Dairy Farmer in WoW ch 19

Disbelief surged through my veins like a bitter poison, rendering me immobile as I clutched Malora's lifeless form against my chest. The air hung heavy with the weight of the unthinkable, and my mind was caught in a maelstrom of confusion.

With each beat of my heart, a cruel question echoed relentlessly: Did she truly just... die? Those words lingered as a haunting echo in the recesses of my mind, refusing to be comprehended.

As tears cascaded down my face, the icy grip of shock tightened its hold. My countenance now bore a frozen mask of despair, the harsh reality of the situation refusing to register. The vibrant memories of Malora clashed with the lifeless form I held, and my mind fought desperately against the cruel truth looming before me. The chasm between the lively, vivid recollections and the stark, still figure in my arms seemed insurmountable, creating a painful dissonance that left me grappling with the inexplicable loss.

In the oppressive silence that ensued, I instinctively drew her nearer, as if the tender solace of my embrace possessed the magical ability to infuse vitality back into her being. In the midst of my despair, I desperately clung to the notion that this nightmarish reality was ephemeral, a mirage destined to dissipate with the arrival of a new day. However, the relentless persistence of the truth became undeniable, and with each passing second, its jagged claws mercilessly dug into the recesses of my soul.

A primal, guttural sound erupted from my throat, a manifestation of the tidal wave of grief that surged within me. Sobs convulsed through my body, each one a poignant acknowledgment of the profound void left by Malora's departure. The world surrounding me blurred into a formless haze as I succumbed to the overwhelming torrent of emotions, my frame convulsing with every heart-wrenching cry.

In the midst of this emotional tempest, a sudden touch on my head jolted me back to awareness. I recoiled, and as I met Malora's gaze, a glimmer of hope sparked within me. Her eyes, though fatigued, bore into mine with a faint smile.

My joy was indescribable; I pulled her back into my embrace and squeezed tightly. "Oof, not so hard," Malora whined, but I could not help it—she was alive. Laughter bubbled up from within me, and I let it free. After a moment, I pulled back, capturing her lips with mine and pouring all my joy into the kiss.

I did not want to let her go, but the lack of air forced me to separate us once again. "Don’t do that again, you... you... stupid," I finished lamely. Still, I couldn't be upset with myself; she was alive!

Malora gave a weak chuckle. "How very eloquent, master," she said tiredly, making us both laugh as the heightened emotions of the moment began to settle at last. The relief of having her in my arms overwhelmed any lingering frustration, and we shared a moment of quiet joy, appreciating the preciousness of each breath and the warmth of our connection.

"Where… where is Shayla?" Malora inquired, a hint of worry evident in her voice. I absentmindedly gestured to the side, reluctant to release my grip on Malora.

"Is she dead?" Malora questioned, her voice taking on a peculiar tone. I spared a momentary glance at the arrogant elf, observing her motionless figure. "Don’t know, don’t care," I replied tersely, my disdain for the elf evident.

Despite the waning adrenaline and my contemplation of the recent events, I couldn't deny that Shayla wasn't the one who had initiated the confrontation in the first place. Now that the dust had settled, I found myself reflecting on the circumstances that led to the altercation.

Honestly, I do not even know her reasons for involving her in any of this or what she was attempting to accomplish. Yet, a selfish and uncaring part of me did not care.

“She could be useful, master,” Malora insisted, unwilling to let it go so easily. With a put-upon look, I pulled back. “She almost killed you.” Malora looked at me with furrowed brows, as if seeing me for the first time. “You really don’t know combat, do you? I have been injured much worse than this.”

I had no rebuttal for that. Logically, I understood that she was right. It did not make it easier to accept, and no matter how I understood it logically, only experience would allow me to overcome my emotional responses to things like this. The clash between reason and emotion left me grappling with a sense of inner conflict, torn between the cold logic of the situation and the lingering emotions that clouded my judgment.

She gave me a little push. "Go check on her," Malora insisted. When I saw that she would not relent, I complied. Kneeling beside Shayla, I winced at the sight of her face after I had slugged her. Her chest was rising, indicating she was breathing, but she might have a concussion. Despite my unwillingness, I pulled out the last of Zola’s milk I had and poured it into her mouth, massaging her throat to ensure she swallowed it.

Malora knelt beside me and scrutinized Shayla with a searching gaze. Then, she began to pat her down and inspect her. "What are you doing?" I asked. Malora spared me a glance. "Shayla may be a massive bitch, but she is not stupid, no matter how much I hate to admit it. No doubt she has enchantments on her clothing or items that would safeguard her in case something happens to her," she explained. With a frustrated huff, Malora began to remove all of Shayla's clothes and jewelry.

As she delicately withdrew an earring, a sudden gasp escaped her lips, followed by a hurried toss that made the earring vanish with a mysterious displacement of magic.

"What?!" I exclaimed, taken aback by the unexpected display. Malora scoffed dismissively. "A teleportation spell," she explained, glancing in my direction. "We need to leave. She's not one to work well with others, but risking it wouldn't be wise."

Fully comprehending her urgency, I quickly began reloading everything onto the wagon. Damn it! The felguard was dead, and a brief glance at Malora revealed that she was in no condition to summon another one.

Stepping away from the carriage, I extended my hand and concentrated, hopeful that this time everything would go according to plan. Focusing my energy on the specific demon I desired to summon, I poured magic into the summoning circle etched into the ground.

