Dark Lord in Chains 41 (Patreon)

Letting Fernhand follow her pace, without a doubt, would have been an enjoyable option. The speed she had come to rely upon that particular angle without even the slightest preamble suggested that it was not the first time she had relied on that tactic in her long career —though, luckily the distaste dancing in her dark eyes suggested that while she relied that only on rare occasions, likely on the beginning of her, before she developed her mind arts to the limit. 

Essentially, the same thing I enjoyed from Emma and Aria for more than once. However, there was one little problem with that otherwise delicious option. Unlike Aria and Emma, her experience would mean that she would have the initiative. 

The sense of initiative she would have was not a problem during sex, of course, but everything I had seen about Fernhand suggested that she was an overambitious woman, which allowed her to climb up to lead her faction despite her minor nobility with no real power. 

And, she wasn’t the first overambitious politician I had to face during my infamous career. Give them an inch, and they would immediately start to seek ways to steal a mile.

The best way to deal with them? Teach their proper place in the hierarchy from the start. 

Luckily, I had the exact skill set to do so. 

It was the time to properly let out my instincts that made me a successful dark lord. “No,” I said with a smile that contained no hint of joy or amusement even as I raised my finger. 

“No?” she repeated, her fingers frozen on the buttons of her shirt as she tried to process my answer. Then, she started buttoning her shirt, misunderstanding the reason for my word. 

“No,” I repeated, my non-smile widening as I enjoyed her confusion. 

“No?” she echoed, which would have been extremely entertaining for a passerby if it wasn’t for the tenseness of the situation. I maintained the same expression while she examined me carefully, trying to understand what I wanted, but her growing frustration showed that she wasn’t making the progress she desired. 

On the surface, what I was doing was pointless, just stretching my newfound control, but actually, it served multiple purposes, from disrupting her mental state further through frustration to make her get used to following my orders. They weren’t enough to suddenly break her, of course, but domination was like painting. Regardless of the ultimate majesty of the final product, everything started with a simple line. 

Of course, as a master of the said art, I had the ability to work much more aggressively. So, after a minute of tense silence, I patted my lap, inviting her to take a seat. Despite an annoyance she failed to suppress, her hips danced beautifully as she walked toward me. Not as impressive as the magical walk of the Queen, of course, but it was an unfair comparison. Sapphire was not only a part-time exotic dancer —which was a rather interesting career choice for the strongest political entity in the continent— but also she had majestic hips. 

Fernhand was a beautiful woman, but her thinner figure ensured such a walk couldn’t be her best move. 

I made sure to shook my head in subtle disapproval, another little stab at her confidence, implying that she needed to work harder, adding another chip to her strong will, leaving a deep mark. She was neither weak nor gullible, but with the implied shadow of everything she had worked for turning into dust due to an unexpected variable hovering above her, it was the perfect time to break her. 

“Better,” I said as she sat on my lap, keeping my tone dry and dismissive. Then, contrasting my earlier laziness, I put my her thigh, hard enough to make a noise. She flinched, but her lips stayed closed, suppressing a yelp. I squeezed her thigh, making the strain got even stronger. 

Good, I thought as I confirmed my assumption. She wasn’t really used to pain, which provided me with a sweet range of options. My hand climbed upwards, my fingers sinking into her toned flesh despite her clothes on the way while she sat on my knee like an obedient servant. After the initial flinch, she didn’t react to my move, but I was adept in reading women enough to know that she was actively suppressing the outward signs of her discomfort. 

Exactly what I wanted.  

“You seem distracted,” I whispered into her ear, not bothering to hide the mocking edge of my tone. “Is this really the best time to discuss your political concerns. Maybe I should give you a relaxing massage first.” 

“No need,” she said through her gritted teeth, trying to ignore my tight grip on her thigh. 

“You’re tougher than I expected,” I said, giving her an empty compliment. “So, tell me about yourself,” I said. “What do you want, for example?” 

