Night Walk of Madness (2)
If someone were to speak to me of our family's prosperity, I would tell them to look up at the statue of my father standing in the center of the courtyard. My father was the previous head of the renowned Deharm Viscount family, a peerless talent in the county and an exceptional leader.
On the other hand, if they spoke of our family's decline, there was no need to look far. The origin of that decline lay right beneath my feet…
"H-heuk… hng…."
The Elf was licking the sole of my shoe. Not just licking it, but doing so with fervent passion. She swallowed the dirt caked into the treads with hacking coughs, then extended her tongue again to meticulously clean my shoe with it. The mud covering it gradually vanished, replaced by a glistening sheen of her saliva.
For someone like me, who had never done or even dreamed of such perverse acts in my life, I couldn't stop my facial muscles from twitching in unwanted revulsion. In other words, I was the one feeling the shame.
I'm going insane.
Clearly… the elves from the fairy tales of my childhood were kind and compassionate beings. They lavishly hosted lost adventurers or aided wounded stragglers who fled into the forest without hesitation—noble race that they were.
But what the hell was this?
What was this deranged woman, sprawled under my foot, greedily lapping at my shoe like some starving beast?
I couldn't comprehend it. And that incomprehension only deepened my fear…
"Hah."
Having polished my shoe to a shine, the Elf pulled her head back. A thread of saliva trailed from her mouth like spun silk before snapping. She caught her breath, then parted her glistening lips.
"Woof."
Was she seriously imitating a dog now, just because I'd told her not to speak when the collar was on? Her flushed face gazing up at me sent chills down my spine for some reason.
Unable to find the right words, I froze for a moment before slowly withdrawing my foot. Perhaps because I'd stepped on her for so long, a clear imprint of my shoe marked her breast.
"Fine. I suppose this is enough for you to feel just how rock-bottom your life is. I'll end today's punishment here…."
The Elf's expression turned icy in an instant. I hastily changed tack.
"…or so you thought, you insolent bitch!"
I bellowed and pressed my foot against her face. Not truly stomping, of course—just resting it lightly.
"Eek, kii…!"
But she paid no mind to the nuance of my force. Being trampled under my foot seemed to spark some twisted pleasure in her.
"St-stop… please, M-Master…!"
The Elf grabbed my ankle with her hand. My heart skipped, thinking she'd snap it—but thankfully, no such disaster occurred.
"It h-hurts too much…!"
Quite the opposite, in fact. She was pulling my ankle, urging me to grind harder into her face.
Fuck, for real.
Goosebumps prickled across my skin, but there was no reason not to play along.
"Speaking human words again, you cheeky mutt—!"
"Kyaaang!"
I slammed her head into the grass and bore down with my foot.
Why are you doing this to me, seriously?
I wanted to cry from the injustice. This wasn't who I was…
But I couldn't drop the act. I ground my shoe into her cheek until the imprint lingered, then steadied my breath and lifted my foot.
"Hoo. Speak human words one more time, and you'll suffer worse than this."
Oh no. I'd said it without thinking and gasped in surprise. What if she deliberately defied me just to force worse humiliations? I'd be trapped.
Sweat beading on my brow, I looked down. The Elf closed her tear-glistened eyes and murmured softly.
"M-meow…."
Hah. Good. She seemed satisfied for now.
Then it was time to head back. I'd tilted the situation in my favor; she couldn't complain anymore.
"If you understand, turn around and get up."
"Kiiing…."
But when I tugged the collar, she didn't rise. She fidgeted awkwardly, then reached down to fondle her privates. Her legs twisted desperately, like she was at her limit.
Did she want to mate? That would be a problem. I didn't want to fumble and leave her unsatisfied to the point of death.
Besides, no matter how raging her lust, it couldn't overcome fear. Even the Emperor I'd glimpsed as a child hadn't terrified me this much. How could I possibly have sex with someone scarier than him?
Not in my right mind, anyway. It was impossible in this state.
Still, I had to confirm. Calming my trembling lips, I spoke as casually as I could.
"Want to mate? With me? A wretch like you? Ha! You still haven't learned your place. I take you when I want, not when you do!"
