Quickly scope the chamber.

Beyond the cells, some filled with people who you guess are likely the adventurers who have gone missing, the enchanted candles, and the bondage mechanism that binds a helpless person's wrists above their head, you see little else, though you ignore much of what's around you to focus on those most immediately ahead, especially the woman. You don't lower your weapon, but you don't give the command to attack either. You aren't sure exactly what's going on yet. That, and the voice hasn't narrated your arrival either.

Speaking of which, "After falling for the previous trap, you find yourselves deep in the dungeon where all prisoners are taken, stripped of their valuables, and locked away to the fate of the... Prison Princess," says the voice of the so-called Dungeon Master. "With no way to retreat, what do you do?"

The woman ahead places her hands on her hips and laughs. "Why are you giving them so much information the moment they enter the room? Oh well. That's me she's talking about, the Prison Princess. I was floating the title Dungeon Master, but she called dibs already, so I went with a cuter one anyway."

What causes the odd woman to stick out the most is her immediate appearance. Though the environment that surrounds her is that of an evil sorcerer's medieval dungeon, she stands as a beacon of bubbly light. She has fair skin, that of which you see much as she's hardly wearing a thing. It isn't that her attire resembles a swimsuit. She is actually just wearing a skimpy red bikini. Her bountiful bust bounces as she moves to face your party, and she stands there with one hand on her hip, and the other near her lips in a pose one might expect from an idol waiting for a picture to be taken.

She has curly, pale pink hair, which just reaches her shoulders, and in it she wears two adorable, tiny red bows.

Hanging from the bar behind her is another woman. She wears a surprisingly modest white dress--for this world anyway--covered in beautiful silver markings, and resting on the floor nearby is a staff in similar size of Amara's, though of pale wood with a moon-carved crystal at the head. Her hair is light blonde, long, and right now, a frizzled mess.

The two manacled nearby are an armoured man and a leather-garbed girl.

"Stay back... She's dangerous!" warns the man. He struggles in his bindings but has no means of escape. Not far from where he sits lays a rune-covered greatsword, likely his.

The girl by contrast appears less conservative in her dark booty shorts and a top made mostly of tightly bound straps over a tease of her side cleavage. There are no weapons on her, though in the far corner, you can make out the glint of a few daggers. Both her and her ally have been thoroughly disarmed, unfortunately. Her hair is as dark as her attire, and cut short at her cheeks.

"Who, me?" asks the pink-haired woman innocently. "I'm not the naughtiest one here." She then points to the man, almost accusatory. "Tenner Lobson, traveller from the Kingdom of Varat. You claim to be a devout follower of Lasis with a will of solid steel, yet to me, your will is softer than gold. You look to the one who hangs behind me with an overwhelming amount of illicit thoughts. It's almost drowning. You want her body so badly, but you refuse to admit that you oppress your feelings."

"Wh-What?!" the man shouts in anger. "I would never be so impure!"

"And you," she continues with her attention now on the one beside him. "Regine Ginnis. Though you pride yourself on being open with your feelings, you haven't told the woman behind me that you spy on her bathing every night while you touch yourself."

The girl's eyes open wide. "Excuse me?" She clenches her teeth and looks around to all the attention now upon her. "Y-You can't prove that."

Then at last, the strange woman turns to face the one she's been referring to--the one whose arms are stuck high above her head by ropes tied to a bar above. She slides a finger down her dress with a wicked grin. "Crissa Jamson. Your deepest secret is that you're already aware of everything I just said. And you love it."

"How dare you slander Lady Jamson's good name?" the man snaps back. "She's even more pure of heart than I."

"Oh is she now?" She steps behind her, and slides her hands up around to grope a pair of surprisingly large breasts hiding behind the thick curtain of her clothing. As she squeezes and kneads the soft, firm flesh through the fabric of the dress, the woman he called Lady Jamson whimpers with a flushed red growing across her face.

The man averts his gaze, though not without struggle. "I won't look upon you, Lady Jamson. By the strength of Lasis, I will not!"

The bikini-clad Prison Princess then tears the front of the dress open with a single, fluid movement, down to her stomach.

Crissa Jamson screams again--the same as before you entered. "S-Sir Lobson. My titties are fully out. Please don't look!"

Tenner's face turns vibrant red in an instant. He clenches his teeth with the most struggle you've ever seen from a man. "Your--! I w-will not... ever do such a thing..."

"She's touching my big, bare breasts. Her f-fingers, they're--"

"Lasis, bolster my resolve! I will not watch!"

Meanwhile, Regine stares intently. "I mean... I'll happily watch. Her tits are amazing. You didn't know?"

