Veronica's Defiant Provocation
Stepping out meant moving Silveryia to another cell first, then swinging by Goju's place before heading back to Veronica. What a hilariously entertaining mess—her muttering apologies to her dead husband's portrait and all. In a situation like this, an orc just had to butt in, right? So, swinging my dick around, I returned to Veronica's cell and barked, "Strip."
Her face twisted up like rotten fruit (though she kept that poker face—probably). Maybe that's why, even after I'd so generously told her to strip, Veronica just stood there, ignoring me completely.
"What're you doing? Didn't you hear me?" I was genuinely curious. You know how sometimes people get lost in their own heads and miss what you're saying right next to them?
"So even thinking of you as a beast makes me the beast?"
"?"
Even in this mess, Veronica wanted to protect her pride—or maybe prove she wouldn't break easily. She smirked bitterly, tilting her chin toward her body, specifically the tattered shreds of leather armor I'd ripped apart earlier.
"I'm already as good as naked to you. What more do you want me to take off?"
While I was gone, she'd apologized to her husband, and now her attitude had flipped. More provocative, you could say. Unlike before, when she'd been tossed around at my whim, now she exuded haughty elegance, like an adult schooling a child.
"Besides, even if I wanted to strip, as you can see, my arms are bound."
She shrugged her shoulders as she said it, eyeing me. If you wanna strip me, do it yourself.
'Ho ho?'
To an outsider, it might look like Veronica was just throwing a tantrum. But that only applies if she weren't a female knight. This wasn't timid rebellion. Nor was it like before, waiting for me to pounce in lust so she could counter and finish me off.
"Ah, that style, huh?"
"Eut."
As Veronica said, I sidled up close and lightly traced the ripe flesh of a married woman peeking through the gaps in her shredded leather with my fingertips. She tried to play it cool, but like any female, her body trembled just a bit.
"Heh, what? My touch too good for you?"
"As if. Do you feel sexual pleasure when a puppy licks your hand? If you're gonna strip me, get on with it."
I snorted at that, slipping my hand into the gaps of her rags to caress her body. Scars from countless battlefields everywhere, and this sturdy flesh proving a lifetime devoted to her kingdom's sword. If Silveryia was a bit slender and delicate, Veronica was slim yet solid—battle-hardened muscle, you might say. Her arms, unlike the skinny ones on other women, bore the marks of a life gripped to a blade: pure muscle, no flab. Her smooth, shapely thighs were as hard as steel. And especially her abs! Unlike Silveryia and Snow's pretty 11-shaped six-packs, hers were unfairly kingly—perfect rectus abdominis formation. Probably from a lifetime in plate armor.
Her whole body packed tight with muscle, yet not bulky like a bodybuilder (no offense to them)—no excessive bulk or fat, just perfectly balanced, rock-hard muscles. The ultimate female knight, a heavenly bitch. What? Just a muscle lump? If those muscles clenched around my cock, how sweet would that be! Especially those abs! Someday, I'd gather my sows, blast my cum all over them, and make the others lap up the semen dripping down her ridges. Just imagining it had my juices swelling already. And I was touching her now—what if I stripped those rags completely and went raw?
"Ah, drooling already."
"Hmph. Getting horny over a muscle lump like this? Why not just fuck a mare?"
Sure enough, after apologizing to her dead husband while I was out, her provocative words and attitude toward me. Classic. Veronica was trying to seize control right now. She was utterly in the inferior position—how the hell could she grab dominance? But look at her now.
"You're more put-together than I thought. Plenty qualified to be my sow."
"Hmph... If you're gonna rape me, do it quick."
She'd said she'd take her daughter's place, but no human woman wants to hand her body to anyone but her husband—let alone an orc. That's why the third-time reminder: her apologies to her late husband. So why was Veronica suddenly acting like this? She'd given up her body.
This bitch might be bound, but she's one of the top female knights in the human kingdom of Dracania—a soldier. But her head's filled with nothing but this. Even without clashing yet, her strength set off my instincts' alarms. She was meticulous in strategy and tactics too—"give flesh to take bone," right? Right now, Veronica was using her body as bait to rile me up.
Whether this orc fucked her or not, she'd treat her body like a tool to harvest my semen—needed to save Silveryia. Veronica herself! Her own body!
"Never seen a foxier bear."
"..."
If Silveryia got toyed with in my hands and crumbled in pleasure, but her mother sacrificed her own body to stop it—what would that feel like? Nothing! Like a bug bite! Whether I fucked her or not, it'd just be a passing breeze. She'd stay consistent, trying to make me desperate for her unresponsive body. Terrifying. Silveryia on the battlefield hid her emotions just like her mother. Problem was, she met me when she was still immature. But this battle-hardened knight, rolling in wars her whole life, was willingly offering her body now to lure complacency from me—unlike with Silveryia. The female knight of female knights!
"Cute."
"..."
But I've got brains too! I dragged over a nearby chair, sat in front of Veronica, and clapped once—clap.
And with that—clang!
"!!"
The chains binding her limbs fell loose.
How? Before meeting Snow on the way to Isis Mansion, I'd felt something off about these chains and the facility, so I ordered Goju to investigate the underground prison. As a shaman, Goju's soul shone at the suspicious vibes from the chains and tools; he eagerly poked around. In that short time, he didn't uncover much, but he found a panel-like thing in one corner. That revealed this prison was systematically controlled like a modern one—via a magical device. While Veronica was out cold, I tested it myself, figuring out a few functions. Not the cell doors yet—that needed more time—but I mastered control over the chains and some tools in each cell.
Result: those chains binding Veronica so tightly unlocked without a key.
"This is... what...?"
Suddenly, the chains that had her wrapped tight sagged like a limp dick with erectile dysfunction. Even freed, Veronica looked flustered.
And I seized the gap: "Alright, now strip."
"!"
My words stabbed right into the opening—even Veronica looked thrown off. Of course. She'd expected me to cling, grunt, and fumble with the chains while she spewed more taunts to erode my confidence and pride. But nope—her limbs were free now.
What does that mean? The situation flipped. I command, she obeys. Simple, right?