Chapter 26 – Moving Day

I woke up to the sound of a knock on the door.

“Wha?” I groaned.

Lysander replied. “Tyler, Chloe, you are invited for a parting dinner with our hosts. We’ve leased a house that suits our needs and intend to move ourselves over there after we eat.”

“Kay thanks… we’ll be down in a bit.” I called out.

Chloe groaned a wordless complaint, not entirely enthusiastic about breaking up the comfortable cuddle puddle we’d found ourselves in. She removed the blanket and moved away from me, inadvertently giving me a flash of her beautiful bosom.

I leaned in and gave her nipple a lick. Chloe squeaked in surprise.

“Feeling better?” she asked, with a wry smirk.

“Well I’m not sad anymore, but I’m sorta horny now…” I grumbled. “I haven’t had an orgasm since I was gangraped at the brothel two days ago.”

“Poor Mistress, shall I kiss you better?” Chloe said.

“Where are you planning on kissing me?” I asked with a smirk.

“Your lips?” she suggested innocently.

“Which lips?” I asked, grinning.

“Whichever ones you order me to kiss, Mistress,” Chloe answered with a lewd smile.

I sighed, “Wish we had time for that now. The others will probably give us shit if we keep them waiting while we fuck.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Chloe agreed, with a disappointed sigh.

“Later then?” I asked.

“Sure Mistress, or perhaps we could bring a new slave or two into it. I’d love to witness the technique of one of the… more experienced lesbians.” Chloe suggested.

“Kitty, or super-assassin?” I asked.

“Why not both? We each have a pussy, right? I’m a little pent up too to be honest.” Chloe said with a devious smile.

“Don’t tell Lysander that, she’ll probably give you another orgasm ban,” I said.

I stretched and got out of bed. I started slipping on my dress again.

“I seem to recall that horrible restless night of orgasm denial was your idea, Mistress.” Chloe accused.

“Yeah, you’re right. Maybe I should deny you again?” I asked.

“That would be… very cruel, Mistress,” Chloe said, wincing slightly. “I spent two hours on my knees last night, sucking dick and swallowing monster semen. I was dripping wet the entire time, but good girls don’t focus on their own pleasure, so I didn’t touch myself or cum even once. Then, after our rescue I was surrounded by naked slave girls and boys telling us how willing they were to serve us sexually… If you deny my orgasms again, while satisfying yourself in front of me… I’ll seriously cry.”

I looked over and saw Chloe’s trembling lower lip. She was looking at me with hurt puppy dog eyes. It made me feel like a monster for even considering denying her orgasms again.

“Okay you can cum as much as you want for now. No orgasm ban… enjoy some slaves,” I sighed.

Chloe’s expression flipped in an instant. She gave me a happy smile. “Thank you, Mistress.”

“Those puppy dog eyes are dangerous weapons,” I grumbled.

“I do my best, Mistress,” Chloe said proudly.

When Chloe and I got downstairs, dinner was served. Lysander and Maddie sat with Father Jordan and his two acolytes, Ethan and Adam. Lothelea and Paintoy, the two most capable maids, were wearing their crisp and clean French maid uniforms, standing silently against the wall, ready to attend to their Mistresses dining needs. Chloe and I found a seat at the table. The two maid slaves quickly brought out a bowl of stew and spoon for us to eat.

When he healed my wounds and cleaned me with his noodly appendages, the Slithering Violator of Purity had also nourished my body with his touch. I wasn’t hungry, but the meal smelled appetizing enough that I was happy to take a small bowl anyway.

Like before, we ate a simple beef stew, but with a side of bread this time. Chloe, despite being a slave, was also offered a portion of stew. She hesitated for a moment and made eye contact with me, silently asking permission. When I nodded, she smiled and took a bite. We ate in silence. The food was tasty enough, but the atmosphere was tense.

“Tyler, Chloe, I’d like to apologize,” Father Jordan finally said.

I gave him a flat look, “Yes. I heard that you knew where I was, but chose not to intervene?”

