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Perverted Daddy System

“What the fuck? What is going on? Have I completely lost it?” As I stare panicky at the dot unable to decide what to do, the white dot disappears and a line of text appears in its place. [Installing files. 1% done…] As I watch the text in shock, the percentage gradually increases. […2%...3%...4%...] I move to the living room in a zombie-like manner, too shocked to think clearly and lie down on the couch. “Something is wrong with me; I think I finally lost my sanity…” […12%...13%...14%...] Unable to affect the situation in the least, I stare dejectedly at the percentage increase, while my mind starts exploring the possible explanations. In the end, as the percentage hits 90%, I narrow it down to three possibilities. The first possibility is that I am in fact still unconscious and this is all a product of my mind. I pinch myself and whimper at the pain, as in my nervousness I used almost all my strength. Nope, the first is out. The second possibility is that I have completely lost my mind and am suffering from delusions. Hmm, I cannot exclude this, but while possible, I don’t think that this is it. The only thing out of the ordinary is that fucking line of text. The third possibility … [Installation successful!] The text disappears and a new message appears in my eyes… The third possibility … is that I gained a system. I read the message with my mouth agape at the implications. [Welcome user, to the Perverted Daddy System!] Fuck… TAGS: Mind control, manipulation, corruption, sleep sex, rape, blackmail, oyakodon

PinkCulture · Realistic
Not enough ratings
113 Chs

PDS – Chapter 50 – Slap the bitch!

900 stones reward!!

I can see the girl blanch when she hears her boss' name.

"In that case, call the owner first. If she is your acquaintance there is no need to make things more difficult for her."

"Right away, sir, and thank you. Mrs. Simpson is also one of my clients and I would hate to have to terminate our cooperation."

I hang up and look at the now distressed bitch. She opens her mouth to say something, but I just snort and turn around. I walk back to my girls and join them for a group hug.

"I am so sorry, honey, but don't worry, that bitch will get what she deserves. Just wait for five minutes."

Indeed, note even five minutes later, a woman in her forties enters the shop and starts looking left and right. Upon seeing us, she scoots to my side and asks,

"Are you Mr. Ben?"

I look at her, a furious look still in my eyes.

"I am. Might I assume that you are Mrs. Simpson?"