Corin's fingers closed around the sponge, but he didn't raise it right away. He watched Elara instead, the way she sat stiff, back straight like a rod, hands gripping her skirt as though propriety alone could shield her. Her cheeks were already flushed scarlet, steam clinging to her skin in beads that slid down her jaw and disappeared into the collar of her plain dress.
"You're not going to make me wash you with that thing on, are you?" he said, voice lazy but carrying weight.
Her eyes widened, the color climbing higher. "Y-young master, that's…"
"Improper?" he finished for her, smirking. "That's what you said before, wasn't it? Then take it off. Or I'll do it for you."
The way her throat bobbed when she swallowed told him everything. She wasn't used to being cornered like this. She was used to rules, to discipline, to living inside a box. He'd stepped inside that box and was kicking down the walls one by one.
Elara's hands trembled as she tugged the ties of her dress loose. The wet fabric peeled away from her shoulders, slipping down over her chest. Corin's breath hitched.
Her breasts spilled free, perky and heavy, pale flesh gleaming with steam. The tips were a soft pink, already hardening, nipples stiff like tiny stones begging to be touched. They jutted forward as the dress bunched at her waist, and Corin's cock throbbed under the water like it wanted to salute them.
'Holy fuck… those tits are perfect,' Corin thought. 'Soft enough to bury my face in, perky enough to bounce in my hands. This world doesn't play fair.'
Further down, she stripped off the skirt, hesitating only a moment before sliding it past her hips. Her thighs were creamy and thick, leading into a mound crowned with a neatly trimmed tuft of dark hair. Not bald, not untouched—just natural enough to look indecent, like a secret garden she wasn't ready to admit existed.
Her pussy lips peeked through faintly, pink and puffy, glistening slightly in the steam. Corin's mouth went dry.
'Bushy enough to look real, but I can see the slit underneath… fuck, I'd eat that raw.'
Elara stood there, naked now, arms crossed over her chest as though that could cover anything. The flush spread down her throat, her whole body betraying her.
Corin leaned back, letting the water ripple around him. "Better," he said, savoring the sight. "Now get in. You're filthy."
She slid carefully into the tub opposite him, the water rising around her pale skin, darkening her hair as it clung wet against her shoulders. When she finally sat down, the tops of her breasts peeked above the waterline, nipples hard enough to poke through the surface whenever she shifted.
Corin dipped the sponge into the water, wrung it out, and reached forward. He started slow, dragging it across her arm. Warm water sluiced down, carrying soap and steam over her pale flesh.
Elara kept her eyes forward, lips pressed tight. But her shoulders stiffened at the first contact, and her breathing hitched slightly.
Corin smirked. 'Yeah, she feels that. She's pretending she doesn't, but her body's snitching on her.'
He moved the sponge across her shoulder, then down her collarbone, letting his knuckles brush faintly against the side of her breast. Elara shivered.
"You're tense," he murmured.
"I-It's cold," she lied.
"In boiling water?" Corin grinned. "Sure."
He trailed the sponge lower, finally circling her breast. The soapy water trickled down the mound, rolling off her nipple before vanishing under the surface. Her lips parted, the faintest sound escaping before she caught it.
Corin dropped the sponge onto the edge of the tub and reached with his bare hand. He cupped her breast, fingers sinking into soft, supple flesh.
Elara gasped. "Young master!"
"Relax," he said, thumb brushing her nipple. "I'm washing."
Her back arched despite herself. The nipple stiffened under his thumb, a little pebble begging to be rolled and teased. Corin pinched it lightly, tugging, and her legs pressed together under the water.
'She's wet already,' Corin thought. 'They really fold that easy here? Fucking hell.'
He massaged her tits with both hands now, kneading them, squeezing them together to watch the flesh spill between his fingers. Her breath grew shallow, face red as her eyes darted everywhere but his.
"Say it," Corin muttered, leaning close. "Say I should keep going."
Elara shook her head weakly. "Improper…"
Corin chuckled. "Improper feels good, doesn't it?"
