“No, not like this. Kors, I swear to you, it was all voluntary.”

“Well, you may not, but Prince Arel for sure! I know him very well!”

And Kors “heard” suddenly how Arel thought a little contemptuously: “It is very necessary, she wanted me herself and came to my Castle, she was wet from me.” Kors caught the echo of Arel’s emotions when he thought of Karin. He seemed to have become a prince himself and felt his sex with Karina in the Castle. Her moans under him, her such passionate embrace, sheer desire and excitement. Karina really was wet from the prince, Kors didn’t expect such love of her daughter for the utter pervert Arel.

“Oh no! Cash me out! I don't want to catch it!” He shouted.

“I do nothing, you catch them yourself,” said Nikto, “you are very perceptive.”

“Yes, the specifics of my work taught me to see through people, to see even what they want to hide,” agreed Kors. “But I didn't see you.”

“I'm not quite a human, and, probably, my, as you put it, “shameful appearance” confused you. You looked at my tattoos and jewelry and didn’t see me behind them.”

“You are right as always. And why didn’t I send you your other things along with the mask! I should have sent you everything, not just the mask and the family ring. Somehow it turned out ugly.”

“You probably haven't thought about it.”

“I haven’t, honestly, I even forgot about them.”

“You simply didn’t perceive me as a person yet.”

“But I sent a mask as a sign of reconciliation! And… my own ring.”

“Yes, a mask, on the one hand, as a sign of reconciliation, but on the other, knowing now how you feel about those who wear a mask… For you, this is a sign of a slave, being in a mask is shameful and humiliating. You wanted to make up, but you humiliated me again: you sent neither my ring, nor jewelry, but a mask. My shameful mask, so that I could cover my shameful face with it.”

“Forgive me, please.”

“Come on, I’m kidding! In fact, I was very happy when you sent it to me. It was really difficult for me without it. This muzzle posed a terrible rub on the bridge of the nose.”

“Your mask is not lighter. I held it in my hands, it seemed very heavy to me, it surprised me. There are some metal inserts inside to protect the face, if I understand correctly.”

“Yes.”

Kors involuntarily glanced at the mask of Nikto, which was lying on the floor by the bed:

“How is it normal to breathe in it, and even during the battle?”

Nikto followed his gaze and also looked at his discarded mask, to where the outlines of the nose were slightly indicated on it with the more convex part.

“There are holes under the nose down there.”

“But they are very small, and often, during the battle, you want to catch your breath.”

“You can slightly raise the lower part.”

“But it's inconvenient.”

“No, it’s normal. I got used to it. You might think that noble sirs never put on a mask, that you never put on a mask.”

“They put it on,” agreed Kors, “but only when it becomes necessary to go down to the Lower City. They put on a mask to protect their identity.”

“And to come off in brothels and pubs,” added Nikto.

Kors pursed his lips, clearly not wanting to develop this theme further, and tried to change it:

“Why have you thrown it on the floor?” He looked again at the lying mask. “Nik, and then you put it on your face.”

“So what?” Nikto answered indifferently. “After all, my face is not cleaner than the floor.”

“Enough! Enough, Nik! How can I make amends for all the troubles that I have caused you? Do you want me to give you some jewelry? You love jewelry,” Kors touched his ear, “do you want me to give you my earrings? They are very expensive. This is a sign of belonging to the elite.”

“Kors, I am forbidden to wear gold, only black ones wear gold. My sign of belonging are half-blood rings.”

“Lis doesn't wear them. And he has gold earrings and rings, and such an expensive signet on his finger.”

“Yes, Lis doesn’t give a shit about anything, all the restrictions and rules, he does not set walls.”

“Frames,” corrected Kors, “Nik, I want more, inject me more.”

“Too little time has passed. It’s too early.”

“No, I want it,” Kors leaned back, he felt very good, as if he was basking in a warm gentle bath. Bliss enveloped his body, and it seemed that if he didn’t add the drug, everything would end. It was necessary to urgently add so as not to lose these magical sensations.

Responding to the mental order of Nikto, Verniy entered the room again.

Kors got up from the bed in the room of Nikto and Arel.

He suddenly decided that he had to go and find out how Karina was there, because he was worried about his daughter.

Kors walked to the door past a large painting of a winter forest. The bear on it, slightly turning its head, followed him with a gaze of burning hungry eyes and, seeing this, Kors froze, realizing that this was a hallucination and he caught glitches. He turned away from the picture with a hungry bear and quickly left, literally floated out into the corridor, and just as easily hovering above the floor, reached the room of Lis and Karina. He opened the door. They turned to him. Both Karina and Lis were completely naked.

But Lis didn’t resemble a man much, rather he looked like habir Verniy: he covered with fur and had clawed paws, and a dark red withers on a slightly stooped back. On the head were erect fox ears. The difference from the unclean servant of Nikto was only that Lis had a very beautiful huge and fluffy red tail, floor-length with white fur at the tip, the skin was reddish, and the facial features of the muzzle were slightly more human than the ones of the unclean. From the head of Lis grew strange bony shoots, sharp and resembling horns, they circled his head like a crown. Some of the teeth cut through more and grew larger, others were a little smaller, and on them lumps of gradually peeling flesh still dangled. Kors looked with disgust at the “crown” of Lis, then turned his gaze down to Karina, who was kneeling at the feet of her master. On her head, like a strange hat or helmet, sat some disgusting creature like a huge tick. Dirty-flesh-colored with gray-pink bald patches, pulsating with its soft inflated body, with numerous tentacles, it stuck into her head and the cranium apparently was not an obstacle for this demonic entity. The tick completely covered Karina’s head and upper part of her face, digging deep into the bridge of her nose with its proboscis and obscuring her eyes with its disgusting swollen body. Thin bloody trickles streamed down Karina’s cheeks as she turned to her father. Both she and Lis wore wide iron collars, and a chain from one to the other connected them. The same chain was attached to Lis’ cock and went into Karina’s crotch.

“Karina!” Kors shouted, not recognizing his voice, and his daughter hissed back, her mouth full of small but sharp teeth curved like hooks.

“What happened to you?! Daughter! What's with your eyes?”

“Love is blind,” Karina hissed, turning away and bending to the furry legs-paws of Lis, began to lick them with a long and thin tongue. And Lis barked hoarsely:

“I am the king, you see, Kors?” And he laughed terribly, his head shook, and another piece of bloody flesh fell off his “crown”, revealing a black horn.

Kors gasped with disgust and nausea, backed away and woke up, he opened his eyes, he was really sick.

He didn’t remember how he fell asleep the day before, where he was this time, in his room, or… He looked around in confusion and saw that he was still in the bedroom of Nikto and Arel, in his clothes, only the sleeve of his shirt was rolled up strongly and his jacket was lying on the floor. With surprise, Kors realized that Nikto was lying next to him. Nikto was lying on his side, on the still unmade bed, uncovered, fully clothed, he was sleeping peacefully, his eyelids with traces of almost worn-out arrows twitched slightly. Such thick and long dark eyelashes lay on pale skin, he breathed measuredly and calmly in his sleep, and Kors saw now that thick rings inserted into his nose closed his nostrils no worse than Arel’s ring. Only it seemed that it didn’t interfere with Nikto, unlike with the prince. Arel was lying right behind Nikto on the edge of the bed, hugging him. Arel put his hand on Nikto, and Kors noticed that on his long and thin hand, there were already three phalanges blackened with “rings”, on three fingers. And Kors couldn’t understand when Nikto had time to make them to him. He didn’t remember how he passed out, what happened later. Kors got up heavily, he was shaking, he literally crawled to the bathroom, he felt nauseous, and nausea came to his throat. Fortunately, Verniy was not there, the household dog had apparently already fled somewhere on business. Only in the corner, wrapped in a torn blanket, sat, huddled in a ball, the slave of Prince, Valentine. Hearing Kors’ footsteps, he stirred awkwardly as he crawled out of his cocoon. Naked and covered with whip scars, the boy turned his face towards the front door. One of his eyes was swollen, closed, with a purple hematoma on it. The second, covered with a white albugo, stared blankly at Kors. So Arel beat his boy again, and when he managed to do it, Kors couldn’t understand either. He suddenly thought that he had never seen Valentine’s face and didn’t know what he looked like without an iron muzzle that completely covered his nose and lower part of his face. Kors bent over the bathroom, nauseated, and involuntarily made several convulsive movements, but he never vomited. He tried to put two fingers in his mouth to finally free himself from this debilitating nausea. If the assault began, he would not be able to raise his sword and fight. “The gods will kill me today, I cannot fight,” thought Kors, “why did I take this drug, Gods, why? But it was so good!”