As I sensed the connection forming, I forcefully yanked the demon towards my circle, causing flames to erupt from the ground. A form began to take shape within the flames, and as they subsided, a formidable felguard stood before me. The moment it raised its axe, barbed chains of fel energy bound it, digging into its putrid flesh.

"Grahh!" it roared, straining against the chains. "Obey," I hissed, my voice dripping with malice. I was in no mood to entertain its worthless desires.

Malora's gentle hand laid upon mine as she leaned against me. "Allow me," she said, her tone calm and assured. I looked at her with concern, but she gave me a reassuring look, and I relinquished control of the chains holding the demon to her.

Swaying her hips gracefully, she approached the struggling demon. With utmost care, she tenderly laid the back of her hand upon its cheek. "Poor thing, my master is such a brute, isn't he? Don't worry; I will take better care of you," Malora whispered to the felguard. I could sense that she was employing some form of magic, although the specifics eluded me.

After a moment, the felguard became limp, and Malora released it. As it stood to its full height, it shot me a menacing glare. However, at a signal from Malora, its attention shifted away. Impressed, I glanced at Malora, who responded with a haughty look. It appeared that things had returned to their usual state.

Upon completing the loading of everything, including Shayla, Malora uttered a few whispered words, and the felguard began pulling the carriage. As I settled down, a wave of weakness washed over me. Surprisingly, I had expected it to wear off sooner; it seems the naga's magic is indeed potent, having endured for this long.

Observing my drowsy state, Malora gently pulled my head onto her lap and beckoned me to sleep. Unable and frankly unwilling to resist, I allowed sleep to claim me, the day's events having taken their toll.

~~~~

A scream of rage suddenly shattered the tranquility of my pleasant nap. "When I get free, you will regret the day you were born," threatened a voice filled with seething anger.

"Keep yapping, Shayla. I will enjoy seeing you put in your place," Malora taunted, the satisfaction evident in her voice as she reveled in having the upper hand against someone she clearly despised.

With a groan, I sat up, surveying the scene before me. Shayla was bound in chains, her arms tightly wrapped behind her back, causing her chest to be thrust forward. The pressure on her breasts was evident, as they were tightly bound and had grown red from the lack of blood circulation.

Her legs were also securely bound from ankles to hips, and I couldn't help but notice a smaller chain moving back and forth between her legs. It rubbed across her intimate area, adding an uncomfortable and degrading element to her already dire situation.

Examining her face, I could discern a mix of embarrassed anger and unwanted pleasure resulting from the teasing. I sighed, rubbing my face in exasperation. What a drag. Just what I needed—some drama, as if my life wasn't interesting enough already.

"Enjoy your nap?" Malora teased, flashing a satisfied smile my way. "I was merely enlightening Shayla about the wonderful life she has to look forward to—being a cow." Her leer intensified as she glanced at Shayla, whose eyes smoldered with anger, her mouth poised to unleash more venom. Uninterested in hearing her mumbled screams, I promptly silenced her by stuffing some cloth into her mouth.

Turning my attention back to Malora, I shot her an exasperated look. "I should tie you up right beside her for that stunt you pulled," I declared. The suggestion left her momentarily still, before she attempted to flash a seductive smile at me. "Me? Mas-" I raised a hand to cut her off. "Don't think I forgot who started that fight." Her mouth snapped shut in response.

"I understand that the two of you have some issues; that's fine. However, starting a fight with her when you knew she was so strong was unwise. This is the second time your actions have jeopardized not only my life but also yours. If I cannot trust you to act rationally, I will have to consider leaving you behind or, worse yet, treating you like a common cow. Is that truly what you want?" The more I spoke, the more fearful Malora became, and by the end, she was looking at me with sheer horror.

"Master, I—" Malora rushed to speak, but I raised my hand to stop her. "Think on it." With that, we continued in silence, except for Shayla's muffled voice and her shuffling in the background.

The day kicked off on a high note – my little goblin plan played out like a charm, and I was basking in the satisfaction of my clever thinking.

But now? All I could feel was frustration, anger, and disappointment. Not just directed at Malora and her antics, but also at myself. Whether I liked it or not, my own soft-handed approach had paved the way for this mess. If Malora had a bit more fear and respect for me, she wouldn't have dared to pull that stunt during the naga attack or pick a fight with her old rival, or whatever Shayla is to her.

It's all fine and dandy not to be a total jerk and abuse authority, but going forward, I'll have to step up and make sure they know who's in charge. The catch is, doing that might stir up some resentment and anger, opening the door to even more problems. It's a tricky situation, finding that balance between maintaining order and avoiding a mutiny.

Sure, the most straightforward approach to resolving this predicament would involve treating them merely as livestock, confining them to stalls for the entirety of their lives, reducing them to nothing more than animals.

Setting aside the potential repercussions on the well-being of the girls, I cannot overlook the profound mental impact such a situation would inflict upon me. The mere thought of reducing any woman I see to the status of mere cattle in my mind, sends shivers down my spine, prompting me to refrain from delving any further into this unsettling contemplation.

I'm trying to figure out how to make things work where they listen and follow, but without making them feel totally messed up. The thing is, I'm not an expert in this stuff. It's all so new to me, and I'm kind of just stumbling in the dark. I'm not a shrink, and I don't know how to mess with someone's mind until they turn into what I want them to be. It's like I'm dealing with a whole unknown situation here, and it's pretty overwhelming.