Chapter 839 - 838- The Doubt of Hell?

Chapter 839: Chapter 838- The Doubt of Hell?

She was tall. Blonde. Her hair, long and golden, fell in waves to her shoulders. Her body, curvaceous and full, was the body of a woman who had been blessed by genetics and magic. Her breasts, large and heavy, strained against her uniform. Her hips, wide and curved, made the uniform skirt look inadequate. Her face, beautiful and cold, was the face of a woman who knew she was better than everyone else and acted accordingly.

Her name was Seraphina. Seraphina Voss. The president of the women’s section of Class A. The daughter of a baron whose territory bordered the dark elf lands. The woman whose father had been killed by dark elf raiders. The woman who hated, with every fiber of her being, the race that had taken her father from her.

She saw the dark elf. Her eyes, blue and cold, went hard. The hatred, instant and total, was visible on her face. The flush, the one that came with fury, crept up her neck.

"Follow me," she said. Her voice, clipped and cold, was the voice of a woman giving an order. Not a request. An order.

The dark elf, hearing the command, looked at her. At the blonde hair. At the blue eyes. At the uniform. At the badge that marked her as president.

She didn’t move. Her feet, planted, stayed.

"I said follow me," Seraphina repeated. Her voice, harder, was the voice of a woman who was not accustomed to being ignored.

The dark elf, her green eyes meeting the blue ones, didn’t speak. She couldn’t. The words, the explanation, the introduction that would have made this easier, were not hers to give. Her master had told her to be here. Her master had not told her what to say.

She followed. Her feet, moving, carried her after the blonde. The crowd, parting, let them through. The whispers, following, were a trail.

Seraphina led her to the checking room. A small, private space near the women’s section. Used for inspections. For verifying identities. For checking for weapons and contraband.

She closed the door. The sound, quiet and final, was the sound of a room that had only one exit.

She turned. Her blue eyes, cold and hard, examined the dark elf. The examination, thorough and invasive, was the examination of a woman looking for an excuse.

"What is your name?" Seraphina said. Her voice was sharp. The tone, already hostile, was the tone of a woman who had decided the answer didn’t matter.

The dark elf trembled. Her mouth, opening, tried to form words. The name, her name, was there. But the words wouldn’t come.

"I... my master said to be here," she said. Her voice, barely audible, was the voice of a woman who was terrified. "I..."

She couldn’t say it. She didn’t know what to say. Her master had told her to come here. Had not told her what to say. Had not prepared her for this.

"Your master?" Seraphina repeated. The word, dripping with contempt, was a weapon. "You have a master. You are a slave."

She stepped closer. Her hand, reaching out, grabbed the dark elf’s dress. Pulled. The fabric, stretching, revealed the collar. The metal, dark and plain, was a confirmation.

"A slave," Seraphina said. "In the academy. In my section."

Her hand, still holding the dress, moved. Down. Over the fabric. Over the waist. Over the hip. To the hem.

"What are you hiding?" she said. Her voice, low and dangerous, was the voice of a woman searching for something. "What did your master send you here with?"

Her hand went under the dress. The fabric, lifting, revealed the dark elf’s thigh. The skin, dark and smooth, was bare. No weapons. No hidden objects.

Her hand went higher. Past the thigh. Past the hip. To the panties. The fabric, thin and simple, was the last barrier.

Her hand went inside.

The dark elf trembled. Her body, stiffening, went rigid. "What are you doing?" she said. Her voice, high and panicked, was the voice of a woman being violated.

Seraphina’s fingers, inside the panties, found the pussy. The lips, swollen and wet, were slick. The fluid, thick and warm, was not arousal. It was something else.

Her fingers, pushing in, found the entrance. Two fingers. The walls, loose and wet, yielded. The fluid, thick and white, coated her fingers.

She pulled her hand out. Her fingers, covered in white fluid, were wet. The substance, thick and viscous, was recognizable. To anyone who had seen it before.

"What is this?" Seraphina said. Her voice, quiet and tight, was the voice of a woman who knew what it was but couldn’t believe it.

The dark elf, her face red and her eyes wet, looked at the fingers. At the fluid. At the evidence of what her master had done to her in the carriage.

"It is my master’s seed," she said. The words, quiet and broken, were the truth. The simple, devastating truth.

The silence that followed was a held breath.

Seraphina’s face, which had been cold and hostile, went through a transformation. The shock, the first emotion, was the shock of recognition. She knew what the fluid was. She knew what it meant. The dark elf, the slave, was carrying her master’s seed inside her. Inside her pussy. In the academy. In the checking room.

The embarrassment, the second emotion, was the embarrassment of a woman who had just put her fingers inside another woman’s pussy and found a man’s cum. The flush, violent and total, spread from her neck to her hairline.

The anger, the third emotion, was the anger of a woman who had been violated. Not physically. Emotionally. The dark elf’s presence, her master’s seed, the implications. All of it was an affront.

She slapped the dark elf.

The blow, hard and open-palmed, hit the dark elf’s face. The sound, sharp and loud, echoed through the small room. The dark elf, stumbling back, hit the wall. Her nose, struck by the impact, bled. The blood, dark and thin, ran from her nostril.

"How dare you," Seraphina said. Her voice, shaking with fury, was barely controlled. "How dare you bring that filth in here. Into my section. Into my academy."

The dark elf, her hand over her bleeding nose, looked at her. Her green eyes, wet and wide, were the eyes of a woman who had been struck and didn’t know why.

"I did not..." she started. "My master said..."

"Your master," Seraphina spat. "Your master sent you here with his seed inside you. What kind of man does that? What kind of woman allows that?"

The dark elf had no answer. Her mouth, opening and closing, produced no words. The truth, that she was a slave and had no choice, was not a defense that Seraphina would accept.

The door opened.

Viktor stood in the doorway. His hand, in his pocket, was relaxed. His posture, casual and unhurried, was that of a man strolling through a building he owned. His violet eyes, behind the mask, swept the room. The dark elf, against the wall, bleeding. Seraphina, standing over her, her hand still raised. The fluid, white and thick, on Seraphina’s fingers.

"What the hell is happening here?" he said. His voice, calm and curious, was the voice of a man who had just arrived and found something unexpected.

Seraphina turned. Her blue eyes, wet with fury, found his. The mask, the violet eyes, the casual posture. The faculty badge, pinned to his chest.

"Who are you?" she said. Her voice, still shaking, was the voice of a woman who was not done being angry and did not appreciate the interruption.

Viktor looked at her. Then at the dark elf. Then at Seraphina’s hand. The white fluid, on her fingers, was visible.

He smiled. The expression, behind the mask, was invisible. But the eyes, the violet glow, crinkled.

"I asked," he said, his voice patient and calm, "what is happening here."