The cottage felt like a prison when we returned, its walls closing in around the suffocating pretense I was forced to maintain. Every step across the threshold reminded me of kneeling helplessly in the dirt while that arrogant elf looked down at me like I was nothing.
[Rage Level: 85/100 - Approaching critical threshold]
[Humiliation Processing: Revenge scenarios calculating]
[Primary Target: Lyra Moonweaver - Corruption priority maximum]
[Immediate Outlet Required: Prevent explosive confrontation]
Aldric moved to the kitchen with practiced efficiency, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes kept flicking toward me when he thought I wasn't looking.
The questions were building behind his careful knight's facade.
"I'll prepare some tea," Lyralei said softly, her voice trembling with barely contained stress.
Through our bond, I could feel her emotional turmoil—fear for my safety, confusion about what she'd witnessed, and underneath it all, that constant craving for my touch that had only grown stronger since our night together.
[Lyralei Status Critical:]
[Dependency: 80/100 - Severe withdrawal symptoms building]
[Stress: 95/100 - Near psychological breakdown]
[Loyalty: 95/100 - Desperate to serve and protect Master]
[Physical Need: 90/100 - Addiction reaching dangerous levels]
"Raven," Aldric said, settling into his chair with the deliberate movements of someone choosing his words carefully. "I need you to explain what really happened out there."
I met his gaze steadily, letting just enough irritation show to seem human. "I told you. I was testing my recovery, ran into some dire wolves, killed them, and that goblin tried to steal my loot. Then your Hero friends decided I was the villain in their little story."
"My friends?" Aldric's eyebrows rose. "I've worked with Kael's party before, yes, but they're not exactly social calls. They're here investigating supernatural disturbances in the area."
[Warning: Hero party mission directly related to Raven's activities]
[Imperial cooperation: Heroes and Inquisitors sharing intelligence]
[Cover identity: Under increasing scrutiny]
"What kind of disturbances?" I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer.
"Strange magical signatures. Reports of people acting... differently. Animals fleeing the forest in unusual patterns." Aldric's eyes never left my face. "The kind of things that happen when something unnatural takes up residence in an area."
Lyralei's hand trembled as she set down the tea service, and I caught the way Aldric's gaze sharpened at the sound of rattling porcelain. She was falling apart, and her husband was trained to notice details like that.
"You seem nervous, my dear," Aldric said gently, but I heard the underlying concern. "Are you feeling well?"
"I'm fine," she said quickly, too quickly. "Just tired. I haven't been sleeping well."
[Lyralei Deception: Failed]
[Aldric Suspicion: 60% → 65%]
[Withdrawal symptoms: Becoming visible to trained observer]
[Intervention Required: Before complete breakdown]
"Perhaps you should rest," I suggested, my voice carrying just enough authority to make her silver eyes snap to mine. "You look... strained."
The moment our gazes met, I saw her pupils dilate slightly, her breathing quicken. The addiction was so strong now that even eye contact triggered a physical response.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice breathy. "I think... I think I need to lie down."
She practically fled toward the bedroom, leaving Aldric and me alone with the weight of unspoken suspicions.
"She's been acting strange since you arrived," Aldric said quietly, his knight's training making him probe for connections. "Distracted. Secretive. And now she can barely hold a teacup steady."
"People react differently to stress," I replied. "Having an injured stranger in your home, Imperial Inquisitors asking questions, now Heroes investigating supernatural threats... it's a lot for anyone."
"Perhaps." But his tone suggested he wasn't convinced. "Tell me, Raven—what do you remember about the attack that injured you?"
[Danger: Probing for inconsistencies in cover story]
[Recommended Response: Maintain vague details, deflect with emotion]
"Fragments," I said, letting some genuine frustration creep into my voice. "Pain. Darkness. Claws and teeth. I was lucky your wife found me when she did."
"Yes," Aldric said slowly. "Very lucky indeed."
The conversation was interrupted by a soft sound from the bedroom—something between a whimper and a moan. Aldric's head turned toward the sound, concern replacing suspicion.
"I should check on her," he said, rising from his chair.
"Give her a few minutes," I suggested. "Sometimes rest is the best medicine."
But through our bond, I could feel exactly what was happening in that bedroom. Lyralei was fighting a losing battle against withdrawal symptoms that were part physical need, part psychological dependency. Her body was craving my touch with an intensity that bordered on madness.
[Lyralei Status: Critical withdrawal]
[Physical symptoms: Trembling, fever, hypersensitivity]
[Psychological symptoms: Desperation, obsessive thoughts, master fixation]
[Time until breakdown: Less than 2 hours]
Another sound drifted from the bedroom—definitely a moan this time, low and needy. Aldric's face darkened with worry.
