บท 22: Chapter 22: The Big Bad Wolf is Surprisingly Tender.
"Meaou." The little fluff ball padded over to me, nuzzling against my feet with a persistence that was both endearing and slightly demanding.
I knelt down, scooping it up into my arms, feeling the warmth of its tiny body against my chest.
"Ooh, sorry, were you hungry?" I said, my voice softening. "Wait just a sec."
I gently set it back down, feeling a twinge of guilt at the sudden sound it made because of separation.
"Meaou, Meaou," the pet demand for my attention, so I hurried off to fetch its food.
It was a pretty strange thing, this world has a medieval ambience, but it didn't quite feel like it at the same time.
Here we was, surrounded by stone walls and flickering torches, but then there's cat food, dog food, and other packages of food neatly shuffled on the shelves.
"Here, kitty, come," I knelt down and called softly, pouring the contents into its bowl, the sound of kibble clattering echoing in the quiet room.
I placed a small bowl of water beside it, watching as the little creature sniffed at the food, its nose twitching in curiosity.
I wonder if it was okay to gave it water, but I'd never had a pet before, and the thought of asking someone for advice felt like admitting a kind of ignorance I wasn't prepared to face.
"Kitty, you can drink it, right?" I murmured, half to myself, half to the little creature as it tentatively approached the bowl, its movements filled with a cautious eagerness.
Ignoring my mutterings, the kitty dove into the food with a fervor that suggested it hadn't eaten in ages.
Its tiny paws scrambled for every morsel as if it were savoring a feast fit for royalty. I watched, a bemused smile creeping across my face.
"Yes, I hope you're content with what you have," I said, giving its soft back a gentle pat.
It paused for just a moment, looking up at me with a shimmering, grateful eyes, before returning to its meal with renewed vigor.
"Aah... See, your fur is all over my body," I exclaimed, brushing at the hair that clung to my clothes.
I frowned, the soft fluff clung stubbornly to my shirt, and took a moment to clean myself up, swiping away the evidence of my feline's affection.
With that little task done, I turned my attention to preparing dinner.
The evening air was thick with the aromas of spices and simmering broth, and it was peaceful, the rhythmic motions of chopping and stirring.
The kitty, now fully engrossed in its feast, seemed content to watch me from a distance, its big eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and satisfaction.
A moment of silence passed just like that, in silence.
I couldn't tell if it had been 30, 40, or even 50 minutes, I didn't exactly keep a track on it afterall.
The kitty, now done with its meal and losing its interest on my phenomenal cooking skills had curled up contentedly on the edge of my study chair. It's tiny body rising and falling with each soft breath. Just then...
—Creak Creak
The door of the bathroom opens and out came our dear protagonist. She walked toward me timidly, with her bare feet.
Wrapped in one of my oversized shirts I picked intionally, the hem falling to her knees, it seemed to emphasizing just how small and fragile she was.
Her blonde hair, now slightly damp, clung to her face and neck, giving her an almost ethereal appearance under the soft light of the room. Though she was too thin for my liking.
Her eyes, wide and glistening met mine timidly. She looked like a timid little bird, wings clipped, seeking shelter.
I watched her, fascinated, as she shifted uneasily from one foot to the other with a slightly flushed cheeks, her hands clutching the hem of the shirt nervously.
Oh, I remember, she must not wear any underwear right now. Not even a panty.
After realizing that, she looked even more vulnerable, Shifting my gaze to the cooking I smiled contentedly, my heart beat a little faster.
Aah, this must be a sadistic instinc, I thought. Like a tiger playing with its rey before devouring it, though in this case the way I do might slightly differ.
—Tap Tap Tap
She trudged over to my side, tapping the hem of my shirt, her fingers brushing against the fabric like a whisper.
I deliberately ignored her the first three times, and when I turned to her on the fourth, her lips parted slightly, as if wanting to say something.
But nothing was uttered from that small sensual mouth.
There was a gentle vulnerability in her stance, the way she loom at me, and even the way she hold my hem, a nod of acceptance perhaps.
"Come closer." She was in a distance where I could pull her shoulder, but even so I still beckoned her.
She hesitated for a moment, uncertainty flickering in her eyes before she took tentative steps toward me.
Her gaze was glued to the ground, as if the earth held all the answers she couldn't find.
Her left hand tugged at my hem, just a gentle hold, while her right hand nervously pulled at the oversized shirt that swallowed her frame, a shield against the vulnerability she wore so openly.
When she was close enough, I reached out and gently took her right hand, which was busy steadying her shirt.
She obeyed wordlessly, her gaze dropped to her thigh, where the winds could blew her cover now.
I could feel the warmth of her body, the slight tremor in her movements.
She was like a fragile porcelain doll, one that could shatter with the slightest pressure, both physically and verbally.
And yet, there was something irresistibly alluring about her frailty, something that stirred a very dark, very possessive desire.
"Are you hungry?" I asked, shifting toward the chair, inviting her to sit on my thigh.
However, she hesitated, putting strength onto her hand.
Because of that I frowned and put more strength onto my grip and forcefully pulled her down.
As she settled onto my thigh, her body lay horizontal, a warm intersection of our worlds.
She nodded meekly, her eyes flicking up to meet mine for a brief second before darting away while blushing.
I pulled her into a tighter embrace, holding her close, my hand gently patting her head.
We stayed like that, heartbeats syncing, waiting for her heavy breaths to calm. After a while, I felt a dampness on my thigh—perhaps it was just my imagination.
But what wasn't imagined was the subtle rise of her nipples through her shirt I could see.
"Wait here for a moment," I whispered softly, sliding my hand beneath her thigh to lift her up.
There it was—definitely wet. What a weird fellow I thought, while settling her.
Perhaps sensing my understanding, she lowered her head even further, her blush deepening to a vibrant scarlet.
Ignoring her for a moment, I walked back and grabbed a tray, arranging the food for her.
Honestly, I didn't feel like eating with a weirdo, so I decided I wouldn't.
Moving back, I placed a tray of food in front of her, watching as she hesitated, then slowly picked up a fork.
Her movements were delicate but awkward, almost hesitant, as if she feared making a mistake.
I found it strangely endearing, amusing and entertaining, this timidity, this unspoken submission.
As she ate, I couldn't help but imagine how easy it would be to mold her, to shape her into whatever I desired.
She was already so submissive, so willing to please.
It would be effortless to break her completely, to make her utterly dependent on me.
The thought sent a thrill down my spine. I watched her eagerly as she ate all of the food, occasionally glancing at me.
I reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, my fingers lingering on her cheek.
She flinched slightly at the contact, while closing her eye but didn't pull away.
"Good girl."
I could see the effect those words had on her, the way her body responded, the way her eyes moved down.
I would train her, shape her, use her, and when I grew tired, perhaps give her some money and cast her aside.
สถานะพลังงานรายสัปดาห์
-- การจัดอันดับด้วยพลัง 
-- หินพลัง