Reincarnated into a Femdom Fantasy World (18+)-Chapter 6: Strategy can win wars too

She straightened, her gown rustling, her tone cutting deeper as she added, "You wouldn't last a heartbeat against even our weakest soldier—pathetic, soft thing that you are." Her laughter returned, joined by a flicker of cruel amusement in her gaze, her gold chains swaying as she turned slightly, dismissing him with a flick of her wrist.

Jake's face flushed, frustration surging past his fear, and he stepped forward. His voice rose as he argued, "Strength isn't everything—I'm not talking about fighting! Strategy can win wars too—planning, outsmarting them, not just brute force!" His chest heaved, his words fueled by a stubborn need to prove he wasn't useless, his eyes locked on hers despite the tremor in his limbs.

Ssyra hissed sharply, her scales glinting as she lunged a step closer, her harness straining against her heaving chest. Her voice was a low snarl as she snapped, "Quiet, softling—don't push her, or you'll regret it." Her tail flicked, her claws flexing with a warning glint.

Veyra's hand shot out, grabbing his arm, her leather gloves creaking as her grip tightened. Her golden eyes flashed as she muttered, "Hush, pet—you're begging for trouble, and she's not in a patient mood." Her corset shifted with her quick breath, her tone urgent.

Lyra's magic pulsed faintly, her sheer robe whispering against her thighs as she leaned in. Her voice was soft but firm as she whispered, "Stop now, little one—you'll only anger her further, and that's a storm you can't weather." Her glowing eyes flickered with concern, her hand hovering near his shoulder.

Tazka's smirk vanished, her expression darkening, a dangerous spark igniting in her eyes as she turned fully toward him. Her tail curled tight around her own leg as if holding back her temper. "You're bold, little bird—too bold," she said, her voice low and laced with menace, her gown shimmering as she took a deliberate step closer, her shadow swallowing him.

Her words dripped with intent as she added, "You're giving me every reason to take you rougher than I planned—pin you down right here and show you your place before I let the others have their turn." Her eyes raked over him, and she continued, "I'm half a mind to claim you myself first—rip that defiance out of you before it festers." Her tail lashed once, a sharp crack against the stone, her presence suffocating as she loomed.

Jake's heart slammed against his ribs, fear flooding back as her threat sank in, his body tensing under her predatory stare. Before he could choke out a response, Ssyra, Veyra, and Lyra moved in unison—Ssyra's claws grazing his back, Veyra's grip tightening on his arm, Lyra's magic nudging him forward—and they dragged him away.

His feet stumbled as they pulled him from Tazka's reach, her glare burning into him as they retreated. They hauled him through a heavy wooden door, the air shifting to a warm, spiced richness. He blinked as they entered a lavish chamber—crimson silk draping the walls, a massive bed piled with furs, a gilded chandelier casting a soft, golden glow over polished stone.

They released him near the center, and he stood there, trembling. His voice was small as he turned to them and asked, "Couldn't I still help with the war somehow? I mean, I could try—" Ssyra cut him off with a scoff, her tail flicking as she leaned against a silk-draped wall, her harness barely holding her curves.

She mocked, "Don't start that again, softling—you'll get yourself chained up faster than you can blink, and it won't be pretty." Her grin was sharp, her claws tapping idly. Veyra crossed her arms, her leather creaking as she fixed him with a dry stare.

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Her voice was blunt as she said, "Even if you did help with your little strategies, pet, what's it change? You'd still be here, bred by us—war won or lost, that's your lot." Her golden eyes glinted, unyielding but not cruel.

Lyra sighed, her robe shifting as she stepped closer, her tone softer as she added, "She's right, little one—your cleverness wouldn't free you from this. You're too rare, too needed, to be anything else." Her magic hummed faintly, a gentle ripple in the air.

Jake's shoulders slumped, his voice quiet as he muttered, "At least it'd keep me from the other kingdom—away from... what she said they'd do." His mind flashed to Tazka's vision of the enemy's warriors, and a shiver crawled up his spine, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Lyra's hand rested lightly on his arm, her touch warm as she murmured, "We understand, pet—we'll win this war, I swear it. You won't fall into their hands." Her glowing eyes softened, offering a thread of comfort.

Veyra nodded, her tone gruff but steady as she said, "Aye, we'll crush them—keep you safe here, no matter what. No enemy's touching you on our watch." Her boots scuffed the rug as she stepped back.

Ssyra rolled her eyes but softened slightly, her voice grumbling as she added, "Relax, softling—we've got this. You're ours, and we don't lose what's ours." Her tail stilled, her mockery easing into assurance.

The door creaked open, and three maids glided in—two human, one with shimmering blue skin and delicate horns—all stunning, their skimpy silk dresses clinging to their curves, revealing smooth thighs and plunging necklines. They carried trays of delicacies—roasted meats glistening with fat, ripe fruits dripping with juice, spiced cakes wafting a tantalizing aroma—and set them on a low table nearby, their movements graceful and deliberate.

Lyra gestured toward the spread, her voice gentle as she said, "Come, pet—eat, rest. You're safe with us." Her words were a lifeline, but beneath them lingered the unshakable truth of his role, as heavy as the silk draping the walls, keeping him tethered to this strange, lustful fate.