Slave's Banmal and the Duty to Fondle the Master's Body
Jin Yuseong had once done a job called "rice sack relocation" while fulfilling his national defense duties. He nearly wrecked his back using a stupid method that should've been done by slinging them over his shoulders to minimize the load—instead, he cradled the bottoms with both hands and hefted them against his torso. It was clumsy and dangerous as hell. But when he started on the grunt work, no one had taught him the right way.
The orders came from some squad leader or platoon sergeant—known in English as THE ENEMY. That forced labor could've ended a guy's life. His back nearly snapped in two, but he got lucky. The soldiers in his barracks could've devoured that stockpile in just half a month. We're talking four tons total—100 bags of national rice at 40kg each, and three of them were ordered to haul it all. That broke down to about thirty-three bags per person. Because of the botched technique, he ended up at the clinic getting pain-relief patches for his back. Two weeks later, he was back to normal.
He only learned the proper method near the end of the task, when a sergeant with both angelic and demonic sides appeared—the supply sergeant. So Jin Yuseong greeted him with 0.2% more warmth than other officers. Sadly, the guy was doomed to never rise above sergeant due to some embezzlement bust, but in Jin's mind, he remained a decent fellow. During breaks, the sergeant would call soldiers over for bizarre arts-and-crafts sessions, and by the end, you'd think, "Oh, so that's how it works?" The results made army life a bit easier. Though, thinking back, it was just more busywork.
After ages of conscript drudgery, Jin and his buddies had their brains half-fried, so they idolized the sergeant. He could be soft-spoken despite occasional outbursts. Jin only realized he was just another THE ENEMY after getting pressured into reenlisting as a specialist sergeant. No more arts-and-crafts. No more agonizing forced labor. Thankfully, he turned it down, got discharged, and it all faded into a distant memory.
So why was Jin dredging up that lame past now? Because his mistress weighed about the same as those rice sacks. And he was hauling her the same clumsy, wrong way as back then. Well, not exactly—the princess carry made it different. Amid the dizzying chaos, Jin was escaping into escapism. Plus, her commands made army orders sound tame by comparison. Touch here. Stroke there. Hold me.
The silver-haired, ruby-eyed beauty—estimated 164cm, 45kg, with massive tits, ant waist, and wide birthing hips—was fragrant and soft, feeling lighter than any 40kg sack. Aaah—it's burned into my brain. This texture proves it's no dream. Jin muttered internally like he was replying on a radio out of nowhere. Having been yanked into this isekai overnight, he constantly verified its reality moment by moment. A dream couldn't replicate a touch he'd never felt before.
"Haang...! Ang...!"
So he kneaded away. His left hand, sliding down her back, savored the real softness of her breasts. Princess-carrying her while groping and walking. Anyone watching would've thought, Damn, he's groping her forever. Despite the awkward angle for squeezing, he managed thanks to the "command" boost. Really, he was just faithfully following his meticulous mistress's instructions.
"Huu... It's like holding a big baby, right here... haaah...! Your butt-squeezing's getting weak! More aggressive on the tits! Squeeze hard! Eut, no—earlier, when you softly twisted just the nipples to surprise them... that's better, haeut...! Y-yeah, like that! Haang...!"
She was teaching him exactly how to touch for maximum pleasure, straight from her mouth.
"Like this? Is this good...?"
Twirl. Pinch!
"Ahak...!? Y-yeah, that's it...!"
Real talk, what the hell kind of place is this? Haha. Jin felt weirded out by the total perv scenario but justified it as "Mistress ordered it." He wasn't responsible—he was just obeying. So he played with her arousing body like a toy. Once he got into it, climbing stairs and walking the hall felt effortless. Carrying a person was tough, sure, but groping a woman's body mattered more. His virgin body pumped out endorphins to drown any fatigue complaints.
"Hik... At the corner, haeut—turn right... to, 501... my private room...!"
She trembled violently! Like she'd climaxed from a virgin's fumbling caresses, curling up and twitching. Thinking his premature virgin notions could sweeten her afterglow, Jin kept up the obsessive fondling.
"Hiii... Heuung....!"
Sylvia buried her face in Jin's chest, shuddering. He noticed love juices slicking his arm from her butt-groping. They'd already reached the door. But with his mistress still melting under the caresses, Jin paused the fondling and said,
"We're here."
"Hungat!? Already...?"
Shit... What if she gets wise-guy post-nut clarity and chews me out? Did I go too far? He awkwardly tried polite speech again. Should I drop the formal you or not? She hasn't bitched about it yet. She looks so young—does being mistress mean I gotta stay formal? ...Yeah, slave life, probably.
