Dark Lord in Chains 21

“Is that all,” Isolde asked as she stood up, hovering above me dangerously, but it was less intimidating after being fed by her hand. 

“That’s all…” I said, and she prepared to leave. I could have let her go, and slowly push her further if that was required. Instead, I found myself tease her a bit more, to break her unyielding expression if nothing else. “If that’s all you’re willing to do,” I added, only for her to freeze. 

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Are you changing the deal? It wasn’t the bargain!” 

“Come on, Isolde. I have followed the deal to the letter. You fed me like a fresh maid trying to get the favor of her lord, and I gave you the detailed breakdown of the route, including all the dangers, traps, and shortcuts.” 

“Then what are you talking about,” she said stiffly, her eyes sharp like a hawk. 

“That’s for you to find out, and for me to profit,” I said, feeling even more confident now that my stomach was filled comfortably. 

“You’re bluffing,” she said, looking at my eyes, looking for a sign, looking for hints of deception. Which, admittedly, quite an impressive reaction considering her usual brashness, like a newborn kitten taking her first trembling step; an impressive development, but against a hungry predator, ultimately useless. 

I shrugged again, knowing my disinterest would keep her back. “If you say so.” 

“What do you want? And what do you offer in return?” she asked as she crouched in front of me, looking at my eyes, her hands clenching hard. 

“It has been a while since I was able to walk around, and my muscles are quite stiff. I wouldn’t say no to a massage,” I said. 

Her sour face showed just how little she liked the idea. “And in return?” 

“A surprise, but something you’ll find useful,” I said. 

“I don’t trust you,” she growled, her anger burning bright. From her expression, I could read that she wanted nothing more than to pound me on the ground, leveraging my helpless state. However, she was also smart enough —barely— to realize that repeated physical assault attempts had brought her nothing, even harming her standing with the group. 

Once again, I shrugged. I could have easily told her about the reward, but it was the next step of our game. I wanted her to accept a deal where the control lay on me, another step in breaking her habits. The Queen would have easily recognized it as a strategic negotiation deal and countered it —hence the reason I hadn’t given her the chance to actually negotiate, but tricked her otherwise the last night— but Isolde wasn’t familiar enough with the politics to do so. 

“Then let’s conclude our deal, you’re free to leave,” I said, like I was not a prisoner but the king in my domain, humoring visitors. 

She said nothing, but neither did move for a while, her eyes closed. When she opened her eyes, she looked at the plate still in her hand. She took a deep breath to suppress her anger before speaking. “Okay, I’ll give you a massage. But if what I get in return doesn’t impress me…” she said, raising her dagger to finish her threat. 

“That’s a risk you’ll have to take,” I said, uncaring. “Are you going to stay, or leave?” 

Once again, my dismissal worked perfectly to maintain her interest. She said nothing, just put the plates to the side, and crouched to my side. For a moment, she looked at my body, no doubt trying to decide where to start. In the end, she decided to put her hands on my lower thighs, and began squeezing. 

Even with the first touch, it was clear that massage wasn’t one of her better skills. “Softer, unless you decided against our deal and trying to torture me,” I warned her. “You’re not trying to break my bones, but relax my flesh.” 

“Shut up,” she said, not enjoying the correction, but the pressure of her touch alleviated. 

“Better,” I said as she started squeezing. “But try not to focus on the same spot, let your hands wander.” 

At my correction, her anger flared, but her hands followed my commands, which was the more important part. I had given her several more corrections, she rapidly implemented every single one of them. 

As a result, I was impressed. The initial intention of making her massage me was to change her habits. Surprisingly, she proved to be a quick study, following every single correction to the letter, so much that I started to grunt with pleasure as she moved lower, massaging my calves. “You’re surprisingly adept in this. Maybe you shouldn’t waste your skill being a huntress and start a massage parlor.” 

“I’m not a huntress,” she bristled angrily, her grip tightening enough to hurt. “I’m a pathfinder!” 

“Is there a difference?” I asked, playing ignorant. 

“Difference!” she shouted angrily. “One is a two-bit worker trying to take down rabbits for their meat, the other is an ancient organization that discovered continents and led armies through unknown battlefields.”  

“Shesh, sorry,” I said mockingly. “Then, miss pathfinder, please start rubbing my feet. My soles are killing me.” 

“Your feet!” she lashed out angrily. “Do you know who am I!” 

“Apparently, an overpaid scout,” I said dismissively. “Either massage me properly, or leave without your reward. I don’t really care either way.” 

“You, you…” she repeated, jumping up to her feet, her fists hard enough to crack. She let out an angry growl, and kicked the wall repeatedly, her steel-toed boots protecting her feet, while her hits making the walls tremble. Her anger was radiating dangerously, but it only made me more aroused. She might not be the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, but she was striking in her own way. Her emotional outburst just added to that. 

“Hey, do you really have enough time to waste it by trying to break down the walls,” I reminded her a couple of minutes later, which stopped her. 

She said nothing —though her expression told a lot— as she crouched next to me again, and pulled off my sandals, leaving my feet bare. In her anger, she didn’t even notice that they were suspiciously clean, and pressed her thumbs against them. 

It wasn't long before I was groaning with pleasure, partly to tease her, but partly because it genuinely felt incredible. With her strength and motor control, she made a spectacular masseuse. 

I could feel the stress drain from my soles, my hamstrings relaxing under her touch. 

