I swing the saber again, trying to replicate what I think are decent moves. It’s still very awkward, but each attempt feels a bit more natural. I couldn’t help but think that it might be the great adaptation ability of the primordial race being at play here.
I could feel the weight of the blade and the tension in my muscles as I guide it through the air. While I didn’t become a proper blade wielder all of a sudden, I think it’s a good start...
"... Let’s see what you’re made of." I say to myself before putting the blade away to let it rest in its sheath.
Just then, there’s a knock on the door of my changing room. The sound startles me out of my thoughts, and I quickly turn toward it.
"Master Quinlan?" comes a voice from the other side. It’s one of the servants, likely here to lead me to the training room.
"Come in."
The door opens, and a young servant steps inside, bowing politely before speaking. "The training room is ready, Master Quinlan. If you would please follow me."
The servant leads me through the winding halls of Broderick’s mansion, and I can’t help but admire the craftsmanship of the place. It’s clear that no expense was spared in its construction. Eventually, we arrive at a large, reinforced door. The servant opens it, and I’m greeted by the sight of a training room that’s both impressive and intimidating at the same time.
The room is massive, with high ceilings and walls made of a sturdy-looking material that seems capable of withstanding even the most intense of duels. The floor is padded but firm, designed to absorb impact without compromising stability. There are various training weapons lined up neatly along one wall, along with some basic gear and equipment.
I step into the training room and the door closes behind me with a heavy thud, sealing me in with whatever fate awaits.
There’s a figure already waiting for me inside.
Ayame’s standing in the center of the room with her back to me, and for a second, I almost don’t recognize her. Gone are her usual civilian clothes, and she hasn’t bothered to equip her armor either. Instead, she’s wrapped her body in nothing but thin, white bandages that barely cover the essentials. Her raven hair cascades down to her shoulders, contrasting starkly with the color of the bandages and the pale tan of her delicate skin. This is the most she’s ever shown me of her gorgeous body, and I’m momentarily stunned by the otherworldly tantalizing sight.
I can’t help but once again ascertain the fact into my mind that she truly is a one of a kind beauty of a woman, there can be absolutely no doubt about that.
The bandages cling to her form, accentuating her lean, athletic but overwhelmingly feminine build - it’s the physique I have in my mind when I think of a stunning battle goddess, which just so happens to be one of my strongest fetishes.
Every curve, every muscle is on display, and the sight is enough to make my breath hitch.
However, just as a spark of lust begins to flicker inside me, something else stirs - something darker, sharper. A realization cuts through the strong haze created by her lascivious appearance.
She’s mocking me.
I can see it in the way she stands, the way she turns her head slightly to glance at me with a sly, knowing smile. She’s not dressing down to show off her body. No, this is a statement.
She doesn’t even consider me enough of a threat to bother with proper linen clothes, let alone her Starforged armor.
She’s toying with me.
A low, aggressive grunt escapes me as I narrow my eyes at her. "What’s the meaning of this, Ayame?" My voice is thick with irritation, a combination of anger and disbelief boiling under the surface.
She giggles with a light, melodic sound that only adds fuel to the fire. "Oh, Master~" she purrs, finally turning around to fully showcase her body. She strapped the bandages around her lady parts in a thin horizontal line but that’s about it. I can see the skin of her shoulders, tummy, thighs, even the upper and lower ends of her breasts- everything, and even where she is covered, the appendage does little to hide her curves.
Her eyes sparkle mockingly as she begins to take slow, deliberate steps toward me as her hips sway with exaggerated sensuality with each movement. It’s obvious she’s doing it on purpose, every step designed to provoke me, to aggravate me even further. "I thought a complete pervert like you would appreciate the view. After all, you’ve been lusting after me ever since you first laid your eyes on me back at the slave house."
She’s ridiculing me as a combatant, as a man and as her master.
Ayame stops a few steps away from me and looks me in the eyes. Her smug grin widens, eyes dancing with amusement as she looks me up and down. "What’s wrong, Master?" she asks in an innocent tone, tilting her head to the side slightly as if she’s genuinely puzzled. "Did I do something wrong? Or are you just too distracted by my body to focus?"
The mockery in her voice is clear as day, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to snap. My grip tightens around the hilt of my saber, knuckles whitening as I struggle to keep my composure. She’s pushing every button, testing every boundary, and the worst part is - she’s having a blissful time while doing so.
"I didn’t think you would present yourself to me in such skimpy clothing, if these bandages can even be called that." I say while attempting to calm my nerves.
Ayame replies with an even wider smirk playing on her lips; "skimpy, huh? Well, I would’ve preferred to fight you while being completely naked, but since I’m a lady who’s rather conscious about her image, I simply couldn’t allow myself to go ahead with that."