2★ 'Ambitious' Charlotte Cavendish
I watched Charlotte's back as she climbed the stairs ahead of me. She had only just graduated from Novice Adventurer, but as a noble young lady she wore quality gear — a light robe that clung to her body, shamelessly outlining the sway of her hips.
Sensing my gaze, she glanced back over her shoulder and offered a bashful little smile. The gentle storyteller who'd been looking after the children was nowhere to be found. In her place stood a coquettish young lady who toyed with the hearts of noble sons at social gatherings.
Her steps carried us past the second floor, where Han Sea had been accepting commissions, and up toward the third. She moved like an adventurer first and a noble lady second — her breathing never once faltered — and with practiced ease she opened the door to one of the research rooms and stepped inside. Charlotte entered as if it were the most natural thing in the world, while her maid waited outside.
"Come in. She won't be joining us."
"Is it that personal?"
"Yes. Very personal. Something I couldn't even tell my personal maid."
The maid reacted with a soft, heavy sigh. The dark-blue-haired woman gave a slight shake of her head, as if to say there was no helping it, and looked at me. The meaning in that cold gaze felt like a mix of mild concern and curiosity. What was this about?
Leaving the maid's complicated expression behind, I stepped into the research room. The shelves crammed with documents and books looked more like a noble family's study than a mage's laboratory. Charlotte pulled a large, plush chair back and sank into it with a soft thud, then smiled at me with her eyes.
"Sir Roland. I thought I'd heard that name somewhere before. This may be our first meeting, but it turns out we weren't entirely without a connection."
"Are you referring to the time Lady Charlotte's father came looking for me?"
"No. Something far more primal than that. The woman who handles my etiquette lessons is Madame Zoe, who came from the capital."
She spoke as if certain I would know the name. Using the tip of her foot, she lazily pushed the chair back and reclined into it. Then, without warning, she slipped off her shoes and propped her legs up on the seat. Zoe… Madame Zoe. A noblewoman from the kingdom's capital by that name — there was only one person who came to mind.
…The widow with the enormous breasts I'd met on an Adventurer's Guild commission.
There had been a noble whose ambition far outstripped his ability. He'd taken a handful of knights to clear out some monsters. The problem was that among those wandering monsters was an ogre — a creature classified as a giant. The noble, who'd confidently set out expecting goblins at worst and orcs at best, had come back as a bloody mess alongside his knights.
That ogre had, of course, been reduced to the same bloody pulp by my hands — crushed from shin to skull — and the newly widowed lady had chosen, as the one to comfort her grief, not a knight but the adventurer who would soon be leaving town.
"Madame Zoe. A nostalgic name."
"Is it only the name you miss?"
The tip of a foot wrapped in pure white stockings wagged atop the chair. What had been hidden beneath the long hem of her robe was a pair of white stockings and a short skirt that bared her thighs. Every time those slender legs swung like a pendulum, the short skirt rustled and shifted, threatening to reveal what lay beneath.
Anyone could see it was a deliberate seduction.
"Did Madame Zoe tell you about me?"
At this point, the respect a free citizen was supposed to show a noble meant nothing. What I needed to show was the face of a man answering a woman who was inviting him. I took a single long stride toward the desk, and I saw those pale thighs twitch.
Just as I thought — she wasn't used to men. Playful and coquettish, yes, but compared to a truly mature woman she was still half-ripe. Set against the memory of Madame Zoe's massive breasts and sultry figure, she was closer to a high school girl who was good at teasing.
"Yes. I heard a great many stories. Tales of Sir Roland's exploits — not merely a giant hunter, but a giant slayer — and… stories of how that magnificent adventurer was equally magnificent in bed."
"My. So modern nobles cover that sort of thing in their etiquette lessons."
"If one is contemplating a political marriage, a light sexual education is simply part of a noble young lady's cultivation."
Her thighs kept twitching, but her voice remained composed. Charlotte's pleasant voice grew lower and stickier by degrees, drawing me in. As if bare thighs and a swinging leg weren't enough, she began undoing the buttons of her shirt one by one.
So after our first meeting, she'd gotten curious about who I was — the man who'd formed a party with Irene. If she'd heard everything from Madame Zoe, her attitude made a little more sense.
