Reincarnated as a Femboy Slave - Chapter 153

Chapter 153: Glorious Retribution
I twirled around with theatrical precision, letting my skirt flare slightly with the motion, and threw my arms wide to address the audience with the kind of exaggerated enthusiasm usually reserved for carnival barkers and street performers who’d lost all sense of dignity.

“Well would you look at that!” I called out, my voice carrying across the arena with perfect projection. “It appears we have our first volunteer! Our inaugural patron of this evening’s entertainment, stepping forward with the kind of boldness that—”

“Wait.”

The word cut through my speech like a knife—small, timid, and utterly unexpected. I stopped mid-gesture, one arm still raised dramatically in the air.

I turned slowly, cocking my head at Elvina with exaggerated curiosity, because honestly, the audacity of interrupting my moment deserved some kind of acknowledgment.

She was still pressed against the bars of the cage, her fingers white-knuckled where they gripped the iron, her face a mask of desperate calculation as though she were trying to work out some angle, some loophole in this situation that might save her.

“Yes?” I asked sweetly, lowering my arm and clasping my hands behind my back in a pose of polite attentiveness.

Her throat worked, swallowing hard, and when she spoke her voice came out small, almost childlike in its vulnerability. “What… what happens if I disobey? If I refuse the requests?”

I tapped my chin thoughtfully, making a show of considering the question with great seriousness, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make her squirm.

Then my face lit up with sudden inspiration, the kind of expression that suggested I’d just solved a delightful puzzle. I spun back around to face the audience, scanning the crowd with deliberate slowness.

My eyes tracked across rows of seats, past nobles, Velvets, and lesser slaves, until I found exactly what I was looking for. A grin spread across my face so wide it made my cheeks ache.

“Ah,” I said, pointing directly at my target. “There he is.” I raised my voice, letting it carry with teasing playfulness. “Why don’t you come down here? I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

The crowd parted instinctively, people scrambling over each other to clear a path as though proximity to what was about to happen might somehow implicate them, and then he appeared—that hulking orc from the dining hall, the one who’d been pounding into Iskanda with enough force to rattle the room.

His massive frame rose from his seat with predatory grace. He didn’t even walk to the edge of the seating area; instead he jumped, launching himself high into the air with a display of raw physical power that made several spectators gasp in their seats.

He came down like a meteor, landing in the sand a few meters behind me with a massive thud that sent up a cloud of dust and made the ground tremble beneath my feet.

The impact should have shattered his ankles, should have driven his legs up through his pelvis, but he simply rose from the crater he’d created as though he were stepping off a curb, brushing sand from his shoulders with casual indifference.

He was draped head to toe in pure black warrior clothing—leather, cloth, and metal plates that seemed designed less for protection and more for intimidation, covering his enormous frame in layers of darkness that made him look like violence given form.

As he straightened to his full height, easily two and a half meters tall and built like someone had decided to see what would happen if they sculpted a battering ram out of muscle and rage, I turned toward his figure before flashing him the most manic smile I could manage.

“Hello there,” I purred, sauntering toward him with my hips swaying in that particular way I’d perfected over years of weaponizing my sexuality. “Thanks for joining us. I have a proposition for you, if you’re interested.”

I didn’t wait for his response—didn’t need to, really, because I could already see the way his eyes tracked my movement, pupils dilating with interest, nostrils flaring as he caught my scent.

I pressed myself against him, letting my small frame mold against the ridiculous expanse of his torso, and trailed my fingers down his chest with deliberate slowness, tracing the ridges of muscle beneath his clothing until my hand came to rest directly over the massive bulge straining against his pants.

“My, my,” I murmured, giving it an experimental squeeze that made him grunt, “someone’s eager, aren’t they?”

The bulge twitched under my palm, swelling even larger, and the orc’s breathing shifted into something rougher, heavier, his acrid breath ghosting across the top of my head in hot waves that smelled of meat, combat, and barely restrained violence.

His hands moved toward me, massive things that could probably crush my skull like an overripe fruit, but I pressed harder against his crotch and felt him freeze, a low, rumbling growl escaping his throat that was equal parts pleasure and mild frustration.

His sexual desire was on full display now—not just in the physical evidence straining against his pants, but in the way his entire body had gone tense and focused, every ounce of his considerable attention fixed on me with pinpoint precision.

“Here’s the thing,” I said, my voice still low and intimate despite knowing the entire arena could hear every word. “I need someone to help me… enforce compliance. Someone big, someone strong, someone who wouldn’t mind getting a little rough if the situation called for it.”

I let my fingers trace lower, cupping the full weight of his balls through the fabric in a way that made his hips jerk forward involuntarily.

“And in exchange for your services…” I glanced up at him through my lashes, letting my smile turn wicked, “well, I’m sure we could work out some form of compensation that would satisfy us both. What do you say?”