I infused it with bravado, expecting her to back down. But she rubbed her lower belly and began shedding tears.
"Kiiing, hiiing…."
What? She didn't seem to want sex. Maybe something else?
Hesitating, I arrogantly jerked my chin.
"Tonight, I'll allow you to speak. Explain yourself."
"Y-yes…! I-I feel like my bladder’s about to burst…!"
"Your bladder?"
Urine? Just pee then. The mansion was full of toilets. Over five for the servants alone, plus two for slaves. All cleaned weekly, no smells.
No need to beg me…
Ah.
There was. This was it.
Piss play.
I'd once read a book in Father's study called Lewd Hobgoblin Maid. A limited edition where something similar appeared. I'd thought it pure fantasy, but now it seemed like memoir.
The Elf before me craved exactly that.
Wait. Does that mean the author actually fucked a hobgoblin?
And why did Father buy it?
…Never mind. It made my stomach churn.
Focus on the situation.
"If you need to pee, do it right here."
"M-Master, please have mercy… Please let this worthless bitch use the toilet…."
Her reaction confirmed it. Regaining confidence, I sneered again.
"Why would a bitch need a toilet? Ever seen a street dog use one?"
"That's too cruel…!"
"The cruel thing is your lowly brain still not grasping your place. Before I get angrier, get up and piss somewhere nearby."
The Elf reluctantly turned and braced on the ground. I thought she'd just go on any patch of grass, but she seemed to wait for my command—while slyly glancing toward Father's statue.
Did I see that wrong?
Observing closely, no mistake. She was eyeing the statue.
Did she want to piss there? Not on the statue itself, but to confirm I was human scum.
A family head letting a slave soil his father's statue. Perfect for dragging her to rock bottom.
But. But…
No fucking way!
I won't! Not even if it kills me! How could I let a slave's piss defile the father I respect and love? Not even if a blade were at my throat…
"M-Master… where should I pee…?"
…A blade was at my throat.
Her question made her intent crystal clear.
"Piss…."
My hand shook as I loosened my throat brooch. My mouth went dry; sweat beaded despite the chill night air.
In that moment, I faced an unwanted choice. Make her piss in the bushes for uncertain survival, or on Father's statue for guaranteed safety?
Think, think. See the forest, not the trees.
If only my life hung in the balance, I'd pick the bushes. But one wrong choice could doom the entire household.
And… no one else knew about the statue. No honor lost.
Yes. Losing my life over pride would be putting the cart before the horse.
Forgive me, Father.
Live first, atone later.
Swallowing my rage, I spoke.
"Piss on that statue. Might be amusing."
Her eyes widened in shock.
"Y-yes? B-but that's your father…."
I know, you bitch! You wanted this! Your eyes said it all!
"Doesn't matter. So what if it's my father? He's dead—just a corpse now. Or will you defy my order?"
"N-no…!"
"Then come."
I yanked her collar toward the statue. Dragged on all fours across the grass, she arrived and looked up, pleading for the command again.
"Filthy wretch. Hurry up and piss."
"Ah. Y-yes…!"
With permission, she lifted one leg like a dog and hesitated. Then—a bright yellow stream jetted from her privates, splattering the statue's base.
The chill air made steam rise in thick clouds, tormenting me further. The arcing urine slowed to dribbles from her urethra.
Gazing at the residual piss trickling down her thighs, I feigned cold detachment.
"Lick up your own piss."
"Th-that…."
"Now."
She shuddered, bowed her head. Her silver hair trailed into the fresh puddle; her dainty tongue slipped out.
She began lapping at the urine she'd pissed at Father's statue base.
Is this right? I rubbed my eyes, sighing deeply in secret.
Forgive me. Your son is a wretched bastard… I'm truly sorry.
I couldn't bear the statue's gaze and looked up. But the myriad stars in the night sky seemed like the accusing eyes of my ancestors, doubling my guilt.
My life seems ruined. No, perhaps our entire family…
I'll gladly pay in hell. No indulgences sought.
"Hngut, it stinks…! Forgive me, Master…."
No… perhaps this is hell.