Her silence was louder than words.
He slid a hand lower, across her stomach, then further until his fingers brushed the trimmed hair above her mound. Her thighs snapped shut.
"Elara," he said, voice low. "Open."
She hesitated, trembling… then her legs parted slightly. Enough.
Corin's fingers slid into the water, finding her pussy lips. Hot, soft folds yielded under his touch. When he traced along her slit, she jerked, biting down hard on her lip to keep the moan inside.
"Fuck…" he breathed, stroking slowly. "You're soaking, and it's not from the bath."
Her eyes screwed shut, face crimson. Her chest heaved as her nipples bobbed above the waterline, stiff and glistening.
Corin leaned back, enjoying the sight. 'This is insane. I tell her to strip, and now I'm finger-deep in her pussy. Every girl in this world built like this? Obedient, needy, ready to break?'
He pulled his hand away at last, smirking at her trembling frame. "Turn around."
She blinked, dazed. "W-what?"
"Bend over. I need to wash your back properly."
She hesitated… then obeyed. She turned and leaned over the edge of the tub, water sloshing as her ass rose above the surface.
Corin's breath caught.
'Holy mother of fuck.'
Her ass was perfect. Round, plump, the pale flesh gleaming with steam. Water slid down her crack, tracing the line between her cheeks, dripping toward her pussy that peeked faintly underneath. When she shifted, the jiggle was hypnotic, soft flesh quivering with every little movement.
Corin leaned closer, sliding the sponge down her spine, then across her ass cheeks. He squeezed deliberately, kneading her flesh as though it were part of the wash. Elara gasped but didn't protest.
"Softest ass I've ever touched," he muttered, almost to himself.
He slipped lower, letting his cock, hard and throbbing, nudge between her thighs under the water. The swollen head slid against her pussy lips, hot and slick, pressing through the gap of her thighs.
Elara shuddered. "Y-young master…!"
"Still washing," he said, grinding slowly, savoring the feel of her heat around him. His dick throbbed between her thighs, so close to slipping in, but he held back, teasing himself and her alike.
The moment stretched, filthy and raw, until—
Knock.
The door creaked. Another maid's voice called, muffled. "Elara? You've been gone too long. Is everything all right?"
Elara froze like a deer, panic flooding her eyes.
Corin smirked. Without pulling away, he raised his voice. "She's doing a fantastic job. We'll be done soon."
Silence. Then the footsteps retreated. The door shut.
Elara sagged in relief, though her body was still trembling under his hands.
Corin chuckled. "See? No one cares. Keep still."
He rubbed her ass one last time, cock grinding between her thighs, before finally pulling away. "All done," he murmured.
Elara turned back toward him, face flushed, eyes glazed with something between shame and hunger.
They rose from the tub together, water streaming off their bodies. Her ass jiggled with each step, her breasts bouncing as she bent slightly to fetch a towel. She dried him first, her hands lingering longer than necessary on his chest, his thighs. Then she dried herself, the towel clinging to every curve, outlining tits, hips, and that soft bush between her legs.
"Thank you," she whispered, voice trembling. "For… washing me."
Corin smirked. "You earned it."
Elara reached for the bundle of folded fabric she had set aside earlier, fingers fumbling at the edges as though even cloth had grown difficult to hold. Her plain dress was still damp from before, clinging in places where steam and water had never let go. She stepped into it slowly, pulling it up over her thighs and hips, the wet fabric hugging every curve it passed. When it settled against her breasts again, the outline of her nipples was faint but clear, pressing against the thin material.
She tugged at the ties too quickly, as though hurrying might erase what had already been seen, already been touched. Her hair clung in wet strands to her cheeks, her face still red from more than the heat of the bath.
When she finally finished, she stood stiff, eyes glued to the floor. Without a word, she gathered his fresh set of clothes from the small shelf nearby, holding them carefully in both hands.
Together, they left the bathhouse. The halls outside were cool compared to the steam, the air brushing over damp skin in sharp contrast. Water dripped from Corin's hair, running down his neck in beads. Elara walked half a pace ahead, silent, her steps too quick, betraying nerves.