“Erm… yes,” Father Jordan said uncomfortably. “I would have acted if I had the freedom to, but there were… external factors at play.”

“Factors?” I asked.

“The Volda family is… influential,” he admitted uncomfortably. “They own a large number of… entertainment venues, such as that brothel. The most important of their venues is Baltour’s Grand Coliseum, which seats ten thousand spectators, and offers a wide variety of shows. It’s famous, even among our neighbouring territories, and is a point of pride for the entire kingdom. Even the royal family often attends their special events. Lord Anthony was only the third son of the family, responsible only for running Rothvale’s Thorn, yet he still had his older brother’s backing.”

“Okay…?” I understood what he was saying, but this still didn’t sound like an apology.

Father Jordan sighed, “I noticed some of the issues with the brothel a few years ago. Yet, knowing the politics at play, I brought up the issue with the senior priesthood. When I mentioned it, I received direct orders, from the Archbishop himself, not to investigate or prosecute Lord Anthony’s activities unless he upsets the peace and safety of the general populace.”

“And slaves don’t count?” I asked.

The priest shook his head, no.

“What about the kidnapped human victims? I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to be grabbed off the street,” I said.

“Yes, I heard the reports of disappearances too…” Father Jordan admitted. “But there wasn’t enough evidence to conclude Lord Anthony and his brothel were responsible. It could have easily just been some depraved adventurer who couldn’t afford the Scarlet Thorn’s patronage.”

“The rationale of enslaving an Aasimar because of her supposedly corrupted nature is dubious at best, but Chloe’s abduction was a clear case of stolen property. How much did you appraise her for again? A hundred gold? That’s not chump change. You’re saying you couldn’t protect me, a human, from having my property stolen because… what? Lord Anthony’s family is influential?” Maddie asked accusingly.

“I could have paid you for her… The Archbishop offered funds to-” Father Jordan began.

“Chloe obviously has sentimental value,” Maddie snapped. “She’s our friend, and one of only six people on this entire planet from our home world. How can you think we’d be satisfied with only a bag of gold?”

“Not to mention, your appraisal value was woefully underselling her,” Lysander added. “With her Greater Blessing, she can grow rapidly and without limit. She is more than a simple house or sex slave. The potential to rapidly grow into a high tier Life mage with the proper resources and training adds considerable value.”

Father Jordan just sighed, and buried his head in his hands.

“I think we’re getting off topic here,” I said quietly. “Father Jordan was saying something?”

“Indeed…” Father Jordan said grimly. “I am… sorry. I failed in my duty as a priest. I am a servant of the gods, not the Archbishop. It’s clear to me now that I should have disobeyed the Archbishop’s mandate and investigated your disappearance more thoroughly. It is to my great shame that it took the direct intervention of a god to make me see that.”

Father Jordan looked me in the eye, and I felt the genuine weight of his shame. I swallowed nervously.

“I… accept your apology, but I don’t forgive you yet…” I said. “I’m less mad for myself, and more mad for the slaves that sicko and his clients tortured and killed… That whole place was… an atrocity. I’m willing to let your negligence go, give you a chance to make amends, but it’ll take you a while to get back into my good books.”

Father Jordan also looked toward Chloe for her reply. For once, he actually seemed to see her as a person.

“I… forgive you, but I want you to learn from this,” Chloe said softly. “As the actions of the Violator proved, the gods do not approve of the way things are. I won’t try to convince you non-consensual slavery is morally wrong, but if you truly believe enslaved demihumans are boon for human society, then remember they are of no use to anyone dead or traumatized. Surely they can perform a better role than just this? Think of the wasted potential of every slave killed in that brothel.”

Father Jordan sighed in resignation, “I will reflect on your words.”

“Thank you,” Chloe said, smiling gently.

Adam cleared his throat, “Thank you, Chloe… f-for saving me back then…”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a warm smile.

I might have melted a little bit. Holy crap, Chloe was seriously an angel. Why the fuck was I the Aasimar and not her?

I took another few bites of stew, as the conversation lapsed back into silence.

