CHAPTER 85: MAP 2 LEVEL 1 - 4

A vine rose behind her, watching, waiting, its tip glistening with nectar, poised to strike if she broke.

And through it all, Kota didn’t move, didn’t blink, his cock straining thick against his tight junglewear, his dark eyes fixed ahead, his breath even, a beacon of control amidst the seductive torment.

Every single one of them was dripping now, their pussies aching, swollen, slick with need, the jungle’s touch a cruel flirtation that promised more if they faltered.

__________

The vine between Selene’s legs didn’t thrust.

It stroked—slow, feather-soft circles against her clit, the damp fabric of her sheer white shift clinging like a second skin, amplifying every teasing glide.

The touch was intimate, insidious, the kind no man had ever given her, the kind she’d fantasized about in secret, her bratty facade hiding a craving for humiliation that made her virgin pussy ache with shame and need.

The vine’s slick, nectar-coated tip circled her swollen nub, pressing just enough to send jolts of pleasure radiating through her core, her soft, untouched lips parting further, glistening with arousal that soaked the gauze, making her feel exposed, vulnerable, like a spoiled princess reduced to a whimpering slut.

Her knees buckled slightly, not enough to fall, but enough for the vine to delve deeper, its pressure intensifying, teasing the edge of her slick entrance through the fabric.

Selene’s breath hitched, her petite body trembling, her small breasts heaving beneath the shift, cherry-pink nipples stiff and visible, straining against the wet material as heat flooded her chest.

"Nh—" Her lips parted, a soft, involuntary sound escaping, her violet eyes widening in horror, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as humiliation washed over her, her pussy clenching instinctively, dripping with shameful wetness.

She froze, her hands flying to her mouth, breath caught in her throat, her whole face burning with embarrassed arousal.

Her thighs quivered, slick with her own juices, the vine’s relentless circling making her clit throb, her virgin hole pulsing with a desperate need to be filled, her humiliation kink flaring as she imagined the others watching her unravel.

Lyra was beside her in an instant, her willowy body still, her translucent red silk webbing clinging to her small breasts, nipples poking through visibly as the mist teased them. Her voice was a whisper so faint it almost didn’t exist: "Shh. Let it happen. But don’t let it out."

Lyra’s own arousal was evident, her slick pussy throbbing, wetness dripping down her inner thighs, her masochistic thrill building as she watched Selene struggle.

Selene whimpered silently, her hands gripping her own dress, wrinkling the sheer fabric, pulling it tighter over her throbbing pussy, the pressure accentuating the vine’s strokes, making her clit ache with need.

Tears pricked her eyes, not from pain but from the overwhelming shame and desire, her small breasts trembling, her cherry-pink nipples hard as pebbles, begging for touch she couldn’t give.

The vine pulsed, pressing harder, its nectar seeping through the fabric, coating her swollen clit, making her pussy lips slick and sensitive, her virgin hole clenching around nothing, desperate for penetration.

Her thighs were soaked now, arousal dripping down her legs, her hips rocking once—barely—then stopping, her body betraying her with a fresh gush of wetness.

And then—she looked at him.

Kota.

Standing perfectly still ahead of them.

Hard, his cock straining thick against the tight black fabric, unyielding even as a vine slithered up the inside of his thigh, sucking gently at his balls through the cloth, teasing him with wet, insistent pressure.

His jaw was tight but not clenched, his dark eyes calm, his breath even, a beacon of control amidst the torment.

In that moment, Selene wanted to cry—not from fear, but from a desperate need to impress him, her humiliation kink twisting into something deeper, her pussy throbbing with the desire to prove herself worthy.

She stilled, clenching her pussy around the teasing vine, her clit pulsing with denied pleasure, and didn’t let it show, her body trembling but unyielding.

The vine slid away, retreating into the shadows, but the jungle wasn’t satisfied.

It had tasted fear, scented their arousal, felt their slick wetness and hardening nipples.

Now it would go hunting for weakness.

There was no timer.

No relentless countdown ticking in their minds, no blaring music to heighten the tension.

Just breath—shallow, ragged, desperate—dripping sweat, and the slick, patient sound of vines stroking flesh they weren’t supposed to touch, teasing, like lovers who knew every secret weakness.

The jungle was alive, but it didn’t roar or scream; it watched with predatory patience, from every gnarled tree trunk, every slick petal unfurling like swollen labia, every hole in the moss that pulsed like a hungry mouth.

It waited, its humid breath curling around their bodies, promising ecstasy if they broke, ruin if they faltered, the air thick with the musky scent of nectar and arousal, making nipples harden, pussies ache, cocks throb with unwilling need.

Kota stood at the front of the path.

His jawline gleamed with sweat, his dark eyes fixed ahead, calm but burning with resolve.

Behind him, Lyra breathed slow, her lips parted but silent, her translucent red silk webbing teasing her small breasts, nipples stiff and aching as the mist brushed them.

One vine slithered across the inside of her wrist, then between her ass cheeks, its slick tip teasing her tight hole with cool, pulsing pressure, circling the puckered entrance, making her pussy throb with masochistic delight.

She let it happen, her body quivering, her inner thighs glistening with fresh wetness, her smoky eyes half-lidded in quiet ecstasy, her arousal building like a storm she craved but refused to acknowledge.

Veyna whispered to herself, not aloud, her mouth moving silently—"don’t moan don’t moan don’t moan"—her freckled body trembling, her rope-bound breasts heaving, nipples hard as she fought the urge.

One vine licked the seam of her slick slit, circling her swollen clit with teasing strokes, another cupping her breast gently, like a lover’s hand, squeezing her nipple with soft pressure that sent fire through her cursed veins.

Her knees buckled, her unstable lust warring with her violent nature, tears pricking her eyes as wetness flooded her thighs, her pussy clenching around nothing, desperate for more.