Strange?

Instead of anger or shock at my indecent proposal,

The two guards kept staring at me in silence, but the look on their faces was what really got my attention.

Sadness? Why? I mean, I was just a horny woman asking for a dick, and they should be happy to get a blowjob from a stunning elf like me. But no.

They were sad, like I had just reminded them of a painful memory.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my curiosity piqued. “Don’t you like blowjobs? Or is it the armor? I can work around the armor.”

“We… we cannot,” the guard said, his voice barely a whisper. “It is… forbidden.”

“Forbidden?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Morgana,” Vespera placed a hand on my shoulder, her expression serious. “Elven law… they… they cannot.”

“What do you mean by ‘they cannot’?” I demanded, my frustration growing.

“They are…” Vespera took a deep breath, as if gathering the strength to say the words. “The male elven guards in Athel Loren are… ‘caged’… as a sign of their purity and devotion to the city.”

“…” I was speechless.

I looked at the guards again, and this time, I saw it. The ‘armor’ on their groins wasn’t armor. It was a cage. A beautiful, intricate, and undoubtedly uncomfortable cage, designed to deny them any form of sexual pleasure.

‘Un-fucking-believable!!’ I thought. This whole city was a giant, glorified chastity belt. A temple of blue balls.

“And how long have they been… ‘caged’?” I asked, my voice laced with a mix of shock and morbid curiosity.

“Since they entered the guard,” Vespera replied, her gaze fixed on the ground. “Most of them… for centuries.”

Centuries?

I looked at the guard again, a new understanding dawning in my mind. The sadness in their eyes wasn’t just because of my teasing. It was a deep, soul-crushing despair that had been building up for hundreds of years. These weren’t men. They were living statues, their manhood, their masculinity, their very essence, locked away in a cage of ‘purity’.

“Poor bastards,” I muttered, my anger now directed at whoever came up with this sick and twisted law. “No wonder they look so… constipated.”

“Morgana!” Vespera gasped, her eyes wide with shock at my bluntness.

“What?!” I shot back. “I’m just stating the obvious! This is… this is a crime against nature! Against lust! Against the goddess!”

The last part I said with a growl, my eyes flashing with divine fury. The two guards flinched at the raw power in my voice, their hands tightening on their spears.

“We… we must insist,” the other guard said, his voice trembling slightly, “that you refrain from such… blasphemy… within the sacred walls of Athel Loren.”

“Blasphemy?” I laughed, a cold, humorless sound. “The only blasphemy here is this… this… abomination! This denial of life, of pleasure, of everything that makes us alive!”

I stepped forward, my hands clenched into fists, my ‘holy spear’ throbbing with a righteous anger.

However, it made sense. The elven kingdom was a matriarchy, ruled by a futa queen, so to prevent any male from getting too powerful, they probably castrated the men metaphorically and literally.

The second guard—taller, with hair the color of winter moonlight—finally moved.

Not toward me with a spear.

He simply… lowered his weapon.

The tip kissed the moss-covered stone of the entryway with the softest clink imaginable.

His companion stared at him in naked disbelief.

“Thalendir,” the first guard hissed, “what are you—”

“I am tired, Liorael,” the taller one answered. His voice cracked like old parchment. “I am so very, very tired.”

Silence stretched thin enough to cut arteries with.

Then Thalendir reached down with shaking fingers and touched the ornate filigree that imprisoned his cock.

Not trying to tear it off.

Just… touching it.

Like a man touching the gravestone of someone he used to love.

“Seven hundred and twelve years,” he whispered. “Seven hundred and twelve years, two months, fourteen days. I still remember what an erection felt like. I remember the ache of it. The heat. The stupid, animal joy. I remember thinking it was embarrassing how much I wanted. Now I would carve out my own ribs with a spoon just to feel embarrassed again.”

“Hahaha.” He laughed then, a dry, rattling sound that echoed across the plaza. “What is your name, vulgar one?”

“I’m Morgana,” I answered, my own anger suddenly feeling cheap, loud, and stupid beside the quiet ruin of this man.

“Morgana,” he repeated. He lifted his head, and the sorrow in his eyes was so profound it felt like a physical blow. “If I could, I would give you my name, my spear, my honor, and my seed to hold in your womb for nine months. I would die a happy man. I would die a man at all. But sadly, I can’t.”

“My spear is not a spear. It’s a memory,” he said, this with a smile that could have curdled milk.

Liorael’s face went from shocked to murderous.

“Thalendir! You will cease this heresy at once! You are a Sentinel of the Silverwood! Your oath is your life!”

Thalendir said nothing. He simply stepped to the side, clearing the path.

“Welcome to Athel Loren, Morgana,” he said, taking a long pause, just staring me in the eyes. “May you find what we have lost.”

Liorael stared as if he’d just seen a unicorn get shot in the head.

