Chapter 10
Chapter 10
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: The Elf Who Wants to Be Sold Off
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A faint hint of delight laced her whimpering reply. When I jerked my chin to urge her on, the elf hoisted her hips onto the desk and reclined her upper body.
Whether she was truly feeling shy now that she was lying down, or just putting on an act, I couldn't tell—but the elf flushed red and covered her breasts.
I was just as embarrassed. How could anyone keep a normal frame of mind with a naked woman sprawled on the desk?
But right now, I was a cold-blooded psychopath.
Having hypnotized myself into that role over and over, I rose from my seat and picked up the melting spoon. The bead-shaped sealing wax I'd placed on it had melted nicely into liquid form.
"Embarrassed?"
I gazed down at her coolly and murmured. The elf averted her eyes and gave a small nod.
"A little..."
"If you're embarrassed, then I'll have to make it so you're not. I'll dress you up, so move your hands."
"...Master?"
"I told you not to question me."
At my threatening tone, the elf reluctantly lowered her hands.
The breasts that were revealed were more stunning than I'd imagined.
'...This is the first time I've seen them this close up.'
The sight of her perfectly sized, luscious breasts gently compressed by gravity felt lewd, regardless of the situation.
The way they were shaped to keep from spreading too much only amplified it.
That said, they didn't feel artificially springy. I'd heard modern magic technology allowed for some breast enhancements, but these looked completely natural no matter how I looked at them...
Not the time to dwell on that. Snapping out of it, I slowly tilted the melting spoon.
"Grit your teeth. It'll be a bit hot."
The sealing wax dripped from the spoon like cheese mixed with water, landing on her pink nipple and flowing over it. The startled elf arched her back, making her breasts jiggle once.
"Hnngh...!"
It must have been hot, because she bit her lip hard and her shoulders twitched. Her clenched fists showed her determination to endure the pain.
'Is she really into this?'
Her reaction was so intense that forbidden doubts resurfaced. But the doubt was brief, and my action swift.
I poured wax on her other breast too, then set the melting spoon back over the candle flame.
Naturally, I added a few more beads of sealing wax to the spoon and checked the elf's complexion. Her face was flushed, her breathing ragged.
"Heh... haaah..."
Good. Unlike dripping candle wax drop by drop, pouring it all at once seemed more to her taste.
On my end, though, I wasn't enjoying this at all. There was a faint smell like burning flesh.
I couldn't let it show. I scoffed once and picked up the quill pen.
"A fitting outfit for a slut not even worth clothing. Don't you think?"
"Y-yes... For a filthy sow like me, even this is too much..."
Her dreamy, dazed tone gave me full confidence. This was working!
Now that I had the flow going, I just needed to slowly roll out my preparations. Then this elf would leave the office satisfied on her own.
'Perfect!'
Praising my own ingenuity, I dipped the quill in ink and raised it.
Now, write an appropriate phrase on her stomach, pour more sealing wax, and stamp the family seal. The sale would be complete.
Yeah. An appropriate phrase...
'But what the hell do I write?'
The writing on her belly was the highlight of this sexual torment. When she got back to her room and checked in the mirror what phrase I'd inscribed on her stomach—that was the finale of the sale.
Even I had to admit it was a solid idea. But a generic phrase wouldn't satisfy this perverted elf's tastes.
'I need something cruder, something that makes you grimace.'
The problem was, I had no talent for that. In a dull life spent staring only at Esil without chasing skirts, expecting creativity was a stretch.
But I wasn't without a plan. There was a repository of debauched knowledge from those with experience, even if I lacked it myself.
*'Lewd Hobgoblin Maid.'*
I'd read that book once, curious about who the author even was.
I'd picked it up as a kid out of curiosity and nearly puked, so there had to be some usable lines in there.
With my hand on her stomach, I rummaged through old memories.
—Have you ever seen elephant balls? No? Perfect. What you're about to see are elephant balls. Now! Open your eyes wide and behold your master's balls!
Why was that line even in there? No good. I shook my head.
—The world's lost all romance. In this era where you can buy love with money, true love's just an illusion. But listen, hob-goblin! Remember this: the moment you couple with me, I'll love you more than anyone in the world!
How did I even get through reading that? Anyway, no.
—Now it's time to make the prince's glans kiss the sleeping princess's womb mouth. And awaken your lust. It'll hurt a bit, but endure it.
What bullshit!
'Dad, why the hell did you buy a limited hardcover edition of crap like this?'