“So… what’s gonna happen now?” Maddie asked. “You’ve sent a message to the Archbishop about us? Is this the same one the Volda family bought?”

“I wish you wouldn’t say it like that…” Father Jordan grumbled. I noted that he didn’t actually try to disagree.

“How long will the message take to arrive?” Lysander asked.

“Baltour is a two day travel from here on horseback, following the road,” Father Jordan said. “I wrote a letter and had Lord Rothson, the noble in charge of this town, send a fast courier this morning.”

“So it’ll be read the day after tomorrow?” Lysander asked.

“Probably by tomorrow evening, actually,” Father Jordan said.

“And then what?” I asked.

“I would imagine you and your attendants would be invited to the capital. Given the importance of what happened, I’d expect a response within five days at most. The Archbishop would want to meet the gods’ sacred champions. Assuming you want to bring your slaves, with the number of females in your entourage, we’d need to travel by female-permitted armed caravan. The next one leaves sixteen days from now, and it’ll be a four day journey, as the guarded caravans move slowly. Then? I really don’t know. It’s out of my hands. I’d imagine you’d be given resources and a position of privilege somewhere in the capital, out of respect for the gods’ who blessed you,” Father Jordan explained.

“Are they gonna try to stop us lesser females from hunting monsters again?” Maddie asked. “I’m all for privilege, but I don’t like being coddled. I’m still a little pissed about that.”

Father Jordan sighed, “It’s not that females are any lesser than men… It’s simply that we have different roles to play. Letting females engage in combat against corrupted beasts is… suicidally dangerous.”

“Tell that to my elf maid…” I grumbled. “She’s obviously done some leveling.”

“Elf maid? Which one?” Father Jordan asked curiously.

Lysander cleared her throat meaningfully, “One of them has a second tier combat class.”

Second tier? Not fourth? Lysander’s death-stare told me that I needed to shut up. Oh right… didn’t Rylia say that she could hide herself from status appraisal skills? Perhaps she spoofed her status to the priest, and Lysander registered her as something less conspicuous. That was probably a smart idea, keep the secret bodyguard secret.

“We can still level from our captured monsters,” Chloe said. “No risk involved at all.”

“Indeed, once we’re a little bit less squishy, the church might be more willing to allow us to actually perform our God-given quest.” Lysander said.

The conversation turned to lighter topics, as we finished our meals. I discovered that Lysander and Maddie went house shopping while I was napping. They’d found a good place, and signed a one month lease. They said it was a small mansion, which made it about the size of a large suburban house in our world. It had two large bedrooms, two small bedrooms, a kitchen, living and dining room, and a wonderful shared bathroom with a tub large enough for four people. There was also lots of space in the attic to set up some cots for those slaves who didn’t share our beds. It probably had about 3000 square feet of floor space altogether. With twenty eight people, and two monsters, it would be a bit of a squeeze for us all to live comfortably, but if we were going to the capital soon, we’d only stay there for two weeks or so.

My friends also took care of shopping. They’d bought a barrel for Barrel Girl, another barrel full of powdered slave gruel mix, a cask of lamp oil, candles, and other practical necessities, as well as some staple foods so Douglas our chef could prepare something half decent. It was all piled onto a hand cart, pulled by Bethany the wolfgirl and Tiffany the Breast Bunny, our two strongest slaves. Joining the supplies on the hand cart were the magically unconscious bodies of two monster girls, and one belligerent dwarf.

They also bought some slave garbs in bulk, currently being worn by my slaves and the less furry of my two monster girls. These were simple strips of decent quality grey cloth, with a hole cut out in the middle for the head. From the neck hole, two broad flaps hung down, covering front and back down to mid thigh. There was a string on either side of the waist to tie the garment together. It was crude, and simple, and left wide openings on the sides to give us a tantalizing view of a slave’s legs, along with a tasteful display of sideboob. Lysander also pointed out that the garment was easy to remove from a bound slave without untying their arms or legs, something that I was sure was an intentional part of the design. The slaves were also given simple leather thong slippers, the cheapest shoes possible, to spare their feet from the ravages of the road outside.

