She truly believed in what she was saying: that pleasure was for men, that pain made her useful, that her body wasn’t hers to understand, only something to give.

  It wasn't doubt in her voice but certainty. Passed down like scripture and reinforced by silence.

  I stood there in the steam-heavy air of the bathing chamber, naked, trying to process what I had just heard.

  The water pped quietly at the stone basin. Her posture was perfect. Back straight. Hands folded modestly in front of her bare sex. Her white hair clung to her shoulders, damp with mist. Her eyes didn’t waver. Because to her, this wasn’t cruelty, but simple truth.

  Malnutrition. Repression. Generations of obedience and ignorance. Her body never learned to seek warmth. Her mind never received permission to wonder what carnal pleasure meant. Desire was not taught, not even hinted at. And so her flesh responded like a stranger in its own skin.

  If I fucked her now, even gently, it would hurt. Her folds were soft but dry, pale like all the other skin on her body. Her clit hid in the depths of her hood, unwilling to wake up. Her body wasn’t resisting me, it simply didn’t know how to open. But I already had a pn.

  "Who told you that women are meant to suffer?" I asked.

  She tilted her head. "Everyone."

  I stepped forward and watched her reaction. She held still, eyes steady, body rexed and open, but unresponsive. Yet. I dipped the cloth into the steaming basin and wrung it until it dripped.

  "Then let me be the first to teach you otherwise."

  Her breath caught, sharp but unsure, like a reflex firing with no understanding behind it.

  "In my world," I said, bringing the cloth to her colrbone, "sex brings women to tears. Not from pain but from overwhelming pleasure."

  She blinked at me. As if I’d spoken a nguage not just foreign, but forbidden.

  "That’s not possible."

  "It is. You just haven’t felt it yet."

  I guided her gently to the stool. She sat with her knees pressed together, uncertain. I took my pce behind her, body to body, and let the heat between us do its work.

  I began with her chest. The cloth, warm and moist, glided over her breasts. Her nipples tensed immediately, but her breath remained even. I cupped her fully. Rolled the weight in my hands. I explored her with purpose, keeping my hunger at bay. Every motion weighed deliberately, every touch held a question. What does she respond to? What might she learn to crave?

  A twitch ran through her.

  I wet the cloth again and returned to my mission. A literal rinse and repeat.

  Her breathing shifted, shorter and shallower now, drawn tight in her chest. Her body was trying to catch up to something her mind hadn’t yet given permission to feel. She leaned back against me. Her skin softened. Her legs parted slightly, not by command, but by instinct.

  Good.

  I moved lower. The cloth dipped into the basin. Then it pressed between her thighs. One slow, steaming drag across her slit.

  She gasped, sharp and startled, a sound too clean to be fear and too raw to be recognition.

  I did it again. And again. Her clit began to swell beneath its hood. Her vulva flushed a deeper hue.

  I dropped the cloth, repcing it with my fingers. I circled her pearl gently, coaxing it from hiding. Her thighs trembled.

  A sound left her mouth. Not quite a moan, but not just a breath anymore.

  Her opening, however, still remained dry on the surface.

  "Into the water," I commanded.

  I entered first. Let her see me submerged. My cock was already heavy, standing proudly, resisting against the water's grasp. Her eyes flicked to it, then away. Her cheeks burned more than before.

  She stepped in and paused, water swirling around her calves. Her eyes locked into mine, searching for something inside. Then she turned with resolve and started moving down as if pnning to straddle me.

  I stopped her with a word just in time.

  "No."

  She froze.

  "But... don't you want it?"

  "I don't want you to offer yourself like you're fulfilling a duty. I want you to crave it. To give yourself without being told. Come sit now, rest your back against mine once again."

  She obeyed.

  The water closed around her. Her body pressed into mine, soft and yielding, tension flickering under the surface like a drawn string not yet released.

  My hand found her slit again. This time, barely slick with her juices. Just enough.

  I spread it along her slit, gliding over swollen folds until her clit emerged, engorged with blood and willing.

  I teased it, circled and pressed from every angle. I let her experience the pattern, the pressure, and the pleasure hidden within her button. She tilted her head back against my shoulder.

  I brought my free hand to her breasts. Pinched, rolled, caressed.

  Her hips began to twitch.

  "Breathe," I whispered. "Let it happen. Don’t run."

  She didn’t answer, but her body did.

  Her legs tightened, breathing quickened. The water pped against the stone as her motions became erratic. She whimpered first, then moaned, the sounds building one into the next, rising in pitch and wetness until they didn’t sound like hesitation anymore.

  Her climax took her all at once. Her back arched, thighs locked, her pussy pulsed and spasmed under my fingers, empty and willing to be filled. She cried out, the sound raw and high in her throat, bouncing off the stone unrestrained, filling the entire room with echoes.

