Fools, I thought, shaking my head. Perhaps I might have shared their sentiments if I were just another adventurer blinded by Elfriede's beauty. To be fair, she was objectively stunning—long silver hair, an ethereal face with the haughty elegance of elf-kind, and a figure that drew covetous eyes wherever we went. Many men propositioned her openly whenever we passed through a town (only to be coldly rejected, of course).
However lovely the wrapping was, I knew the real Elfriede too well. For two years, I had been at this woman's mercy. I'd felt her whip tear my flesh; I'd seen her laugh as I grovelled in the dirt. No amount of physical beauty could make me forget the monster under the pretty face.
If anything, the intimate nature of this massage should have stirred some lust in me—after all, I was a man in my prime, and Elfriede's body was truly a sight to behold, glistening with sweat in the firelight. Under normal circumstances, any man in my position would fight to control his… lower reactions.
Not me. To my grim satisfaction, my body didn't betray me in the slightest. My loins remained utterly lifeless, showing not a flicker of arousal.
That was the doing of Medusa's Curse—the slave imprint I bore. That insidious curse had effectively killed my manhood from the moment it was branded onto me. No matter how enticing the situation, I couldn't feel even a twitch of desire unless my master allowed it. It was a cruel spell, but a very effective precaution for owners of male slaves.
I remembered the slaver's smirking explanation when he'd sold me to Elfriede: This curse is better than gelding your slave. It tames both the body and spirit. Many slave masters simply castrated their male property to prevent any… unwanted urges. But such barbaric "surgery" often ended in infection or death. So instead, wealthy owners paid for this expensive curse to safely hobble a man's passions—and bind his will—without spilling a drop of blood.
Thanks to it, my pride and dignity were quite literally leashed to Elfriede's whims. Only she could release me from the curse, not that she ever would.
Lost in these dark musings, I must have slowed my pace.
"Your hands are pausing again!" Elfriede snapped, jolting me back to reality. "Did I tell you to stop, slave? Keep going—unless you'd prefer I fetch my whip?"
"N-no, Mistress!" I stammered. Hastily, I resumed pressing my palms into the delicate arch of her foot.
Too late. CRACK!