Every servant they passed bowed or glanced away immediately, not daring to notice the way Elara's dress clung too tight, or how Corin's towel rode low at his hips. The atmosphere felt thick, complicit.
By the time they reached his room, a tray had already been set—fresh clothes, a vial of oil, a clean towel folded neatly at the foot of the bed.
Elara placed the clothes down, smoothing the jacket with her palm as if that tiny act of control could ground her again. She reached for the vial, uncorked it with a soft pop, and the sharp herbal scent rose at once—something between mint and pine, sharp and clean that filled the small room.
Corin let the towel fall from his waist, standing bare and unashamed. Her eyes flicked once, low, then darted away just as quickly.
He grinned to himself. 'There it is again. Pretend all you want. You've already looked twice.'
Elara poured the oil into her palms, rubbing them together to warm it before pressing them flat against his shoulders. The slick warmth spread across his skin as her hands moved in practiced circles, working the tension from muscles he hadn't realized were tight.
"I've been meaning to ask," Corin said, keeping his voice casual as her hands kneaded down his back. "Where exactly am I? I know this is Lady Catherine's manor, but... what city is this?"
Elara's hands paused for just a moment before continuing their work. "You truly don't remember? The merchant said you took quite a blow to the head."
"It's all foggy," Corin lied smoothly. "I remember bits and pieces, but nothing clear. Just that I was traveling, and then... bandits."
She made a sympathetic sound. "You're in Millhaven, young master. It's one of the four great cities of the Valdren Empire."
"Four great cities," Corin repeated, filing the information away. "Tell me about them? My memory's so scattered, I'm not even sure I could name them all."
Elara moved to his arms, her touch gentle on the healing wounds. "Well, there's the capital—Thornhearth. That's where Emperor Caldris holds court. It's the largest city in the empire, maybe twice the size of Millhaven. They say the palace walls are so high you can see them from five miles away, and the streets are paved with actual stone instead of packed earth."
She poured more oil into her palm, warming it between her hands. "Then there's Ironford to the north. It sits at the base of the Steelcrag Mountains, where the dwarven clans mine. Most of the empire's weapons and armor come from Ironford's forges. The smoke from the smithies is so thick it turns the sky gray, even at noon."
"Dwarves," Corin said, careful to keep the wonder out of his voice. "They work alongside humans there?"
"Of course." Elara sounded surprised by the question. "Where did you think our steel came from? The dwarves are master smiths. Humans couldn't forge half the things they do, not without their techniques." She moved behind him again, working oil into his lower back. "Though they keep to their mountain halls mostly. Don't care much for our sun or our cities."
"What about the other two cities?" he asked.
"Brightwater is on the eastern coast," Elara continued. "It's the trading hub—ships come from across the sea bringing spices, silks, things we can't grow or make here. The beastkin do most of the sailing. Cat-folk, mostly. They're better at reading the winds and currents than humans are."
"Cat-folk?" Corin kept his tone curious but not shocked.
"You really did hit your head hard," Elara said with a small laugh. "Yes, cat-folk. Felinara, if you want to be proper about it. They walk on two legs like us, but they've got fur, tails, ears like cats. Most of them live in the southern jungles, but plenty work the ships or run trade caravans. They're good with their hands and quick on their feet."
'Cat people are real,' Corin thought, his mind racing. 'Not Earth. Definitely not Earth. Some kind of fantasy world with multiple races.'
She moved around to face him, starting on his chest with the oil. Her eyes stayed focused on her work, professional despite the earlier intimacy. "Then there's Millhaven, where we are now. We're the breadbasket. The fields around the city grow wheat, barley, vegetables. We feed the empire. Not as grand as Thornhearth or as rich as Brightwater, but without us, everyone starves."
Corin processed all of this. Four cities. An empire. Multiple races living alongside humans—dwarves, cat-people, probably others. Magic might exist. This was definitely a fantasy world, not some historical Earth.
"And Lady Catherine?" he asked. "She's nobility here?"
