Dark Lord in Chains 83

As I walked toward the ‘flaming’ beauty in front of me, my mind was occupied by one question. What should be the aim of the massage?

Initially, it was just to put her into a better mood while I whispered some suggestions that would make her decide to free Isolde while giving her the impression that it was her free will. A conservative strategy, but since I was unfamiliar with her culture and her personal habits, that was the smart choice. 

Yet, her sudden enthusiasm was enough for me to revisit that decision. 

She didn’t exactly conceal the source of her enthusiasm. The idea of treating a ‘King’ as a servant appealed to her immense — excessively so — pride. And, considering the state of her dress, she clearly didn’t put too much stock on modesty while asking me to serve as a masseuse. 

I didn’t become the dark lord just despite my lowly birth by missing opportunities. 

And, in front of me, lay one of those great opportunities, one of the keys to deciphering the complicated threat I was facing. What kind of abilities she was hiding… 

Of course, testing the limits of her body in a more carnal manner was also an attractive option. 

I might have been split between two equally attractive options, if they weren’t mutually exclusive. 

“Is there any massage oil?” I asked. 

“Check that drawer,” she said as she gestured. When I checked, I found it filled with various cosmetic products, each in unfamiliar containers, each radiating an impressive amount of magic, highlighting her richness. 

Luckily, while the magical language she used might be different, such differences weren’t too pronounced when it came to basic equipment, allowing me to distinguish the massage oil among them — the spell to loosen and relax feeling much different from perfumes and other cosmetics in her drawer. 

As I walked back to her, I flared my magic, using a fancy trick to cover my hands with oil as I walked, radiating mana. A dismissive snort escaped her mouth, showing what she thought of my little show. 

It was good, as it meant it served its purpose of concealing the tantric spell I had cast on the oil. She clearly had the sensitivity notice that as long as she paid attention, but luckily, she was too overconfident to bother looking. 

The spell could be considered as an extension of my earlier trick, one that would enhance her arousal more. The difference, was it was more effective than the passive trick I had pulled on her, letting her absorb unshaped mana to trigger reactions. I dared to cast a more aggressive spell, because the physical contact and the massage oil were good enough as a screen as long as she didn’t start looking carefully. 

And, it was my expertise to distract her so she didn’t start looking. 

Then, I stood behind her and pressed my hands to her feet. A suspicious glance came from her as she raised her head, clearly not understanding my aim of starting from there. “Trust me,” I said. 

“Well, you’re the servant,” she answered as she lay again, her voice sharp enough to annoy me. Luckily, it was very easy to suppress that annoyance, as I was already in the process of making her pay for that concern. 

Her dismissive attitude was quick to disappear as my fingers started working on her soles, replaced by tenseness. Yet, even for a moment, I didn’t think that she didn’t enjoy the results of my touch, as, with her personality, she would never hide her dissatisfaction. 

The pleasure was a different story. 

Impressed by the results, I kept my touch limited to her soles, enjoying her bruised silence for a moment, curious whether a moan could break through her deliberate attitude of not making a noise that would reveal the intensity of her pleasure. 

And, as I did so, I slowly infused my magic into her body. A part of that magic was perfectly innocent, a mild healing spell to enhance her comfort, but just like massage oil hiding my Tantric spell, the healing spell was there to create an excuse for the diagnosis I was running on her. 

She didn’t pay attention to that, maybe because it allowed me to adjust the pacing of my touch even more, likely assuming it was just a part of the massage.

And, her misconception allowed me to finally find answers to the questions I was seeking. The first thing I wanted to make sure was whether it was her actual body, or was some kind of extreme elaborate transformation. 

The answer was complicated. It was her true body, but her flame wings and burning hair were not exactly a part of her body — yet they were not deliberate accessories either. 

She had two sources of energy, one of them mana generated from her whole body, just like any other person generated such power. Yet, there was a core at the center of her chest, radiating scorching hot mana constantly, the same type of energy that created her wings and her flaming hair. 

But, from a distance, that was all I was able to discern about that. 

As I continued to examine her mana signature, I worked on her feet, enjoying her increasing tenseness. Several minutes later, I finally received the first fruit of my determination, a beautiful moan escaped her mouth, avoiding her attempts to muffle it. 

It was suppressed halfway, and she threw a suspicious glance toward my side, forcing me to suppress the desire to wear a big, satisfied smile. 

She was weaker against the pleasure than I had first thought — though, admittedly, the subtle tantric tricks I pulled helped me on the path to success. 

I only smiled once she turned her gaze away once more, but I kept my touch restricted to her feet. And, this time, it wasn’t the fear that kept me restricted, but amusement. Watching her struggle with her unexpected arousal was fun. 

Watching her struggling with her unexpected arousal while I kept my touch in an area that she couldn’t blame for being excessive… 

Priceless. 

I kept my touch restricted to her feet for a while, enjoying her growing tenseness for another minute or two. She managed to keep her lips shut, but that didn’t prevent her body from getting tenser and tenser. 

Soon, I decided that was more than enough for the first stage of my mission, and I started moving forward. Not because I was feeling impatient. I would have loved to stay there until her moans started to rise uninterrupted and filled the room, threatening to deafen me. 

Yet, I was hesitant to push her too much at the first stage. I didn’t want her to stop the massage, or worse, react aggressively to punish me — which, considering her usual attitude, was a likely reaction. 

I paused for a moment to coat my hands with a fresh layer of oil — as well as a thicker dose of tantric energy, encouraged by her lack of realization — and started treating her delicate calves for another extended period. 

The time I stayed on her calves was much shorter than my earlier attempt, but still, it was enough to be measured in minutes. This time, my attention was split in two directions. One, infusing my mana deeper into her body — which both increased the impact of the tantric, fueling her arousal, and allowed me to get a better sense of her mana flow — two, reestablishing my subtle control over her dress. 

Since she had already reduced the area the dress covered on her back — leaving her back naked in preparation for the massage, not expecting me to first focus on her legs — I saw no harm in further compromising the function of her dress. A slight magical push, and the area covered by her dress got even smaller. 

The skirt shrunk, allowing me to see most of her beautifully tight thighs, begging for my touch as more of her skirt melted, enough to reveal the edge of her beautiful plump ass. 

I stopped there, afraid that any more, and she would realize my manipulations even in her distracted state, busy suppressing the visible signs of my success. 

More importantly, I was getting more and more familiar with her mana. Enough to pull dangerous experimentation to pull a trick. As my fingers continued to dance on her calves, I traced her connection with her dress, using a moment to understand the subconscious subtle connection between her and her dress, and added a little spell. 

A spell I cast slowly, carefully, copying the exact same nature of her mana. The spell structure was not the same as she would use, of course, but I did my best to shape it like the other magical orders she used to control the shape of her dress. 

It was certainly dangerous, as, unlike my previous tricks, it was persistent evidence of my manipulations, one that would stay for at least several minutes, to be dispersed once she gave another strong order to reform the dress. 

Yet, it was worthy of that risk, because it triggered a continuous development on her dress, allowing it to get smaller continuously. The impact was slow enough that such an impact didn’t happen immediately, but it was a continuous growth. 

I pulled that trick, because it meant that she wouldn’t be able to catch me interfering with her dress directly, and hopefully blame her subconsciousness and her arousal for that mistake. 

Risky, but it was a necessary part of my experimentations about her power — with the added benefit of creating an incredible view…