Chapter 17 – Degradation, Maids, and Magic

I slept like a log, exhausted from my ordeal. I woke up to the sound of my cell door opening. It was Grandpa Bad Touch, the white robed healer from before.

I considered saying good morning to him, but I remembered these guys didn’t like it when I talked. Grandpa crept over to me, and grabbed my foot. I watched with curiosity as he gave my foot a gentle massage.

Oh… that felt pretty good actually.

There was a shimmer of magic, and I felt the last of my soreness from yesterday heal. Shortly after, there was the shimmer of Purify magic. All the cum and nastiness on or in my body vanished. Grandpa Bad Touch gently kissed the bottom of my nicely cleaned foot, then started licking it. I watched him with an amused smile. Grandpa liked feet? Okay then. I wasn’t all that into it, but I also didn’t really mind if he enjoyed himself a little as a thanks for healing and cleaning me.

It tickled a bit. I had to stifle my giggles. Grandpa Bad Touch licked all over my foot, even weaving his tongue between my toes. I smiled at him and watched him enjoy himself. He smiled back, apparently liking the fact that I wasn’t resisting or distressed by his molestation.

He looked at my face, and his eyes settled on my lips. Oh, he wanted a kiss? That was… a little weird. He was a bit old for me, but whatever, sure.

But he didn’t want a kiss. He shuffled over to me and straddled my head, placing one knee on either side, next to my ears.

“Oh… uhh hello…” I said awkwardly, staring up at his robe-clad crotch.

Without a word, Grandpa pulled up his robe, revealing no underwear and a hard cock of moderate size, poking out from a nest of grey pubic hair. The hard cock loomed over me. I had a pretty good idea what he wanted.

“If you let me get on my knees, it’ll be easier…” I suggested.

The old man settled on my face, pressing his balls against my mouth. He wanted me to be the bottom? Kay. I could take a hint.

Like a proper sex slave, I started licking his hairy old man nuts. I probably should have felt a bit more disgusted by this but… nope, not really. He was still better smelling down there than the tentacle monster was. The only part that weirded me out was his age, but aside from that he wasn’t much different from the other four guys I blew yesterday. In fact, he was far more gentlemanly.

The old dude got up, moving his balls away from my mouth, and turned around, straddling my face in the other direction. He was now facing my feet. I approved of his choice. This was a much better angle for throat raping. The curve of the cock naturally bent in the right direction for deep thrusts.

I tilted my head up, and opened my mouth obediently. Grandpa Very Bad Touch, slid his dick inside. I got a lovely view of hairy old man balls, waving and slapping up against my nose as he fucked me. He wasn’t the biggest gentleman, below average I’d say, smaller than any of the men I fucked yesterday for sure. It meant this was a relatively painless face rape, all things considered, more humiliating than actually uncomfortable.

He was nice and gentle too, slowly sliding in and out of my mouth, savoring the feel of my tongue. He’d yet to say a single word to me. He was treating me like a living sex doll. In his mind, I was just a cock sleeve, a toy to play with and use at his leisure. You didn’t need to ask permission to use a sex toy, or even talk to it. You just grabbed it and used it whenever and however you wanted. Sex toys were only meant to be used. It was horribly degrading, and it made me incredibly wet for no good reason.

He pulled his cock out of my throat before he managed to satisfy himself. I stared at his balls in confusion (it was the only part of him I could see from this angle.) Without a single word of warning, he shifted his hips forward. I caught a glimpse of his ugly, hairy asshole as it moved past my nose, and stared in horror as it lined up with my mouth.

“Wait, what are you- Mmff!”

Grandpa Bad Touch sat on my face. His disgusting hairy asshole kissed against my mouth. It… thankfully didn’t smell like much, the old dude cleaned himself at least, probably used Purify regularly. Still… licking Lysander’s butt was one thing. Girl butts were tidy and delicious, with less hair, and less… wrinkly old man grossness. Did this fucker really expect me to rim him? What the fuck!

