Lewd Dungeon, Chapter 241 (Patreon)

FYI, Lewd Dungeon 24 and Into the Black 31 will be heading to Amazon sometime this weekend.

Chapter 241 – Binding

Blades of light crashed against a dome of shadow, before breaking through. But they did not find my flesh, because I was no longer there. In the crash of magic versus magic, I charged forward, concentrating my defense on blocking the blades in front of me, turning them away, while only slowing the others enough to allow me my escape forward, into Pofmis’s guard.

She had not been expecting me to charge, and it showed with how my blade, now glowing with pink energy against the blackness was able to penetrate her defenses yet again, stabbing up, under her arm, the same one I’d hit before. The pink energy, the concentrated essence of the Passionslime, flowed into her. Her eyes went wide as the concoction hit her system like a freight train. As well it ought, since that attack gave her enough aphrodisiacs that it was like consuming an entire Passionslime.

I did not give her a chance to rest, or to purge the drug from her system. I could not, not if I wanted to win this in a way others would accept. I could not outlast Pofmis in a defensive battle. She was the stronger god, after all, and her abilities, even in this limited form, were greater than my own.

Sure, the rules of the room were such that I couldn’t be defeated unless I actually submitted, since she couldn’t kill me or rob me of my divinity. But I was no masochist, and while I had experience pushing through pain from playing sports as a kid, that didn’t mean I could withstand the tortures of a pissed off goddess if she got me at her mercy. Oh, she might play the righteous role, but I had no doubt she knew a thing or two about torturing those she believed were abominations or heretics, like me, and I was not eager to experience whatever lessons she might be able to teach on the subject.

My shield came up again, crashing into her face with the shield’s edge. Blood flowed from her nose, and I could see the goddess stagger back, trying to recover. I kept up the attack with the shield, hammering her face while my sword kept her spear off to the side. If I let her get some distance, she could recover, and then I’d have to break her guard once again.

The butt end of her spear came up, catching my shield arm at the elbow. Not hard, but enough that it knocked the shield out of line as I tried to further pummel the goddess. Her foot lashed out, and only quick footwork made it so that the blow landed on my thigh, rather than between my legs. Even so, it still hit hard enough that my stance crumpled, and I fell forward.

I dropped my shield, and leaned into the fall, catching Pofmis’s leg and trapping it beneath me as I fell. I heard her curse, but it turned into a scream a moment later. Something twisted in ways it wasn’t supposed to. Was it her knee? Or her ankle? Either way, she was hurt, which was an opportunity for me.

I rolled, taking her with me, until I was on top of her, my hips between her legs, one arm pinning her spear to the ground above her head, while the other held my blade to her throat. “Yield. Or suffer. Either way is fine with me.”

The goddess was looking pretty pathetic. One eye was starting to swell shut, and her helmet had been knocked from her head at some point, so the blood from her nose and mouth was staining her golden hair. The arm I’d wounded twice lay limply at her side, useless for the time being. Her good eye glared at me, though it had trouble focusing, suggesting a concussion. At the same time, her breathing was getting heavy. The Passionslime essence was getting to her. If I slipped my hand under her faulds and inside the chausses, I did not doubt that there would be a flood waiting for me as her heat raged out of control.

“N-never!”

Still, she had enough spirit to try and resist, thrashing her legs, and trying to wrench her spear free with her one good hand. She grit her teeth, exerting herself past the pain, trying to resist the pleasure, and I felt a pain of my own. Looking down, I saw that the hand I’d thought limp and useless was now holding the hilt of a slender dagger, the blade of which was buried in my side, below the ribs.

I wrenched the blade from my side, and threw it across the room. The wound hurt, but she didn’t hit anything vital, and the pain wasn’t enough to debilitate me. Still, it was a point for her, and we both knew it.

“You naughty girl. I guess I’m going to have to stop playing nice.”

I slammed her good hand against the stone floor several times, causing her to drop her spear. A burst of magic sent it flying across the room. Another spell caused my sword to float in the air, ready to defend me if she managed to use some magic to remote control her weapons. My sword hand reached behind my back, and pulled out a knife with a curved blade, perfect for cutting leather straps. Straps like those securing the goddess’s armor.

She saw the knife, and knew what it meant for her. She fought with renewed vigor, but she had no leverage to use her superior strength. That, and the more she twisted her hips to try and throw me off, the more she ground herself against me, while the Passionslime essence worked its magic upon her. I smiled as a grunt of effort turned into a moan, and her face flushed with embarrassment. Embarrassment that quickly turned to horror as I conjured a cloth soaked to the point of dripping with Passionslime juice, and forced it into her mouth as a gag, before using shadow magic to keep it there.

