Elf Rides the Wooden Horse (3)
It felt just like getting your foot chopped by the very axe you trusted. I, who had placed such high value on Marhan's faith and the Blue Flag Knights' conviction in upholding the Pelgaroin Count's house, now felt utterly pathetic.
Of course, there was no fault in Marhan's actions. I was merely acting as regent in His Excellency the Count's stead. For Marhan, who served the Count as his lord, obeying my words was only natural.
But still. 'Why go the extra mile...!'
The problem was how impeccably Marhan was following my orders. If he'd only pretended to agree while mumbling some vague excuse, I could have found another way out. But Marhan didn't.
He'd suggested using the shackles with iron balls for an even harsher humiliation—and even told me exactly where to find them. Right in front of the Elf, who could hear every word.
'Read the room, Marhan!' I screamed internally, but this oblivious knight showed no sign of picking up on my expression.
In short, my escape route was blocked. A self-inflicted wound with no room for excuses. I'd been hoisted by my own petard.
But there was still room for improvement. I steadied my breathing as best I could and reignited a flicker of hope.
"Marhan. Despite being born a woman, you joined the knights and became a full-fledged knight, did you not? The path to knighthood must not have been smooth."
Marhan nodded, though puzzled. "Yes, that's correct."
"Then let me ask: what drove you to become a knight?"
"To protect the weak and safeguard the Empire and House Pelgaroin from the seven hells of the demon realm, known as the Magic Realm."
No hesitation in her answer. It spoke volumes about her pride in her knighthood and her unwavering sense of duty.
To turn the situation around, I needed to exploit this. "I see. Then it's rather unfortunate. You've been made to stand by and watch as I discipline a slave. With a bit of exaggeration, aren't you practically an accomplice now?"
I emphasized accomplice deliberately, hoping to prick her conscience and make her intervene. I'd laid the bait; now I just needed her to bite.
Marhan pondered my words in silence for a moment before speaking. "Indeed. Standing by while you, Regent Excellency, discipline a slave does conflict with my beliefs."
"Oh ho. Then you must wish to put a stop to this—"
"However."
Marhan placed a hand over her heart. "I swore loyalty to His Excellency the Count. And to you, Viscount Theorad, who acts with his trust as regent, I must show the same fealty. One's convictions must be strong, but not so strong as to override a lord's command. That is my idea of chivalry."
Her words rang with resolute integrity—integrity so sincere it pierced straight to my heart. On any other day, I'd have showered her with praise for being such an exemplary knight.
But not today. I felt the tiny spark of hope inside me crumble to ash, and with a wretched heart, I curled my lips into a smile.
"Oh, what sound judgment. You're right. Go fetch the shackles."
"Yes, Regent Excellency."
Marhan bowed her head crisply and headed to the corner where the shackles lay. Watching her, I absently fiddled with the brooch at my throat.
'This is driving me mad.'
The tension prickled across my skin as events spiraled in the exact opposite direction of my intentions. I had no desire to ramp up the torture's intensity. And with this unintended shackle play about to happen, I had no idea how the Elf would react.
'...Don't look back for now.'
Meeting her eyes might give her unnecessary ammunition, leaving me the worse for it. Standing with hands clasped behind my back, I waited until Marhan returned with the shackles and presented them.
"Here they are. They're quite heavy... It seems they're meant to be fitted around the torture subject's ankles. The added weight increases the pain, I suppose."
They looked heavy even at a glance. Marhan's hands were larger than mine—a man's—yet the iron balls were nearly the size of her palms.
'And we're supposed to clamp these on ankles?'
This wasn't a joke; it went far beyond mere pain. As I hesitated, Marhan glanced at the slave.
Pity flickered in her thick, sturdy eyes. "No matter how I look at it, this will be rough on that slave. She's staring over here like she's terrified—I'm not sure she can endure it..."
"...Terrified?"
"Yes. Look closely—she's hiccuping like she's on the verge of tears."
Perfect. Even for the Elf, this was a plus. The anxiety gnawing at the base of my gut finally eased.
No need to fear anymore. With a glad heart, I turned and pointed with my chin at the Elf, who—as Marhan said—held back tears.
"Clamp the shackles on the slave's ankles."
"Pardon? But..."
You suggested it yourself! Don't back out now!
"Since we're doing this, I want proper discipline."
"If you insist that strongly, very well."
Marhan nodded and approached the Elf. Kneeling on one knee, she began fastening the shackles around the slender ankle. The Elf shot me a pleading glance.
"N-Nooo... M-Master, please forgive me. I-I might really die..."
Even knowing it was an act, a pang of conscience still stung. Who could enjoy watching a pitiful woman beg through tears?
But right now, I was a cold-blooded psychopath who'd toss aside a chef's painstaking dish after one bite. Ignoring the Elf's pleas, I sneered dismissively.