It took us about twenty minutes to get all our slaves organized. Lothelea and I had to assign some of the hardier slaves to be designated carriers, looking after those who were in no state to walk on their own.

With our slaves in tow, my friends and I made our way over to our new home.

The mansion we rented was only about a ten minute walk from the temple, on the very edge of the nice neighbourhood and the middle class neighbourhood.

It was massive compared to the tiny townhomes in the less opulent parts of town, yet somewhat small and shabby compared to the other nearby mansions. There were two visible floors, and what looked like an attic space with dormers. Still, like its high-class neighbours, there was glass in the windows, hinting to me that this was still one of the fancier dwellings in the town.

The house was surrounded by a small overgrown yard, with the dilapidated remains of a garden in the back. Everything was overgrown with dense bushes and weeds, obviously not tended to for the last few years.

Inside, the floor was coated in a thin layer of dust, and canvas covers were laid over all the furniture. The interior walls were covered with nicely carved wooden panelling. The hardwood floors were a slightly lighter shade that helped give the space a more open feel. Nothing but the bedrooms were carpeted, but there were rugs in the dining and living areas, to give the rooms a cozier feel. It looked quite fancy, way better craftsmanship than what I’d expect from a medieval society.

“This doesn’t look medieval,” I said. “Same with the interior of the two brothels I saw.”

“I concur,” Lysander said. “Some of the lower class dwellings seemed nearly medieval, but this higher class dwelling is probably closer to early Georgian era in design and build.”

“Georgian?” I asked.

“You know what the Victorian era was?” Lysander asked. I nodded. “The Georgian era is the one before that, during the reigns of King George the first, second, third, and fourth, from the early 1700s to early 1800s.”

“Kay?” I said, not quite sure what that was supposed to mean in practical terms.

“It was the age of enlightenment, and the very beginnings of modern scientific theory. I doubt we could expect to find electricity in the walls or gas lighting, that would be late Victorian. Still, it seems that if we could acquire a source of wealth, we could live quite comfortably, with something approaching modern standards despite this society’s apparent technological stagnation.” Lysander commented.

“They say the homes in the capital are nicer than these. They’re cleaner, warmer, and with magical enchantments to make things comfier. I overheard one client speak of magical heating that keeps the whole house the same temperature on cold days, no need for a fire in the hearth, and no cold spots in the corners,” Lothelea pointed out helpfully.

“Ooh, magic central heating,” I cooed. “That’s probably crazy expensive.”

“Nobles have a lot of gold, Mistress,” Lothelea agreed.

The main floor of the house contained large living room with a cozy fireplace hearth. It was at least twice the size of the little drawing room from the church rectory. There was a kitchen area, with a wood burning stove and a removable basin for washing. There was no running water, only an enclosed well and hand pump outside in the back yard. We also saw a formal dining room, with a massive table able to seat ten. There was a second, roughly made dining table built into the kitchen, where servants would eat. There was also an empty pantry, and a laundry room with a big tub that would need to be manually filled with water every time.

The stair to the second floor was wide and well made, a beautiful, handmade work of woodcrafting art. Upstairs were the bedrooms. There were four of them, two large master bedrooms with spacious feather stuffed beds large enough to fit at least five sluts, and two smaller chambers with double beds, also deliciously soft, but not properly sized for orgies larger than a threesome.

The upstairs bathroom was also surprisingly opulent. With a beautiful tub of carved marble built into the floor. It would require filling by hand, but there was a drain to empty it out into the backyard eaves when we were done. It also contained a heating rune, to regulate the temperature and keep it warm.

“I want this bathtub to be full of foamy suds and sexy girls…” I said to the others. “Pronto.”

“Indubitably.” Lysander agreed.

“Slut soup,” Maddie added thoughtfully.

“So who’s taking the giant orgy beds?” I asked.

“We can claim one, Mistress. I wouldn’t mind sharing one with you and perhaps a few of your other living sex toys,” Chloe said.

