Page 6 of Plaything of the Dark Elf

What surprises me more, however, is that the female reels her head back and spits at the slave.

I can’t help it. I smile.

What fire. It has truly intrigued me.

I’m tired of weak females with no fight left in them. I’m tired of bedding submissive females that barely have any life left in them at all, let alone the kind of spirit this human female is exerting.

It gives me a rush, exciting me for the first time in what feels like forever.

One of the slaves grabs a chunk of blonde hair and yanks the female over to the slab, laying her down on it. Another comes around behind her and yanks her arms back behind her in a painful-looking position.

The female spits out another string of curses when the third slave lifts the large sharp object up over his exposed neck.

I must have her. I must break her in. This human female who is strong and unwilling to let another force her into submission.

The third slave’s arms tense, ready to bring down the weapon to slash through that delicate looking skin.

I step down onto the grass and call to them.

“Wait.”

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