I waited, and nothing happened. No orders, no acknowledgement, just a hairy old asshole pressed against my lips. He knew that I knew what he wanted. He had the patience of many years, and the wisdom of man who spent decades surrounded by desperate sex slaves. He expected… No… he fucking knew I would do it, didn’t he? He had absolute confidence that my tongue was tasting that asshole. He was so confident he didn’t even need to ask. It was a motherfucking given, wasn’t it? An inevitability…

Seriously… Did he really think I was the sort of filthy, degenerate, masochistic, turbo-slutwhore who would lick an old man’s ass without even being threatened or coerced to do it? He didn’t tell me to lick… I could just keep my mouth closed until he got bored and left. I wouldn’t be disobeying… yet he still expected me to… Fuck… Why was this turning me on so much? The stupid old man was right, wasn’t he? He knew a filthy degenerate when he saw one…

So yes, I licked his ass. I licked his ass while my degradation-slut pussy coated my thighs with desperate arousal. I flattened my tongue, and licked over the entire thing. I stuck my tongue out, and teased circles around the ring, I even stuck it an inch inside him. I licked his ass, and gave him what I hoped would be the most glorious rimjob of his long, perverted life.

He reached for his cock and started jerking himself. If he enjoyed what I was doing, I couldn’t tell. There wasn’t a peep out of his mouth, not even a grunt of appreciation for the girl one third his age who had her tongue more-or-less-consensually in his butt.

Again, without a peep of warning, he moved his hips back, and stuffed his old man cock back down my throat. He fucked my face a little faster than before, still not enough to hurt, but rough enough to push him the rest of the way to orgasm.

“Mmm…” the old man gave a happy sigh, and released his seed inside my mouth.

He held his cock there until the throbs of his orgasm finished. Then he slowly pulled out. I swallowed, and lay on my back, a little bit dazed from the facefuck, and still a bit staggered by sheer degeneracy of the lewd act I’d just performed.

The old man climbed off me and left without even looking at me. He closed the door behind him and barred it shut. That fucker! Not even a thank you? Or what about a ‘Hey Tyler, thanks for being a good girl and sticking your tongue up my ass. Maybe I’ll lick your pussy too as a reward?’ No? Nothing at all. He just left as if nothing had happened, as if everything was normal…

‘Tyler the Turboslut will lick anybody’s ass, all you need to do is present it. This is nothing special, no need to acknowledge this perfectly normal everyday occurrence…’

Fuck… I felt so degraded… and that made me… I was beyond horny… my pussy was throbbing. Sadly, with my wrists bound as they were, I wasn’t able to masturbate. I lay on my back in the darkness, wet as the godsdamned Niagara Falls, and sexually frustrated beyond belief. It took me a while before I was finally able to settle down again.

A half hour after Grandpa Bad Touch left, the frustrating arousal endless burning shame had simmered down somewhat. A collared, purple-skinned dark elf girl in a frilly fetish maid dress showed up to deliver my breakfast. She placed the bowl on the floor next to me, and gave me a sympathetic look.

“Oh wow, you’re allowed clothes? Is that a reward for good behaviour or something?” I said with a cheeky grin.

The dark elf pulled down the collar of her dress a bit further, revealing a vicious brand on her sternum, right in the middle, near her collarbone. It was a triangular shape, the point aiming downward. Inside it was stylized collar and leash.

“I am a personal slave of my Master, Lord Anthony of House Volda. This is his mark of ownership,” she explained quietly. “We are for Master’s pleasure alone, not for customers or employees to use, as such they do not need to be distracted by our bodies while we perform non-sexual tasks. They are meant to use you and your fellows for their sexual relief instead.”

“Ah, I guess that’s lucky for you then… I was spared the worst of it, but I saw some fucked up shit yesterday. You’ve probably seen worse though, if you’ve been here longer.”

“That’s one way of putting it… I’ve indeed seen some fucked up shit.” she said, smiling wryly.