The trick I was employing was a simple one. I was forcing her to speak for a long time without revealing the limits of my own knowledge. But simply didn’t always mean ineffective. Without knowing what I knew, she couldn’t calibrate her lies. If I was a proper member of the Queen’s political sphere, it would have been easier to predict the limits of my knowledge, but my weird positioning made it even more difficult for her to guess the limits of my knowledge. 

Of course, even in her wildest dreams, she probably couldn’t imagine me actually being an escaped prisoner nonetheless hanging around the palace, trying to establish basic information. 

She started giving a detailed explanation even as I grabbed her hips and pulled her on my lap, allowing her to feel my hardness. She managed to ignore that to focus on her explanation. 

I wasn’t idle while she explained, of course. I shifted her beautiful black hair to the side, giving me unrestricted access to her elegant neck, biting hard enough to break her explanation with a yelp. She didn’t complain, and continued her explanation, but that didn’t prevent her from shuddering as I continued to add a string of red marks to mar her otherwise perfect skin. 

She continued even as my hands slipped under her robe, teasing her naked flesh aggressively. I was giving all the signs of being occupied with her body despite memorizing every single word she uttered about the political climate and her objectives. 

I needed to go through them later with a fine-tooth comb to separate truth from lies, and more importantly useful information from the correct yet misleading ones. The latter was always the more dangerous kind.

Also, I was waiting for an opportunity to start the real show. An opportunity that occurred when she stopped her explanation halfway to ask me a few questions, persisting despite my noncommittal orders to continue. She was trying to use my distraction to test my knowledge. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” I said suddenly even as I pushed her off my lap, directly onto her desk, her chest hitting hard enough to explode with a gasp, her ass pointing upward. 

“W-what?!” she said, shocked, the sudden sharpness of my move enough to destroy her composure. In that aspect, she wasn’t too different from Sapphire. Both were extremely competent and extremely self-possessed, but their unique, specialized paths to power left them limited when it came to the more direct manner of confrontation. 

An approach I mastered perfectly. 

“You’re a smart girl,” I whispered softly even as I put my hand on the small of her back, pinning her in place while the other grabbed her robe, but stayed there. “Why don’t you tell me why I suddenly changed my attitude?” 

“I don’t know,” she gasped, trying to play the innocent, her tone shaped perfectly. I admired her acting, but unfortunately for her, that admiration only strengthened my conviction for my strategy. She needed to learn her lesson. 

“Really?” I said, and without giving her any chance to correct her answer, pulled violently, ripping her robes, revealing the surprisingly revealing panties underneath. “A black thong, what a cliche,” I said mockingly even as I put my hand on her bottom. “So, the last chance to tell me what you have done wrong before you get punished,” I said. 

“I tried to manipulate you by asking pointed questions,” she said immediately, quick to recognize her earlier ploy was seen through completely. 

“Good girl,” I said even as I raised my hand, only to spank her ass hard, though hard in an erotic sense, not hard in corporal punishment sense. After all, she was a delicate creature that deserved some tough love to teach her the error of her ways, not actual torture. 

She cried in pain before she could control her reaction. “Didn’t you say you weren’t going to punish me?” 

“I said that.” I spanked her once more. “However, this is not punishment. This is just a gentle reminder to make sure the lesson sticks with you. Believe me, sweetheart, you don’t want to see what a dark lord actually refers to as punishment.” During the explanation, my spanks exploded on her ass thrice more, pushing her discomfort to a new level as her pale ass glowed beautifully. 

She stiffened. “I see.” After that, she stayed silent as I spanked her a couple of times more.  

“Why did you stop?” I repeated as my spank landed on her ass once more, this time even harder. “Continue your explanation.”  

She clearly didn’t appreciate the sudden change of pacing, missing her comfortable seat on my lap rather than being forced to lie on the table, being spanked repeatedly as she was forced to explain the political climate of the Empire from her perspective. After the first several spanks, I had reduced the strength of my hand, but through the repetition, it was getting hard to resist the pain, evidenced by her straining expression. 

And while she might not realize yet, it was just a warm up…