Of Course, Humans Are Weak to Pain
Morus had originally been an ordinary assistant professor in the Academy's alchemy department.
How much blood and sweat had a commoner like him poured out just to get into the Academy in the first place?
He had chosen this path because, as a child, his parents had fallen ill and died pointlessly—there hadn't even been a pharmacist in their village. The result of that drive was a full scholarship as the Academy's top student. Nobles invested in him as well, so he enjoyed luxuries a commoner could never dream of while pouring himself into his studies.
That was how the once-scrawny Morus grew fat on fine cuisine, though he never once complained about it.
He had believed a brilliant future was waiting for him. And then? Turns out his mentor—the professor himself—was working for the Demon King's Army.
Apparently the bastard hadn't wanted to die alone, so he had taken out a massive loan in Morus's name and left behind clear evidence that potions based on Morus's own research had been offered up to the Demon King's forces. Overnight, Morus became both a debtor and a branded collaborator of the Demon King's Army. Staying put meant the Academy would make an example of him and hand him over to the Goddess Church, so he ran.
The Demon King's Army had been watching closely. A year ago they approached him, and Morus—figuring his life was already ruined—decided to go all in and accepted. After basic training and a baptism of demonic energy, he set out properly on the path of a messenger.
His past didn't matter much now. What did matter was that he was a rather skilled alchemist, and his magic wasn't half bad either.
"Hey, I don't feel anything special from this?"
"Heh heh heh. These things usually take a little time."
Thirty seconds later the drug hit. Serena's breathing turned ragged and her body began to twist.
"Ugh! This is…"
Serena felt something deeply wrong with her own body. External touch grew distant and faint, while a warm, floating sensation rose from deep inside her. It was strange—and her reason screamed that it was dangerous.
But the body is always honest.
The aphrodisiac that had invaded Serena's system rode her bloodstream and spread evenly through every inch of her, and she bit down hard on the sweet bait called pleasure.
Ding!
— You have been poisoned by a drug.
— Analysis result: Classified as an Aphrodisiac.
— Receiving synergy from the Blessings Enhanced Five Senses and Heightened Sensitivity.
— Have a pleasant time.
Pleasant time my ass! Get me out of this!!
A status window was supposed to offer solutions for situations like this. Instead it told her to enjoy herself.
Whoooosh—
A cold wind cut through the cave and slammed into Serena.
"Uuugh!"
With her senses skyrocketing from the aphrodisiac and her blessings, even a mere chill felt like bare flesh pressed against ice.
Morus seemed amused by her writhing and started getting into the mood.
"What? You like it that much? You should've said so earlier."
He sneered, waving the empty syringe. The sight pissed Serena off, and the drug made her forget any filter on her insults.
"Fuuuuck you, you virgin loser who's never even held a girl's hand—of course you'd need shit like this or you'd be sucking your own fingers for the rest of your life… I don't even need to pull your pants down to know! You've got a micropenis, don't you? Shit! No, wait—buried under all that blubber it's probably even smaller than that!"
"What?"
The stream of curses pouring from Serena's mouth left Morus stunned. Only for a moment. Then rage flooded all the way to the top of his skull.
Calling a man a micropenis was enough to piss off every guy on the planet whether it was true or not. What really set Morus off, though, was the part about never holding a girl's hand because he'd buried himself in alchemy.
Serena had just gouged open the raw wound of his virginity. Trembling with fury, Morus finally snapped.
"What the hell would you know?!"
Thwack—!
"Ah?"
Morus's kick smashed straight into Serena's pussy.
At first she felt nothing.
Then, slowly, massively, the impact announced itself—her crotch began to burn, and Serena convulsed as if lightning had torn through her entire body.
"Eek! Ughik! Gyaaaaaah!"
Chained by the shackles, Serena thrashed and bucked. Tears, nosebleeds, and foaming at the mouth—her state was so wretched it could inspire genuine horror in anyone watching.
It felt like someone had poured carbonated water straight into her brain, every cell popping and fizzing. An ordinary human would have gone into shock and died on the spot. Serena's body, saturated with the Goddess's divine power, endured it.
But a body that refuses to break simply means you keep feeling the pain. For Serena, that was no blessing—it was a curse.
Watching Serena thrash with a nosebleed and foam at the mouth, Morus himself grew flustered. Even if he had kicked her in the crotch, the aphrodisiac he had injected shouldn't have been this strong.
"Human male too cruel. She die like that."
Even a goblin with a child's intelligence could tell her seizures were not normal.