“Don’t suppose your master is recruiting new girls? I’d rather be on sexy maid gruel duty than torture-toy duty.” I said.

“The Master only owns dark elves as his personal slaves. They must be less than one hundred years of age, and have a bust my size or larger,” she said, before quietly adding, “It’s because he likes the way our skin looks when it’s burnt and peeled.”

I immediately stopped feeling envious of her job. “That… doesn’t sound very good. Maybe I don’t want your job…”

“Likely not, my Master boasts of his incredible cruelty, and grants no shred of mercy to his slaves,” The dark elf nodded, “Did you see Nephaline yesterday? Bound on the cross above the play room?”

“The one that was nailed to the wooden ‘X,’ whipped, burned, and partially flayed alive?” I said nervously.

“The very same,” the dark elf said. “She lost a bottle of wine worth two hundred gold pieces. Her life was only worth seventy gold pieces, thus, her life alone is not enough to satisfy the Master. Her punishment is to suffer endless agony until even her mind and soul are fully destroyed, only then will she be allowed to die. When it comes time for her to move on to her next life, there will be nothing left of her. Every day since her most grievous mistake, she’s been tortured. She’s healed and broken again, every single day without fail. Most of the time the Master does it himself, but occasionally if he’s too busy, he asks his friends or employees to do it. She hasn’t been spared a single day of torment since she lost the wine. That was two years ago.”

“Note to self… do not fuck with Lord Anthony…” I muttered.

“A wise conclusion,” the elf nodded. “Now please allow me to continue my work, or I shall be forced to join Nephaline in her torments later this evening. Please eat, I shall return for the bowl later.”

“Thank you,” I said.

The elven maid left, gently closing and locking the door behind her.

With my wrists bound above my head, eating a meal turned out to be a challenging affair. I had to shift myself over to the bowl, and lick up the slop like a dog eating out of the bowl. It was a horribly degrading way to eat, so of course it made my pussy tingle a bit.

No! Bad pussy! You’ll probably be raped later, so just wait until then… give it a rest for now.

The slave gruel was nearly identical to the slop I fed Chloe at the church rectory hall. This time it wasn’t sweetened with honey, but it wasn’t bad tasting, merely bland. I’d expected them to spike it with semen, urine or something else senselessly cruel but it seemed they wanted to save all the torture for their customers.

As I ate, my mind was still on the elf from last night, Nephaline. I sighed. I was getting tired of witnessing horrifying shit. What was wrong with this world? How could this level of cruelty be normal?

The elf slave from before came a half hour later to retrieve the empty bowl. I learned this one’s name was Lothelea. She wished me the best of luck with my predicament. She said the brothel’s rape toys typically lasted anywhere from 2 months to a year before being killed. We were usually marked for death once we stopped responding to pokes, prods, and pain. She said I would break eventually, like everyone else.

She also suggested I could lessen my suffering by dying early. The collar would detect a low HP state and raise an alarm, so all but the most decisive of suicide attempts would be swiftly thwarted by the healers they had on standby. My best option was to endure a month or two then act catatonic and boring, convincing my new owners that I was broken and they should kill me early. I awkwardly thanked her for the ‘advice,’ and she left me alone in my cell again.

Thanks, but no thanks. I wasn’t quite ready to give up on life yet.

I lay back down on the hay, closed my eyes, and focused on my mana again. Not getting the mind break bad end required me to escape or get rescued. I couldn’t control rescue, so I focused on escape. Escape was impossible with this magic suppression collar, so bypassing or overpowering that was my new priority. Trying to power through the suppression with my Willpower stat and [Advanced Mana Manipulation] Skill alone wasn’t terribly fruitful. The extra ranks I earned yesterday didn’t do much to help.

Was there a weakness?

I activated my [Sense Mana] skill, and it was like a new sense was overlaid on top of my old ones. It was a spherical ball of perception, not hindered at all by walls or line of sight. I could sense the ambient mana all around me. I got a sense of position, density, and affinity type.

