The Witch’s Sweet Corruption

Kaelan rolled over, straddling Saranya, their entwined shadows cast onto the curtains by the flickering firelight.

Footsteps of guards passed beneath the curtains, likely coming to remove the bodies. Saranya’s eyes fixed on the tips of their boots, forcing her to clamp a hand over her mouth, desperately stifling her moans.

“Hah…”

Saranya shivered, feeling her mistress’s knee press between her thighs.

“My little fox is trembling, aren’t you~”

Kaelan leaned down towards Saranya, her pearly teeth gently nipping at the other woman’s earlobe.

“Guess… how shall I reward you this time?”

“Mistress, there’s still a trial later…”

Ignoring the plea entirely, Kaelan leaned closer to Saranya’s neck, gently inhaling the scent of her s*ave. Her movements were tender, her hair falling like dark, lustrous cords, softly encircling Saranya’s throat.

“There’s still time…”

Her mistress’s words, like a tiny spark, completely ignited Saranya’s passion. A film of mist clouded her icy blue eyes as she pressed herself urgently against Kaelan, her gaze pleading as she sought to reach the other woman’s lips.

“Tsk tsk, not allowed~”

Kaelan chuckled softly, turning her head to evade Saranya’s yearning lips. The next instant, her gaze subtly shifted behind her, as if she had sensed something.

“Hmph.”

Kaelan let out a cold snort, then suddenly reached out, pinching Saranya’s chin. Her eyes lowered, her tone shifting to one of command:

“No kissing, and no touching me with your hands.”

“Mistress…”

“Lie down.”

Saranya obediently lay on the wooden floor, her eyes timid. She didn’t understand why Kaelan had suddenly turned harsh, but she knew it didn’t matter; as long as she was obedient, everything would be fine.

She had not anticipated, however, the suddenness of Kaelan’s violence.

Violet demonic light suddenly flared in Kaelan’s eyes, and concurrently, a searing pain ignited in Saranya’s abdomen.

No, that sensation was more than mere pain…

Saranya’s beautiful pupils abruptly constricted, her face contorted into a strange expression that was neither joy nor sorrow, allowing her disordered cries to echo through the private room.

Lowering her head, she discovered her collar had already been undone by her mistress, and beneath her skin, those glowing violet magic patterns had reappeared. This time, the hypnotic purple light was even more intense.

With a single lift of Kaelan’s arm, a purple chain materialized in her hand with a clatter, its other end clasped around Saranya’s jeweled neck, adorned with a collar.

“Mistress, no! I…”

“Shhh—”

The petite Kaelan, at this moment, displayed a command utterly disproportionate to her stature. Leaning back slightly, she tugged forcefully on the chain, compelling Saranya to kneel before her.

On the curtains, their silhouettes overlapped, creating an intensely visually provocative and shameful image.

“Look at us in this position… isn’t it beautiful?”

Kaelan narrowed her eyes in satisfaction, yanking hard on the chain, forcing Saranya to tilt her head back as if displaying a trophy.

Saranya did not reply; she was unable to speak, merely parting her lips slightly and letting the tip of her tongue peek out.

“Oh, are you swaying your hips, Commander Saranya?”

“…”

“Commander Saranya?”

“Mmm…”

“Answer me.”

“Because… if it’s Mistress… it doesn’t matter… only Mistress…”

“It’s rather strange for you to initiate such things. Aren’t you the renowned Night Lily Knight, a noble from the Northern Winter Realm, the most glorious and greatest commander in the eyes of the world?”

“Stop talking…”

“Hmm?”

Kaelan tugged the chain again, and Saranya trembled once more. Beads of sweat trickled from her cheeks to her chin, then dripped onto the small of her pale back, tracing a graceful curve before slowly descending to her mistress’s lower abdomen, which was also slick with perspiration, shimmering with alluring moisture.

Saranya’s gaze grew hazy; Kaelan’s coercive tutelage had emptied her mind, her pupils beginning to lose focus.

It no longer mattered; at least within this small private room, she would temporarily abandon those futile struggles.

“I am… your s*ave…”

Saranya swayed her head listlessly. In her daze, she thought she heard a faint gasp from beyond the curtains, so she shifted her gaze towards the bottom of the drapery.

