A Meeting That Shouldn't Happen (4)
Leviham slipped out of the reception room and ducked into an empty chamber in the mansion. He had no intention of taking a leisurely nap.
─ Please refrain from rash actions within the mansion from now on. The master hates having his hobbies exposed.
The Elf's words suddenly resurfaced in his mind, but Leviham just snorted derisively. Stay quiet? What an arrogant, absurd demand.
Now that he'd caught wind of Theorad Deharm striking some shady deal with the Black Moon Guildmaster—a witch, no less—how could he, a servant of the God of Light, simply let it slide? From past to present, the scriptures commanded the faithful to root out and punish heretics. With Theorad showing signs of heresy, Leviham had no intention of defying his divine mission.
'All is the will of the gods.'
The Elf's intimidating aura unnerved him, but retreat was impossible. He had sworn to dedicate his life to upholding the gods' will and making the world a better place. On the day he became a cleric, he had vowed under divine mercy to create a more equal world—and acting accordingly was his duty.
Thus, Leviham sharpened his senses, focusing on the corridor's sounds. He'd chosen an empty room along the path to the study, so Theorad's footsteps would surely pass by.
As expected, about five minutes later, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. The problem was the sharp click-clack of heels accompanying them.
─ I'm sorry, Master. It's all my fault you had to go through this trouble.
─ Don't flaunt your empty-headedness now. I'll make sure you bone-deep realize your incompetence this time.
─ I-I just...
─ You trash. No excuses.
One voice was the Elf's. The other, naturally, belonged to Theorad. Leviham froze in shock for a moment.
'Taking a slave into the study?'
Leviham wasn't an expert on noble family customs, but he knew the basics. Typically, only the family head used the study, and slaves were never brought there. The space for official duties was considered sacred. No matter how debauched, they avoided polluting it with symbols of impurity like slaves. Even prodigals upheld that tradition—yet Theorad Deharm, head of the prestigious Deharm family, had broken his ancestors' rules. It was shocking.
'So his outward benevolence is just a mask. Or perhaps...'
The Elf might actually be one of the underworld's powers disguised as a slave. A ridiculous notion, but plausible given Theorad's ties to the Black Moon Guildmaster. Still, it was all suspicion—no hard evidence. To truly understand, he needed to eavesdrop on Theorad's own words.
Creeeak—
Leviham cracked the door open cautiously and peered down the hall. Not far off, Theorad and the Elf walked side by side. Theorad exchanged a few words with her, then opened the study door and entered. The Elf followed naturally.
A normal slave might hesitate to enter her master's study, but the Elf acted as if it were routine.
'This happens often, then.'
What was their relationship that she saw entering the study alone with him as normal? Curiosity bred suspicion, and suspicion tempted Leviham like a fraying thread.
Swallowing hard, he stepped into the corridor and approached the study. Slowly, muffling his presence, he pressed his ear to the door. He had to uncover what words passed between them—and what massive conspiracy they might ignite.
*
I'm screwed.
"Hm..."
He'd stormed into the study with the Elf in tow, full of bravado, but he had no clue what the mysterious metal bucket on the desk was for. The crystal orb was gone, so the package must have arrived intact. But what the hell was he supposed to do with an iron bucket?
At least there was a ribbon-wrapped box beside it—a small mercy.
Vrrr—
The Elf's gaze, brimming with eager curiosity like a pup awaiting treats, weighed on him heavily. If she had a tail, it'd be wagging furiously right now. Could he really turn that anticipation into satisfaction...?
Glancing sidelong at her with a scowl, he cleared his throat and strode to the desk.
"Perfect timing—the items I ordered have arrived. I'll inspect them, so wait here."
"Y-Yes..."
After ordering her to stay put, he took a deep breath and untied the ribbon. Lifting the lid revealed an assortment of obscenely lewd items he could barely look at straight: underwear with so little fabric it barely qualified as clothing, a headband, mystery pills, a rod with a rounded end, and a leather whip, all neatly arranged.
He'd never kept or even wondered about such things his whole life. How had the Elf ensnared him into this?
Scoffing at himself, he pulled out the paper from the box's corner and unfolded it. It was the instruction manual Dremes had promised to enclose.
