Thankfully, the boots held no strange odor, only the subtle tang of leather and the lingering sweetness of a mature woman's perfume.
Once removed, the boots yielded to reveal legs of breathtaking beauty, sheathed in purple silk stockings, both straight and elegantly slender. The spiderweb pattern of the stockings clung to her skin like a second layer, tracing the captivating curves beneath.
Bathed in the room's dim light, the purple of the stockings deepened, a rich hue that hinted at the pale, alluring flesh they veiled.
Her legs, crossed with a casual grace that was worlds away from the girlishness of March 7th and Topaz, spoke of an intoxicating elegance, the unique allure of a woman fully aware of her own power.
A subtle heat stirred within Daziel, a primal instinct he fought to suppress.
Kafka watched him, her gaze unwavering and serious. "I knew you'd balk at this kind of thing, Daziel. You're too kind, too… upright. That's why I prepared a contingency, so don't blame me for my foresight."
"I could have simply bent you to my will, puppeted you through it all. But I dislike being too proactive. I prefer you choose this path willingly."
"Because such choices, Daziel, will become commonplace for you. And not every woman you encounter will be… as forgiving as I am. You must learn to be more decisive."
Daziel regarded her, a knot of confusion tightening in his chest. What does she truly want? he wondered. To mold me into a villain, a puppet master of the powerful? Does anyone actually desire such a twisted narrative?
"Don't waste your energy trying to decipher me, Daziel. I'm simply following what I believe is right, guided by Elio's prophecy. This is my own volition, nothing more." Kafka's expression hardened, becoming solemn, almost sacred. "Now, I offer you a choice. If you are willing to embrace this course of action, blink once. I will release the spell and the decision will be yours, entirely."
"If you hesitate, if you remain unwilling, then do nothing. I will resume control and ensure the inevitable unfolds as it must."
"Tell me, Daziel," she pressed, her voice low and intense, "what does your free will dictate?"
Kafka's words resonated within him, a tumultuous echo in his soul. Do I truly have a choice? The thought hammered at him. Kafka had laid her cards bare; perhaps reservation was a luxury he could no longer afford. This kind of thing, it's bound to happen eventually, isn't it? Better to seize control, to wield the initiative rather than be a puppet of this enigmatic woman. I have my limits, dammit. I'm not impotent! And hadn't he already crossed certain lines before? … The thought sparked, and a fire ignited in Daziel's eyes, a blaze with an unsettling edge, a flicker of something darker that even he didn't fully grasp.
With a deliberate, solemn blink, Daziel answered Kafka, sealing his choice.
"Excellent. Just as I expected. Our Daziel is indeed growing up." A faint smile played on Kafka's lips, as if confirming a preordained outcome. "Blade should absent himself for a time. Though he remains oblivious for now, his presence in the room feels… superfluous. And the outside world poses no immediate threat."
With a flick of her wrist, Kafka gestured, and Blade, who had been sitting rigidly on the floor, brow furrowed and sweating, rose and wordlessly departed the room.
"Pity your initiation couldn't be with me," Kafka mused, a playful glint in her eye, "but then again… I'm a novice myself! Ta-da! Unexpected, wasn't it?" Another wave of her hand, and the spell binding Daziel dissolved.
"I suspected as much, you manipulative woman. All that self-control must be exhausting, a constant performance." Daziel moved with newfound purpose, his hand reaching for Kafka's ankles, encircling her slender, exquisite feet.
"Well then…" Kafka purred, her voice a silken murmur, "didn't you say you wanted to teach me a lesson? Spare no excess, Daziel. It's all… for your growth, after all."
"You conniving temptress who's dominated me twice now, yet you play the role of a sow yearning for correction? Fine. Then you'll take it." Daziel's tone was laced with a newfound dominance.
The air thickened, heavy with the musk of sweat and raw desire. Kafka, wrists manacled to the unforgiving wood of the table, her body's lush curves stark against the cold surface. Daziel stalked her like a predator circling prey, his fingers tracing the taut leather belt cinching her waist. A shudder rippled through her, betrayed by the shallow pants she tried to mask as indifference.
"Trembling, little bitch," he breathed, his voice a low rasp of provocation, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. "Still going to play coy to the bitter end?"
A throaty laugh escaped Kafka, a mischievous ripple in the charged air. "Show mommy what you're capable of, pup. Still not convinced you can deliver the pleasure you boast about." Liar. Her nipples had already tightened to aching points beneath the delicate lace of her bra, and she could no longer suppress the damp heat blooming against her shorts as his hand lingered too close.