“Eh…”

There, she spotted a pair of noblewoman’s ankle boots, exquisitely embroidered with golden finches, their design nimble and charming. She recognized the style… whose shoes were those again?

“Mistress! Outside…”

“Finally noticed, have you?”

Kaelan leaned into Saranya’s ear, whispering in a breathy voice audible only to them, her tone brimming with an unsettling exhilaration.

“There’s a naughty little mouse outside…”

“Wait…”

No, the person outside was…

“Tell me, when that girl sees the commander she so admires, swaying her hips like a cat in heat right here… will she cry herself mad~”

Saranya’s expression froze, then she began to shake her head in terror, but Kaelan pressed down on the back of her neck, forcing her face towards the scorching cleavage before her. She pleaded aloud, unwilling to let an innocent girl become part of their ‘play,’ and even less willing to break her heart.

To reject or ignore someone, Saranya could rationalize as following her true feelings, treating the other person with honesty. But to exploit someone’s admiration for her own amusement? That was too sinful, and while intensely stimulating… she absolutely could not accept it.

Tragically, the power dynamic was not in her favor; her pleas were utterly useless. Kaelan was already too far gone. In fact, quite contrary to Saranya, Kaelan, as a witch, seemed to possess no such moral qualms whatsoever, thoroughly relishing this perverse thrill of conquest.

Behind the curtains, the young girl’s ankle boots seemed nailed to the spot, trembling slightly.

Kaelan’s teasing voice rang out again:

“Do you know? The church official’s candidate wasn’t chosen wrongly after all; that girl truly has some magical talent…”

“What…?”

“For an idiot with no magical affinity, it’s incredibly difficult for a spellcaster to project images into their mind with magic… but she’s different. If she’s the target, I’m quite confident I can succeed on the first try…”

“Are you saying…?!

The curtains parted just enough for her to catch a glimpse.

‘Mental projection…’

Saranya instantly understood Kaelan’s meaning, shaking her head repeatedly and uttering breathless pleas: “She’s too pitiful, don’t do this to her…”

“She’ll love it~”

Saranya didn’t know what Kaelan had done. She only saw Kaelan’s expression pause for a second or two, as if momentarily disconnected, then her body shivered unnaturally before she embraced Saranya tightly, a look of rapture on her face.

‘Don’t…’

‘Don’t look…’

‘You mustn’t look…’

Saranya slumped into Kaelan’s embrace, praying helplessly within.

Alas, her prayers went unanswered.

Muffled whimpers emanated from beyond the curtains, and the tips of those gold-threaded boots stumbled backward. A moment later came a “clank,” the sound of the girl’s sword hilt striking the wall at her waist.

A blue cornflower drifted gently from mid-air to the floor, only to be trodden upon by the girl’s ankle boot. Its petals, sullied by dirt, lost their original pristine beauty, becoming twisted and grotesque.

Kaelan licked away the tears from Saranya’s eyes, fastened her clothes, then turned and drew back the curtains.

Saranya looked out beyond the curtains and saw the young girl bending to pick up the broken cornflower. The girl’s trembling fingertips repeatedly caressed the petals. Hearing the movement, she slowly raised her head, her light golden short hair swaying gently.

“Lady Hillburg, Sister Saranya, hello…”

Paresha’s cheeks were flushed with a sickly crimson, and she licked her bloodshot lips.

“I, I came to invite you both to the trial, and to congratulate you… on taking control of the Redwater Tavern.”

“You possess significant magical talent; would you like to become my apprentice?”

As if it had been pre-planned, Kaelan asked this with a smile.

“!”

Paresha’s eyes widened, and she took half a step forward, as if in surprise. Her face was so crimson it seemed blood could be squeezed from it.

“Of course, of course! Sister Saranya, Lady Kaelan!”

Paresha trembled with excitement, a bitter, joyful smile gracing her face. She offered the cornflower in her hand between Saranya and Kaelan.

“Please, please instruct me… in the most cruel way possible…”

‘Paresha… seemed to have broken.’

In that moment, Saranya recalled a story her brother Mejga had once read to her, one of the many dark fables from the Northern Realm. The final line of that tale was about witches:

‘Witches do not crave lust, but a corruption sweeter than lust itself—that pungent aroma which blossoms when a pure soul willingly plunges into the mire.’