Through the Narrow Door Gap (2)
Beyond the narrow gap in the door lay a high-class guest room furnished with sophisticated pieces. A luxurious carpet embroidered with wildflowers lent an air of elegance, while the landscape painting of a clear blue lake on the central wall added a touch of nobility. Even the wooden bed at the room’s center displayed flawless craftsmanship in its smallest carved patterns, proudly displaying Stony Fortress’s refined taste, technical mastery, and superior aesthetic sense.
Originally, the only individual the orcs of Caboni Forest would treat as a guest was the ogre chief Oun. The current guest room had therefore been prepared in anticipation of his stay at Stony Fortress. The bed itself was sized and reinforced to accommodate Oun’s massive frame—nearly six hundred mentols tall—and had taken ten orc artisans three full years to complete. Yet Oun had never once chosen to sleep at Stony Fortress in his entire life, so the bed, for all the effort invested, had never been used even once. The same held true for the guest room as a whole. Though it was kept spotlessly clean and ready for any unexpected visitor, it remained nothing more than an unused burden.
Everything changed when the Demon Lord visited Stony Fortress. She became the guest room’s very first occupant, and all the painstaking preparation finally proved worthwhile.
“Kuhuhuh!!”
Beriberi’s booming laughter erupted in the middle of a meeting in his office concerning Stony Fortress’s administrative reports and support plans for the reconstruction of Demon Lord Castle. The financial manager and the captain of the guard exchanged bewildered glances at their lord’s sudden outburst.
“Has something pleasant occurred, my lord?”
“Of course it has! The Demon Lord herself is staying in our guest room—how could I not be overjoyed? You kept insisting we dispose of it because it only wasted manpower, but I held firm and protected the room to the very end! Kuhuhuhuh!”
“…It appears I was mistaken. Without the guest room, we would have been forced to lodge the Demon Lord in ordinary quarters. Your foresight is truly enviable, my lord.”
“Kuhuhuhuhuh!!!”
The financial manager’s request had been entirely reasonable from a practical standpoint; managing the domain’s resources demanded that manpower and materials not be squandered. Yet the guest room Beriberi had stubbornly preserved had more than justified itself. Had it not existed, the Demon Lord would have been housed in common lodgings—an outcome the manager now openly acknowledged as his own miscalculation.
Beriberi’s mood soared. This was not the first time the Demon Lord had stayed in the guest room; today marked her second visit. She had seemed genuinely pleased, suggesting she might use the room whenever she came to Stony Fortress. He was already considering designating it as her permanent residence within the fortress and, if circumstances allowed, furnishing it with even more comforts and staff for her convenience.
Such thoughts, however, were largely unnecessary for Neromeltia herself. What mattered to her was an atmosphere of refinement and comfort, a secluded place where secret meetings could unfold without interruption. Nothing beyond that was required.
Within the elegantly appointed guest room, where every detail spoke of care and craftsmanship, two women lay entwined at the center of the great wooden bed. Their slick, heated sexes pressed together, grinding and sliding in shared ecstasy. They bore down upon one another, then rocked in slow, sticky circles, sometimes locking so tightly that even the smallest tremors could be felt. Whenever their hips lifted slightly from overwhelming pleasure, glistening strands of their mingled arousal stretched between them.
“Hnn… hyaaah… Master… ahhn…! It… feels so good…!!”
“Me too… hngh…! Haa… haa… Let’s… feel even better together…?”
Lusteria’s eyes were glazed with pleasure. Neromeltia gently pushed her lovely secretary onto her back and captured her parted, crimson lips. Their mouths met in a deep kiss, hot breaths mingling. Soft, slick tongues twined together, trading saliva in a dizzying exchange. While Lusteria lost herself in the fervent, tender kiss, Neromeltia’s hand rose to caress her cheek. The succubus’s skin was smooth and yielding, like an infant’s, so delicate that the simple touch brought a smile to Neromeltia’s lips.
From Lusteria’s cheek, Neromeltia’s fingers traced down the graceful line of her neck to her collarbone. The light, teasing touch—barely more than a breeze—sent a surge of desire rising from deep within the succubus. Neromeltia continued her exploration with eyes half-closed, still lost in the kiss, yet her hand moved with perfect precision. She stroked the delicate collarbone, then let her fingers drift lower, brushing the side of Lusteria’s breast. The fleeting contact, light as a brushstroke across canvas, ignited heat and hunger throughout Lusteria’s body. Her nipples stiffened visibly, painfully sensitive even to the faintest stir of air.
The pitiful succubus trembled, unable to contain the rising tide of lust. Neromeltia’s hand continued its descent, gliding over the narrow waist and coming to rest on the lower abdomen. She pressed gently, then rubbed in slow circles, sometimes stroking firmly, sometimes caressing with feather-light tenderness. Every motion poured fresh fuel onto the flames of desire, awakening the succubus’s deepest instincts and driving her toward the peak she craved.
Lusteria felt as though Neromeltia’s hand were directly caressing the womb hidden deep inside her. The sensation of heat blooming behind the thin wall of her abdomen left her breathless. Her inner walls, already slick with arousal, clenched and quivered in desperate need of greater pleasure.
Lusteria’s lips parted from her master’s. Harsh, ragged breaths escaped her, and tears welled in her beautiful violet eyes.
“Master… please don’t tease me anymore… hngh…! I want to come… haah… Please…!”
Nella, watching the entire scene through the door, felt as though she might go mad from the throbbing ache between her thighs. The urge to touch herself was overwhelming, yet the thought of doing so in a corridor where anyone might appear filled her with mortification. Still, reason was steadily yielding to raw desire.
Her battle uniform was cut so tightly that it compressed her breasts, yet she had never felt the need for a brassiere. Now, however, her nipples rubbed constantly against the coarse fabric, sending sharp jolts of sensation through her body. Even the slightest movement sent sparks racing up her spine.
Nella glanced around. This floor contained only guest rooms and the VIP chamber; the nearest guard was stationed on the floor below. It was not yet time for the patrol to pass, and at this late hour no other visitors were expected. Though she could not be entirely certain, she judged that no one would enter the corridor for some time.
Slowly, cautiously, Nella slipped her hand beneath her undergarments.