The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 251

Volumes 1-4 + Side Stories of DMS are available uncensored on ko-fi! ※ This work contains depictions of coercive relationships, explicit language, and other graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

Jaha regretted it. She should’ve bought those cigarettes earlier.

Her chest felt tight.

In the end, on her way home, Jaha bought a pipe and tobacco. Though she wanted to smoke, she hated the smell—so the shopkeeper recommended magically treated leaves that left no odor. They were expensive, of course, but there was little in that store Jaha couldn’t afford.

As she stepped outside after paying, a familiar carriage was waiting, though she hadn’t noticed its arrival. Without a word, Jaha climbed in.

Gazing at the scenery darkening beyond the window, she reconsidered.

Was Yoo Jaha unhappy? Did she want to die?

The answer was no.

It was just that she wasn’t happy—nor did she particularly want to live.

Jaha turned her eyes from the window. She’d seen this view dozens, hundreds of times before.

At the end of this road, that man would be waiting.

Finally, the carriage wheels came to a halt, and the door opened. For a fleeting moment, the impulse to stay inside and never emerge flashed through her mind. If she did, that man would simply wait outside, endlessly patient.

A pointless waste of time. With a sigh, Jaha stepped out of the carriage. A gloved hand was already there to escort her.

Some days, she was grateful this hand wasn’t bare. Other days, it might as well have been an inanimate object, touching her without eliciting a single ripple of feeling. There was a time when she’d burned with curiosity about the skin beneath those gloves, when she’d ached to feel its warmth.

Led by the man, she entered the dining room where an elaborate dinner awaited. Jaha took her seat mechanically and began to eat.

The food was… fine. Prepared by a first-class chef, it couldn’t possibly lack flavor. Intellectually, she knew that. Yet to her, it barely registered as different from street vendor fare. At least it didn’t feel like chewing sand, as it had during her days as a slave. That peculiar experience—of tasting sand while dining on imperial delicacies—was something she’d had enough of in her past life.

Suddenly, she remembered the first time he’d escorted her to this dining room. How could food this delicious exist? Back then, every bite had left her marveling.

The opulent dining room, fit for a film set. The man beside her, whose beauty seemed otherworldly even by this realm’s standards. The elegant turn of his wrist as he swirled his wineglass. A moment when falling in love had felt inevitable.

“…Ah.”

A warm streak traced her cheek. Belatedly, Jaha registered the tear. She dabbed at it with a napkin, but not before sensing his relentless gaze. Ignoring him, she shoved another bite into her mouth.

Some days were like this. Days when her usual numbness gave way to something raw, when memories ambushed her with startling clarity. Such was human nature, after all.

Once she’d eaten enough, Jaha rinsed her mouth with wine and set down her utensils.

“Take it off.”

Though he hadn’t finished his meal, he obeyed without hesitation, shedding his clothes as servants discreetly exited. Jaha rose and approached him.

Bare now, his c**k was sheathed in a serpentine black chastity cage.

She dragged a fingertip along its length. Even through the metal, his arousal was immediate—his shaft twitching as though alive, thick and long enough to resemble a big black snake stirring.

“Just a touch over the cage, and you’re already this hard? How desperate are you?”

“You know—you know how I’m always in heat for you, Jaha.”

His voice sounded strangled, as if his throat were being squeezed.

Jaha gave his firm chest a light push. Understanding immediately, he dropped into a chair. Kneeling on the floor, she cupped his chastity-caged p***s with both hands—then took it, cage and all, into her mouth.

It was already large, and with the cage added, the sheer bulk threatened to dislocate her jaw. The metallic taste of the chastity device filled her mouth as she sucked and licked it fervently.

Veins bulged on his clenched fists. The cage prevented her tongue, her soft mouth, from touching him—yet he was maddeningly aroused anyway. His brain conjured remembered sensations, blood surging to his c**k.

As his e******n grew, the cage stretched with it. Though made of metal, its magical properties allowed it to morph and flex with his shape. Unlike traditional male chastity devices designed to prevent erections entirely, this one only restrained—because Jaha wanted to inflict more than mere physical torment.

The black cage grew slick with saliva, his eyes bloodshot. Visual stimulation and phantom touch from memory made his tip wet with precome, but that was all. Without direct contact, release was impossible.

Jaha flicked her tongue out, dragging it in a long, deliberate stroke from the cage’s serpentine head to its tip. He gritted his teeth, watching.

One layer. Just one f*****g layer.