For the ambient mana, the position was pretty much everywhere, the density was super low, and it had no affinity at all. There was mana in the air, and the stone walls around me, but the density seemed just a little higher in open air rather than in solid materials. If I focused hard, I could even trace the outline of my cell, the hallway, and even into my neighbouring cells. Wherever there was a change in material there was a change in ambient mana density. That was handy, I realized I could use this little trick to detect hidden rooms and air pockets.

[Sense Mana] Skill has reached rank 2

I continued my investigation, the rank up helped me interpret what I sensed, and increased the resolution of what I could see. It might have also increased my radius of magical perception, but I wasn’t sure about that last one. It could have just been my imagination.

Moving on from inspecting the ambient mana, I looked at myself. My entire body was glowing brightly to my mana sense. It was much denser than the ambient levels. Unlike the unaligned ambient mana, my body’s affinity was almost exclusively Holy. Okay, so Aasimars were innately magical. Did all life have mana inside them? Or was my species special?

I focused on my neighbouring cells. There was only one other person I could see in my perception range. I couldn’t tell who or what it was. It was merely a blobby humanoid shape made of mana. This one had a different affinity. It was a combination of four elements: Earth, water, air, and fire. The mana seemed to combine to create something new. It… made me think of forests, oceans, mountains, sunlight… It was nature and life itself.

It reminded me of Chloe’s viridian life magic a bit. Oh wait… our cells were ordered by arrival time. My neighbour reminded me of Chloe because it was Chloe.

I would try to say hello, but my sense of the ambient mana told me there was at least two feet of stone between us. I doubted any sound could easily travel through that wall, and if I started shouting, men would no doubt appear to beat me until I shut up again.

Still, it was good to know she was still alive, for now.

[Sense Mana] Skill has reached rank 3

Oh, this Skill was ranking up quick. It shouldn’t be too hard to max it out if I just kept it active for a day or two. It was a little bit distracting, but it didn’t seem to cost me anything to maintain it.

With another rank, the resolution of what I could sense improved. I finally focused on my slave collar. It was intensely magical. Hardly worth comparing to the ambient mana, and far stronger than my Aasimar magic aura. I tried to fine tune my sense, turning down the ‘gain’ on my magical sensor, for lack of a better analogy. I stopped being able to sense the ambient mana, and even my own aura was barely noticeable now. Yet, I could start to pick out little details of the collar’s inner workings.

I expected something arcane and incomprehensible, what I got instead was something almost familiar. I’d done half an electrical engineering degree, before being Isekai’d, and this collar’s enchantments reminded me a bit of my basic circuits courses.

There were discrete blobs of magic, likely magic runes, or some sort special material that produced an effect. Then, there were channels of mana connecting them, acting like wires. If I traced the flow of mana through these wires, I might be able to gleam some knowledge of the collar’s inner workings.

So that’s what I did. For the next few hours, I had no idea how many, I lay on the hay and focused intensely on my collar. I kept meditation active as well. It helped me push away my nervousness and frustration. I focused only on observing the function of my collar.

[Sense Mana] Skill has reached rank 4[Sense Mana] Skill has reached rank 5[Sense Mana] Skill has reached rank 6[Sense Mana] Skill has reached rank 7

[Meditation] Skill has reached rank 8[Meditation] Skill has reached rank 9[Meditation] Skill has reached rank 10 (MAX)

As the hours went by, I gained a whole bunch of skill ranks. A quick check of my skill shop told me maxing out [Meditation] didn’t grant me any special ‘get Tyler out of torture-jail’ abilities, but the extra ranks would help with resource regeneration at least. At rank ten, [Meditation] now boosted my mana and stamina regen by an additional 200%, instead of 100%. Basically, my regeneration tripled while meditating. Not bad.

As for the collar. Every rank of [Sense Mana] helped me see more detail. I came to a few conclusions. First of all, the effects were generated by runes. I could see the fuzzy outline of the shapes themselves. My mana sense wasn’t sharp enough to make them out in detail, but I could tell they weren’t intuitive or easily understood. I decided to treat each rune as a black box. The inner workings were unknowable, but I could still analyze the inputs and outputs.