“I’ll take a smaller one. As much fun as sharing a bed may be, I sleep better on my own,” Lysander said.

“I get the feeling Ash will insist on the second big bed. I doubt he’ll want to sleep with anything less than five women at a time. I’m pretty sure all our straight girls are going to be his,” Maddie said. “Guess that gives me the other small bedroom.”

“What about Emi?” I asked.

“Eh, we’ll figure something out. We’ll stick her with one of you girls, or Ash.” Maddie said.

“I want to fill my bed with sex slaves.” I said. “We’re going to be full.”

“Well Emi will be sleeping in the Cathedral of Eternal Violation for the next ten days anyway, so we can decide accommodations later.” Lysander said.

“Would my Mistresses care to wait while I organize your slaves to clean your bedrooms?” Lothelea offered.

I shrugged, and looked to Lysander.

“Yes, do that,” Lysander commanded.

We went downstairs to the living room to wait. The living room furniture was covered by a thick linen tarp to keep the dust away. It… almost worked. The couches were a little dusty, but it was clean enough for now. The slaves would probably clean these later, but they could prioritize our bedrooms.

Lothelea and the other dark elven maids took charge of the less well-dressed slaves, and divided them into three groups. Those who had cleaning Skills from their various [Commoner] and [Maid] classes, those who didn’t, and those who were entirely unfit for labour. The ones with cleaning Skills were asked to spend their mana on cleaning the bed linens, carpets, and curtains. Laundry was apparently one of the most time-consuming jobs to do by hand, without the aid of magic or Skills. The others were told to sweep floors and wipe down surfaces with rags.

The unfit slaves got dumped into the living room with us. It was like our own little insane asylum.

The snoozing dwarf, and my two monsters dozed in a little pile in the corner, flat on their backs like stacked logs.

The trembling high elven girl who could do nothing but break down and whimper for mercy every time we tried to talk to her, knelt in the corner, crying silently and trying very hard to avoid our attention. Maddie’s little boytoy Clyde was working, but his sister June, the traumatized mousegirl, sat on Maddie’s lap, cuddling against her Mistress’ shoulder.

Barrel Girl wasn’t present, we’d asked Rylia to take care of her long mane of white matted hair before putting her in her barrel. Rylia could materialize blades of pure crystalized shadow, impossibly sharp. I could hear yelps and screams outside in the yard, coming from the unfortunate terrified girl, as Rylia gave her a forceful haircut.

On the couch across from me sat Nephaline, the horrifically tortured dark elf. She sat with her legs tucked in, hugging her knees in a little ball. Thanks to her flimsy slave garb, she was unintentionally giving us a show of her cute, hairless lady bits, but didn’t seem to notice or care. Her eyes were unfocused, but every so often I could see her glance around the room nervously. She didn’t do or say anything.

Isarelle, the pink haired high elf who only seemed to respond to things put in front of her face sat next to her. She was currently licking the feet of the giggling redheaded halfling, Dottie, the self-titled ‘fantastic fathomless fuckhole.’ Dottie was laying on the high elf’s lap, her head dangling upside down off the elf’s knees, and her feet reaching up to the elf’s face. Thanks to the slave garb riding up, she was also baring herself shamelessly.

“It tickles and feels sexy at the same time!” the halfling proudly announced.

“There’s no TV, but at least we get an interesting show,” I said, watching the weirdness in front of me.

“Should we just let her do that?” Maddie asked.

“Don’t see why not. Dottie is having fun, and licky-girl doesn’t seem to mind having feet in her face all that much,” I said.

Ten minutes later, a gloomy dark elf in a maid dress, with hair covering her face like a Japanese horror movie ghost joined us in the room.

“Hi, what’s up?” I said.

Ass Licker slouched and hung her head solemnly. She spoke in a quiet, dreary monotone. “I’m very sorry Mistresses… I wasn’t very good at cleaning. They took my rag away and told me to join the others here.”

“You were bad enough at cleaning that they decided to put you with… these ladies?” Lysander asked, gesturing to the insane halfling still rubbing her feet against the catatonic licky-elf.