The orc’s response was immediate—a deep, guttural grunt that I took as enthusiastic agreement, followed by a nod so vigorous it made his tusks glint in the torchlight. I patted his bulge once more, almost affectionately, then stepped back and turned to face Elvina, letting my expression shift from seductive to coldly calculating in the span of a heartbeat.

“So, Elvina,” I called out, my voice carrying across the sand with crystalline clarity, “to answer your question, if you disobey, if you refuse any request, if you so much as hesitate a moment too long…” I gestured lazily toward the orc behind me, “my friend here will be invited into your cage to provide… motivation. And judging by what I just felt, I’d estimate he could probably split you in half without much effort. Lengthwise, I mean. Through the middle. Like cutting a piece of fruit.”

I let that image settle, watching as comprehension dawned across her features and her face twisted into absolute, soul-shaking horror.

Her eyes were locked on the orc, tracking the way he stood there with his arms crossed, his massive chest rising and falling with each breath, the bulge in his pants still prominently visible and twitching occasionally as though it had a mind of its own.

“You’re the devil,” she whispered, the words barely audible yet laced with the kind of venom that could kill a small animal. “This is—this is inhuman, you can’t—”

“Can’t I?” I interrupted, strolling back toward her cage with a skip in my step. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I absolutely can. And so.” I leaned against the bars. “Do you feel like complying now? Or should I—”

“Yes!” Elvina cut me off, the word bursting from her lips with frantic desperation. “Yes, I’ll comply! I’ll do whatever they ask, just—just keep him away from me, please!”

I clapped my hands together, the sound sharp and final. “Perfect! See how easy that was? Communication really is key to any healthy relationship.” I spun away from her, directing my attention back to the viewing platform where the fat man in purple still sat, his expression smug, satisfied, and absolutely dripping with vindictive pleasure. “Now then! Our generous first patron—what is it you’d like to see from Elvina here?”

The fat man leaned forward, his jewels catching the light and throwing it back in gaudy flashes. When he spoke, his voice carried the particular quality of someone who’d been waiting years for this exact moment.

“She’s been a disappointment,” he began, his tone almost conversational. “A catastrophic failure of an investment. I poured resources into her, connections, influence, all based on her supposed talents. And what did I get in return?” He gestured toward the cage with one ring-laden hand. “This. Humiliation. Exposure. The destruction of my reputation by association.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air, then smiled. “So here’s what I want… take off your panties, girl. Lift that dress and show everyone here exactly what kind of worthless cunt I wasted my money on.”

The arena went silent. Not the excited, anticipatory silence from before, but something heavier, darker, the kind of quiet that comes when people realize they’re about to witness something that crosses lines they didn’t know existed.

Elvina’s face went through a fascinating journey of emotions—shock, horror, desperate hope that maybe she’d misheard, and finally, crushing resignation.

Her hands moved to her dress with agonizing slowness, trembling so badly I could see it from several meters away, and she began to hike the fabric up with the mechanical precision of someone whose mind had partially checked out as a defense mechanism.

Her fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties—delicate, lacy things that probably cost more than most slaves in this city earned in a month—and she pulled them down with jerky, reluctant movements, letting them drop to the iron floor of the cage with a whisper of fabric.

She stood there for a moment, hands gripping the hem of her dress, and gods above, I could see the war playing out across her face.

“Hurry up!” the fat man barked, his voice cracking like a whip across the arena. “I didn’t pay to watch you stand there like a simpering idiot!”

Elvina whimpered—an actual, audible sound of distress that made something dark and satisfied curl in my chest—then lifted her dress completely, exposing herself to the crowd with the kind of vulnerability that should have been private, intimate, reserved for lovers, darkness, and moments of trust.

Her face flushed a brilliant, crimson red that spread down her neck and across her chest as she turned her head away, unable to meet anyone’s eyes, especially not mine.

I began to snicker. Couldn’t help it, really, because the detail my enhanced elven sight picked up was just too perfect, too ironic, too absolutely delicious to ignore.

She was dripping—her pussy visibly wet, arousal coating her inner thighs in glistening trails, stubborn strands clinging to her skin like evidence of betrayal written in her own body’s fluids.

“Oh, Elvina,” I said, my snicker building into genuine laughter, “oh that’s—that’s just—” I had to pause, wiping at my eyes as they began to water. “You’re soaked. Saints above, I can see it from here!”

The audience reacted almost instantly, voices rising in a wave of scandalized delight, spectators turning to each other with wide eyes and shocked expressions that quickly morphed into cruel amusement.

Someone in the upper tiers actually stood up to get a better look, shading their eyes with one hand. A noble woman in the front row covered her mouth with her fan and whispered something to her companion that made them both dissolve into giggles.

The slander started flowing—comments about her being a whore, about enjoying her own humiliation, about this being what she deserved—and through it all, Elvina stood frozen in her shame, unable to move, unable to defend herself, unable to do anything except exist in this moment of absolute degradation.

The fat man looked pleased, genuinely satisfied in a way that suggested this had exceeded his wildest expectations. “Good,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Now take off the rest.”