Daziel wasted no more time on words. With a rough jerk, he tore the bra from her body, freeing her breasts. They sprang loose, gloriously full, heavy in their roundness, their pink nipples already taut with anticipation. He closed his mouth over the left one, teeth scraping lightly, a low growl rumbling in his chest as Kafka gasped, a breathy, manufactured moan.
"How… cute," she managed to tease, though her legs had already begun to clench involuntarily. "Suck mommy's tits all you want."
His response was a sharp slap to her inner thigh, the wet smack echoing through the room. "You're a bitch mommy," he spat, his hand sliding beneath the waistband of her shorts, fingers finding the slick heat already coating her thighs. "A bitch in heat, practically drowning yourself, and still fronting?"
Two fingers plunged into her, a brutal invasion delivered with calculated precision, coiling deep inside. Kafka choked back a genuine moan this time, the iron handcuffs grinding against the table as he located her G-spot and began to massage, the friction relentless, devoid of tenderness.
"Still… going to… pretend?" Daziel taunted, his voice a cruel rasp, his fingers quickening their pace, the heel of his hand rhythmically striking her clit with each brutal thrust.
Kafka bit down hard on her lip, her carefully constructed facade crumbling. Her thighs involuntarily parted wider, her hips bucking against his hand's relentless assault. "Is… that… all?" she gasped, but the tremor that laced her words was her undoing.
He chuckled, a dark, predatory sound, and withdrew his fingers, slick with her arousal. "Want more, you little slut?" He raised them to his mouth, drawing the moisture into his mouth with exaggerated, theatrical relish. "Let's redefine 'pleasure' for you."
Without warning, he flipped her onto her stomach, her plump, flushed backside presented to him, still reddened from the earlier slap. Grasping her hips firmly, Daziel buried his face between her legs, his tongue a relentless instrument circling her clitoris. A raw scream tore from Kafka's throat, her fingers clawing at the tabletop, the mask of control finally shattered.
"Don't stop… don't stop…" she pleaded, the words barely a whisper, more to herself than to him. But he heard.
"Say it louder, whore." He nipped at her thigh, his tongue returning to its assault, now aggressively sucking her clitoris as if it were the most vital sustenance.
Kafka thrashed against the restraints, her carefully maintained composure dissolving, her body now betraying her with undeniable spasms. Her legs trembled violently, then a searing rush erupted, a hot flood that drenched his face. She screamed again, her voice ragged, as Daziel's fingers slipped back into her slickness, ruthlessly rubbing her swollen clit as the wave of orgasm consumed her.
"You've got so much more to give, haven't you, you insatiable little pussy," he mocked, yanking her up by her hair. His cock, now violently erect and pulsing with need, pushed against her parted lips. "Swallow. Every inch."
Defiance flickered in her eyes, but she obeyed, opening her mouth to accept his length. Daziel's hand clamped around the nape of her neck, his hips surging forward, each thrust forcing a gagging sound from her, tears welling in her eyes. "Take it, you pathetic shit slut," he growled, his fingers digging into her cheeks. "I'm going to unload deep into that lying little mouth."
She attempted a defiant smirk, but the hot gush of his semen, exploding in forceful spurts, choked off the expression, filling her throat. Kafka swallowed hard, the excess slicking down her chin, yet her gaze remained locked on his, a defiant lick tracing her lips.
"Want… more?"
With a brutal lack of ceremony, Daziel hurled her back onto the table, flipping her onto all fours. The tip of his throbbing cock pressed against her exposed, rosebud asshole, already glistening with her own secretions. "You never learn, do you?" he hissed, spitting a globule of saliva onto the entrance before ramming into her with a jarring, dry thrust.
Kafka's scream was raw, primal, her nails tearing furrows in the wood beneath her. He paid it no heed. Gripping her hips, he began to pound into her, each impact a brutal echo, while his free hand dove back between her legs, his fingers resuming their relentless torment of her clit.
"I'm… going to… cum…" she gasped, completely unraveling, her voice fractured and desperate.
"Cum then," he commanded, his pace accelerating, the rhythm a brutal crescendo. "Cum like the anal slut you truly are."
The orgasm detonated within her like a lightning strike, her body convulsing, arching violently as Daziel claimed her from behind, his balls slapping rhythmically against her engorged clitoris with each savage thrust. He erupted inside her ass with a guttural roar, hot jets of pleasure flooding her rectum, before dragging her upright once more by her hair.
"It's far from over." His voice was a rough, possessive growl. He hauled her to her feet, bracing her back against the cold wall, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His cock, still stubbornly hard, plunged into her swollen, aching pussy, every inch a delicious, agonizing torment.