I conjured shadows to bind her wrists above her head, as my blade began finding the straps of her armor, cutting them one by one. As I did so, her motions became less and less those of a fighter, getting more needful as time went by. By the time her breastplate had been removed, she was fully in heat. As I cut away her arming doublet, she moaned in unabashed pleasure and arched her back as the cool air met her perky nipples. By the time she was fully stripped, her ruined armor cast about her, she was little more than a bitch in heat, begging to be bred.

I could have branded her, then and there, or collared her. But that wouldn’t do. I wasn’t lying earlier when I told her that enslaving her outright would be contrary to my long-term goals. Her friends and allies would unite against me, and crusade against me and mine. And some of them would be sneaky about it, so that I might not see the attack coming until it was too late. They only had to get lucky once.

I traced my fingers along her pussy lips, teasing her. “Pofmis, I want you to pay attention to me.” Her good eye focused on me, as she tried to resist. “I want you to make a deal with me.” She started to shake her head, but froze as my fingertip flicked against her clit. “If you make this deal, then I promise that I will fuck you long and hard, giving you that release your body so desires. But I won’t force you to make the deal. I just won’t let you cum until you do.”

There is a reason why people say that torture is only of limited use in gathering information or ensuring compliance. Yes, it worked, but only to a point. Pain can be resisted, for a time, but everyone will break under enough pain. Some will break physically, and die. Others will break mentally, going insane. Most will simply break down, telling the torturer anything and everything they can think of, whatever it takes to make the pain stop, whether it is true or not.

That was certainly an enjoyable use of one’s time, but it was easy to tell when someone had been coerced in such a way. It tended to reflect more on the torturer than the tortured, and could easily twist you if you weren’t careful. And compliance through pain, and fear of pain, engendered hate and rebellion.

On the other hand, few people could truly resist pleasure when it was forced upon them. The chemicals in the brain told them that this was a good thing, that it made them happy. Their brain might disagree, but every time their climax crashed over them, those thoughts became more and more muddled. The victim either broke completely, or their mind shifted, and they began to accept it. And that was how you converted them.

It didn’t have to be sexual, either. Physical pleasure just worked quicker, like physical torture did. And, like with physical torture, its true value was in breaking down the defenses, so that the manipulators could mold the victim to their liking. A reward for cooperation as simple as adding a blanket to an otherwise bare prison cell, or replacing the crude cot with a comfortable bed, could make all the difference, especially when you let them know that if they stopped cooperating, the rewards would be taken away.

Pofmis was trying to fight these initial pleasures, but I knew that she would break, eventually. The trick, then, would be to ensure that I had some way to continue manipulating her, dominating her, in the coming weeks and months, however long it took for her to break. It had to be something that would drive her mad, but wouldn’t harm her, or make it look as though I was being excessively cruel. It couldn’t be something that she would be able to go to her allies and show them what a horrible person I was, and get them to unite against me.

Eventually, after an hour or so, I saw the look in her eyes change from defiance to pleading, as I continued to keep her on the edge. I smiled down at her, knowing this was the moment that would make or break my campaign against her. “Do you want to make a deal?” Pofmis nodded, once, the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

I leaned forward, one hand cupping her head, running through her hair as the other continued tracing her lower lips, edging her. I got in close, close enough that she could feel my breath upon her ear, and whispered what I wanted. She shook her head, whimpered a denial, but I just smiled at her, and continued teasing. Finally, after what seemed like days, with tears of humiliation and frustration trailing down her face, she nodded again. I removed the gag from her mouth.

“Swear it.”

She sobbed, but nodded, and magic filled her voice. “I, Pofmis, Goddess of Freedom, do swear upon my divinity, the System itself, and the souls of my followers, that, for a year and a day, I shall wear one article of clothing chosen by Kuronoth, God of Domination and Pleasure, and that, for the duration, I will only climax at his command, with each failure adding another year of time to this contract, and forcing me to appear before Kuronoth for punishment, in any way he deems fit.”

“Good girl,” I whispered, before saying out loud, “I, Kuronoth, God of Domination and Pleasure, witness this vow.”

Turning my eyes back to her, I undid my pants, revealing that I was already at full staff. “You may cum, Pofmis, but only after I enter you. And each time you cum, I want you to call out how many times it has been.” I thrust into her, bottoming out in one go. Pofmis shuddered, and moaned at my sudden intrusion. When she spoke, she was weeping.

“ONE!”