Chapter 690
Chapter 690
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 690
Chapter Title: Seven Defeats, Eight Victories (4)
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1.
By now, anal time with Rinne had become more than familiar—it was a fixture in his daily routine.
The two finished their preparations as naturally as longtime lovers.
"Chup, chuup…."
She grabbed his cock and slipped it into her mouth, sucking away clumsily.
Rinne, who had coaxed his erection to full bloom with her awkward fellatio.
"This should be enough."
"Got it."
She started to bend over with a limp, sluggish motion.
When Rinne—who was wearing only stockings, just like yesterday—revealed her back, as pristine and pure as an iris flower.
Si-woo spoke up.
"Hold on, Master. I'd like to switch positions and enjoy it this way."
"Switch positions?"
"Lie down like this? While looking at me. Oh, and hand over the clothes you took off."
Rinne tolerated no compromise in daily life or during sparring sessions.
Yet in this tearoom, she obeyed with remarkable compliance.
Even if it was just to cater to Si-woo's tastes, it was impossible not to feel a rush of conquest from an outside perspective.
After all, just a few hours ago, she'd been pummeling Si-woo, and now here she was, putting on an anal show solely to please his dick.
"Is the position okay?"
"……."
But he hadn't changed positions just to indulge his lust at this point, or to collect another entry in Rinne's position catalog.
After yesterday's ordeal, to fend off Rinne's persistent challenge of "seven defeats, eight victories," didn't they need some fresh content?
Doggy style inevitably avoided eye contact.
The close-contact anal standing position they'd shared before had also been done while staring at the back of her head.
When it came to shame, whether eyes met was crucial.
The reason humans had such wide whites in their eyes was that they were the primary window for nonverbal communication.
For emotions like shame, which were so heavily influenced by others' gazes, simply facing each other and exchanging looks could skyrocket the intensity.
This was something he could confirm through experience.
For instance, despite Amelia's profound shyness, if he blindfolded her during role-play, she'd dive into the scenario more aggressively and spit out embarrassing lines with ease.
But if he made her say lewd things while locking eyes, she'd freeze up completely.
In other words, even for acts of the same intensity, facing her head-on and chipping away at her thresholds was the core of the strategy.
And so, the chosen position was missionary.
He spread out the kimono Rinne had discarded as an improvised futon and rolled up the obi sash to prop up her lower back.
For vaginal insertion, placing support under the waist helped adjust the angle nicely, but anal—as everyone knew—required a slightly different approach.
Thus, adding cushioning near the tailbone to elevate the buttocks made penetration far smoother.
With her legs spread and soles pointed skyward, it created a position somewhere between missionary and mating press….
"……."
This position.
The visual impact was stronger than he'd anticipated.
Rinne's plump, perky breasts, the elongated navel accentuating her pale belly.
Even her tightly clenched, mochi-like pussy was lewdly on display, pointing toward the heavens.
Even a momentary lapse in focus, glancing forward, brought a dizzying wave of bliss: Am I really doing it from behind with a woman like this?
It was a lavish spectacle, tempting him to fold her legs back entirely and pound her in a full mating press.
He rubbed his slick cock—10% saliva, 90% oil—against the bumpy wrinkles of her rear entrance.
"I'm putting it in."
"……."
In stark contrast, Rinne barely reacted.
Against all expectations, even as he pressed the glans firmly to breach her anal entrance, she merely blinked slowly.
Her gaze was utterly unfocused, not truly fixed on Si-woo at all.
Was she so plastered that her mind wasn't working properly?
It was convincing when compared to how she'd acted blackout drunk in Dignity Town.
"I'm moving now."
"……."
"Master, I'm moving."
"I'm listening."
"Can I move?"
"…Do it."
-Squelch!
Si-woo's first impression after thrusting his hips: Much smoother reciprocation than usual.
Of course, Rinne's once-virgin tightness had mostly vanished thanks to their ongoing "development" efforts.
Even so, her rear hole still boasted tremendous pressure by nature….
Whether she realized it or not, the alcohol had loosened her tension, making movement far easier.
Her body heat was skyrocketing too, enough to make his cock feel like it might melt like a popsicle.
"Hah!"
No good.
If he got entranced by this seductive hole, even something that should go smoothly would end up tangled.
He steeled his resolve once more and spoke declaratively.
"Master, we're doing things my way again today, right?"
"……."
"Master, I get to do whatever I want? I can play with your rear hole to my heart's content?"
"…Do it."
Even in response to Si-woo's taunting, Rinne's voice remained limp and listless.
After this bizarre exchange, the thought crossed his mind: This feels pretty criminal.
Anyone witnessing it would see a wayward disciple defiling his utterly helpless, blackout-drunk master—pure filial impiety.
He had no idea if Hexennacht even had police, but this scene alone would land him behind bars.
"……."
As he pondered that and watched her, he noticed Rinne had already closed her eyes.
It wasn't shame or humiliation—just sleepiness, a desire to drift off.
If she was this tired, why drink at all?
"Hm?"
Looking closer.
Actually, wasn't this a stroke of luck?
If he just let her sleep like this, he could skip the night entirely without crossing that dangerous river.
His dick was fuming—What the hell kind of nonsense is that?—but rationally, it was a boon.
