CHAPTER 109: JUST TOUCH THEM ALREADY!!!

The oil pooled in the valley of her cleavage before trickling over the soft slopes, warm and slick.

Her hands twitched. Her thighs pressed together. But she didn’t stop him.

Rae tilted his head like an art critic admiring a masterpiece.

His eyes followed the glistening trail like a hypnotized pervert at an oil wrestling match.

"Hmm... Rae think dhis area needs good massage."

He muttered, rubbing his chin like a wise old sage.

"Bor health reashons. Nibble heldh bery impordant."

She made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a muffled scream. It sounded illegal.

One of her eyes peeked out from behind her fingers... then immediately shut again as if she just witnessed a holy sin.

’He he he. Look at her. Time to turn this up a notch.’

"Madame..."

Rae said with the tone of a butler who was about to do something wildly inappropriate.

"Rae request permission to remove loincloth. For bedder movemend. It soaked now. Discomfort is bad bor... performance."

That wasn’t a lie, folks. Trust Rae. Wet loincloth equals bad ergonomics. Basic goblin science.

She bit down a squeaky noise that tried escaping her lips like a criminal fleeing the scene.

"...If it helps the massage," she muttered—half whisper, half internal breakdown. "Fine."

Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence like a teenager seeing their crush shirtless.

’Oh gods. I just said yes. I just allowed this goblin to strip in my tent.’

Her internal alarm was screaming.

’What am I doing? What am I—?!’

Why did she even say yes to that?

She had no idea.

But then again... what he asked wasn’t technically lewd.

Not technically.

The oil was soaking through his only set of clothes.

She couldn’t possibly deny such a logical, practical, definitely-not-horny reason, right?

’I won’t look. I will NOT look. I’m a grown woman. I have self-control. I can just stare at the ceiling like a dying maiden.’

But her traitorous brain betrayed her anyway, flashing back to that day. To that monster.

Green. Throbbing. Veiny. Ridged around the shaft like it was custom-designed to make women commit sins.

’FUCK! Fuckfuckfuckfuck!’

Lyra bit her own arm, hard. Anything to keep herself grounded and not melting into a puddle of whimpering goo.

Meanwhile, Rae, completely oblivious to the warzone behind her eyes, yanked his loincloth off in one motion. It hit the floor with the dramatic flair of a dropped cape.

And then he stood tall.

Not proud. Not smug. Just... stretching his legs like he was about to go into a boxing match. Naked.

"Freedom, my little boy. Freedom."

He muttered, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Lyra nearly exploded.

’Don’t get excited, don’t get excited, oh gods it’s twitching—’

She quickly looked away.

Rae cracked his knuckles, rolling his neck like a veteran masseuse about to perform a holy ritual.

’Don’t worry about calming down.’

Rae thought with a smirk.

’I have all that covered already.’

Now, the oil had spread downwards toward her sides, glistening on her belly like it was trying to seduce the gods themselves.

Her hand stayed clamped over her eyes like a flimsy magical barrier.

As if her palm alone could save her from the scandal unraveling below.

’Nope. Can’t see it. Doesn’t exist. My eyes are off-duty. He’s not naked. He’s not touching me.’

’I’m just hallucinating. I’m on a beach. A safe, boring beach. Full of grandmas. In sweaters.’

Meanwhile, Rae looked like he’d just seen the gates of heaven open and pour out holy boob-oil directly onto a high priestess.

He was crouched like a starved goblin gremlin at an all-you-can-grope buffet.

His eyes were wild. His breathing shallow. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging so hard it’d snap off.

’Holy shit, it’s shining. Her body is fucking shining. Like a temple! Like a glazed donut made of sin!’

Rae’s fingers hovered above her with reverence, like a priest about to exorcise self-control. His hands trembled with anticipation.

"Madame..." he said softly, with that dangerous goblin innocence laced in every syllable, "I will begin massage now."

Lyra nodded once, stiffly. Eyes squeezed shut. Lips pressed together in a tight line like she was trying to swallow her own soul.

And then he began.

Slow.

Calculated.

First—the navel.

His fingertips glided around it like he was tracing a summoning circle to awaken ancient lust demons.

Her abs tensed. Her legs twitched.

’Calm down, Lyra. It’s just a touch. A clinical, accidental, respectful—FUCK ME, WHY IS IT HOT?!’

Then her sides. He moved up, pressing lightly along her ribs, and the oil made every brush sound wet.

A soft squelch and glide that made her brain fold in half.