“I’m only good for eating ass…” Ass Licker said apologetically.

She averted her eyes from my gaze, and looked down at the floor in shame. Then she nervously glanced around, her eyes settling on my hips, before scanning over Chloe, Lysander, and Maddie. Seeing us all sitting comfortably, and not presenting our butts, she looked over at her fellow slaves, one by one.

Her eyes settled on Nephaline, the only slave whose butt was visible. The two made uncomfortable eye contact for a few seconds, but said nothing. Nephaline, in a rare moment of lucidity, looked down between her legs, where Ass Licker was staring. She gently adjusted the front flap of her slave garb to cover herself and block her fellow slave’s view. Ass Licker looked away in disappointment.

Lysander interpreted her silent plea, and scooted her hips forward, to the edge of the couch seat next to me.

“Ass Licker, come here and make yourself useful.” Lysander commanded.

Ass Licker’s gloomy exterior perked up for an instant, smiling a genuine smile. Then she returned to her normal stoic deadpan face, and scrambled over to Lysander, dropping down, landing on her knees, and sliding to a stop.

She gently lifted Lysander’s skirt and guided her hips a little further forward. She raised her mistress’s knees up, and plunged her face into Lysander’s cheeks. Lysander let her long robe skirt fall, covering herself from my view. All I could see was a lump in Lysander’s robe, and Ass Licker’s stocking clad legs and high heeled feet sticking out from underneath.

“Oh!” Lysander gasped. “You’re getting right in there… aren’t you?”

I heard the gentle wet sounds of Ass Licker hard at work.

“How is she?” I asked curiously.

“Sublime…” Lysander moaned, blushing a deep red.

I watched the scene longingly, and couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. I sort of wanted a tongue in my butt too.

A few minutes later, Rylia my dark elf super-assassin arrived in the room, carrying the empty barrel Lysander had bought for Barrel Girl. Lysander was busy, but Chloe and I helped her find a spot for it.

It was meant for dry goods, and thus had a closable and openable top, so Barrel Girl wouldn’t be sealed away forever. We also had the cooper drill a bung hole for us on the side wall, a little bit off center near the top. I giggled like a child when I heard what it was called. They weren’t talking about anuses, that little hole with a cork in it on the side of a barrel is actually called the bung hole.

The barrel’s bung hole was drilled a little wider than normal. It was about three inches wide and level with where Barrel Girl’s head would be. It was perfect for ventilation, and would act as a peephole, for when she was feeling brave enough to peer outside at us. Socializing her would be a long process, but this seemed like a good first step.

We set the barrel in the corner of the room, where it could double as a hidey hole and side table. We made sure the peephole faced toward the rest of the sitting area, giving her a good view of whoever was hanging out on the couches.

Rylia left, and soon returned carrying Barrel Girl herself. Her hair had been neatly trimmed down to a loose neck length bob cut. Her eyes were clenched shut, and she shivered with terror. She’d made quite a bit of panicked noise outside while getting her haircut, yet Rylia had some impressive knife skills. She hadn’t even so much as nicked an ear, despite the girl’s panicked struggles.

Once carried into the room, Barrel Girl immediately spotted her new barrel. She whimpered and reached for it with tears in her eyes. She wasn’t capable of any vocalization at all, just a whimpering gasping sound. Rylia let her go. She couldn’t walk upright, but she skittered over to the barrel on all fours, and crawled inside. Lysander came and pressed the lid down on top of her, and we heard a voice from inside the barrel sigh in relief.

I decided to check on her, and look in at her through the bung hole. Barrel Girl’s palm slapped against the hole to block my invasive peeping.

“Okay, got it, no looky…” I grumbled. “Guess we’ll give you some time to adjust.”

“I knew this guy who had a pet tarantula,” Maddie said thoughtfully. “It wasn’t the most interesting pet, it just lurked in its burrow all day, and only crept outside in the middle of the night to get water and food whenever nobody was watching. She’s… basically that.”

“What’s a tarantula?” Rylia asked curiously.

