Chapter 10: Jun New Home
The residential district of the Academy was a place of quiet, sprawling luxury. As Jun and Sora turned the final corner, the “dormitory” came into view. It wasn’t a room, nor was it a typical apartment. It was a miniature two-story mansion, a sleek blend of modern architecture and cozy elegance, nestled among manicured hedges and flowering cherry blossoms.
As they stepped through the front door, the scent of fresh cedar and expensive linen greeted them. The interior was vast, with high ceilings, polished hardwood floors, and floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the golden light of the afternoon.
Sora, however, was barely noticing the architecture. She was still in a trance, her mind reeling from the encounter in the hallway. She walked close to Jun, her body still humming with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Jun kept his arm firmly around her waist, his grip possessive and steady. Sora leaned into him, her breathing shallow, her eyes hazy with a lingering, blissful submission.
Suddenly, without warning, Jun’s hand shifted. He delivered a sharp, sudden slap to the curve of her ass.
“Ahnn!” Sora let out a small, high-pitched moan, her body jumping in surprise.
She didn’t pull away; instead, she leaned further into him, her face flushing a deep crimson. The shock of the impact sent a new jolt of pleasure through her, a reminder that he was the one in control. She looked up at him, her expression a mixture of surprise and absolute adoration.
“P-please… Jun-sama,” she whispered, though her voice lacked any real protest.
Jun chuckled and let her go, beginning to walk through the house. Sora quickly snapped back into her “guide” mode, though she walked with a slight, unsteady sway. With every step, she felt the heavy, slick warmth between her thighs. The arousal had not faded; in fact, it had intensified. She could feel the thick, translucent cream of her desire dripping slowly down her inner thighs, a visceral reminder of how thoroughly he had undone her.
“This is your residence, Jun-sama,” Sora explained, her voice regaining its professional poise, though it remained soft. “Each Prime Candidate is granted a house of this size. It is intended to be a sanctuary—a place where you can live and build a life with the girls you eventually select to join your household.”
Jun looked around the expansive living room, noting the high-end furniture and the sheer scale of the place. “And who handles the upkeep? I assume there’s a cleaning crew?”
Sora stopped and turned to him, her expression turning slightly serious. “Initially, the Academy staff maintains the premises to ensure everything is in order for your arrival. However, once you are settled, the responsibility shifts. You and the girls you select are expected to maintain the house yourselves—including the cleaning, the laundry, and the preparation of your meals.”
She paused, her eyes flickering with a hint of a suggestion. “Which is why,” she added, her voice becoming a bit more tactical, “it is often wise to look at the catalog carefully. Some girls are far more… domestic… than others. Having a partner who is skilled in the kitchen or enjoys the order of a clean home can make a world of difference in the quality of your life here.”
Jun stopped in the center of the living room, leaning back against a velvet sofa. “And the other boys? Do they all handle their own housework?”
Sora let out a soft, weary sigh. “Most of the other candidates… they prioritize their preferences. They pick girls based on beauty or status, ignoring the practical side of running a home. It often leads to a great deal of chaos—and a lot of very unhappy women who find themselves doing all the work while the men simply enjoy the privileges.”
She reached into her bag and produced the leather booklet, holding it out to him. “The decision is entirely in your hands, Jun-sama. The catalog contains the data for every eligible girl. You may take as much time as you need to make your choices.”
Jun took the booklet, flipping it open. He didn’t look at the photos this time; he looked at the “Talents” and “Domestic Skills” sections. He smiled to himself. He wasn’t just looking for beauty; he was building a team.
“I’ll look through it,” Jun said, his voice calm. He then looked at Sora, a playful glint in his eye. “But I think I’d prefer a curated list. Why don’t you go through it and prepare some recommendations for me? Tell me who you think would be the best ‘fit’ for this house.”
Sora’s eyes widened. She felt a surge of pride and joy. To be trusted with the selection process—to be the one who helped him curate his inner circle—was the ultimate sign of favor.
“I… I would be honored, Jun-sama!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up.
For the next hour, Sora remained in the house, her movements efficient and devoted. She prepared a tray of high-end tea and a selection of delicate sweets, presenting them to Jun with a grace that bordered on reverence. She moved about the room with a newfound energy, her heart singing with the knowledge that she was his trusted confidante.
As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, casting long, orange shadows across the hardwood floors, Sora stood by the door.
“I must head back to the administrative wing for a few hours to finalize some paperwork for your registration,” she explained, her voice soft. “I will be back later tonight to check on you.”
Jun leaned back, sipping his tea. “Take your time, Sora. I’ll be right here.”
Sora gave him one last, lingering look—a mixture of love, longing, and submission—before she stepped out and closed the door behind her.
The house fell into a sudden, heavy silence.
Jun stood up and walked back to the spot where Sora had been standing when she told him she had to leave. He looked down at the polished hardwood floor.
There, in the center of the golden light, was a small, glistening pool of translucent fluid.
Jun smirked. He didn’t need a catalog to know exactly how much Sora wanted him. She had been so overwhelmed by his presence and the thrill of her submission that her body had simply given up the fight.
He looked at the wet spot on the floor, then at the leather booklet in his hand. The Academy was indeed a playground, and he was starting to realize that he was the only one who truly knew how to play the game.