"One more thing," Derek says, stopping at the door. "I'm heading to the capital tomorrow for tournament registration. Your trainer shows up at dawn."
I sit bolt upright. "Tomorrow? But I can't even hold a sword properly!"
Derek's face gives nothing away, those steel-gray eyes cold as ever. "Then learn fast. House Westfield's future rides on this." He straightens his jacket with a quick flick. "Night, Daren."
The door closes with a soft click that feels like a death sentence. A combat tournament? Me?
The guy whose biggest physical challenge was choosing which dating app to use while taking a shit?
*I am absolutely fucked.*
I fall back on the bed, my mind racing through all the ways I could die in this medieval fantasy UFC.
Stabbed. Slashed. Impaled. Decapitated. Disemboweled. Each mental image more graphic than the last, starring me as the bloody corpse.
Just when I'm thinking jumping out the window might hurt less than whatever's waiting in this tournament, I hear a soft scratching at my door. Not quite a knock—more like someone trying to be quiet.
I jump up and pull it open, but nobody's there. Just a folded piece of parchment on the floor with a small key that glints.
The note's written in a good, flowing handwriting:
"For your midnight education. The third bookshelf in the east corridor hides more than just books."
No signature, but something about the writing seems familiar. I pocket the key and check both ways before slipping into the dark hallway.
Who sets up secret midnight meetings in a medieval fantasy world? This is either gonna be amazing or I'm about to get murdered. Maybe both.
The east corridor's barely lit by wall sconces that make more shadows than light. I count the bookshelves—one, two, three—stopping at a huge wooden beast carved with scenes of ancient battles. Nothing screams "secret passage," but as I get closer, I notice a faint blue glow between two massive leather-bound books.
Please don't be a mimic. Please don't be a mimic.
I reach for the glowing book, and when I pull it, a soft click . The entire bookshelf moves with barely a sound, revealing a narrow passage lit by sconces burning with weird blue flames.
Seriously? Secret passages? This place is like D&D with a BDSM dungeon.
The passage is just wide enough for one person, forcing me sideways at some points. The blue flames throw dancing shadows that seem to move on their own, almost like they're watching me.
After about thirty feet, the corridor ends at a heavy wooden door with a brass lock—perfect match for my key.
I put it in, feeling a slight tingle as the mechanism turns. The door swings open silently, and what I see inside makes me freeze in shocked appreciation.
Madame Rosalind is there, tied perfectly to a wooden frame, blindfolded, her curvy body wrapped in rope patterns that shows rather than hide her massive curves.
The ropes cross her massive tits, framing them perfectly while binding her arms behind her back.
Her legs are spread and secured to the bottom parts of the frame, leaving her completely exposed, her wet pussy already glistening in the blue light.
"Who's there?" she demands, turning her head toward the door sound. Despite being tied up, her voice carries the same bossy tone she uses with the house staff. "Release me at once!"
I smile, walking quietly closer. "I don't think you're in a position to make demands anymore, Madame."
Her body tenses at my voice. "You? How dare—"
"How dare I? That's rich coming from someone who's tied up like a festival meat.
" I circle her slowly, admiring the rope work. Someone with serious skills set this up. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to get you ready. Would be a shame to waste their efforts."
"This is outrageous! I am the head of household staff! You will release me immediately or—"
My hand lands on her exposed ass with a sharp slap that echoes through the room. The red handprint appears instantly on her pale skin as she gasps, more surprised than hurt.
"Or what?" I ask, leaning close to her ear. "You'll tell Lord Derek? Somehow I doubt you want anyone knowing about this little... arrangement."
Her breathing gets faster, but she stays defiant. "You know nothing about me or my position."
"I know enough." I run my fingers along the ropes binding her breasts, feeling her involuntary shiver.
I give the rope a sharp tug, making her generous flesh bulge more. "I know when we first met, you tried to dominate me. You thought you could control the new guy, make me just another servant under your thumb."
I pinch her exposed nipple hard, making her cry out—the sound somewhere between pain and pleasure.
"But that's not how this works between us, is it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," she says, but her voice has lost some of its edge.
I take off her blindfold, wanting to see her eyes. They're wide, pupils dilated—not with fear, but with obvious arousal.
"Look at me, Rosalind," I command, using her name without title for the first time. "Who set this up? Who tied you here?"
She swallows hard. "Lady Elara."
Interesting. Veryinteresting.
"And why would Lord Derek's daughter do that?"
"She... she said it would help you discover your true abilities."
I smile as pieces fall into place. "Then let's not disappoint her."
I take off my clothes, my cock already fully hard in anticipation. Rosalind's eyes follow my movements, widening slightly at the sight of my enhanced body.
I step close enough that my erection brushes against her thigh, making her breath catch.
"The proud Madame Rosalind," I say, gripping her chin firmly. "Always in control. Always giving orders." I trace my other hand down her body, between her breasts, across her stomach, until my fingers find her wet slit. "But this says something different."
"Ah!" she gasps as I slide two fingers inside her. She's soaking wet, her body betraying what her pride won't admit.
"Your body knows what you need," I tell her, fingers exploring deeper, finding that perfect spot that makes her squirm against her bonds. "Say it."
"No," she whispers, but her hips push against my hand.
I pull my fingers out completely, making her whimper at the loss. "Say it, or you get nothing."
Her internal struggle shows on her face—pride versus desire, control versus surrender. I wait patiently, my cock throbbing with anticipation.
"I... I need..." she begins, then stops.