At that moment, Rinne's eyelids slowly lifted.
"Move. I'm not sleeping."
"If you're tired, just sleep. I'm beat too."
It wasn't an exaggeration; he really was.
Hadn't she been dragged here without proper rest?
Yet Rinne shook her head feebly, her eyes squeezed shut with the pathos of the little match girl.
"Keep… keep going."
After that, there was no need for further explanation.
It was nothing but monotonous repetition.
-Squish squish squish
Her white legs stretched toward the sky swayed gently like a ballet dancer's, in time with his hips.
The only sounds were small, obscene squelches flowing quietly in the absence of moans.
Aside from the occasional twitch of her head side to side, Rinne lay there unresponsive, like a doll being ravished.
As he watched her and sank into that strange sentiment once more.
"……."
Rinne lay with her eyes closed, blankly enduring the up-and-down shaking of her body and the deep intruding pressure.
Originally, the plan had been to borrow the alcohol's courage for even bolder acts.
Having ruled out mooing like a cow as a poor example, she'd intended to mewl like a cat.
Even if he demanded utterly mortifying lines, she'd planned to play along effortlessly.
But Rinne, unaccustomed to liquor, hadn't realized one crucial fact.
The right amount of alcohol could erase shame and grant boldness, but overdoing it only induced lethargy.
And for Rinne, three sakazuki cups were more than enough to overdo it.
Her head throbbed like a hammer striking an anvil.
Her half-baked plan had failed.
The instant she pinpointed that truth amid her foggy mind.
The self-mockery she'd shoved aside leaked out like a toxic chemical bursting its seal.
What had she been doing, going this far?
It was unfitting, pointless.
She'd clung to a flimsy hope born of obsession, without any real conviction, only for it to return drenched in humiliation.
Time to quit.
No more opportunity-cost excuses—seek a completely different path.
"…Kuh…."
A ragged breath slipped from the lips of Rinne, who had just made that vow.
It was a sensation she'd grown accustomed to by now.
Her "rear," continuously stimulated by his member on sensitive nerves, was clamoring for orgasm.
Her toes curling on their own, her body quivering, her rear twitching—all the same as always.
No.
It should have been the same.
"…Eut?"
Rinne's eyes snapped open.
At first, she thought she'd been stabbed by something sharp.
Or electrocuted.
She quickly realized both assumptions were wrong.
Reflexively, she traced the source of the sensation.
It stemmed from the rear hole impaled by Si-woo's cock, traveling upward to settle in her lower belly.
"……?"
What was happening?
Rinne had no idea.
Could it be a precursor to mana amplification? She scanned Si-woo and the surrounding mana flows, but nothing had changed. Si-woo wasn't doing anything special either.
He was simply moving his hips slowly, his face slightly furrowed as if it were a struggle.
-Squish squish squish
Soon, in sync with those motions, the intensity of the bizarre sensation began to build.
Itchy. Warm. Hot. Stinging. Burning. Throbbing. Numb.
And… good?
An indescribable sensation she'd never felt before in her life.
Like sniffing a jumbled mess of perfumes and being unable to guess a single ingredient.
A colossal wave of new sensations battered her entire body.
Sensations just like those she'd experienced before becoming an apprentice witch.
Sensations she'd forgotten over hundreds of years.
"…Uu."
In truth, this was the result of coincidence piled upon coincidence.
First coincidence.
Every Sword Witch lived bearing the Deficiency Curse embedded in their stigma.
If autonomous defense reacted sensitively to this curse, it would turn the spirit body into an endless battlefield of tug-of-war, like a patient with an immune disorder.
A conflict would erupt between the stigma—the witch's most vital component—and the survival-instinct-driven autonomous defense.
Thus, unless completely disabling autonomous defense, it was necessary to keep it loosely suppressed at all times to maintain the curse.
This was also why Rinne got tipsy so quickly from even a little alcohol.
Second coincidence.
But no matter how deliberate, a flaw was a flaw.
The balance between the Deficiency Curse and autonomous defense was far from perfect.
Layer on Rinne's extreme vulnerability to alcohol….
Autonomous defense activated fiercely to fend off internal injuries from acute alcohol poisoning.
In the process, the Deficiency Curse was temporarily subdued.
Up to this point, there might have been no issue.
If the curse could be undone so easily, they never would have deemed it a torment to carry for a lifetime.
Even a bath in this state would have elicited zero stimulation for Rinne.
Third coincidence.
However, Rinne's body had been thoroughly conditioned up to now.
Though she'd never felt pleasure from it, frequent and rhythmic sessions had successfully imprinted full-fledged anal orgasms.
She might never have tasted ecstasy, but her flesh alone was an elite that had studied abroad in Hong Kong.
A malfunction where autonomous defense and the Deficiency Curse failed to coordinate.
Through that gap, ripened pleasure surged in like a tidal wave, overwhelming Rinne.
"Haa…."
Even so, a curse was a curse.
The pleasure Rinne felt through orgasm amounted to only a tenth of what an ordinary woman would experience.
But if someone who'd subsisted on bile their whole life suddenly shoved half an orange into their mouth for the first time….
How intense would that stimulation be?
Rinne would provide the answer soon enough.