Kafka screamed his name, a cry torn from the depths of her being, her nails digging into his back, leaving shallow trails of blood. As he hammered into her against the unforgiving wall, the wet, visceral sounds of skin colliding filled the confined space. "I'm… yours…" she choked out, the words fragmented, but another shattering orgasm seized her, silencing her protest, her body a convulsing landscape of sensation.
A feral smile stretched across Daziel's face, a wild, untamed expression. He leaned close, his breath hot against her ear, and whispered, voice thick with triumph, "My slut. You belong to me, and only me."
Daziel continued his relentless assault for what felt like an eternity, pushing Kafka beyond the brink of endurance, flooding her pussy, ass, and mouth with his release again and again, until her world dissolved into pure sensation.
When he finally released her, Kafka slumped against the wall, her body a trembling testament to his dominance, marked and irrevocably claimed. The cool, knowing smirk she so often wore was now a phantom echo, replaced by a vacant, unfocused gaze – the look of one utterly broken, and yet, perversely, utterly enthralled.
...
Ding!
[Target character Kafka's depravity value increased by 10%]
[Current depravity value: 50%]
[Mission completed, "Fire Stick" reward has been received, please check]
[New mission: Make Kafka's depravity value reach 100%]
[Mission reward: Spider Silk]
[Spider Silk: Spider silk that even the strongest Envoy can't break! An essential choice for dealing with disobedient women.]
[Please continue to work hard, host, you may not have noticed, but the Kafka here has become Kafka, it's not that this system typed the wrong word, it's just because her consciousness is about to be fucked away by you!]
The warehouse door burst open, splintering the dim silence. Yanqing, long sword drawn, swept a cold gaze across the room, his eyes finally settling on Kafka and Daziel.
By this point, Kafka and Daziel were dressed, though their attire remained disheveled. Kafka's purple silk stockings were conspicuously absent, leaving her pale thighs bare beneath the tops of her boots. The handcuffs, now detached from her wrists, danced between Kafka's fingertips, twirling in the air with an almost casual flourish.
Yanqing surveyed the scene, a distinct note of disdain coloring his voice. "Star Core Hunters… the General showed you mercy, spared your worthless lives, yet you repay it with such… ingratitude."
Daziel stood silently beside Kafka, his expression a mask of conflicted emotion.
Yanqing's sharp gaze shifted to him, his brows knitting together in a frown of concern. "Mr. Daziel? What are you doing here?"
"He's under the influence of my 'Spirit Words'," Kafka chuckled, a soft sound laced with a hint of languid satisfaction. "My suggestions, you see, are crafted to be irresistibly persuasive, accepted willingly without the subject even suspecting manipulation." She tilted her head, her gaze drifting to Daziel, and spoke with a subtle edge of command, "Daziel, subdue this… younger brother. Your mission will then be complete."
"—You vile creature! Release Mr. Daziel at once!" Yanqing's face hardened into a mask of fury, and a constellation of flying swords materialized around him, their polished surfaces glinting with lethal intent. The air crackled with the imminent threat of battle.
Yanqing flicked his wrist, manipulating the lead sword. Its point locked onto Daziel, and an icy wave of sword energy radiated outwards, seeming to freeze the very air.
"Evil demon, today I act as Heaven's hand! I will liberate Mr. Daziel from your insidious control!" Yanqing roared, his movements blurring with speed as his sword transformed into a streak of frigid light, aimed directly at Daziel's face.
Daziel's pupils constricted, the icy bite of the approaching blade a tangible threat. No, wait, buddy, you're just going to… wake me up like this? Panic clawed at him, a cold sweat slicking his skin. He flinched, instinctively throwing himself to the side, barely evading the deadly strike. Restrained by his forced silence and the need to feign control, he couldn't even shout a warning to Yanqing. If only I could tell him! The blade sliced through the air with a vicious shriek, leaving a razor-thin trail of frost etched into the floor. That speed… those swords! Sheer terror gripped Daziel. He knew, with bone-deep certainty, he was no match for Yanqing in his normal state. Last time against Svarog, March 7th had been his lifeline. The Fire Stick… maybe that's my only hope now. His fingers closed around the Fire Stick, held concealed behind his back. An intense, scorching heat pulsed from the wood, a comforting wave that chased away the creeping chill of Yanqing's sword energy.
"Mr. Daziel, truly, an ally of the Luofu Xianzhou exhibits remarkable skill. Yanqing is… even more eager for your guidance now." Yanqing chuckled again, a chillingly enthusiastic sound, his eyes blazing with battle fervor as he once more commanded his flying swords. A swarm of blades ripped through the air, forming a cage of lethal energy around Daziel, cutting off all avenues of escape. Recognition dawned on Daziel – Yanqing's signature formation, Return of the Swallow.
________
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