Chapter 93

Together, Liz and Natalie appraised the seat. There was a bump in the middle, which the user was clearly supposed to sit on. Two loops were on each side, available to strap Liz down. She doubted they were optional. She could risk it, but as usual, engaging with the dungeon in the way it presented itself was usually the easiest path forward.

“How does it turn on?” Liz asked. After a moment scouring its surface, she found a switch. “This?” She flipped it.

The device hummed to life, and for a moment, the two girls watched the curved bump on top of the cylindrical seat hum to life, vibrating and grinding back and forth. It started slow and picked up speed. Liz flicked it off, her blush somehow burning hotter.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Liz said. “Good to know.”

They stood there in silence for a second.

“Think you can handle it?” Natalie asked.

“And what does that mean?”

“I don’t know. Just ... you can’t finish. Won’t get a reward if you do.”

“I did read the instructions.”

“Just, you know. Saying.”

Liz cleared her throat, then stood. “Might as well get to it.” She went about removing the superfluous parts of her get-up. Not that she had much of that, anymore; Elida had been happy to take even the utility stuff, like her belt and waterskin.

In short order, she was in just her plainclothes. Didn’t even have her robe, anymore—Elida had taken that too. Liz was surprised she’d even been left those. Okay, not really, Elida wouldn’t leave her naked, but she was a gigantic jerk, so maybe she would.

Anyway, just her plainclothes. Two fairly thin layers of fabric would be the only defense she had against ... that. The woman in the picture was clothed, so she didn’t think she had to strip entirely.

Though, why would nudity matter? Allowing herself to be played with by a dungeon contraption while being watched by a teammate was definitely the lewder event, nude or not. Liz’s priorities were clearly messed up.

And she was not excited for this. The fact that her heart was trying to jump out of her chest was purely from embarrassment. Nothing else.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Liz repeated. “It would be so bad for House Beaumon’s reputation. My parents would kill me.”

“Obviously, we won’t,” Natalie said, and Liz believed her. “Didn’t even have to ask.” She even sounded mildly offended that Liz had asked.

That reassured her, even if she hadn’t thought Natalie would in the first place. She trusted her, the same as the rest of her party. For the most part, at least. As much someone born-and-raised in the intrigue of high court could.

Taking a steadying breath, Liz approached the seat. She got down, sliding one knee over the far end, and settled in. The bumpy protrusion in the middle pressed against her, and an embarrassing noise almost escaped her lips—without even the excuse that things had started.

Swallowing thickly, she adjusted the straps, locking herself in—so that she couldn’t escape if she wanted to. As soon as she started the process on the first leg, the loop squeezed in and secured itself without her input. Liz stared at it for a moment, then moved to the next, which did the same.

The implication was clear. Liz would be riding this thing the whole way through, regardless of if she could hold off on finishing or not. The straps would keep her down for the whole while.

But she would be winning. This was hardly something she had a lot of experience with, but if it was what needed to be done to win the challenge, then she’d keep control of herself. She was a Beaumon. Keeping control of herself was something she’d been trained for her entire life. Though, admittedly, she’d never excelled at it.