Then with a final grab and pull, the Prison Princess cleanly removes the dress in full, leaving her hanging there with nothing more than a pair of white flats on her feet.

"Nooo, my whole body is exposed!" Crissa shouts in distress. "Everything is out!"

"E-E-Everything?!" the man screams. His eyes are shut with such strength that you worry he might give himself an aneurysm.

Then the Prison Princess steps forward again with a giggle. "Humans are so silly. Why can't people just be true to themselves? I said Crissa Jamson was the most perverted of the party, and if you can't see that now, I don't know what else to say. Perhaps you didn't notice, but she didn't have any underwear on at all. No bra. No panties. This is something she does almost all the time. It thrills her."

"All right, all right," you speak up. "I'll step in now. As humorously sexy as this might be, we're here to not only clear this dungeon, but free everybody trapped inside. I'm happy to see they're alive and well. Because of that, I didn't give the order for my party to kill you on the spot. But we are getting them out of here, Prison Princess. It'll be easier if you just hand us the keys and let us leave. Though I have a feeling that isn't going to happen. It's never that easy."

She spoke of humans like she wasn't one. I better be careful.

As she walks forward, the encounter behind her continues. Crissa squirms in her bindings, trapped in the nude for all to see, though she doesn't seem particularly upset by that. Quite the opposite. Meanwhile, Regine is very happy to watch. It seems her manacles are causing her distress, as she's unable to scratch her itch, though it's still a wonderful sight to behold. Than Tenner beside her looks to be undergoing more pain than somebody actually being tortured as he continues to avert his gaze with every last ounce of strength he can muster.

"Well, you're almost at the end," the Prison Princess says. "But you went the wrong way. If you're in my prison, you're never getting to the Dungeon Lord--"

"Dungeon Master," speaks the voice from all around you.

"Mhm. Right. Dungeon Master. Because I'm already getting bored of these adventurers, and I'm ready to add six more to my collection. What a bargain!" With another grin, she points a finger straight at Amara. "Elf. You claim to have innocent intentions, Amara Tedrilui, but you secretly enjoy when your allies are injured, because the sensation you receive while healing them is like no other. And on top of that, what you desire most right now is for the man beside you to rail you up against those prison bars."

Taken by surprise at this accusatory barrage, Amara gasps and grabs hold of your arm. "It does not make me a sadist to yearn for a reason to heal. Though I admit... you speak with some amount of truth. That does not mean--"

"That doesn't mean she's a bad person!" Niki butts in. "We're all a buncha weirdos. Here, do me. I dare you."

The bikini-clad girl giggles and shrugs. "Clever to move right on from the last part of what I said."

"That part was not so strange, I think," Amara mumbles.

"Oh. Well, fine. Niki of clan Vakila! That's right. I know all your names. You're a big, tough warrior, right? But when you're tickled--"

Niki gestures a hand motion to suggest the other to hurry along. "Yeah, yeah. We know I like a bit of tickling. Who doesn't?"

"Most people don't get wet at the thought of feathers against their skin, no."

"Who does this girl think she is?!" Eva yells. "Reading minds, trying to embarrass us."

The Prison Princess inspects you all silently for a moment, pondering. "You all hold some level of denial, but it isn't the same. You've come together but you know you're all outcasts. That's a lot less fun than Mr. Chaste behind me. My typical fun doesn't work when you've mostly accepted yourselves, but that's all right. I can do other things. All you mortal beings are entertaining, just in different ways! Maybe I'll do something really messed up, like ride the one guy you've got in your party and make the rest of you watch."

"See, now that's cucking," you explain. "Not voyeur."

Snow nods.

The mysterious woman stares into your eyes from across the room. Then she hold her head as her brow furls. "Your mind... is strange. It's harder to read, but not impossible. Wait. You're--Ah. The armour you're wearing. Part of it is the hide of an illidrake. You've battled foes from beyond your meagre world. That's a first. Well, there is one other, but now that I've gotten a glimpse of who you are, I understand. I've heard a lot about you, Kyle Warren."

"Hey!" Regine calls out from behind her. "Whoever you all are, the key to my manacles are on the back end of the room there. She keeps all her weird tools in those drawers. Things that stick to you. Things that vibrate. But also keys. But mine are special, look." She turns enough to reveal that what binds her wrists have a sheen of gold, and they've covered in magic symbols which are alien to you. "They keep me from--"

Then from the palm of the Prison Princess extends a lashing tentacle. The flesh is deep purple and drips with a glistening lubrication. It smacks the girl back down to the ground. And then after the tendril retracts, the assailant focuses fully onto your party. "As fun as mortal beings are, they can also be pretty annoying. I'm gonna capture you all now. I'll decide on the method of **** later."