"That's not normal," he said, moving toward the bedroom door.
I had to act fast. If he found his wife in the throes of withdrawal from another man's touch, even a knight's honor wouldn't stop him from drawing his sword.
"Aldric," I said, standing and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps we should talk outside. Give her privacy to... recover."
He hesitated, torn between concern for his wife and masculine discomfort with female ailments he didn't understand.
"The fresh air might help us both process what happened in the forest," I added.
[Manipulation: Successful]
[Aldric redirected away from immediate discovery]
[Time gained: Approximately 30 minutes]
"You're right," he said finally. "Some air would be good."
As we stepped outside, I caught a glimpse of silver hair at the bedroom window. Lyralei was watching us leave, her face flushed with fever and need. Through our bond, I felt her desperate relief that I'd prevented her husband from seeing her in such a compromised state.
But I also felt something else—a growing recklessness born of addiction. She was reaching the point where she might do something stupid to get what she needed.
[Warning: Corrupted servant becoming liability]
[Recommendation: Immediate maintenance session required]
[Risk Assessment: Discovery vs. Complete breakdown]
"So," Aldric said as we walked toward the garden, "what did you think of the Hero party?"
"Impressive," I admitted. "Especially the mage. That elf has serious power."
"Lyra Moonweaver," Aldric nodded. "One of the most skilled battle mages in the kingdom. Also one of the most arrogant. She has a tendency to look down on anyone she considers beneath her station."
[Target Intelligence: Lyra Moonweaver]
[Weakness Identified: Pride and arrogance]
[Corruption Vector: Humiliation and dominance]
[Revenge Potential: Maximum satisfaction]
"I noticed," I said dryly. "She seemed to enjoy putting me in my place."
"Don't take it personally. Lyra treats most humans like insects. It's actually refreshing when someone stands up to her, though few are brave enough to try."
Or stupid enough, I thought. But that was about to change.
"How long will they be in the area?" I asked.
"A few days, maybe a week. Depends on what they find." Aldric's expression grew serious.
"Raven, I need you to promise me something. Stay away from the deep woods while they're here. Whatever's out there that has them concerned... it's not something you want to encounter."
If only he knew that what they were looking for was standing right next to him.
"Of course," I lied smoothly. "I've had enough excitement for one day."
A particularly loud moan drifted from the cottage, and Aldric's head snapped toward the sound.
"That's definitely not normal," he said, worry overriding his earlier reluctance. "I should—"
"Sir Aldric!" a voice called from the forest edge.
We turned to see a figure in Imperial colors approaching—one of Marcus's subordinates, by the look of his uniform.
[New Threat: Imperial messenger]
[Timing: Suspicious - coordinated with Hero party encounter?]
[Recommendation: Assess intelligence level and eliminate if necessary]
"What is it, Corporal?" Aldric asked, his attention diverted from his wife's condition.
"Inquisitor Bloodhawk requests your immediate presence at the garrison," the messenger said, slightly out of breath. "There's been a development in the investigation."
"What kind of development?"
"I'm not privy to the details, sir. But the Inquisitor seemed... urgent."
Aldric glanced back at the cottage, then at me. I could see the conflict in his eyes—duty versus concern for his wife.
"Go," I said. "I'll keep an eye on Lyralei. If she gets worse, I'll send for the village healer."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm not going anywhere," I assured him, which was technically true. I'd be right here, taking care of his wife's very specific needs.
[Opportunity: Aldric removal from premises]
[Time Available: Minimum 2 hours for garrison meeting]
[Lyralei Status: Critical need for master's attention]
[Decision: Maintenance session authorized]
After Aldric left with the messenger, I stood in the garden for a few minutes, listening to the increasingly desperate sounds coming from the cottage. Through our bond, I could feel Lyralei's condition deteriorating rapidly—fever, trembling, an ache that went deeper than physical need.
She needed her Master. And her Master needed to work out some frustration from this morning's humiliation.
[System Advisory: Corrupted servants require regular maintenance]
[Withdrawal symptoms: Dangerous to both servant and master]
[Recommended frequency: Daily contact minimum for stable bonding]
[Current session: Overdue by 18 hours]
I walked back into the cottage, my enhanced hearing picking up the sound of labored breathing from the bedroom. When I opened the door, I found Lyralei curled on the bed, her nightgown soaked with sweat, silver hair plastered to her flushed face.
"Master," she whispered, her voice raw with need. "Please... I can't... it hurts so much without you."