  And then her hips jerked again.

  Her ass shifted and caught my cock between her cheeks, the motion unintentional but perfectly aligned. Her trembling body ground against me, and each pass along my shaft stripped away what little control I had left. The heat, the friction, the closeness—all of that combined made me groan, unable to hold it back any longer as release surged through me.

  Thick pulses surged out. Seed unfurled through the water in slow, milky trails, clinging to her hips, her lower back, suspended between us like a secret no one had spoken yet.

  As her orgasm subsided, she turned, blinking at the sight.

  "You… "

  "You made me feel good too," I said, quietly.

  Her face lit with the softest, most sincere smile I’d ever seen.

  I dipped my fingers between her thighs, scooping the slick warmth still clinging to her entrance. I brought it to my lips and licked slowly, watching her expression shift from surprise to wide-eyed curiosity.

  "Delicious," I said. "Not literally. But in meaning. Tasting you like this... it satisfies something deeper. I can’t expin it. You have to try to understand."

  Her gaze dropped to the water where my seed still floated in faint, curling trails. She reached down. Collected some of it between two fingers. Brought it up slowly, cautiously.

  Then, without looking at me, she licked.

  Her lips parted. Her tongue drew it in. She paused, searching the sensation.

  A faint shiver passed through her. Then she looked at me again, silent but glowing.

  That smile didn’t belong to a sve.

  It belonged to Ellie.

  To someone I couldn’t afford to lose again.

  We stayed in the bath until the water cooled to a lukewarm haze, bodies rexed, silence no longer heavy but held. After rinsing off what was left of us, we stepped from the stone tub.

  "You’ll sleep in my room from now on," I said as I dried her hair.

  She looked up, hesitating. "But I’ve never heard of a sve staying in her master’s bedroom at all times."

  "It’s required for my training method," I replied. A half-truth, or maybe a new truth I was still inventing. I couldn’t tell her yet that I never pnned to sell her. Some lies are better worn for a while.

  "Before we sleep, come with me to the library. I need to check something."

  She nodded and led the way without asking. Of course she knew the estate better than I did. She had memories here, while mine were gone with a thud on a stone floor.

  We entered a room lined with bookcases. Most were stripped bare. The expensive volumes, gone. Sold, like everything else that wasn’t nailed down or sacred.

  Even Ellie paused, her breath catching. "I didn’t think it would be this empty."

  I closed the door behind us.

  "What you’re about to do, you’ll carry to your grave. Do you understand?"

  She turned sharply. Straightened.

  "Yes, Master."

  "I lost the ability to read. I know you were taught as a child. So from now on, in addition to your training and duties, you’ll assist me here. Read for me until I can read again."

  Her eyes searched mine.

  She didn’t speak.

  But her posture changed. A lift to her chin. A flicker of something proud in the way she folded her hands.

  "Needless to say," I added, "any technique or document of the Ninetails household must remain within its blood."

  "I understand, Master."

  "Read me the names of the tomes one by one."

  She turned toward the nearest shelf, eyes scanning the spines. Her voice came steady, but a note of discomfort tugged at the edges.

  "'How to Make Full Use of a Mouth'"

  "'666 Ways to Wield Nine-Tails'"

  "'How to Use Branding to Instill Loyalty Through Fear'"

  "'Shaping Behavior Through Isotion and Denial'"

  She paused, fingers lingering on the next title. Her throat bobbed once.

  "'The Conquest of Will: Art of Mindbreak.'"

  Her voice faded.

  I stepped beside her and id a hand on her shoulder. "None of that is for you. But I need to know what others were taught, to know what I’m choosing to undo."

  "Now keep going."

  She hesitated, then resumed reading. The titles grew darker. Gory. Nothing I wanted to dabble in.

  We worked through the collection in silence. One title after another, echoes of pain and obedience etched into leather spines. At st, only one remained—tucked deep into the furthest corner of the shelf.

  Its cover was bleak with time. The leather brittle but untouched, as if few had ever dared to open it.

  She pulled it free, brushed off the dust, and read the name.

  "A Forbidden Art of Pleasure Bond."

  I froze.

  The title wasn’t carved in gold or sealed with wax, but something in it pulled all the warmth out of the room. She held it like any other book, unaware of what she carried. But something deep in me already knew.

  This wasn’t some brutal manual, passed from cruel hand to crueler. It wasn’t for obedience, or pain.

  It was something older. And it was hidden for a reason.

  Knowledge like this didn’t vanish. It was buried on purpose, because it threatened something, or someone very powerful. The entity at the pinnacle of this empire, maybe even the world itself.

  I knew instinctively, that the answers I’d find in this tome would bring immeasurable returns. Coupled with just as much danger.

  But I was too cornered to care.