I'll Do As You Command (1)
After Mona's torturous body modification that distorted even Emilia's sense of time in mere hours came to an end, night had fallen. Emilia was finally released from that stone chamber and returned to the luxurious mansion corridor above ground—a path that felt strangely nostalgic. Her first stop was the bath. Not the small one attached to the bedroom prepared for her, but a lavish, grand bathing hall where she was dragged and thoroughly washed clean. Spotless, utterly spotless. The sweat she'd shed in abundance, the slime from the meat restraints and tentacles that had bound her, the special aphrodisiac Mona had slathered on to seep into her skin, and every other filth and bodily fluid were meticulously scrubbed away.
Urgh… Ah… But even after just those few hours of modification, effects were already manifesting in Emilia's body. Simply rubbing and wiping her skin with a towel, brush, and bare hands made her flinch and tremble in surprise now and then.
Hehehe♪ Mona watched with delight, never missing a moment. A pitiful, endearing sight that made the future all the more tantalizing. The solemn emblem of the Hero's Blessing still etched deeply on the back of her hand—a mark testifying to her nobility and pride—contrasted sharply with the wretched degradation awaiting her, heightening the allure even further.
"…Hehe, let's get you all clean~ Your master is dying to see you~."
Swallowing a tangle of emotions and desires, Mona continued washing Emilia's body. Thoroughly, every nook and cranny. She applied fragrant oils, deliberately taking her time, re-scrubbing spots already clean, prolonging this shallow torment disguised as a bath for as long as possible…
Emerging from the bath, Emilia stepped into the corridor wearing a dress different from the one she'd had on that morning. The earlier gown had accentuated her noble, flower-like beauty and delicate air. This one, however, had far less fabric, fluttering teasingly with every movement to reveal glimpses of skin—a seductive, vulgar garment that seemed designed to tempt men or shame a criminal.
Even the underwear…
Glancing down glumly, Emilia recalled the lewd negligee underwear Mona had helped her into beneath the dress. It was her first time wearing something like this, and it left her utterly flustered.
Once her grooming was complete, Emilia was led straight to the dining hall. It was already late—having surfaced from underground and endured Mona's unnecessarily prolonged bath—and she'd checked the corridor clock to confirm as much. She figured she'd eat alone, or perhaps with Mona, or even tolerate dining with the servants.
…But upon arriving at the dining hall:
"You're late. I had the food reheated, so relax, my Emilia."
The loathsome face she'd least wanted to see sat there calmly, turning the pages of a book.
"……Why are you here?"
"Hm? Is it so strange for me to come eat in my own mansion, my own dining hall?"
"I mean at this hour. …Dinner time passed ages ago."
A noble's duty included teatime and strict adherence to meals. That was what Emilia had been taught as a child. Disregarding dining hours—especially being late for precious dinner—was a direct affront to one's dignity as nobility. For those who lived and died by honor, it was utterly repulsive.
"My Emilia. Would it be so unacceptable if I said I waited because I wanted to eat with you?"
"……."
Come to think of it, lunch had been the same. She hadn't checked the time properly then, but waking late and spending extra on grooming might have thrown off the schedule. The Count had surely waited just like this.
"Meals are important, Emilia. That's why I swore to share this precious time with you."
"Emilia, my Emilia."
"Snacks or medicine, those I can't help. But meals… this time, I want to spend in the same space, eating the same food as you."
"If you refuse to eat, I'll starve alongside you."
"…Though I'd stop you, since it's bad for your skin and health."
With an enraptured expression, the Count spread his arms wide in welcome. To anyone else, it might sound like a passionate love confession. But from him, it reeked only of obsession and madness.
Emilia had no more words. Speaking further would just drain her. Resigned, she averted her gaze and voiced another question.
"……What are you using as a chair right now?"
"Hm? You don't like it? No need to mind."
"……How could I not mind."
From the moment she'd entered—actually, even before—the faint moans leaking from somewhere had gnawed at her. She couldn't ignore it. Approaching the Count as Mona guided her, she finally grasped what he sat upon.
That… thing. The First Imperial Princess she'd glimpsed in the underground chamber moments ago. The noble Empire's Prophetess, naked, collared like a dog on a leash, prostrated beneath him as a human chair.
……What the hell is this?
"Don't mind her. For training, I have to use her like this sometimes. Mona advised it too, but it's my policy at heart."
"Treating a person like—what the hell…!"
"A person? Don't worry about it, my Emilia. She's just livestock here. A horse I ride when needed, a toy I play with when bored. I don't see the problem."
"You…!!"
Her head felt ready to burst with rage, boiling like a volcano on the verge of eruption. Yet the Count merely smiled at Emilia, who clenched her fists but couldn't rebel.
"…Just kidding, my Emilia. You're beautiful when angry, but don't get too worked up. …Or I might forget dinner and devour you instead."
Chuckling behind his hand as if vastly amused, the Count added a trivial explanation. It changed nothing—the content was still vile.
The First Imperial Princess beneath him didn't suffer this treatment every time, apparently. Nor did the other women in training down there. They had set sessions; otherwise, he allowed them a somewhat human life. But during those sessions, they were imprinted as livestock, slaves, toys, beasts, degraded bitches.
"Can't have them forgetting human dignity entirely. Worthless as mere animals."
Even that "humanity" was just for utility's sake, not kindness.
…Better not to have heard it. It only reaffirmed his vileness, shamelessness, disgust.
"But still. This bitch ruining my Emilia's mood? Unacceptable. …Time for a little punishment."
Raising his hand, the Count smacked the First Princess's trembling, peach-like ass hard as she lay naked beneath him.
Slap! Slap! Smack!
Kyaah… Hnng… Hii…
Each strike on that lovely rear drew fragile, slender moans soaked in ecstasy. Only then did Emilia realize: the noble princess serving as his crude human chair was enjoying this. Her face flushed, sweet sighs escaping her lips. Her shivers stemmed more from masochistic thrill than his weight. From Emilia's unseen angle, her crotch wept female nectar, staining the floor.
Before Emilia could even utter "stop," frozen in shock, the Count reached down, fingering the princess's sex roughly, probing like stirring mud.
Squelch, squelch, prod, slurp, schlick.
Aah… Haaah… Hnnaaah…
"This bitch really grates on me. Even in public, that smart, haughty face was infuriating."
Squelch, squelch, squelch, slurp, shluuuurp.
Hnnaang, ah, ah, haaah…!
"Thought training might make her cuter, but upsetting my Emilia? What to do with this anger? Mona, should we not send her back intact—strip her bare and dump her in the streets?"
"Oh~ That sounds perfect. Why not parade her through the slums on a cart? With a sign around her neck: 'Fuck Me Like a Dog, Please.'"
"Yes, good idea. Let's do that. She upset my Emilia—surely forgiveness then. …Might have to fetch the Second Princess after. Not my type, but more obedient than this—"
Still fingering the princess's lewd folds, twisting and thrusting, the Count continued his sordid chat with Mona. But Emilia interrupted, cutting it short.
Interrupting was rude, but she couldn't just listen.
"……Stop. Please. I was wrong."
"Hm? Emilia? What did you do wrong? It's all her fault. What fault of yours, my love?"
"……."
She bit her lip hard. Rage surged. She wanted to slap him. It felt possible—her arm, once rigid as wax when resisting, now moved freely.
—He's testing me.
Rebel here, and they'd follow through. Emilia swallowed her fury, regained composure, reason.
"……I'll do as you say. …So please, forgive the princess. I beg you."
Her trembling lips confessed it.