"Lesser nobility," Elara said, a note of pride in her voice. "Her family has held lands around Millhaven for three generations. She's a baroness, answers to the regional duke, who answers to the emperor. She's wealthy enough to live comfortably, but not powerful enough to play the games they play in Thornhearth."
She finished with the oil, wiping her hands on a cloth. "Which is good for people like us. The great lords treat their servants like dirt. Lady Catherine actually cares."
Corin pulled on the clean tunic she'd laid out—rough linen, serviceable but not fancy. The pants were the same, simple and practical. Servant's clothes.
"What about the roads?" he asked. "Are they safe? The bandits who attacked us..."
Elara's expression darkened. "The roads are dangerous, especially between cities. Bandits, wild beasts, sometimes worse things. That's why merchants travel in caravans and nobles hire guards." She paused. "Though bandits have been getting bolder lately. There are rumors of organized groups, not just desperate men robbing travelers."
"Organized how?"
She shrugged. "Just rumors. But people say someone's paying them, directing them. Targeting specific travelers, specific goods." She shook her head. "But that's above my understanding. I just know the roads aren't safe."
Corin filed that away too. Organized bandits, potential larger conspiracy. Could be nothing, could be something.
"And the other races?" he pressed. "Besides dwarves and cat-folk. Are there others?"
"Of course." Elara moved to the window, looking out over the gardens. "There are the orckin in the western badlands—fierce warriors, mostly keep to themselves but some serve in the emperor's army. The lizardfolk in the marshes to the south, though they rarely come this far north. Even some elves in the deep forests, though they're reclusive. Don't like dealing with humans much."
She turned back to him. "And then there are the monsters. Not thinking creatures like the beastkin or dwarves, but dangerous beasts. Direwolves in the mountains, wyverns in the cliffs near Ironford, swamp drakes in the southern wetlands. That's why settlements stick close together and why we have walls."
'A full fantasy world,' Corin thought. 'Multiple races, monsters, probably magic. This is the real deal.'
"Thank you," he said. "For explaining all this. It helps... fill in the gaps."
Elara smiled, though there was concern in her eyes. "Your memory will come back, young master. Give it time. The healer will be here this afternoon—maybe they can help."
She moved toward the door, then paused. "I should let you rest. The healer will want to examine you properly, and you'll need your strength."
After she left, Corin sat on the edge of the bed, his mind working through everything he'd learned.
Four major cities. An empire called Valdren. Multiple intelligent races living alongside humans. Monsters in the wilderness. Organized banditry suggesting larger conflicts. And he was stuck in the body of a dead servant boy, with nothing but a sex-based power system to help him navigate it all.
"Where the hell did I end up?" he muttered to the empty room.
Just then a link screen appeared in his field of view :
[Dirty Quest Complete]
Reward: +5 Lust, +1 Depravity, 10 CP
[Well, well. You've made impressive strides in getting to know your world, host]
Corin jumped slightly, then scowled. "A little warning next time would be nice."
[Where's the fun in that?]
The screen pulsed, then shifted, displaying new information:
[Secret Side Quest Complete: Know Your Place]
[Objective: Discover your location and the nature of this world]
[Status: COMPLETED]
[Rewards Unlocked:]
[• Parasite Store: NOW ACTIVE]
[• 50 Corruption Points awarded]
Corin stared at the notification, his pulse quickening. "Wait. There was a secret quest this whole time?"
[Obviously. Did you think I'd just hand you a tour guide? You had to figure it out yourself. And you did—four cities, multiple races, the empire's structure. Not bad for someone who died jerking off]
"Thanks for the reminder," Corin muttered dryly. But his attention was already focused on the new line. "The Parasite Store is unlocked?"
[That's what it says, doesn't it? Though I'd suggest you explore it later when you're not about to be examined by a healer. Wouldn't want to explain why you're staring at nothing and grinning like an idiot]
The screen blinked once more, then faded from view, leaving Corin alone with his thoughts.
He sat back on the bed, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"This is going to be interesting."