“Excellent, now to my back,” I reminded her, and turned as much as the chains allowed. She put her hands on my shoulder. “Remove my shirt first,” I reminded her. 

This time, she did so immediately, probably ranking it lower than the indignity of massaging my feet, which implied inferiority very directly. She applied my earlier suggestions perfectly as her hands —which lacked the roughness I was expecting due to the nature of her job— worked their magic. And they worked perfectly. 

I might have earned limited freedom lately, with some really impressive side benefits, but it didn’t change the fact that my muscles were as tense as steel from being imprisoned. And while sex was amazing and removed his stress, his furious poundings hardly helped to soften his stiff muscles. 

“You’re really earning your keep,” I moaned, not bothering to hide my satisfaction. “Move a bit lower.” 

I couldn’t see her face, but from the way her hands tightened around my shoulder, it wasn’t hard to imagine it stiffening in anger as she imagined herself choking me. Still, after a moment, her hands moved lower, caressing my back, working their magic. I was even more interested when she moved a little lower than I expected, almost caressing my ass, her touch getting softer and softer. 

“Turn,” she ordered without prompting,” surprising me greatly by her initiative. I understood the reason when I did so, only for her gaze to dip down my erection for a fleeting moment. 

“Nice,” I murmured as she started massaging my chess —though it might be better classified as caressing. I closed my eyes, then cast a simple illusion to hide it when I reopened them. Thinking that my eyes were still closed, her gaze fell down to my erection, watching in fascination. 

That idiot Lancelot, I thought, even though her idiocy helped me greatly. His pseudo-harem was so needy that they were fascinated even by a glimpse of an erection. He could have easily tamed his needy companions during their adventures, only to leave them untouched, trusting that his charisma and his reputation would work for eternity. 

Too bad I wasn’t one of the minions of the light. 

I said nothing as she continued to caress my chest, then stomach, like she was trying to memorize the contours of my muscles. I bit my lips, trying to decide how much I should push, but before I could decide, I felt her hand on the button of my pants. She pulled them off, leaving me in my underwear only. 

I opened my eyes —dispelling the illusion— surprised. “Don’t act like you’re not going to ask that,” she growled angrily, but I didn’t miss her blush. 

“Smart,” I said, once again closed my eyes, only to open them with the protection of the illusion. 

After making sure my eyes were firmly shut by watching me for a minute while she massaged my naked upper thighs, she turned her gaze down to my raging boner, which was straining my underwear to its limits. She bit her lips as she looked at it while she worked on my thighs determinedly. And since it was a prisoner outfit, my underwear didn’t have the best fabric, thin enough to give a glimpse of my flesh. 

As the massage continued, I could see her legs pressing suspiciously tight as she moved them back and forth, no doubt creating an amazing friction thanks to her leather pants, while her hands reached suspiciously close to my shaft, but never touching. 

After five minutes of the same concentrated assault, and I decided to reward her for it. My hands were bound, but luckily, it wasn’t the only way for me to masturbate. I had long discovered the way to replicate the effect with magic, which, while not as enjoyable, was certainly effective. I cast the spell, an invisible grip dancing back and forth over my shaft without even disturbing my underwear thanks to my immense control, and I exploded. 

And it wasn’t a simple discharge. I exploded with a loud groan, making a show of it, while my throbbing cock released a torrent of fluid enough to ruin my underwear. I dispelled the illusion, trying to meet her gaze. 

It turned out to be surprisingly hard. Her gasp was just as audible as she watched my eruption, almost hypnotized, while her hands continued to rub my thighs, even when some of my cum touched her skin. Only after my shaft stopped throbbing, she realized her own compromised actions. “That’s enough,” she called as she stood up. “I have completed our deal despite your disgusting habits, now fulfill yours, or die,” she said, pulling a dagger. 

“Sure,” I said cheerfully. “Such a delicious massage surely deserves its reward. I’ll even give you a bonus for the happy ending,” I said, the last part making her blush. 

She was quick to hide her blush behind her gruff exterior. “Tell me.” 

“I’ll do something better,” I said, smiling widely. “I’ll give you the chance to select between two options, between a top-tier magical item, and a legendary artifact.” 

“Is that even a question? Of course the artifact,” she said, which was a justified question. A top-tier magical item was certainly valuable enough to take the central location in a noble collection, while a legendary artifact triggered border skirmishes, or even battles. “Are you going to ask me more disgusting things?” she added.

“No conditions,” I said, and suddenly, I caught a flash of disappointment, gone as quick as it arrived. I took a note of it before continuing. “However, the regular magical item is a superbly-crafted magical bow that can shoot weightless magical arrows as long as you supply it with mana, while the legendary artifact once belonged a mage-king known as the Emperor of Flames, perfect for strengthening elementalists.” 

Just like that, she froze. It was an ugly deal, I knew. The correct choice was the staff, of course, as it would enhance the strength of the Armies of the Light significantly, while the bow would have a limited benefit. However, if such a staff was discovered, there was no doubt about its wielder…” 

Isolde froze for almost a minute before she spoke. “I hate you,” she growled. “I hate you so much.” 

I said nothing, as nothing I could say would be as effective as the words echoing in her mind. “Bow,” she spat out. “I’ll take the bow.” 

As much as I was tempted to tease her, I said nothing, not wanting to tip the delicate balance I had established. I explained the location, and she left without a word, leaving me wearing only my underwear. 

Corrupting people was always fun…