A sound slipped out of her. Half-gasp, half-whimper. All shame.

Rae’s eyes lit up like a dog hearing a treat bag open.

But seeing no notification, his excitement shimmered down.

’Man, system didn’t register that. I need to work better.’

He bit his lip like a beast trying not to pounce too early.

’Oh, wow! Look at that. The health is only chipping away slowly now.’

Compared to the last when he had to use all the damn potions as fast as he can, he suspects the remaining potions would last him for hours.

His health was chipping like a snail.

’Alright, this means, more time to tease. He he he.’

He skipped the obvious.

Didn’t even glance at the sacred hills. The twin forbidden fruits, glistening with temptation and betrayal.

Instead, his fingers moved to her collarbone, kneading slow and firm, dragging warm oil like it owed him five months’ rent.

Her body twitched. Her toes curled tight like claws digging into the earth.

’Why...why the collarbone?’

Lyra’s thoughts were screaming. Her breath shallow. Her resolve leaking faster than the oil dripping down her sides.

Rae, meanwhile, was practically giggling in his soul.

’He he he... Marinate her.’

’Low and slow. Let her simmer in it.’

He moved again—lightly tracing the tops of her shoulders, pushing just enough pressure to make her bones hum and her belly flip.

Never rough, never direct. Like a priest walking around a holy temple barefoot, lighting candles and whispering forbidden hymns.

Touch.

Pause.

Touch.

Retreat.

’COME ONNNNNNN—!’

Lyra’s insides were doing somersaults.

Her thighs pressed tight.

Her lungs were working overtime, but it still wasn’t enough to keep up with the heat building like a fever.

’Why isn’t he touching them?!’

She wanted to scream. Her brain was melting.

Her nipples had been standing at full salute for what felt like a decade.

’He’s touching everywhere else! The ribs! The stomach! The fucking shoulder blades! What next, my elbows?!’

But no. Not a single graze across her chest. Not a single blessed squeeze.

She was losing it.

Rae’s fingers danced like wicked spirits around her curves—worshipping from afar, circling the altar, never stepping into the holy of holies.

’Edging. Delicious edging. This is art.’

He was biting the inside of his cheek to suppress the feral grin.

’She’s cracking. She’s twitching. She’s about to beg.’

...

Lyra bit her lip, face burning, body twitching every time his fingers almost grazed the softest parts of her.

’D-Dammit! Dammit...!’

He wasn’t even touching her chest directly, but it was somehow worse like this.

The way his hands dragged around her breasts, gliding up her abs, curling near her collarbone before skimming back down her sides, it was maddening.

And the bastard knew it.

Rae leaned forward, his breath tickling her skin.

His hands slid beneath her, gripping her sides with slow intent.

Her whole body clenched. His fingers had a kind of warmth now, strangely focused, like every touch carried a whisper of fire.

’The touch of a man... On my virgin body... and he’s just massaging me...! Why does it feel like—like this?!’

Rae grinned to himself. Heh. She’s stewing in her own sauce.

He kept circling the perimeter, drawing closer and closer to the peaks like a vulture to treasure. She was trembling now, breath stuttering with every sweep.

’Just a little more. Gotta marinate the meat before grilling. Heh heh. Can’t let her pop too soon.’

Then, when she finally relaxed for a split second—

Flick.

One fingertip, so fast she almost didn’t realize it, tapped her hardened nipple.

"—Ah!"

Lyra let out a strangled gasp, back arching instinctively. Her legs clenched shut.

Her entire body jolted like a startled cat tossed in bathwater.

Rae’s grin grew impossibly wider.

[1/9 Moans Registered.]

’Oh-ho! Jackpot. That counted!’

She slapped her hand over her mouth in horror.

"I-I didn’t—! That wasn’t—I mean—!"

He tilted his head, wide-eyed and innocent.

"Madame okay? Rae saw something twitch. Did Rae do something bad?"

Lyra could barely breathe.

"You—! Y-you flicked—!"

"Flicked what?"

He asked with a straight face, eyes full of false confusion.

"Was Rae not supposed to? It looked... lonely."

She turned away, arm thrown over her eyes.

"D-don’t talk like that!"

Rae chuckled darkly, hands already gliding again.

This time slower. Smoother. Her skin welcomed him now, too warm, too ready.

"Oh? But Madame said Rae could touch. Rae is touching. Madame’s body likes Rae’s touch, no?"

"Sh-shut up and just massage..."

"As Madame commands."

He said with mock reverence.

And with that, the real torment began.