I was an adventurer, a man who stayed not in the capital but in the Adventurer's City. An adventurer with a wanderlust that sent him all over the kingdom on commissions. And the people who loved men like that most of all were the lonely noble ladies left behind in the capital.
A handsome adventurer who walked an honorable path without being a noble or a knight. Word of mouth said his stamina and virility matched his looks — and since he wasn't a noble, he wouldn't spread scandals through high society. The perfect partner for a little fire play.
"Madame Zoe told me, you know. How dreadful her husband — the man who took her virginity — had been on their wedding night. And how intoxicating the days she'd spent with Sir Roland had been. She may have been a little tipsy on wine, because she even said this."
"Said what…?"
"That if she were ever to lose her purity, having Sir Roland as her partner would be the most meaningful experience of her life."
The fully unbuttoned shirt was pushed aside by her modestly swelling breasts, falling open to either side. Pale breasts befitting a noble young lady, cupped in a pure white brassiere. White bra, white panties, white stockings. An outfit that carried the deliciously sinful feeling of leaving footprints across a pristine snowfield.
Charlotte, smeared with desire and curiosity, fixed me with eyes that had steeled themselves for what was coming. A bold attempt, considering all she'd heard was dirty talk from the widow who handled her education.
It was the same context that had earned her the title of 'Ambitious.'
"And what do you gain by going this far?"
"A life as Charlotte the mage — not as a Cavendish, noble daughter and political marriage candidate."
The fact that she answered my abrupt question without hesitation told me everything. The Adventurer's City was a political quagmire where nobles, the Temple, and the Guilds tangled in complicated knots. Rather than be sold off under her vain father's hand, she was resolved to walk the path of a mage.
She was more serious about adventuring than I'd expected.
"That doesn't mean I have no interest in you, of course. Dreaming of a dashing, righteous knight is a common thing for girls my age."
"If you heard Madame Zoe's stories, you already know — I've never turned away a woman who came to me."
"I heard. That in bed, contrary to your gentle manner, you show no mercy… But the expedition will be departing soon, so I trust you'll go a little easy on this virgin?"
At those words I vaulted straight over the desk and stood before Charlotte in her chair. I slipped a hand through the half-open shirt and lifted her clean off the seat. She let out a cute little shriek as she suddenly floated into the air.
No reaction from the maid outside — the soundproofing in this room must have been excellent. That was why she'd brought me here.
I turned, dropped heavily into the large chair myself, and settled her onto my lap. Startled by the sudden lift and drop, she naturally threw her arms around me. Still holding her, I began stripping off my light armor piece by piece, then my shirt — and her hands reached out to help me undress.
"Truly… what a magnificent body."
Soft fingertips trailed down over muscle as she let out a heated breath. A physique so solid it bordered on intimidating. In an age that worshiped individual martial prowess, was there any work of art more beautiful than this?
"Keep teasing me like that and I might forget all about the expedition."
"But what can I do? A fantasy that lived only in a corner of my mind is becoming reality."
Even after my warning she grinned, then leaned her head forward. Close enough that her breath tickled the tip of my nose and scattered. Soft pink hair brushed against my collarbone.
I couldn't help rising to that provocation. My hand came up and seized her slender nape. Her lips trembled as mine crashed over them, devouring. Like an invader storming the gates, the tip of my tongue tapped against her neat row of teeth.
Startled by the sudden kiss, her teeth parted slightly. Without any fear of being bitten, I thrust my tongue in roughly and explored every corner of her mouth. Even if she startled and bit down, not a single drop of blood would come from my tongue.
I coiled around her awkwardly frozen, trembling tongue, then slowly painted every surface — teeth, gums, the insides of her cheeks, the roof of her mouth — with the tip of my own. I kept going until Charlotte, her ragged breaths of excitement and fluster no longer enough, began to squirm for air.
"Hwaah— Y-you're rougher than I expected."
A man for the first time meant a kiss like this for the first time, of course. After thoroughly savoring her mouth I pulled my lips away, and the elegant young lady was left gasping, her hair mussed. Even so, the rough treatment seemed to please her — both cheeks were flushed red.
