Side Story: Gloria's Second Deviation

Gloria Lun Alizarad paced her own chamber, filled with ornate gold chandeliers and silken luxuries. A short while later, her knight appeared at the window. The kingdom's top thief, she possessed absolute prowess in espionage and covert operations. If she schemed behind Gloria's back, there was no physical way for Gloria herself to detect it. She could only vaguely guess.

"How did it go?"

"I've received the report, but it seems the Magic Tower's activities are still ongoing."

"I see."

It had been over a month since Alisa entered the Magic Tower. To be precise, thirty-one days plus exactly two more weeks.

'She must have gotten caught, huh? Well, she was a hopeless masochist through and through. Can't be helped, I suppose.'

Gloria hadn't held high hopes. But it was true that she'd harbored some expectations. Still, she didn't sigh or show disappointment. Alisa would break through the dungeon anyway. Gloria was certain of it.

Among the effects of the artifact she'd handed to Alisa was one that allowed sending messages. If worst came to worst, they could resolve it through that.

Gloria gestured to her loyal knight, Samiel, as if to say she'd worked hard and should withdraw. Samiel nodded and vanished.

Gloria led a busy life. Every moment demanded meetings, decisions, judgments, and proofs of her authority. Yet paradoxically, as her plans progressed, she found herself with more free time.

"I don't prefer having no schedule,"

She chuckled softly, pulling out Alisa's training log from the ducal house. Every entry brimmed with perverse, thrilling content.

Gloria herself──────if she ended up like that.

Just imagining it aroused her. She wanted to masturbate right then, but she held back. With her immense libido, once she started, she'd lose herself in it for over an hour.

"No time right now, so let's look forward to a week from now."

A week later, in the audience chamber. The usual meeting proceeded smoothly. Introducing magic engineering. Revising laws. Matters that should have taken months or years were being tackled now. The royal jurists would suffer, but their leadership was in Gloria's pocket. Swaying them was easy. No need for hostages like with the prideful artisans. Simply loosening drug regulations would suffice. Turn a blind eye to illegal slaves. Amend laws to let them run rampant. That alone would have those backroom fossils grasping her hand in delight.

Of course, their loyalty was fake. In a crisis, they'd cut her loose instantly. To them, the young regent Gloria was a convenient puppet.

She could cut them first, of course, but she wouldn't. Their betrayal would make her downfall all the more spectacular.

After the meeting, Gloria headed through the kingdom's quiet corridors, accompanied by her knight Samiel. The royal castle, boasting towering walls and majestic beauty, was vast. From afar, it resembled a colossal mountain. Fitting its size, it hid countless side paths and secret passages reserved for royals.

Even a princess could roam undetected.

Gloria slipped out unnoticed, donned a white hood, and boarded a carriage at the castle stables. The pre-arranged coachman nodded subtly. As Gloria and Samiel climbed in, it departed immediately.

In the jolting carriage, Gloria pulled out a mirror ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to check her appearance. Even hooded and robed to conceal her identity, her massive breasts retained their sharp outline. The robe's luxurious fabric betrayed her status. She tightened the belt at her waist, lewdly accentuating her figure: huge breasts, slim waist, firm underbust.

She wiggled her hips, inspecting for flaws. Until that day she dreamed of, she had to maintain her ideal form.

"Lady Gloria. We've arrived. As planned."

The carriage halted. Samiel, hooded like her, whispered softly.

As Samiel spoke, a servant knocked on the door from outside and cautiously called.

"Princess?"

The princess's public purpose was to tour the magic engineering devices here, hand over a few, and indulge in decadent exchanges with the marquess and other nobles. A train of carriages followed hers, laden with goods.

But her true aim was different.

"Her Highness the Princess feels a bit unwell today and says she'll return to the palace shortly."

The servant nodded without question at Samiel's reply. The carriage circled the marquess's garden slowly, heading to the back gate.

Gloria and Samiel appeared to leave with it, but they'd already slipped out before it moved. Using invisibility magic, they went the opposite way from the servants handling luggage.

Entering through the marquess's unused back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠door, Gloria scanned around. No one noticed her or Samiel under the spell. The kingdom's premier thief and a royal mage—only veteran adventurers might sense something amiss.