I was pissed but couldn't show it. The elf seemed to have caught her breath and was watching me.
For now, let's mash those three lines together into a sales phrase. I rearranged words in my head, gripped the quill firmly, and drew the first stroke.
"Hnngh."
The elf squirmed from the tickle, and the stroke went awry.
I sighed lowly and naturally glared at her.
"Hold your breath. You think the paper's supposed to move?"
"S-sorry..."
Tch. Clicking my tongue, I lowered my gaze and began writing the phrase on her stomach.
Culling usable words from those lines, I pieced together a plausible sales inscription. Finish it, stamp the seal, and send her off.
But my nose had been twitching for a while now. Was it the smoke from pouring hot wax on her body? Or dust floating because I hadn't aired out the office?
I didn't know, but the sour sensation lingering at the tip of my nose was annoying. I felt a cough coming but held it back.
Better to finish the phrase first, then—
"Achoo!"
The cough burst out against my will. My shoulders jerked, pressing the pen down hard.
'Damn it.'
I panicked briefly but regained composure. Even if she wasn't in sale pose anymore, she'd overlook a single cough.
Yeah. Just finish the phrase and send her packing.
I wiped my mouth with my other hand, looked down—and froze more than expected.
'Wh-what...?'
From the cough's recoil, I'd jabbed the quill tip into her skin.
Not deep. Just a bit. No blood, probably.
Gulping, I slowly lifted the quill.
Drip—
Incredibly, a drop of blood welled up and trickled. Just one line, but totally unexpected.
'I'm screwed.'
Cold sweat poured like water. Would the elf like me damaging her body? Other acts, maybe, but this drew blood. And not on purpose—a mistake.
But who knows. Maybe she was into this too. Swallowing fear, I turned to her—and she was staring right back, as if expecting it.
"..."
The problem was her sharp gaze held zero goodwill toward me.
I never liked the cliché "it felt like time stopped." Never experienced it, never will.
Likewise, the poetic fancy that you'd want time to freeze forever? Just poets' nonsense.
"..."
But now I got it. I felt viscerally why such phrases exist.
Locked in eye contact with the elf, I desperately wished time would stop—more than anyone in the world.
Because if time kept flowing, I'd be dead...
'What do I do.'
My mind blanked. I kept a straight face, but inside, I was a condemned criminal gripped by primal terror.
To avoid execution, I had to prove my innocence to the judge—the elf—no matter what. But with my mistake so obvious...?
'Wait. Mistake?'
I won't deny screwing up. But does the elf know that? No. She's probably just annoyed that my torment veered from what she wanted.
No need to make it worse. I had to turn this "mistake" into "intentional from the start" and flip guilt to innocence.
"Annoying."
First, express emotion boldly. If I acted confident, she'd back down.
Indeed, her sharp frown softened to puzzlement. Halfway there.
"I clearly told you to hold your breath, so why are you still breathing? Does my writing look sloppy to you?"
Next, assert justification. Eliminate the idea I sneezed and jabbed by accident; implant that I stabbed because she breathed during writing, pissing me off.
The former's a lie, the latter truth. Nail it home to make her believe.
I yanked my throat brooch irritably and furrowed my brow.
"Answer me, you trash."
Final argument done. Now for the judge's verdict.
Holding my breath, I watched her. She gaped blankly, then lowered her eyes and whimpered softly. Her pointed ears drooped with her gaze.
"Sorryyy... But holding my breath hurts so muuuch..."
Verdict: not guilty!
Survival's thrill made my heart race. Suppressing the urge to cheer inwardly, I scoffed.
"You pathetic tool, fretting over your own pain. Hilarious. Didn't the steward teach you your place in human society? Or did you get taught but your dim brain can't grasp how absolute your master's commands are?"
"Hnnghk... Sorry, your dim slave, Master..."
"Fitting for vermin. Understanding your station deserves praise, but committing blunder after blunder despite that is unforgivable. Don't irk me again. Unless you want punishment."
At my icy glare, she bit her lip and nodded vigorously. Her trembling eyes looked ready to burst into tears, pricking my conscience.
I wanted to hug her tight and say it was a joke. But that'd snap my bones. It was all just her act to toy with me.
"Now, back to writing. Hold your breath. Breathe in or out from the pain, and you'll get worse than this. Remember that."
She nodded silently, took a deep breath, and tensed her stomach. Holding it.
Now it was a race against time. Finish the phrase before she exhaled.
If she breathed midway, disaster. I hadn't planned any "worse punishment" at all.