Slave or not, coming from Earth's underclass made his mindset light. Still hurts getting summoned without charging my smartphone... Got nothing now. But damn, she's gorgeous. Seeing she didn't nitpick his casual slip eased him. Body's a total milf, but face looks way younger than me... How old is she?
"My slave, gimme your hand."
"Yep. Slave hand, present."
Jin gently set her down from the carry and offered his hand. Sylvia interlaced fingers again, pressed it to the door, and waved her wand up and down while chanting.
"In the name of this space's master, I command—register this one as a resident."
⟨ [Sign Up]! ⟩
That felt like magic, but no light show this time? Sensing Jin's curiosity, Sylvia explained.
"Slave, I just registered you as a resident here. From now on, this door'll open automatically when you approach."
Clack. No sooner said than the handle-less door swung open on its own.
Oh, auto-door magic. Civilization level ain't total barbarian medieval after all.
"It won't open if unregistered folks are with you. Can't let randos in willy-nilly, so remember that."
"Oh... So only solos can come and go...? Security's tight, but kinda inconvenient."
"Hmph! Inviting others means casting temp registration each time. Only one entry-exit per cast. Witch privates are sacred, so security first."
"Got it... Understood."
"...Ha, right. Gotta spell out everything, huh? Slave! When your mistress explains something in detail, grab her cheeks rough like a carnivore devouring prey and suck her tongue in a deep kiss!"
"Y-yes?? Tongue? S-suck...?"
"And! It's bugged me since earlier—what's with the goofy formal talk!? Think I'm your mom? No polite speech to your mistress—use casual!"
"Oh!? No formal to mistress... Got it...."
"Slaves talk bold and confident!"
"...Yeah, got it."
He answered in a dazed voice. Slaves banmal confidently...? Nothing like the slaves I knew...
"Sigh! Long road ahead. Grab my face and deep-kiss already! Botch it and you're in trouble!"
She sighed frustratedly, yanking their clasped hands taut, urging a deep kiss. Botched kiss gets punishment...? What even? Jin couldn't wrap his head around it. But the "command" moved his body. A morning-prior first-kiss virgin, he naturally unleashed a rough, manly deep kiss on his mistress with command aid.
Chup... Huup... Huum... Chok... Jjook... Jjeup....
Grabbing her small face. One hand on chin, other on cheeks—for over a minute of deep kissing. Chok. Jjook. Chok. Enduring it, his mistress. After sharing tongues in sloppy intensity, her pupils dilated dreamily. Gazing up at her slave with ecstasy-glazed eyes, savoring the aftertaste. She quietly hugged him with both arms, tilting her head to meet eyes—then regretfully peeled away slowly.
Sylvia, who'd never let outsiders into her witch workshop-cum-private-room since enrolling at Saint Georgia Magic Academy, boasted proudly about her first guest.
"This is my room! Swapped the bed to a double ages ago for my future summoned slave, see? Heh! Lucky you—your mistress is prepared!"
Smugly, she shoved his arm between her tits, hugged tight, smirked, and nuzzled her head in.
What? The hell...? Oh! Stroke time? Jin parted her lush silver locks, petting softly.
"Huaaa... They said having a slave changes everything... It's true..."
"Huh?"
"Again! Weirdo talk! Banmal like a slave!"
"Ah, sorry."
"Keep screwing up and I'll drag you to the underground torture chamber for mind-training punishment. Even a weirdo like you—locked alone with mistress, bound helpless, toyed with every inch nonstop— that'll make you snappy obedient?"
".........But, that sex... thing you mentioned earlier. What kinda punishment... is that? Me—not I. Kinda hard to get..."
Agh. Hearing nonsense, Jin stuttered, formal-casual switch failing, irritation rising.
"Hmm. You got yanked from somewhere uncultured, huh? Fine, lesson time. Long one, so don't forget to pet my head? And no formal!"
Scolding yet snuggling into his chest. Jin petted, straining to listen.
"Huuu... So this is a slave's hand... Ah! Explaining? Here, slaves gotta grope and fondle their mistress's body often—it's duty."
What the— Before his question, she continued.
"That's basic for summon-bound slaves. Usually only via summoning magic, but low-talent nobles buy with cash, contract on paper for one."
It got wilder.
"I'm high noble, elite witch? You're lucky. Means your seedbed mistress is top-tier."
That last bit, Jin couldn't let slide.
"What? Seed, what...?"