“A bigass spider from our world, about the size of your palm,” I explained.

“Um… palm sized is considered big?” Rylia said, raising an eyebrow.

“In our homeland it was,” I said.

“Hmm… okay then,” Rylia said, somewhat skeptically.

“What do you consider big?” Maddie asked.

“Well a common female Brown Weaver is about two hundred pounds. With a six foot legspan. Standing… I guess it would be about knee height?” Rylia said.

“Eeeeeyeah… let’s avoid encountering one of those.” Maddie said nervously.

“They’re easy enough to avoid, just stay away from large webs in the forest. They favor dense foliage, and only attack their victims from ambush.” Rylia said with a shrug.

Rylia’s face changed and she grinned evilly. “Fun fact, the males are harmless, but the females have ovipositors. They’ll paralyze a victim with their venom, wrap them in a cocoon of webs, and lay eggs inside all the girls and boys they catch. They also live in large colonies, so a potential victim can get egged more than once per day.”

“Ugh… nope nope nope…” Maddie said loudly, covering her ears.

“Sounds freaky, but probably less painful than those Thorn Trap seeds,” I said.

“You’re probably right, but I haven’t personally experienced either,” Rylia said.

“Do the spider eggs dissolve into Taint, or do they hatch?” I asked.

“Depends on whether its mating season or not,” Rylia said with a grin.

“Oh fuck! Nope nope nope!” Maddie squirmed and groaned. “Fucking baby spiders hatching inside me? So many nopes. One million nopes!”

Rylia cackled evilly, “There are far worse fates than that.”

“What’s the scariest monster you’ve heard of?” I asked.

“There are a lot of scary monsters, it really depends on what you find to be scary,” Rylia said, shrugging. “If you’re scared of big spiders, then stay the well away from the Underground. There’s a species lurking in the tunnels near the dark elves’ ancestral home of Kar’Vryth called the Shadowstalker. It’s where a certain dark elven assassin order got its name.”

“Sounds spooky,” I said.

“Right, so they’re between level 70 and level 90. They’re as big and heavy as a horse, deathly silent and nearly invisible when camouflaged against a cave wall. Speed wise, they can go from a dead stop to a horse’s gallop in an instant. While charging, the only sound you’ll hear is a quiet pitter patter of feet, and a hiss right as they pounce. By the time you notice them, they’re already on top of you. Their venom is overwhelmingly painful, not paralytic, they just cause you so much pain that you can’t move. Oh, and yes, their females lay eggs too. But unlike the half-inch-wide Weaver eggs, these ones are about three inches wide. They’re also too sticky to remove from inside yourself without burning them out with fire or acid, or waiting for them to hatch, or just dissolve and Taint you to death.”

“Yikes,” I said.

“Oh, and no webs either. You don’t get any warning at all if you’re in its hunting territory,” Rylia added.

“Kay, can you stop talking about rape spiders now?” Maddie whined.

“Okay then Mistress, let me tell you about Tar Salamanders, regarded by many adventurers as the number one least pleasant monster to get raped by,” Rylia said with an evil grin.

“Ugh, do I want to know?” Maddie groaned.

“Probably not,” I admitted. “But I find myself morbidly curious, so please go on Rylia.”

“Sure thing, Mistress. Kay, so they’re a big black lizard, weighing half a ton, that lives and lurks inside volcanic tar pits. They’re nearly invisible inside the tar until they pounce on you. If they’re trying to kill you, they just grab you and drag you into the burning tar. If they’re trying to rape you… well… you’re in for a bad time. Suffice to say their external body temperature is the same as the burning tar they live in. Not only are their massive scaly cocks hot enough to sear skin, but as fire attuned creatures, their ejaculate is even hotter.”

“Ooh… fuck… ouch,” I gasped, covering my lady bits protectively.

“Asphalt tar is typically stored in liquid form at around 150 degrees Celsius.” Lysander added, for context.

“So hotter than boiling water? Gee thanks for telling us all that, Lysander. I wasn’t horrified enough yet,” Maddie grumbled sarcastically.

“They also have two dicks, one for each hole. And their burning dicks are covered in hard spines. Oh, and their jizz is super sticky, and not dissolvable in water, so it stays inside you burning for a very long time and you can’t rinse it out. Oh, and there’s some sort of chemical reaction that happens when the jizz is exposed to water so it doesn’t cool down, it stays scaldingly hot for at least an hour before it starts to cool. Imagine that… burning from the inside out for an entire hour. Of course, that’s only if you’re lucky enough to get rescued. The salamander is ready for round two long before then, so… if you’re somehow hardy enough to survive the damage it causes, you’re not getting a break from the burning until the Taint takes your mind away. So yeah, if a Tar Salamander catches you, you better hope you die quickly. It’s pretty much the worst thing I can imagine getting raped by… that I know of at least.” Rylia said with a sinister grin.

“Yikes…” I said, still covering my crotch protectively.

“Well fuck… I guess I’m not sleeping tonight.” Maddie grumbled.

“Sounds quite the deadly encounter without fire resistance,” Lysander commented.

“It is, yet being fire resistant in this case would probably just make your death more painful and drawn out. If you don’t have full fire immunity, then heat resistance will just extend your pain. Resistance just means you’ll get first or second degree burns instead of third. So you’ll receive the most painful burns imaginable, without having the mercy of your pain receptors burning away.” Rylia explained.

“Well I’m wet now,” Paintoy said from the doorway. “Kinda makes me wish I was Taint immune, so I could experience it for myself.”

“Well, unless you have a very high HP total for your level, a heat resistance potion, and a healer nearby, you wouldn’t get to experience it for very long. The damage is quite lethal for most,” Rylia said.

“Paintoy, are you not cleaning the rooms? I hope you’re not being lazy,” Lysander said, giving the girl a knowing grin.

“Yes Mistress I am very lazy, and I deserve your harshest scolding. But uuh… also I’d like to report that your rooms are clean-ish.” Paintoy said, without missing a beat.

“Clean-ish?” I asked.

“I would call them liveable, but not up to a properly strict Mistress’ standards. We’ve cleaned them as best we could with our current mana resources.” Paintoy explained.

“They’ll probably be okay,” I said.

Paintoy immediately gave me a disappointed frown, and I realized the subtext behind this conversation. I quickly changed gears, “What I mean is… it might be an acceptable effort from the others, but as our highest level [Maid], we expect more from you, Paintoy.”

“Indeed, anything less than absolute perfection from you is unacceptable,” Lysander added, joining in, “You’ll need to be severely punished for your negligence. Ass Licker, that’s enough for now.”

Ass Licker scurred out from underneath Lysander’s robe, and scampered over to the other couch. She wiped the drool off her chin and caught her breath.

Lysander scooted back upright. “Paintoy, you may have noticed that I bought a small number of instruments of discipline while shopping today. Please bring me the paddle.”

Paintoy grinned gleefully, and bounced off in search of the torture implement. She returned with a thick hardwood board, about two feet long, rounded at the corners and thinned at one end to make a handle. A simple and effective butt slapper.

Lysander took the implement from her. “Lift your skirt and lay across my lap. You must be punished for failing to meet proper standards. The punishment will be fifty slaps across your bottom.”

“Yes Mistress, thank you for putting this lowly slave properly in her place,” Paintoy nodded solemnly, playing the role of the penitent slave, but failing to suppress her eager grin.

There was obvious joy on Paintoy’s face as she raised her skirt, and laid face down across her Mistress’ legs. She grinned and wiggled her butt seductively. Like Lothelea, she had no panties on beneath her maid dress, just stockings and a garter belt.

Slap!

“Ah!” Paintoy gasped as Lysander’s paddle came down on her butt.

Slap!

“Mmm…” Paintoy moaned.

The fun was happening right next to me on the couch, close enough that Paintoy’s flailing foot nearly hit me. I decided to get up and stretch my legs, before I got kicked.

“You ladies have fun, I’ll go check on the other slaves, and see my new bedroom,” I said.