I give another sharp slap to her ass, harder this time. "Try again."
"I need you!" she gasps, the words finally breaking free. "I need you to take me, to... to control me."
"Better," I say, rewarding her by putting my fingers back in her dripping pussy. "But not good enough."
I work her body mercilessly, bringing her to the edge of orgasm before stopping, watching her writhe against the ropes. Each time she gets close, I deny her, forcing increasingly desperate sounds from her throat.
"Please," she begs after the third denial, all pretense of authority gone. "Please, I need to cum."
"Who am I to you?" I demand, my cock pressed against her pussy but not entering.
Her resistance completely crumbles. "Master," she moans. "You're my Master."
I thrust into her with one powerful stroke, burying myself completely. Her scream of pleasure echoes off the walls as her body, denied for so long, clenches around me in immediate orgasm.
"That's it," I growl, setting a punishing rhythm. "Take it all."
"Yes! Oh gods, yes!" she cries, her massive breasts bouncing with each thrust despite the rope constraints. "Harder, Master! Please!"
I grip the ropes across her back, using them as leverage to drive deeper, angling to hit that perfect spot with each stroke.
Her moans become incoherent, punctuated by the wet sounds of our bodies meeting and the creaking of the wooden frame.
"You're mine now," I tell her, feeling my own orgasm building. "This body—" I squeeze her breast roughly, "—this mouth—" I thrust two fingers between her lips, which she eagerly sucks, "—everything you are belongs to me."
"Mmm-hmm!" she agrees around my fingers, eyes rolling back as another orgasm tears through her.
I pull out suddenly, making her whine in protest. "On your knees," I command, quickly unfastening the lower restraints while leaving her arms bound.
She drops to her knees the moment she's free, looking up at me with complete submission in her eyes.
"Open," I order, gripping my slick cock. She parts her lips eagerly, and I guide myself into her waiting mouth. "That's it. Show your Master how well you serve."
The sight of the bossy Madame Rosalind on her knees, tied up and eagerly sucking my cock, sends a surge of power through me. I grip her hair, controlling her movements, watching her eyes water as she takes me deeper.
"You were made for this," I tell her, my voice rough with approaching release. "To serve. To obey. To please."
She moans around my shaft, the vibrations pushing me closer to the edge.
When I finally pull back, her lips are swollen, her face flushed with need. "Please," she begs, "finish inside me, Master. I need to feel you."
I free her completely from the frame but leave her wrists tied behind her back. Guiding her to a nearby table, I bend her over its edge, her magnificent ass presented perfectly.
"Is this what you want?" I ask, teasing her entrance with just the tip.
"Yes! Gods, yes! Please, Master, fuck me!"
I drive into her with renewed force, one hand gripping her bound wrists, the other tangled in her hair. The table rocks beneath us as I pound into her willing body, her cries growing louder with each thrust.
"Who do you belong to?" I demand as I feel myself approaching climax.
"You! Only you! I'm yours forever!"
As those words leave her lips, something extraordinary happens. Blue energy—the same color as the flames in the corridor—starts coming from my skin.
It swirls around us both, growing stronger until the entire room is bathed in its glow.
"Oh fuck!" I growl, the energy amplifying every sensation. My orgasm hits with unstoppable force, my seed pumping deep inside her as the blue light pulses in rhythm with each spurt.
Rosalind screams in ecstasy, her body convulsing around me as the energy connects us in ways beyond the physical. "The bonding!" she gasps. "It's real!"
The energy forms into a status window floating before my eyes:
[STATUS UPDATE]
Name: Daren
Level: 2 (Level Up!)
Experience: 0/500
Class: Transmigrant Champion
ABILITIES:
- Enhanced Physique (Level 1): Active
Effects: Increased stamina, strength, and sexual prowess
- Natural Charm (Level 2): Unlocked
Effects: Reduces inhibitions in targets; touch creates arousal
NEW FEATURE UNLOCKED:
HAREM CAPACITY:
- Slots: 1/3
- Active Bonds: Madame Rosalind (Servant-Rank)
The blue energy forms a visible thread connecting my chest to Rosalind's. Her expression changes to one of awe and devotion as we both collapse, still joined, in the afterglow of something far beyond ordinary sex.
"It's true then," she whispers, her body still trembling with aftershocks. "The old texts about transmigrants and their bonded servants."
"What texts? What's happening?" I ask, watching the energy thread pulse between us.
"Master," she says, her voice taking on a reverence I've never heard before. "I am yours now in ways beyond the physical. Command me, and I will obey. Your strength flows through me, and my service empowers you."
Well, that's not in any RPG I've ever played.
"The bond is sacred," she continues as I untie her wrists. "In public, I must keep my position as head of staff. But in private, I exist only to serve you. My knowledge, my body, my loyalty—all yours."
I help her stand on shaky legs, feeling a strange new connection between us. "And this harem capacity thing?"
"The texts talk about transmigrants with multiple bonds. Each servant provides different strengths, different knowledge." She kneels before me, head bowed. "I'm honored to be your first."
First of three, apparently.
As Rosalind explains more about the bond and what it means, I can't help but wonder about Elara's role in all this. Why would Derek's daughter set this up? What does she know about transmigrants that her father doesn't?
More importantly, what am I going to do about this combat trainer arriving tomorrow? Maybe Rosalind has some info that could help me survive whatever's coming.
One thing's for sure—this world just got a whole lot more complicated. And a whole lot more interesting.