Deep inside the marquess's estate, they passed reception halls, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠terraces, and private chambers, reaching the secret banquet hall at its heart.

Gloria removed her hood and dispelled the magic.

"More spacious and lavish than I imagined."

"Indeed. The marquess's pleasure den. They bring female slaves here for torture."

Lately, nobles openly hosted feasts with booze, women, and illegal slaves—once banned in the kingdom. Not just the duke who owned Alisa, but even this minor marquess bought them brazenly.

Gloria slowly shed her robe. Her obscene, violent presence—those massive breasts—burst free, impossible to hide even in a white dress embroidered with golden threads. She slipped the shoulder straps off, folding the dress neatly on the floor.

In the silent secret hall, Princess Gloria stood in just her breast coverings and panties.

"..............Haah♡."

It felt exquisite. An electric thrill of liberation and deviance beyond words. She glanced around. Empty. Samiel's beast-like senses would detect anyone approaching like a ghost.

Still, the thrill was inescapable. She'd indulged in exposures and masturbation at the palace before, but this—far away in a marquess's lair—was new.

Gloria slowly removed her breast coverings. The rear hook clicked free; her unsupported breasts sagged slightly, yet retained perfect shape. Elegantly placing a hand on their soft swell, she slid off her panties with the other. They were soaked, viscous pussy juices stretching in strings.

Nude now, she eyed the center: a white metal device hanging from the ceiling. Complex in form, its sole purpose was clear. Tormenting women sexually.

"Is this the new restraint device...♡"

Dubbed the "Posture Correction Device". A perversion of old noble ladies' posture aids. If the original enforced proper form, this inflicted shame and pain.

Gloria approached, caressing it. Suspended, but height-adjustable. She asked Samiel,

"What was the schedule again?"

"The banquet starts in three hours. They planned to bring party slaves, but per your request, Lady Gloria, we've changed it. You'll be the sole slave for the occasion."

"I see....♡"

Just imagining it aroused her. Pussy dripping, she stepped to the restraints.

First, both arms. The frame formed a grand 大-shape for full-body binding: arms, legs, waist, neck. Tilted at 45 degrees, suspended a meter up, facing downward—impossible to self-bind. (※ ∖ shape)

Gloria spread her arms to the cuffs. Samiel activated them, locking her wrists perfectly. Adaptive to the wearer's build.

Whirr. A mechanical hum, and they were secure.

Then her ankles, locked immovably.

"Ha.......♡"

No turning back. Whatever happened, she'd endure shame until the banquet ended. She—the regent ruling 80 million, the kingdom's greatest beauty. The genius princess, premier mana wielder—reduced to a low noble's party toy.

Once tasted, this electric anticipation was irreversible.

Sensing full attachment, the waist cuff cinched tight. Lungs compressed, Gloria let out a flushed gasp.

Fully bound in the 大-frame, her heavy breasts dangled weightily due to the angle. Twisting only her neck, she looked back. This wasn't all. If it were, no need to import from the Magic Tower.

Her frame wasn't simple. Made of fluid liquid metal, frames flexed elastically.

──────True to "Posture ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Correction", it could force or sustain poses, inflicting torment.

"Here, use this."

Samiel approached with a white mask, pressing it over Gloria's face before she could reply. Unlike a mouth-covering gag, it exposed only the mouth—head fully encased, eyes and mouth swapped.

"Infusing mana. It'll last 24 hours base."

Mana flowed in; the mask contracted, vacuum-sealing to her face. Zero visibility. Neck compressed near-suffocation.

This minimized identity risk. No ordinary strength could remove it.

Samiel stroked the protruding golden ponytail from the mask's rear.

"...Can't hide that long hair. But plenty of golden-haired women in the Holy Kingdom."

She smirked faintly.

"Enjoy until tomorrow night. Speak if it's dangerous—the mask slipping, identity at risk."

Gloria nodded. Then, silence. She couldn't tell if Samiel left or watched.

Time dragged. Naked and bound in the banquet hall, Gloria awaited the start, suppressing her pounding heart. A deadly thrill of deviance.