The city behind them… it didn’t look so perfect anymore.

It looked like a mausoleum. A beautiful, shimmering, silent tomb. Every perfectly manicured tree, every crystal-studded tower, every silent, beautiful elf suddenly felt like a monument to a species that had forgotten how to live.

The hum of the city’s magic wasn’t tranquil. It was the hum of a million tiny cages, all vibrating at the same miserable frequency.

“I’ll remember you,” I said softly to Thalendir, giving him a look that said a lot more than words could. “And I’ll do something about it… I promise.”

Then I walked through the archway.

Vespera hurried after me, her face a mask of anxiety, fearing that I’d do something reckless.

As soon as we were out of earshot, she grabbed my arm.

“Morgana! What in the name of the Great Mother was that?! You could have gotten us killed! Or worse, thrown in the dungeons!”

“Did you see them, Vespera?” I asked, my voice dangerously low, my gaze fixed on the pristine streets ahead. “Did you really see them?”

“I… I saw elven guards,” she stammered, confused by my intensity. “And you… You taunted them! You…”

“Didn’t you see the despair?” I cut her off, turning to face her. “The centuries of pain? They are not ‘pure’, Vespera. They are ‘broken’. This city… this whole kingdom… is a giant, golden cage.”

“Of course I saw it!” she snapped back, her own frustration boiling over. “I am a Dark Elf! We live in the shadow of their ‘purity’! We are the living embodiment of everything they fear and despise! But you don’t just walk into the heart of the lion’s den and poke it with a stick! You wait! You watch! You find the cracks!”

I stared at her, and for the first time, I saw past the devoted acolyte and the kinky masochist. I saw Vespera, the Blade Dancer. The survivor. The one who knew how to navigate a world that wanted her dead.

She was right.

My approach was… divine. A goddess doesn’t skulk in the shadows. She smites. She declares. But right now, I wasn’t a goddess. I was ‘Morgana’, the Messenger. And Messengers, apparently, had to be a bit more subtle.

“You’re right,” I conceded, a grudging respect in my tone. “My apologies. The injustice… it makes me… rash.”

“I… appreciate your passion, Morgana,” she said, her posture relaxing slightly.

“I can see why the goddess has chosen you to be her messenger,” she added, completely missing the fact that I was the goddess.

I wondered what her reaction would be when she found out that the ‘messenger’ she was fucking every night was, in fact, the goddess herself. Would she be angry? Would she be shocked? Or… would she be even more turned on?

I bet on the last one.

“Let’s find an inn,” I said, changing the subject. “A… discreet one. I need a drink, and I need to think.”

Vespera nodded, leading the way down a wide, luminous street paved with what looked like polished mother-of-pearl. The buildings around us were breathtaking. They weren’t built so much as grown, their walls woven from living wood, their roofs canopies of iridescent leaves that shimmered with captured starlight.

We passed elves—females mostly, tall and graceful… WAIT! Scratch that. They were all futas, their cocks of different sizes and shapes, some small and cute, others huge and imposing, yet all were free. All were uncaged. All were… unapologetically elven.

This was a matriarchy, but one built on a strange, twisted logic. The women were free to indulge their lust, to dominate, to take what they wanted. The men were… decorations. Guard dogs with their teeth pulled.

Fortunately, I spotted a few elven men who were not caged.

To be fair, correctly guessing the gender was hard at a glance. The men looked just as beautiful as the women, with slender bodies and delicate features. The only difference was that they lacked breasts, and their cocks were… well, smaller. Much smaller than the futas.

“Oooh!… this is interesting,” I said, a wide smirk on my face as we passed two elves, one futa, the other female. They were having sex on a bench, not hiding in the least.

The futa was pounding the female from behind, her hands on the female’s hips, her hips pistoning in a fast, hard rhythm. The female was moaning loudly, her back arched, her breasts bouncing with every thrust.

Passersby didn’t even spare them a second glance. They just walked past, as if two elves fucking in public was as normal as two people having a conversation. And maybe for them, it was.

“What?” Vespera glanced over, a faint blush on her cheeks. “Oh. That’s just… hmm, how should I explain it?”

She took a moment to collect her thoughts.

“The elven population is… declining,” she began, her voice low. “The queen… she encourages public breeding as a way to… well, to encourage… breeding.”

“So they fuck in the street to make the population grow?” I said, the excitement in my tone was visible. “That’s the most… practical thing I’ve heard all day. I like it!”

“They are not ‘fucking’,” Vespera corrected me, her tone serious. “They are ‘communing’. It’s a… sacred act, a way to… connect and help the next generation.”

“So you mean I could just walk up to a lovely elven maiden and start ‘communing’ with her?” I asked, a playful glint in my eyes.

“If she agreed, then yes,” Vespera replied, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips.

“Awesome… I fucking love this city already.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep