Reincarnated into a Femdom Fantasy World (18+)-Chapter 23: Not bad, is it?

Tazka's gold eyes narrowed as she studied the map, her dusky purple fingers tapping the bone armrest, while Rixa's bushy tail hung still, Tsyra's midnight-blue scales glinted in stoic silence, Veyra's fair hands rested on her hips, and Lyra's glowing eyes shimmered with barely contained excitement as she knew that this plan has much better chances of a successful rescue with none to minimal casualties.

Jake could tell from their thoughtful silence that they were seriously considering it, which, frankly, made him feel a little better about the whole situation. This new "strategy" wasn't one he'd planned—far from it.

It was an on-the-spot brainchild, born from the ashes of his original, brilliantly executed flanking plan that had, well, totally flopped into laughable content. No one needs to know. 

Veyra broke the silence, her leather corset creaking as she straightened, her golden eyes glinting with grudging approval. "He might be onto something here," she said, her voice low but firm, her crimson hair catching the light as she nodded toward the map. "It's sneaky."

Tazka's tail uncoiled slowly, her golden, slit-pupiled eyes flicking from the map to Jake, a faint smirk curling her lips as she leaned back, her silver gown rustling. "I hate to admit it," she said, her tone dry but laced with a rare hint of respect, "but the little bird's plan beats ours. Shame I didn't think of it first—guess I'll have to keep him around for more than just his... little bird." Her smirk widened, a playful edge cutting through her command, and Jake's cheeks flushed, his grip tightening on the staff.

Lyra's lace-clad chest heaved with a sharp, excited breath, her glowing eyes flaring as she clapped her hands, her magic sparking faintly. "It's brilliant—quick, quiet, perfect!" she chirped, her dark hair bouncing as she shifted, barely holding back a grin. Tsyra remained a statue, her silver eyes fixed on the map, her emotionless face betraying nothing—no approval, no dissent, just cold focus.

Tazka clapped her hands once, the sound sharp against the stone, her voice rising with authority. "Alright—enough gawking. We're doing Jake's plan. Get ready," she ordered, her tail flicking as she leaned forward, her dark magic pulsing again.

She refined the ambush with quick strokes—marking a narrower stretch of road, adding a fallback point in the trees, adjusting the dozen soldiers' positions for speed and stealth. "We hit them here, fast and clean—Ssyra's out before Kalthar blinks. Now move—and someone find me a new babysitter for our little strategist." Her gold eyes glinted with amusement, the plan polished and set, execution the only step left.

The council dispersed—Rixa's tail wagging as she bolted for her gear, Tsyra striding out with silent purpose, Veyra lingering a moment before following, her leather boots thudding. Jake trailed after Lyra, her lace top swaying as she moved, but Tazka's voice halted him mid-step, smooth and commanding.

"Stop, little bird." Jake froze, turning slowly as Lyra slipped out, leaving him alone in the vast throne room, Tazka's mischievous yet piercing glare pinning him in place, her gold eyes boring into him like she could see straight through his flustered soul.

He glanced around, the silence pressing in—the bone throne looming, the map fluttering faintly, the incense thick in his nose—his confusion mounting as Tazka crooked a dusky purple finger, beckoning him closer.

"Come here," she purred, her voice a velvet lure, her tail curling lazily. Jake swallowed hard, his feet dragging as he approached, stopping a meter from her towering figure, her silver gown shimmering, her presence overwhelming as she lounged on the throne, her gaze stripping him bare.

"Do you want to sit here?" she asked, her tone deceptively light, her gold eyes glinting as she patted the throne's armrest, her tail flicking with a teasing rhythm. Jake's heart lurched, his mind flashing to Lyra and Veyra's tales of his cocky predecessor—the fool who'd craved that seat, who'd died for it—and panic spiked through him, his voice cracking as he stepped back.

"N-no! Not at all!" he stammered, his hands flailing, his gray tunic shifting as he retreated, terrified she saw the same ambition in him.

Tazka's smirk deepened, a low chuckle rumbling from her chest as she caught his wide-eyed expression, her gold eyes dancing with delight. "Cute when you're nervous, little bird," she murmured, her voice a sultry tease.

Before he could bolt, her leg stretched forward, her bare foot—dusky purple and graceful—hooking the hem of his tunic with her toes, pulling him toward her with a gentle but insistent tug. He stumbled, her arms snaking around his waist as she caught him, lifting him effortlessly onto her lap, his back pressing against the soft, heavy cushion of her breasts, their warmth seeping through her gown, her gold chains cool against his neck.

"Not bad, is it?" she purred, her breath hot against his ear, her arms tightening around him, her tail curling possessively over his thigh. Jake flushed crimson, his body rigid, his pulse racing as her scent—incense and something darker, primal—flooded his senses, her voice a seductive hum that made his head spin.

"N-no," he stuttered again, his voice a squeak, confusion warring with the heat pooling in his gut, no clue what game she was playing but too flustered to resist.

Tazka's lips grazed his ear, her teeth nipping seductively at the lobe, a sharp, electric jolt shooting through him as she whispered, "If this plan works—if Ssyra's back with minimal blood—I'll give you a gift, little bird. Something... special." Her voice dripped with promise, her breasts pressing harder against his back, when footsteps echoed—crisp and measured—cutting through the haze.

A woman entered, tall and curvy, her voluptuous frame clad in a severe black maid's uniform—tight bodice cinching her waist, skirt hugging her hips, her glasses glinting under the torchlight, her serious face framed by dark hair pulled into a neat bun.

Tazka's arms loosened, her smirk softening as she gestured. "This is Maraith, head maid," she said, her tone shifting to business. "She'll take care of you today—your... activities—until Lyra and Veyra return." Jake nodded, his voice a shaky, "O-okay," his mind still reeling from her lap, her bite, her tease.

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Tazka leaned closer, her voice a sultry murmur, her gold eyes glinting with mischief. "So, little bird—want to stay here, warming my lap all day, or go back to your room?" Her tail brushed his leg, her breasts a soft pressure, and Jake panicked, his hands flailing as he scrambled off her, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"S-sorry!" he yelped, his tunic askew as he bolted toward Maraith, who stood impassive, her glasses flashing as she turned, leading him silently to his room, her curvy and silent silhouette a stark contrast to Tazka's lingering laugh echoing behind him.