We didn't have much time, so before she could fully collect herself I reached out and swept the white brassiere aside. Not as full as Grace's, but prettily swollen breasts came into view. My lips moved toward that pale cleavage.
"Nnh, ahah— That tickles a little."
From the nape of her neck to under her chin, from under her chin to her cleavage. With the feeling of leaving footprints across a pure white snowfield, I sucked hard with wet sounds. Her skin was so pale that it flushed red almost immediately. Not hard enough to bruise, so it wouldn't leave a proper kiss mark.
She'd laughed at the ticklishness, but as the kisses repeated again and again, Charlotte's breathing grew rougher by degrees. Unlike the widow who knew men well, this was a pure white body that knew nothing of them. Warming her up little by little like this was a different kind of pleasure a man could enjoy.
After caressing her breasts over and over with hands and lips, her pink nipples began to harden. Leaving the rest of her chest alone, I gently chewed and suckled at those tips, and a weak hand came up to cradle the back of my head.
"—Nnh, haa…"
Before she'd been in my arms she'd been a confident noble daughter brimming with ambition. Now that she was nestled against me, the quiet she'd become was cute — no, lovely. Part of me wanted to keep kissing her for hours until she melted into a puddle… but factoring in cleanup time, we weren't exactly flush with hours.
Thinking that, I slid the hand that had been gently stroking her lower back further down. While I kept her dazed with soft bites to her breasts and nipples, I worked to strip away her skirt.
She clung to my neck with both arms the way a drowning person clings to a log, eyes squeezed shut. I gently lifted her thighs and tossed the obstructive skirt roughly toward the desk. A few documents got caught and fluttered to the floor, but Charlotte was past noticing such trivial things.
"Your hands… are hotter than I expected… It's so different from just hearing about it in stories."
"It'll feel several times better than that."
"That's a little frightening."
She smiled bashfully through her heated breaths. It was cute how she thrust her chest out as if she'd already gotten used to this, when we'd barely made any progress. Of course, that confident smile froze the moment she felt something dig firmly into her thigh.
I'd been holding a half-naked beauty in my arms and kissing her for minutes on end — of course the lower half would respond. My cock stood rigid, thrashing as if complaining about the cramped pants, and jabbed insistently into Charlotte's thigh as she sat astride my lap.
"Th-this is… a gentleman's…"
"That's right. My cock."
"Y-your manhood…"
"Cock."
"C-cock, then."
She swallowed hard with tension, then released my neck and reached both hands toward my waistband. With her hands gathered like that, her breasts were naturally pressed against her forearms and emphasized. Looking at those pale, modest breasts still marked red with lip prints, my cock twitched impatiently.
Good thing I'd only worn comfortable pants and greaves for a tenth-floor expedition. Whether she'd picked something up from the dirty talk disguised as sexual education, her hands hesitated but never stopped. A young lady's soft fingers undid my belt, pushed past pants and underwear, and found their way to my cock.
"This big thing… into a woman's private parts…"
"It's going into your pussy. Grab the shaft like you're holding a staff."
Into the ear of a girl who used such archaic words as "manhood" and "private parts," I poured crude, filthy language — cock, pussy. Her ear flushed red as she softly muttered "cock… cock…" to herself. No immunity to dirty talk, apparently.
Well, of course. A lightly tipsy noblewoman's dirty talk disguised as sexual education was the entirety of her sexual knowledge. No matter how drunk they'd been, widows born as nobles wouldn't have described my stories as "he rammed his cock into my pussy over and over."
"Does it feel good when I touch it like this…? Your… cock."
She'd at least heard enough to awkwardly wrap her hand around it. Her left hand cupped my balls while her right used the precum at the tip as lubricant, squeezing and stroking with wet sounds.
It wasn't skilled or pleasant enough to bring me to climax, but knowing it was a virgin's first handjob made my cock swell rock-hard. Startled by the shaft rising higher and higher, she grabbed it with both hands.
Getting excited from saying "cock" and "pussy" with her own mouth, her pure white panties were beginning to dampen — but Charlotte, flustered, just kept stroking the twitching cock as if soothing a wild animal.