"Quit your whining. You won't die from this."
"M-Masterrr..."
"Your sniveling is annoying. Marhan, are the shackles secure?"
"Ah, yes. Just a moment..."
Clank.
The sound of the shackles locking around her ankle yanked the Elf's leg downward. The iron ball's weight dragged it mercilessly.
"Eek...!"
Startled, the Elf yanked hard on the ropes binding her wrists, trying to lift her body against the pull. Meanwhile, Marhan fastened the other shackle.
With both ankles shackled, her balance evened out. But it was too soon for relief. Even weight distribution meant even downward pull.
"It hurts, it huuuurts...!"
Her vulva, pressed against the wooden pony's ridge, sank lower. Her labia parted, slick arousal flowing more freely, and each time, the Elf gritted her teeth, straining the ropes to rise.
In the struggle, her exposed breasts jiggled lightly, and her unintended grinding against the ridge stoked both pain and lust.
"Hic, haaah... M-My pussy's getting ruined..."
She panted heavily, yanking the ropes with all her might. Her lower abdomen tensed, her spread folds clamping tighter onto the wood like teeth.
It was so lasciviously obscene, I almost felt embarrassed watching.
"I-It's breaking, it's gonna break...! Hic, please forgive me, Master... I-I'm gonna pee..."
Was it the involuntary tension from the exertion, or had she held it deliberately to release in front of me? Either way, I couldn't stop her—she wouldn't want me to.
"What do you expect me to do? If you have to pee, then pee."
"Nooo. Not like this, not in front of Master..."
The pitifully sniffling Elf finally shuddered as if she couldn't hold it. Bright yellow liquid trickled from her slit, streaming down the triangular pony.
And of course, my overcoat was draped over it.
'That's expensive, you bitch...'
Part of me wanted to yell about her lack of potty training. But that would just extend the scolding. Knowing when to strike and retreat was key to sustaining this bizarre dynamic, so I pressed a hand to my nose bridge and scowled.
"The stench is reaching me even here. You've killed my mood. We're done here—time to withdraw."
Marhan's face brightened, a rare sight. "Ah, understood. Then I'll remove the shackles..."
"Don't."
"Pardon? But leaving her like this—she'll suffer greatly."
For an ordinary slave, yes. For the Elf, abandonment like this would probably thrill her more. But with no way to explain, I glared at Marhan instead.
"I told you not to question me twice."
At my warning, she nodded reluctantly. Good thing she didn't prattle on.
"Let's go."
I swept out of the room with utmost dignity. Marhan hesitated a moment before following.
From behind came a faint 'Don't go, Masterrr...', which I ignored completely.
"Regent Excellency."
As we walked the corridor, Marhan spoke up. Without turning, I replied.
"Speak."
"You left your overcoat behind. Shall I fetch it?"
"No need."
"Ah, um. I heard it was something you cherished."
"I do cherish it, but thanks to you, I don't need it anymore."
"Pardon?"
If she hadn't insisted on bringing the shackles, the Elf wouldn't have pissed herself. Irritated, I ground my teeth as Marhan scratched her nape and fell in beside me.
"You seem to take good care of that slave, Excellency. The ropes, the overcoat—all prepared by you, right? Your actions are a bit rough, but you must really like slaves..."
"Marhan."
Recalling the character for 'endure,' I turned to her with my most benevolent face.
"One more word, and I'll have you executed."
*
"Mm."
Left alone in the torture chamber, the Elf stared out the open door. No more footsteps—Theorad must have left the basement.
A bit disappointing, but unavoidable. Smacking her lips, she muttered softly. The ropes burned away, and the shackles on her ankles shattered.
She dismounted the wooden pony carefully, and as her feet touched the floor, residual urine trickled down her thighs.
Ignoring it, she lifted the overcoat draped over the pony. At a glance, it was luxurious, embroidered with the Deharm viscountcy crest in gold thread on the breast.
'Consideration, huh.'
She understood now why he'd covered the pony.
'Filthy.'
The piss-soaked mess wasn't pleasant, so she used magic to clean it spotless.
But what to do with it? After a moment's thought, she clutched it to her chest and inhaled deeply.
Curiosity. A faint scent of sweat brushed her nose, like an answer.
'Mm.'
Too good to discard. It might prove useful someday. With a snap of her fingers, space tore open—a rift detached from reality, bruised purple like a captured universe, widening its maw.
She tossed in the overcoat and snapped again. The rift sealed instantly.
Business done—time to go. She summoned a misty breeze to cleanse her body, then suddenly recalled Theorad during the self-flagellation.
'What an idiot.'
Thinking of his earnest, comical zeal in tormenting her brought a smile to her lips.
'Today's plaything was...'
Surprisingly cute.