Devote Yourself to the Witch! - Chapter 3

Von plainly had no intention of trusting someone who had made him wear a maid dress.

The small jar of white ointment set every alarm bell ringing. Even his speech became smoother.

“I can do it myself. Or leave the wounds untreated. I won’t die.”

I made things difficult for him on purpose. “Absolutely not. You’re the little slave I paid for, which makes you my private property. I have to inspect the condition of my property with my own eyes.”

Never eloquent to begin with, Von fell silent again. He stopped trying to refuse and walked over, his entire body rigid.

“Why are you just standing there? Someone is helping you apply medicine, and not only do you forget to say thank you, you won’t even lend a hand?”

I raised my chin at him.

“Lift your skirt and show me the wounds.”

Von bit his lower lip, took hold of the skirt’s white edge, and slowly raised it.

Marks from the slave trader’s whip covered his body, with the worst clustered around his legs and lower abdomen.

I scooped up a dollop of white ointment with my fingertip and slipped it beneath the edge of his stocking.

The flesh of Von’s thigh quivered. He bit his lip harder.

Color flooded his bloodless lips and cheeks, lending his still-raw features a sudden, bewitching richness.

“Relax. I’m not going to eat you.”

I moved my fingers over his wounds, smoothing on the medicine.

The System’s ointment was extremely effective and should not have hurt at all, but Von reacted as if the pain were unbearable. The fingers clutching his skirt trembled without pause.

His overheated skin melted the sticky salve. Each pass of my fingers stirred a wet, squelching sound.

When I realized Von had been silent for too long, I deliberately withdrew my hand. Then, just as he looked at me in confusion—

*Smack.*

I slapped the trembling inside of his thigh.

“Ah…”

The sudden blow startled a low gasp out of Von before he could stop it.

Realizing what a strange sound he had made, he flushed with anger and embarrassment and glared at me.

Even then, he did not move away. He obediently kept his skirt raised.

He showed no intention of resisting at all.

He was like some coy little man-whore: his expression said no, while his body was painfully honest.

The System, which had been watching, asked in a small voice:

[Isn’t it a little wrong to treat the villain this way?]

“He can only avoid his tragic fate if he learns to resist,” I replied, entirely righteous.

The System was instantly convinced.

[As expected of the savior! You’re right. Please keep up the good work!]

With the System cheering me on, I found all manner of ways to torment Von.

I made him serve me in a different maid dress every day. I had the future Demon King pour my tea, fetch my water, massage my shoulders, and pound my back, treating him entirely like a maid.

When we first met, he had bared his teeth because I touched one horn. Now I toyed with them whenever I pleased.

Sadly, after one feeble attempt to struggle that first time, Von passively endured everything I did—even when I tied bows around his precious horns.

One afternoon, I drank my tea while idly stroking one of Von’s horns, as had become my habit.

The adult demon, dressed in an exceptionally short maid uniform, bent at the waist and lowered his scarlet face as I played with him.

I tipped my head, watching his chest rise and fall. His face was flushed, and even his breathing had grown heavy.

“He’s angry, isn’t he?” I asked, baffled. “He’s this worked up and he still won’t move?”

The System was equally puzzled.

A moment later, after hastily consulting its records, it shrieked:

[Stop! Among demons, touching someone’s horns is a courtship gesture. What you’re doing right now is sexually harassing the villain!]

My hand froze around his horn.

“Wow,” I marveled. “What a lewd other world.”

[That has nothing to do with the world! Don’t blame the world for this! Just take your hand away.]

Admittedly, I had committed no shortage of perverted acts over the past few days. Touching his horns once or twice more hardly mattered.

But stimulation was best escalated gradually…

I cleared my throat and withdrew my hand as the System instructed.

Von abruptly caught my wrist.

It was the first time he had touched me of his own accord.

I thought he had finally reached the end of his patience and wanted to attack me.

The master-servant contract restricted him, but a Demon King’s strength could not be underestimated. Behind my back, I readied a defensive spell.

Outwardly, I smiled. “What is it?”

Von seemed to come back to himself. He dropped my hand as if it had burned him.

He lowered his head. After a long silence, he asked awkwardly:

“Why did you stop so soon today? Aren’t you… going to keep touching them?”

Me: “?”

What was this world-destroying Demon King made of? Bread dough?

Why didn’t sexual harassment make him angry? Why was he actually asking for more?!