"Is this… the right way?"
"That's right. Gently stroking it like that to get me worked up."
I slid my hand between her arms. The destination was, of course, the thin scrap of fabric that had already begun to lose its function as underwear. Before fingers that could tear through armor and monster hide, a thin piece of cloth could only be ripped away helplessly.
I tore the white scrap aside, revealing the pale mound of her pussy. The tightly closed folds were slowly leaking sticky honey without yet parting to show the flesh within.
"Nnh—!"
Perhaps she'd been too focused on the cock in her hands — Charlotte only realized her panties were gone a beat late, and drew in a deep breath. A cock with its head held high and proud, and a pussy soaked through from the ongoing caresses. What came next was nothing but the carnal act between man and woman that a drunken Madame Zoe had described again and again.
Even that pussy, sealed shut like a fortress gate, opened with a wet sound the moment the near-weapon of a glans pressed against it — offering no real resistance. The inner flesh was so hot I almost worried the tip would cook.
"Ah, ahaah… When they said hot… I didn't know it would be… this hot…"
I held that slender body in my arms and slowly, slowly pulled her down. Ignoring the sensation of something catching midway, I kept going until my cock was buried to the hilt. The heavy pressure against her belly made her breathe in short, broken gasps.
I patted her back as she clung to me, frightened by the unfamiliar sensation. No matter how much people said I showed no mercy in bed, that was only with widows who already knew men.
I savored the hot, convulsing grip of her inner walls around my shaft while holding her soft body close. I held her until those short, hiccupping gasps lengthened and settled into a slow, steady rhythm again.
At some point the half-removed shirt was soaked through with sweat, and her breasts — covered in teeth and lip marks — were crushed against my chest. A slender body trembling like a tiny bird in my arms. As I gently stroked her pink hair and soft lower back, a voice crawled up from against my chest.
"Um… Roland?"
"What is it?"
"I-in a position like this… how do I move?"
Apparently she'd overheard that a woman was supposed to move to please a man — Charlotte tried to gently rock her hips. But sitting on my lap with her legs wrapped around my waist, how exactly was she supposed to move?
The eagerness to test her knowledge once the pain of deflowering had passed was admirable… but the problem was how skewed that knowledge was. Bed and chair, missionary and cowgirl — every situation was different, yet tension had made her forget all of that and try to put half-heard knowledge into practice with her body. Hence this adorable little mistake.
"You don't need to move. Just try hard to endure."
"Endure? What do you me— nnh?!"
I gently lifted Charlotte in my arms, raised her slightly, then lowered her again — driving my cock into her.
It wasn't the full pull-out-and-thrust kind of motion, but even that was stimulation enough to draw hiccupping sounds from her. Every time the tip of my cock quickly, repeatedly prodded the entrance to her womb, cute little gasps spilled out.
Startled by a method different from the sex she'd heard about, she squirmed — but as I kept thrusting into her, she eventually chose to cling the way she had before. White stockings she still hadn't removed wrapped around my waist as she hung from my neck like a child.
I moved my hips again and again, thrusting into her, and when the urge to come surged I didn't hold it back — I painted her womb with my seed.
"N-nnh… A-are you satisfied?"
"If you want me satisfied, we'd have to watch the sunrise together tomorrow morning."
"……I'm sorry, but that seems impossible. If you don't tidy up soon, you won't make it to the expedition on time."
I was still patting Charlotte's trembling back, savoring the afterglow of climax, when a voice reached my ear. I turned my head slightly — and the maid who should have been standing guard at the door was already inside the room.
"Mary, I… that…"
"Yes, milady."
Without a hint of shame, Charlotte naturally spread her arms and bared her chest. As if tending to a child, the maid Mary lifted her clean off my lap. With a lewd wet sound, a mixture of love juices and semen dripped onto the floor.
"I'll handle the cleanup, so would Sir Roland mind stepping out for a moment?"
Even after witnessing that scene, she calmly gathered the belt and shirt I'd thrown aside and handed them to me. I took the clothes and stood. She maintained a blank expression, but the tips of her ears were flushed bright red — and I hastily stuffed my still-twitching cock back into my pants, not quite processing the situation.