I Became the Younger Brother of the Villainess

It’s hot.

I couldn’t tell if my rising body temperature was due to magic or simply my mood, but a suffocating heat pressed against me. Feeling stifled, I loosened my clothes and let them slide off.

With a soft rustling sound, the fabric fell away, leaving only a single pair of panties. Beads of sweat, born from the heat coursing through me, clung to my bare skin, glistening as they trickled downward.

Since becoming a vampire, I hadn’t experienced sweat like this before, so I hadn’t given it much thought. But now, I realized that even these droplets carried a strange allure—a seductive power akin to that of a succubus, as if charged with an erotic magic that felt almost unnatural.

In short, my very existence—from my scent to my fluids—was an aphrodisiac.

How absurd. I’m no succubus.

Yet here I was, trapped in a situation so reminiscent of one. Succubi, after all, are demons under the Demon Lord’s command. While vampires, despite their supernatural nature, are still regarded as “people,” succubi are hunted as monsters to be exterminated.

There’s more. While a succubus’s enchantment is classified by the Church as “evil magic,” a vampire’s allure is not forbidden outright. Abusing it can lead to punishment, but simply using it is not considered a crime.

The distinction lies in effectiveness. Even the weakest succubus can easily enthrall a human, while a low-level vampire struggles to influence even an unintelligent animal. As a result, cases of vampires abusing their abilities are relatively rare.

But what about a high-level vampire?

The answer lay right in front of me.

“Hnnngh… haaah… haaah…”

Daisy’s thighs trembled uncontrollably, her strained gasps filling the air as her body convulsed with barely contained heat.

Had she not been bound, she might have thrashed about wildly. But with her limbs securely tied, all she could do was endure the overwhelming heat radiating from her core, leaving her unable to form coherent thoughts.

I reached out, pressing firmly against her soaked folds.

“Hnn…! Ahhh… Master…”

Her expression wavered between desperation, as though begging me for more, and exhaustion, as if she were utterly spent. The slurred quality of her voice made her even more pitiable.

Instead of removing her panties, I simply slid them to the side. Her arousal had already soaked through the fabric, staining it deeply. The moisture continued to seep out, trailing down her thighs, pooling along her curves, and dripping steadily to the floor.

“More… please… love me more…! Ahhh… hnnngh…!”

The bed beneath her was utterly drenched, the sheets stained and in desperate need of changing. Her arousal flowed endlessly, unabated.

Even so, as Daisy whimpered and sweetly begged for more, I didn’t hesitate. My fingers found her clitoris, stroking it gently.

For most women, even the slightest touch here would elicit a shiver. But for Daisy, inflamed by my allure and lost in her arousal, the effect was overwhelming.

“Hngh! Ahh… ahh… hnn…!”

Rather than offering prolonged stimulation, I gave her short, teasing flicks. Her body jerked at the intermittent bursts of pleasure, leaving her half-dazed but unsatisfied. Frustration seeped through her trembling frame as her toes curled and flexed in protest.

“Master… just… a little more… please?” she pleaded, her voice thick with desperation.

She had long forgotten her embarrassment, now whining and pleading unabashedly.

It was endearing. Unable to resist, I lightly teased her clitoris again with my finger, giving it a few gentle taps.

“Hngh…!”

She cried out sharply, her body convulsing once more.

By now, if we were to count just the light orgasms she’d experienced, it would be around seven.

This estimate was based solely on the continuous streams of slick fluids flowing from her, so the actual number was probably higher.

“Haaah… Master, you’re so mean…”

She even called me mean. I could understand why.

For most women, orgasms are rare occurrences. The kind of shallow climaxes Daisy had been experiencing were akin to the peak that most women would consider satisfying.

Ordinarily, just reaching this level would have someone thinking, “This is enough… I’m satisfied.”

But once a woman experiences something deeper—a true, earth-shattering orgasm—there’s no going back. Her instincts awaken, recognizing real pleasure, and anything less becomes inadequate.

If such desires aren’t fulfilled, it can lead to frustration and, in some cases, a path of social deviancy. Women often referred to as “nymphos” belong to this category.

“I can’t… more—please, more… do it…”

Daisy wasn’t there yet. She hadn’t experienced the “real thing,” but her aroused body instinctively knew there was something greater.

This isn’t it.

Her body, clearly in heat, was crying out for something deeper. Adding shallow orgasms to her condition only fanned the flames, making her longing all the more unbearable.

And yet, fully aware of this, I continued to tease her, keeping her on edge.

“Do you want me to make your pussy squelch?”

“Yes, yes…! Please, make Daisy’s pussy squelch…!”

At my prompting, she responded immediately, desperation lacing her voice.

Her lust-filled eyes, now glimmering with faint traces of madness, locked onto me.

Not even an hour ago, she’d been a stoic and somewhat cold yet adorably shy woman. Now, she’d transformed into someone who could only be described as a needy nymph, utterly consumed by her desire for a male.

To reward her for waiting, I finally slid my fingers into her wet, eager entrance.

“Hiiih!”

The reaction was instant, her body jolting as if electrified.

Her warm, slick walls clenched tightly around my fingers as I slowly moved them, stroking the sensitive, velvety texture of her inner walls.

And this was only the first knuckle.

“Hah… ah… huh? Hnn… ahhh… oh…”

Her voice grew higher, as if she couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening to her. It carried a hint of bewilderment, floating somewhere between dazed and overwhelmed.

It was adorable.

For a moment, I paused. Then, I slid my finger deeper, inserting it up to the second knuckle with a squelching sound, lightly grazing her inner walls.

Warm, slick flesh convulsed around my fingers, making it easy to find her sensitive spot.

There it is.

“Hnngh… ahh… ah! ──Hngggghhh…! Aah… ahh, no, no…! I can’t…! ──…!”

Splash!

With just two knuckles, Daisy’s overly sensitive pussy reached a dramatic climax.

Her lower abdomen clenched tightly before releasing in waves, as though everything she’d been holding back had burst free at once. A torrent of fluids gushed out, soaking the bed and floor in the lewd evidence of her release.

“Good girl,” I murmured.

“Don’t… press… there…! Hnngh!”

As the flood finally began to subside, I pressed my palm firmly against her lower abdomen, massaging it as if kneading her womb.

Daisy, completely overtaken by my allure, seemed as though she might be permanently marked by this.

Splash!