The sight of her suffering should have triggered some remnant of human compassion. Instead, it only fed the dark satisfaction growing in my chest. This was what true power looked like—complete dependency, absolute need.
"Look at you," I said softly, approaching the bed. "The perfect knight's wife, reduced to this. What would your husband think if he could see you now?"
"I don't care," she gasped, reaching for me with trembling hands. "I only care about you. Only you matter."
[Corruption Status: Complete psychological dominance achieved]
[Servant loyalty: Absolute - will sacrifice everything for master]
[Addiction level: Critical - requires immediate attention]
I sat on the edge of the bed, and she immediately pressed against me, her body seeking contact like a drug addict seeking a fix.
"Please," she begged, her hands fumbling with my clothes. "I need you inside me. I need to feel owned again."
The desperation in her voice, the complete abandonment of dignity and pride—it was intoxicating. This morning, I'd been forced to kneel before that arrogant elf. Now, I had a beautiful woman begging for my touch, willing to betray everything she'd once held sacred.
"Tell me what you are," I commanded, my voice carrying the authority she craved.
"Your servant," she whispered immediately. "Your property. Your perfect little whore."
"And what do you want?"
"To be used by you. To be owned completely. To forget everything except serving my Master."
[Achievement: Complete Moral Destruction]
[Servant Status: Fully corrupted and dependent]
[Master Authority: Absolute obedience confirmed]
I pulled her against me, and she melted into my embrace with a sob of relief. The withdrawal symptoms began to fade immediately, replaced by the euphoric rush of her addiction being fed.
"That's my good girl," I murmured, my hands beginning to explore her trembling body. "Now let me show you what happens to servants who please their Master."
The weight of every insult and humiliation I'd suffered earlier pressed down on me as I pulled her close. Her body was warm and trembling beneath my hands—the perfect frustration, my power, my need for control.
I traced my fingers along the curves I'd claimed, letting my touch fan the fervor simmering beneath her skin.
Her breath hitched, eyes glowing with hunger and submission as she pressed her lips lightly to mine, seeking and offering all at once.
"Tonight," I whispered against her mouth, voice low and commanding, "you belong to me completely. Not just your body, but your very soul."
Her hands trembled as they gripped my shoulders, a silent plea for mercy that only fueled my resolve.
Pressing my forehead to hers, I pulled away just enough to draw in her scent.
Then, with deliberate intent, I began.
My hands roamed boldly.
Slowly, I traced downward, undoing the ties of her nightgown to reveal ivory flesh glowing beneath the moonlight. Her pulse fluttered beneath my fingertips,.
She gasped softly when my fingers teased the delicate skin at the curve of her hip, jaw slack with anticipation as I pressed a trail of kisses along her neck—biting gently just enough to leave a mark.
Her every shudder echoed the wordless surrender she offered. There was no hesitation, no resistance—only trust and need as she knelt before me, eyes locked on mine with a hunger.
"Use your mouth," I commanded softly. "Show me your devotion."
Her lips parted, as she closed around me with a breathy eagerness, her lips brushing and sucking in a rhythm that demanded surrender.
I grasped her hair, fingers tangled in the silk of her silver strands as every movement, every moan, wound tighter the invisible chains that bound her to me.
"Good girl," I murmured. "You feel so perfect. Only mine."
Her hands clenched at my hips, pulling me deeper as her mouth worked tirelessly, drawing ragged breaths and whispers of my name from my throat.
A shiver traveled down my spine as her teeth grazed teasingly at my skin— Somewhere in the back of my mind, the humiliation now transmuted into pure, total dominance.
"Master," she breathed. "I belong to you. Your touch, your mouth... I live to please you."
Her whispered words were intoxicating, each one a binding contract etched in longing and surrender.
I tightened my grip as the tension coiled inside me. Her lips parted wider, swallowing every inch with reverence, her hands trembling as they pressed insistently against me.
"Make me yours," she begged softly, voice trembling. "Take everything I have."
That was all I needed.
With a harsh growl that shook the very air between us, I claimed her fully. The torment and pleasure mingling as we matched breath for breath, heart for heart.
Every harsh thrust, every whispered command: this was my dominion, my conquest, the woman who would follow and obey without question.
Her cries filled the room—soft, desperate, and utterly mine—echoing the final surrender as wave after wave racked through us both. Collapsing together, intertwined in heated exhaustion, I pressed a possessive kiss to her sweat-slick hair.
"You're mine," I whispered again, voice raw with promise. "Forever."
She smiled against my chest, breath mingling with mine in quiet surrender that needed no words.
In that moment, the humiliation I'd tasted earlier became fuel—a dark fire that sharpened the edges of our bond, making it unbreakable.