searing pain shot through Adam's neck, making him grit his teeth. He clutched it instinctively, only to feel something foreign and pulsing beneath his skin.
A glowing Slave Mark had carved itself into his flesh.
The pain was hot and biting, like a branding iron pressed to the soul. His breath hitched as foreign memories flooded in—memories that did not belong to him.
He had been a slave. Born into filth and poverty. Abused. Forgotten. A body sold again and again like merchandise… until she bought him.
Lady Seraphina Blackthorn.
The woman who now stood above him, looking down with a smile. It was calm, beautiful, and serene—yet carried with it a twisted undertone, like silk hiding a dagger.
In those memories, she had appeared out of nowhere at a slave auction. Dressed in noble attire, she tossed a bag of gold—more than ten times his listed value—onto the ground like she was paying for candy.
"I want this one," she had said.
No hesitation. No reasoning. She simply pointed at his broken, bruised form… and smiled.
And now here they were.
She lowered herself to his level, crouching with the elegance of a noble and the intent of a predator. Her delicate hand patted his head—gently at first.
Then she pressed down.
Harder.
Her fingers curled into his hair, pushing his head toward the cold marble floor. Her eyes narrowed, watching every twitch of resistance in his face, every flicker of struggle.
A dark light glinted in her gaze.
"Mmm~ yes. That face… exactly like him…"
She bit her lower lip subtly.
Adam's breath caught. Her voice was disturbingly affectionate—as if she wasn't just seeing him but seeing someone through him.
"Y-You're crazy…" he muttered under his breath, but he already knew the truth.
In this world, she was a princess—but in her heart, she was starved. Of love. Of attention. Of meaning. Her parents had raised her with cold duty, not affection. Her servants feared her. Her world had never pleased her.
Until she discovered a novel.
A portal into another life.
She read it in secret, over and over, obsessing over a particular character—defiant, proud, unwilling to kneel.
He was her favorite.
And now that she found someone in her world who looked like him… acted like him…
"Why would I ever let you go?" she whispered with chilling sweetness.
Adam gulped. He saw the obsession in her eyes—lustful, possessive, and terrifying.
Before he could even speak, her hand flew across his cheek.
SLAP.
The sharp sting rang out, his head jerking to the side. Then another.
SLAP. SLAP.
A flurry of pain followed. Her strikes weren't savage—more like playful punishment—but the force was still enough to make his cheek throb.
"Bad boy~" she cooed, in a singsong tone that didn't match the violence. "You should be obedient to your master, shouldnsweetnes
He groaned, tasting blood in his mouth. His head pounded, but his pride roared louder.
"N-No," he hissed. "I'm not your damn puppy."
She froze mid-motion.
Her eyes darkened, the smile still on her lips but her expression unreadable.
Then, without a word, she stood up.
She gracefully unbuttoned her shoes and removed her black stockings with care. The subtle perfume of lavender and wild roses assaulted Adam's senses. It was overwhelming, hypnotic.
Her bare feet were impossibly flawless—snow white, smooth, not a blemish in sight. The kind of feet you'd expect on a divine statue, not a real person. Every move she made oozed power and sensuality.
She sat on the edge of her bed, legs crossed elegantly.
"Lick my foot," she commanded coldly, her voice dripping with authority.
Her gaze pierced through him. Not a hint of embarrassment. Only a calculating curiosity.
Adam froze and sigh Inwardly. Will he really become something he said himself a While ago that would never Lick a Women Foot?
He said nothing.
She narrowed her eyes. Her fingers twitched—and the Slave Mark on his neck ignited with a jolt of pain.
It wasn't like the shock that killed him. No, this was sharper—targeted—like thousands of tiny needles stabbing his spine and nerves all at once. His muscles seized, his body shook involuntarily.
"Ghhh—!" Adam choked, trembling.
The pain lasted only two seconds. But those two seconds felt like an eternity.
He collapsed forward, panting. His bare chest heaved. Sweat drenched his skin. He was only wearing a pair of worn shorts—the only thing this body came with, it seemed. No shirt. No shoes. No dignity.
I'm gonna pass out if this keeps up… he thought with a sigh.
And then the quest flashed again in his mind.
---
[Quest: Defiant Puppy]
Make it clear you are not submissive. Do not kneel without resistance.
Reward: +2 Layers to Every Stat
---
He clenched his jaw, staring at the floor. The smell of her perfume invaded his senses. The shame boiled inside him.
He sighed.
"F-Fuck it," he muttered. "As long as I stay defiant… the quest should still work, right?"
Slowly, with trembling fingers, he reached up and touched her foot.
It was soft.
Delicate.
Like it had never walked a real day in its life.
He lifted it, bringing it close, his eyes burning with shame and defiance. Then, with his teeth clenched so tight it hurt—
He licked it.
A slow, firm stroke.
Her foot twitched.
He looked up, still glaring at her, hatred and rebellion radiating from every cell in his body.
But still all of it was still a Facade too Make her realize I'm still not fully Tame.
She stared down at him, flushed. Her ears reddened, her breath quickened. She bit her lip again—harder this time. Her thighs shifted, and she let out a quiet, trembling exhale.
"G-Good…" she whispered, voice shaky now. "Very… good."
Then, suddenly, with no warning—she shoved her foot deeper into his mouth.
He gagged.
Her smile deepened, her pleasure now openly visible. Her whole body trembled with excitement. The sight of his struggle—the tension in his jaw, the pride in his eyes, the humiliation he refused to accept—it drove her wild.
"You're mine," she whispered softly, as if she were falling in love.
"Over my dead body," Adam muttered, still glaring.
The system pinged.
[Quest Progress: 35% Complete]