The words snapped Morus back to his senses. He remembered the antidote. He needed a sex slave, not the corpse of an aphrodisiac addict.
"Goblin, I'm going to get the medicine—stay right here!"
With that he bolted deeper into the cave. The goblin left alone with Serena stamped its feet anxiously for several minutes until Morus came panting back with a syringe full of blue liquid and emergency medical gear just in case.
Morus caught his breath and stared at the still-seizing Serena.
Come to think of it, he didn't need to save her at all.
Why? Because he was a member of the Cult of Corruption—the worst bastards this world had to offer.
Still clinging to Academy habits, are we?
He was a villain. That was exactly why he had captured Serena as a sex slave, and why he fully intended to "use" her in the literal sense of the word.
If her mind breaks, the cult taught me brainwashing magic. Hell, right now I could even get a master-servant contract out of her easily.
People are weak to pain.
What Serena was feeling might look like a form of pleasure, but pleasure this extreme was already a kind of violence.
Then something strange happened. A faint light began to radiate from Serena's body. Her flesh had taken unexpected damage, so divine power had reflexively leaked out.
"Divine power? Tch. Annoying."
To someone baptized in demonic energy like Morus, divine power was pure poison. He could crush most of it, sure—but that weak glow carried an unsettling amount of holy force. Extra measures were required.
"Hey. Can you hear me?"
"Uuuuh…"
"I said, can you hear me?!"
"Hiiik! Y-yes! I can hear you!"
Between the drug and the pain, Serena had shrunk into herself. Terror of Morus—the source of all this evil—had been planted deep. The agony she had just suffered was something she never wanted to experience again; her earlier defiance had vanished without a trace.
Confirming her attitude, Morus knelt so their eyes were level and pulled out a master-servant contract in front of her.
"The terms are simple. Party A protects Party B's food, clothing, shelter, and life. In exchange, Party B serves Party A as master and offers up her body. Simple enough, right?"
"Th-that's…"
It was simple, all right. And precisely because it was simple, it was lethal.
If she agreed, she—who was basically Level 1—would be exploited by Morus as a sex slave.
"Well, you don't have to agree. But instead…"
Morus pulled the syringe of blue liquid from his pocket with a put-upon air.
"If you keep resisting, I inject this again. Got it?"
It was actually the antidote, but Serena had no way of knowing that.
She stared at the syringe, torn.
The dose he already gave me felt like it was going to kill me—and more? But if I declare myself a sex slave, then I… No. As long as it isn't a brand of absolute subjugation, there are loopholes. And even that brand becomes void if the master dies.
To live, she had to become a sex slave.
Otherwise this Morus bastard would kill her for certain.
In other words, she was checkmated.
"I… I swear. I… agree to this contract."
"Eheheheh, good. I agree as well. With that, the contract is complete. Now then—shall we begin right away?"
The moment mutual consent was given, the contract burned away. At the same time a magic circle rose to enforce the pact and began to tighten around Serena's throat.
"Ugh!"
Ding!
— Sex Slave Contract has been established.
— Master recognized as Morus.
— Class converted from Holy Maiden to Sex Slave.
Fuuuuck.
The status window announcing the successful master-servant contract, the vivid tattoo blooming on her neck, and the tears welling in Serena's eyes all arrived together. Dropped into this world only to become a sex slave immediately—it was miserable.
"Contract's a success, so time to put you to use."
"W-wait!"
Morus had no intention of listening to a slave's opinion. He dropped his pants and pulled out his pride and joy—the cock he had never once used.
"Take a good look, you bitch. Does this look like a micropenis to you?"
Of course it's fucking huge. This is a dick-centric world after all.
She had clung to a sliver of hope that Morus really was packing something pathetic. That hope was crushed without mercy.
"Grrk, human! What about me?"
The goblin butted in between them.
Yes! Stab him in the back right now!
Serena pinned her hopes on the goblin's interruption. If it sparked a fight between the two and created an opening, she could escape. Even if the goblin just got killed, that was one less threat for her—no loss either way.
"I don't feel like sharing my first time, and hey—do you like booze?"
"Booze?!"
"If you stay quiet while I fuck her, I'll let you drink. We can sort out the woman problem later. Deal?"
"Good, human. Keep promise!"
"Sure. Here—chew on some jerky and watch the show."
Talk of food turned the murderous atmosphere peaceful in an instant.
Except for one person.
"No! You two are supposed to beat the shit out of each other—what the hell are you doing?!"