I discovered the function of two runes. One, I dubbed the ‘Source.’ To draw upon an electrical circuit analogy, it was the equivalent of a DC voltage source, like a solar panel or battery. I could sense ambient mana flowing into the rune through the steel material of the collar, and denser mana flowing out of the rune through the single mana channel connected to it.

The second rune was connected directly to the source, in series. I dubbed it the ‘Capacitor’ rune. The ‘Source’ rune’s output fluctuated randomly. It spat out more, or less mana into its channel, depending on fluctuations in the density of ambient mana around me. This second rune took that fluctuating input, stored mana when it was too high, and spat out mana when it was too low. It created a constant stable output. In other words, a smoothing capacitor.

From there, the channel split, and there were six runes of unknown effect, connected in parallel. Each of them accepted mana from the channel, but had no output. These were probably the enchantments themselves. I dubbed them ‘Loads’ to keep my engineering analogy consistent.

Unfortunately that was where my electrical training broke down. Circuits needed a return path, but not enchantments. There was only a single line connecting Source to Load.

So, how to break this?

Well, shorting out the voltage supply was a good way to create some smoke when you were playing with circuits. Unfortunately, without a return path, there was no way to create a short circuit. Still, messing with the input seemed to be the way to go.

I poked and prodded the mana inside the enchantment, and grumbled with annoyance. The mana inside the collar resisted my attempts to mess with it. It was no easier to move than the suppressed mana inside my own body.

Or was it?

I tried to form a spell shape, watched it fail, and then tried to prod the collar’s enchantment again, noting the differences.

Hah! There was a difference… an important one! When I moved the mana inside my body, one of the six ‘Load’ runes activated, suppressing my mana control. But when I poked and prodded the collar, the rune didn’t activate. I wasn’t being suppressed when manipulating mana outside my body, it was just really super hard to manipulate the mana inside an enchanted item’s channels.

But super hard wasn’t the same as impossible. If I grinded up my mana manipulation skill a little more, I might stand an actual chance of fucking with the enchantment. There was also something else to try.

I used my mana manipulation to clear away as much ambient mana as I could around my neck. I tried to create a dead zone. Nope. I couldn’t do it.

Manipulating external mana was incredibly difficult, taking every ounce of my Willpower to affect even a tiny change. I felt my ability to manipulate the mana drop off sharply with distance as well. But distance wasn’t the problem in this case, I only needed to stop ambient mana from reaching my collar until the Capacitor rune drained itself of stored magical energy. That only needed a tiny strip of zero ambient mana surrounding the collar. Sadly, I couldn’t even accomplish that much.

I searched the skill shop for some sort of ‘Extrernal Mana Manipulation’ skill, and didn’t find one. I sighed. That would be too easy, wouldn’t it? I was willing to bet, if there was a skill like that, I’d need to max out my [Advanced Mana Manipulation] skill to unlock it.

Time for more grinding, I supposed.

For the next hour or two, I kept my mana sense active while I pushed and struggled against my mana suppression. I gained some Skill ranks.

[Advanced Mana Manipulation] Skill has reached rank 5

[Sense Mana] Skill has reached rank 8

Sadly, my practice was interrupted when the door to my cell opened again. Standing out in the hall, with a pair of thuggish men and Satan’s Butler. I recognized one of the thugs as well, it was my good friend Hair Puller. The other thug didn’t have a name yet.

I didn’t say a single word to them, having gotten my fill of sucker punches to the gut yesterday. Hair Puller unlocked my cuffs, bound my arms behind me, and hauled me roughly out of my cell. And yes! As expected, he painfully grabbed me by the hair and used it as a handle to move me around.

Did magical healing fix having your hair ripped out? I had a feeling that if this treatment continued for too long, I’d end up bald.

The men roughly shoved me along the corridor and up the stairs, into the playroom for another night of cruel debauchery.