Dark Lord in Chains 63 (Patreon)

The interrogation was finally over, though it didn’t mean that Emma’s pleasure-filled ordeal was over. They were two distinct things. 

“Let’s have some fun, stand up and walk toward the window,” I ordered as I pulled back, watching her attempt to follow my order with a smirk. 

“N-now?” she managed to ask, her voice trembling with exhaustion. 

“No, tomorrow,” I said even as I slapped her ass, which was enough to make her tremble. It took a while for her to follow my request, but I didn’t warn her. Her trembling legs were enough to show that it was more about the effects of her latest climax rather than a desire to rebel against my orders. 

We were well past that point. 

I could have ordered her to move faster, but I didn’t. Watching her stumbling among her fancy furniture, occasionally holding to maintain her balance, her pride — well, the scraps she had managed to maintain since her latest betrayal — destroyed under the assault of pleasure and shame. 

It allowed me to enjoy the sight of her beautiful legs. 

She said nothing when she finally arrived at the wall, pressing her hands against the wall, pushing her beautiful ass readily. Only then, I walked toward her, each step bringing me closer to her while her beautiful body continued to tremble with each step. 

“Sorry to keep me waiting, honey,” I said as I leaned forward to whisper, my hand landing on the small of her back. A soft, tame touch, especially considering the circumstances. It even earned a surprised look from Emma. 

A look that only lasted until she felt my mana invading her body, in particular her back door, lubricating and cleaning. “No-“ she gasped, though that didn’t last long, aborted by the finger that I slipped into her tight ass. 

“Oh, honey, aren’t we well-past that in our beautiful relationship,” I said even as I added a second finger to the first. “Unless you want to force my hand and change my mind about being merciful about your latest slide. I’m sure you don’t want to go and screw things up.” 

“No,” she gasped, quick to nod, which was a beautiful indication of her willpower, drained to nothingness after her betrayals put her in an even worse position. She didn’t say anything else, but her breathing, soft and deep, was the perfect accompaniment of the dance of my fingers. 

Her earlier anger was nothing more than a momentary flare, long extinguished by the dance of my fingers. Meanwhile, my other hand danced on her other leg, gently squeezing. She let out a moan, pushing her ass out. 

Giving me the perfect angle to push against her puckered hole, I removed my fingers, replacing them with my shaft in an instant. My fingers clasped around her hips as I pushed forward. She tried to say something, but it only came out as a pained muffle. 

“Do you want to say something, doll,” I said even as I squeezed her breasts hard, extracting another cry. 

“N-no,” she managed to stammer even as she squeezed her teeth. 

“Rude,” I said mockingly as I slapped her ass. “I appreciate a full answer when I asked a question.” It was a halfhearted tease but I had more important things to focus on, like the way the sexy redhead was bent over in front of me, being invaded by my presence in her tight hole. 

A moan escaped my lips as her presence tightened around my shaft, reaching a glorious level. “Damn, you’re delicious,” I murmured as I took her from behind mercilessly, picking up more and more speed. 

She chose to say nothing, too occupied by suppressing her cries — an attempt that was rapidly getting impossible. Her cries exploded soon, filling the room. 

“Delicious,” I repeated even as I tightened my grip around her hips, plowing her from behind, her legs forcing her to tiptoe just to keep the balance. I leaned forward a bit, enough for me to comfortably grab her tits again without losing any pacing. 

It earned another set of muffled cries, mixing into the sound of our flesh, slapping and clapping. 

Her cries intensified even further as I grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to stand straight, but not bothering to pull out. Thanks to our height difference, she was forced to stand on her toes, the angle forcing my shaft even deeper into her hole. “I didn’t expect you to take all in, impressive,” I whispered. “You should have been a dancer.” 

It wasn’t exactly a question that required an urgent answer. But in her shock, she answered it nevertheless. “I have received some training, for more than a decade,” she answered, almost automatic. 

“Interesting,” I murmured, surprised by her answer. “Why did you stop?” I asked. 

That time, no answer came, so I slapped her bottom, hard enough to echo in the room. “I have discovered my magical talent,” she whispered softly. 

“Really?” I murmured, surprised. “That late?” 

“I was a late bloomer to get my magical talent,” she murmured, her shame was clear, far more than she felt being rammed repeatedly while being challenged for her betrayal. 

“Interesting, I didn’t know that,” I said, which, shockingly, was actually true. That wasn’t a detail I knew, and I had used my agents to compile detailed dossiers on every single person that mattered, and Emma, as one of the strongest magical offensive talents, was a priority target. 

Them missing such a detail would have earned my agents a horrible punishment if I still had my position as the Dark Lord. 

Still, the fact that her family — a reasonably rich merchant family with no noble ties — decided to focus her on dancing training rather than focusing on abilities that would help her more. It only made sense if they were trying to groom her as some kind of concubine to a noble family, hoping to create a connection. 

Because, a rich merchant family certainly wouldn’t need the money a dancer could make — though I didn’t miss the irony of the strongest woman in the Empire taking her position due to that exact need. 

Maybe it was the reason for her ridiculously weak sense of loyalty, I realized with sudden enlightenment. It wouldn’t be easy to grow up with the realization that she was important to her family only as a marriage chip. 

The dossier included a more detailed report on her after she had debuted as a young, genius mage — although their assumption that she had been being trained privately, not just discovered her talent late. With her talent, she had managed to get herself a place in the nobility, her family getting a reasonable bonus in the process. 

However, the development was late enough in her life, which was enough to leave a lasting, bleeding impression that she could be abandoned if she wasn’t good enough — and the Queen, sidelining her the moment she wasn’t needed couldn’t have helped her insecurities in any way. 

 Ironically, however, that information still changed one thing. 

Her importance. 

If she had discovered her talent that late, yet reached to this level of power, her potential was even more exaggerated than her current achievements suggested — though I wondered if the others, like the Queen, was aware of that particular fact and deliberately suppressing her on that aspect as well, or they missed the importance of it in the first place. 

And, unfortunately, the second case was also very likely. If there was one benefit in raiding the resources of many magical families, that I had access to more training resources than any single of them had, giving me a more comprehensive understanding of magical development. 

Especially since I didn’t treat traditions as unbreakable tenets. 

Of course, just because she had a reason for her betrayals and hid a potential even bigger than her potential didn’t change the fact that she was a serial betrayer. If it wasn’t for her particular habit, I would have talked to her about her true potential and started training her. 

However, ignoring the implied potential grated my sensibilities worse than actual torture — and not the weak kind they had employed when I was first captured. I hadn’t earned my position by ignoring the potential upside of dubious resources. 

Luckily, it wasn’t something I had to decide immediately, I thought even as I picked up speed, terminating our conversation with a fresh flood of pleasure. 

“Naughty girl, dance for me,” I whispered. She looked at me, her gaze glazed with pleasure. Locked between my body and the wall, she didn’t exactly have the space to dance, but luckily, she wasn’t in a position to argue against the inaccuracies of my teasing. 

Not when her face was invaded with a beautiful mixture of pleasure and resignation, joining her exhausted, battered state, almost enough to get my mercy. 

Almost. 

Instead, I chose to explode into her bowels mercilessly, triggering her climax along with it. Which, along with everything else, finally consumed her last scraps of stamina, and she collapsed against my body, already sleeping. 

Filled with betrayals — and being filled — it had been a tough day for her. 

For me, a new one was just starting.