issei’s eyes—and she would be, if not for his name on her wrist. It's presence alone left her powerless, sitting there, heart pounding, grateful for every second his attention wasn't on her.

Then he turned.

Issei's mouth crashed against hers, clumsy and hungry. The kiss was wet, too warm, his tongue pushing past her lips before she could even think to resist. The taste of him—salt and cheap soda—flooded her senses.

Akeno had been her first kiss.

That memory alone was her anchor.

Akeno’s lips had been soft, teasing, her fingers tangling in Rias’ hair as they’d fumbled through stolen moments between training sessions. They’d been young, curious, their touches more laughter than lust.

This was nothing like that.

Issei’s grip tightened in her hair, yanking her closer. His teeth scraped her bottom lip, his breath coming in ragged bursts against her skin. Some small, defiant part of her clung to the thought:

(At least he didn’t get to take my first kiss.)

The thought was a brittle shield—one that shattered the moment Issei’s mouth abandoned hers.

His lips trailed down her throat, hot and wet, teeth scraping her pulse point between ragged breaths. Each gasp he made was stolen from Sona’s **** efforts, every moan wrung from her throat as she struggled around his cock. The sounds were obscene—wet, guttural, the rhythmic gagging of a girl who had never done anything like this before.

Then his tongue flicked against Rias’ earlobe.

“I’ve got more videos. Things I want to try,” Issei panted, his voice thick with arousal. “So many more.” His teeth grazed the shell of her ear, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. “Half a decade’s worth. Every fantasy.” A rough chuckle vibrated against her skin. “And now?” His fingers dug into her breasts. “I get to try them all. With you.”

Issei’s fingers worked clumsily at the buttons of her shirt, each pop of fabric parting like a tiny surrender. Cool air prickled against her exposed skin—then his mouth was on her, hot and wet, sucking a bruise into the swell of her breast. The scrape of his teeth made her gasp. His tongue swirled around her nipple, rough and insistent, and Rias realized with dawning horror:

He wasn’t just touching her.

He was savoring her.

Every suck, every greedy grope, every shuddering breath he took against her skin screamed one terrible truth—Issei did not want to let her go.

The realization slithered through her, cold and undeniable. There would be no bargaining for a fairer game with concrete steps she could take to attain her freedom. Either Rias played the game he offered- brought him woman after woman with no guarantee they would be enough to secure her freedom, allowing Issei to set a moving target she might never hit- or she surrendered, acquiescing that Issei would get to keep her forever- bound and pliant, his to use whenever he pleased.

His mouth switched breasts, lips sealing around her other nipple with a filthy, wet sound. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass, kneading possessively. Pleasure and revulsion twisted together low in her belly, a sickening heat she refused to name.

A choked sob drew her attention downward.

Sona.

Tears streaked Sona’s flushed cheeks as she choked around Issei’s cock. Drool soaked her shirt, the fabric clinging transparent to her skin. Each gagging sound punched through Rias like a physical blow.

(That could be me tomorrow.)

The images from Issei’s phone flashed behind her eyelids—bound wrists, spread thighs, mouths **** open around cocks. Issei had plans for her. Endless, degrading plans.

She had to escape.

But how?

The game was rigged. The rules bent to Issei’s whim. Yet what choice did she have?

Refuse, and remain his plaything forever.

Play along, and hope he was honorable enough to judge her offerings fairly.

Issei’s teeth grazed her nipple, sharp enough to sting. Rias bit back a whimper.

The game was unfair, but she had to play.