To Viscount Theorad Deharm,
Hello, Viscount Theorad? Thank you so much for patronizing our shop. But do I really need to keep using formal speech? Right? I mean, you and that dog-shit Baynen don't exactly see eye to eye. Still, since I can't read your mind, I'll stick to formal here.
Anyway, to the point: The adult toys I sent you are called the "Cow Set." You know what a cow is? The animal that squirts milk from its udders. If you get that, you're golden.
This turns a woman into a literal cow. Now, check the box—there's a pill called "Lactation Pill." Pop it, and it'll make her mammary glands produce milk. In simple terms: tits that lactate. The more aroused she gets, the more milk flows. Taste? Honestly, no idea. Some say it's gross, others love it—probably depends on the person's constitution.
The rest? You can figure it out. I trust you.
One bit of advice: If you're diving into pervy play, do it with confidence. Women don't just feel it with their bodies—they feel it with their minds, hearts, and the vibe. If you're not confident in your actions, she'll overthink everything.
P.S. Tell that fucker Baynen I'm seriously gonna kill him soon.
— Dremes, Black Moon Guildmaster
Having read the so-called manual disguised as a letter, he folded it away with a troubled heart.
'Pills that make milk...'
Were he and this woman really living in the same era? In some world he didn't know, abominations like this were being churned out routinely. It felt like the colors through which he viewed the world had sunk even lower...
"Master?"
But he had no time for gloom. Right now, he needed to focus solely on satisfying the Elf.
Before the real torment began, he had to explain the products—to prevent any mishaps.
'Start with...'
The least outrageous one (though nothing really was) first.
Turning to her with the box, he tossed the underwear and headband at her feet.
Thud.
As she eyed them curiously, he began.
"This is what you'll wear when punished. Got a problem?"
"B-But it's too slutty..."
"A sex toy born to serve my lusts, complaining about slutty clothes?"
"N-No, that's not it..."
Her reaction seemed adequately pleased. Onward.
He pulled out the pill and held it up.
"This is for you to swallow. Makes milk without pregnancy. I ordered it specially."
Emphasizing his preparation seemed to delight her—a faint smile tugged at her lips.
"Nooo... Master, you're such a devil..."
"Quiet."
Second success. Riding the momentum, he set the pill down and drew the whip.
"Prepared this in case you disobey. It'll hurt like hell."
"Nooooo!"
His lips twitched involuntarily at the repeated wins. This was a landslide victory. If he played it right, he'd satisfy her fully today—and escape mockery for a while. Pure bliss!
Wings of happiness unfurling, he confidently brandished the final item: the rod with its rounded, worn tip, carved like a dragon's head. Dremes's "Dragon Head," no doubt. Use? Obvious.
"If you keep disobeying, I'll shove this up your—"
"No."
...Huh?
Swallowing hard as she cut him off, he stared. This wasn't her usual "no." Her face screamed genuine disgust. The air chilled palpably—her breath fogged with icy vapor. No arguing that.
Terror overwhelming him, he chuckled awkwardly after a brief silence and tossed the dragon head aside.
"Kidding. No time to waste toying with your filthy cunt."
Only then did the chill lift, her expression softening. From glaring daggers to pouting innocently in a blink—it was impossible to get used to.
But showing unease would endanger his life, family, and retainers. Fingering his phoenix brooch, he drawled as vilely as possible.
"Strip. Change into that slutty outfit to prove your submission."
"Y-Yes..."
Thankfully, she obeyed without protest. Removing her frilled headband and untying her apron, she shed her outer layers naturally. Collarbones emerged first, followed by her alluringly curved breasts. Pink nipples and flawless pale skin captivated any man's gaze.
Presenting her breasts brazenly, she shot him a subtle glance and stripped off the maid uniform entirely. The fabric pooled lingeringly at her calves.
"..."
Utterly naked. She stood still a moment, as if inviting his eyes, then bent slowly to pick up the underwear. The deliberate pace let him watch her breasts sag gently under gravity before bouncing back in real time.
Seductive. Lewd. Nothing like the Great Forest's noble ruler—every motion teased his nerves mercilessly.
His breath grew ragged despite himself. Noticing, she purred with playful red eyes.
"Take good care of me."
Arrogantly.
And nobly.
"My master."
The Elf was seducing him.