Elvina’s breath hitched, her entire body going rigid, but she complied. The dress came off first, pulled over her head with trembling hands and dropped to join her panties on the iron floor. The stockings followed, peeled down her legs with agonizing slowness. Finally the shoes—dainty, impractical things—kicked off to land in against the bars of the cage with soft thumps.

She stood there naked save for the thin metal collar around her throat. Her arms came up instinctively to cover her small breasts, her body shivering despite the arena’s heat, and I had to admit, there was something almost artistic about the utter destruction of her dignity.

“Your body’s shaking.” I teased, circling the cage slowly. ” You cold, Elvina? Or is it something else? Because from here it almost looks like you’re enjoying yourself, and that wet patch on your thighs isn’t exactly helping.”

She opened her mouth, probably to snap something back, to defend herself, to deny what her own body was screaming, but before she could speak there was another soft clink of metal on metal. A second gold coin tumbled through the air and landed in the cage at her feet. In that moment, her entire body flinched like she’d been struck.

A nobleman rose from his seat in the mid-tier section, his face flushed with drink and excitement, and called out with the confidence of someone who’d never been told no in his life, “I want her to finger herself! Right there, right now, where we can all watch!”

Elvina’s face went from red to white to red again. I saw her jaw clench, saw the defiance flash in her eyes for just a moment before another grunt escaped the orc behind me—a reminder, a promise, a threat.

Her shoulders slumped, the last of her defiance draining away like water through cracked stone, leaving only the hollow obedience of someone who knew the fight was long over.

I began to snicker again the moment her hand drifted down, fingers slipping through the slick evidence of her body’s betrayal. The sound deepened into unrestrained laughter as I watched her movements grow frantic, urgent, almost punishing.

Her fingers circled her clit with practiced ease, dipping lower to slide inside with embarrassingly little resistance, the wet sounds filling the silent hush of the arena with perfect clarity. Two fingers became three almost immediately, thrusting in and out with a raw, desperate rhythm that echoed off the iron bars.

Her arousal glistened on her hand, thick strands clinging between her fingers each time she withdrew, only to plunge deeper.

Droplets broke free and fell, pattering against the cage floor in tiny, shining splatters that caught the torchlight like scattered jewels. Each one was another accusation, another proof of how thoroughly her body had turned against her.

Elvina’s face was a study in conflicting emotions—shame and unwilling pleasure warring across her features, her breath coming in short gasps that she couldn’t quite suppress, her hips beginning to move in small, involuntary circles that suggested her body was very much on board with this even if her mind was screaming in protest.

The crowd began to warm up now, the initial shock wearing off and being replaced by genuine entertainment, laughter rippling through the seats as they pointed, whispered, and placed what I could only assume were new bets on how long she’d last before she came.

More coins began to rain down, clink clink clink, a golden shower of opportunities that littered the cage floor around Elvina’s bare feet.

A noble woman in the front row—all silk, pearls, and barely restrained glee—tossed her coin with a flick of elegant fingers and called out in a voice that carried despite its feminine pitch. “Make her get on her knees! Have her pant and bark like a puppy while she touches herself!”

I turned to Elvina, grinning so wide my face began to hurt. “You heard the lady!”

Elvina’s eyes went wide with renewed horror, her mouth opening to protest, but she caught herself, swallowed whatever words were trying to escape, and sank to her knees on the cage floor with slight hesitation.

One hand stayed between her legs while she raised the other in a paw-like gesture, fingers curled, the pose so ridiculous it transcended mere humiliation and entered the realm of absolute farce.

Then, with her face burning so hot I thought she might actually ignite, she opened her mouth and began to bark.

“Arf! Arf! Arf!”

The crowd exploded.

The laughter that erupted was so loud, so genuine and unrestrained, that it drowned out everything else—the sound of Elvina’s continued barking, the wet sounds of her fingers still working between her legs, even my own cackling that had devolved into wheezing gasps.

People were slapping each other’s shoulders, doubled over in their seats, some actually falling into the aisles because they couldn’t breathe through the laughter.

A Velvet in the upper tier dropped his drink, the glass shattering against the marble floor in a spray of liquid and crystal that nobody even noticed while two nobles in the mid-section were holding each other up, tears streaming down their faces, their perfectly styled hair coming undone as they shook with mirth.

I clutched my stomach, bending at the waist, tears rolling down my cheeks in hot tracks that I couldn’t wipe away fast enough.

I pointed at Elvina with a trembling hand, unable to form words, unable to do anything except laugh at the sheer, perfect absurdity of watching her be reduced to a naked, barking puppy finger-fucking herself in a cage while an entire arena of people screamed with laughter.

This was it. This was the moment. The complete and utter destruction of everything she’d been, everything she’d pretended to be, rendered down to its most humiliating essence and displayed for the entertainment of everyone she’d ever tried to impress.

And it was glorious.