Euphemia El Lorraine Ruerug
"Are you simply going to watch?"
"D-don't rush me..."
Still bent over him, Euphemia had drawn Perzen's waistband down and was carefully fondling the sex that had not yet risen. At the sound of his voice she put on a needless little sulk and lowered her head.
The smell...
Unlike before, something faintly stale pricked the tip of her nose. Was it only because he had just woken? This was hardly the moment to fuss over such things. Euphemia parted her small mouth and took him in, soft and careful.
He was neither large nor hard yet. Limp, he rolled this way and that over her tongue, and the lack of presence in it gave her a small, mean flicker of superiority. It lasted only a moment. Forcing a rationalization out of something so petty, and feeling superior for it, struck her as more pathetic still. The truth was that she could not manage so much as a word. Her face was buried obediently between his legs while she licked him.
"Hn—mmph...!"
Worse, he was slowly hardening, slowly growing. He rode the roof of her mouth until he brushed the back of her throat, and Euphemia fought down the gag rising in her and squeezed both eyes shut.
He's big...
Her jaw began to ache. She endured it all the same, parted her lips just long enough to let the air out, and moved her head in a slow rhythm. Every step of that sequence was something Perzen had taught her, and the knowledge left her with a strange feeling. She did not want to lick him and make those vulgar sounds, the way she had then.
There was a soft rustle. Perzen's large hand gathered the hair spilling to one side, set it neatly, and stroked down the back of her head. It felt like praise, as if he were telling her she was doing well, and for a moment Euphemia shook her head.
"Kgh...! Mmph!"
In that same instant he pressed the back of her head and drove himself fairly deep. Tears sprang to her eyes, and still she did not dare refuse his hand.
It hurts...
A little time passed. When the ache in her jaw grew sharp, Euphemia quietly drew her head back.
"Nnh, haa..."
Fortunately the hand resting there did not stop her. She let the throbbing length slip from her small mouth, steadied her breath, and swallowed the saliva pooled inside.
"D-don't..."
Even in that brief rest he made her station plain, tapping her cheek with his erect sex. Euphemia looked up at him with as much displeasure as she dared to show.
He pressed harder.
"I said don't..."
Of course it was never going to take. Firmly risen, he kept striking and prodding her cheek, as if ordering her to lower that insolently lifted gaze at once, and shame and humiliation filled her to the brim. Something that was not semen—only a dew beading at the tip—smeared her face in the process, and all Euphemia could do was sigh at what she must look like now.
At last her expression gave in. She dropped her eyes the way a dog lowers its tail, and the throbbing length pressed gently against her lips.
"Haah..."
Euphemia opened her mouth as if it were the natural thing, and carefully took him in.
If someone saw her now, what would they condemn her as? Prostrate like a dog before its master, her face buried between his legs, his sex held in her mouth—they would not see a lady. They would see the conduct of a vulgar female. Perhaps worse than a dog. A dog licks its master's instep. She was licking a man's sex. Sucking it.
"Nnh..."
She rocked her head through that self-loathing for a while, until Perzen let out a low groan and pressed down on the back of her head. It was no different from the sign that he meant to finish. Euphemia stopped. She drew her lips in a little and teased only the head with the tip of her tongue. It grieved her deeply, how naturally she was learning a skill she had never wanted to know. Then semen began to fill her mouth, and she had no room left to soothe that grief before her face twisted.
Bitter...
The taste was bad enough. Worse was the peculiar feel of it, thick and clinging. She hated that terribly.
Soon Perzen tapped the back of her head. With a soft, wet pull, Euphemia—still taking his climax in her mouth—sucked out what had not yet come, just as she had been taught, and raised the body she had kept bowed. He would not have let her spit it out in any case. She shut her eyes tight and swallowed, all at once, the semen pooled in her mouth and mixed with her own saliva.
"Cough—cough—!"
It slid, sticky, down her throat and into her stomach, and Euphemia coughed and coughed. Even so, the thought that this might at last be the end kindled a faint joy in her. She quietly wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and looked at Perzen.
"Ah..."
He had not gone down. His sex still throbbed, hard and fierce.
"I-I don't—!"
Perzen's large hand caught her ankle. So she would not be dragged, Euphemia grabbed at the sheet in a panic, but there was not the slightest resistance in it. She was hauled along and gathered into his arms as if shut inside them.
"The notion that a mage has no stamina is an ill prejudice, Euphemia."
"Haahk!"
Breathing hot against her ear, he slipped a hand beneath the hem of her skirt, drew her white panties aside, and gently stroked her sex.
"Are you wet because you have sweated so, or if not..."
"I-I don't know... I don't..."
He let the question trail, asking it sideways, but either answer was a shameful choice she could not affirm. Euphemia refused to give one.
"Very well. We shall leave it at that."
With a faint smile, Perzen sat her sideways, braced her waist with one hand, and made her spread her legs. Then he drew the white panties down to her ankles and swept his palm over the slit she held tightly closed.
She flinched. Euphemia trembled at the touch, but she was biting her lip hard, and not a moan escaped. To him it looked like resolve: a settled will not to cry out a single note meant for his pleasure.
"Euphemia... spread it yourself."
He whispered it at her ear, thoroughly wicked.
"I-I am spreading them..."
His meaning had not reached her. Perzen patted her sex with his palm and set the words against her, plain and close.
"With your own hands. I mean for you to part this place yourself."
"I-I can't...!"
The moment she understood, Euphemia shook her head hard in his arms.
"I have no need of an answer that you cannot. What matters is that you must. I shall not say it twice."
The hand that had rested at her sex moved a little higher and came to lie on her lower belly, where her womb was. Euphemia looked up at him once, her face crumpling toward tears, then reached out a shaking hand toward herself.
"Well done."
She spread herself open, left and right.
"Nnh...!"
The shame was too much. Euphemia turned her head, unable to take the sight in, but Perzen would not permit it. He caught her chin and made her look down.
"Nn...!"
"A pretty color."
His fingers stroked gently around the inner flesh, flushed a soft pink, and he made her watch, nakedly, as her own sex was toyed with. A sticky sound followed. A moment later her slick began to cling to the fingers that had been stroking her and to draw out in strings, and though Perzen had said nothing at all, Euphemia shook her head.
"So there was some worth in feeding you, steadily, the foods that aid conception."
It was far more viscous than the last time. He drew his hand away and rubbed index finger against thumb before her eyes.
"Put it away..."
With the same two hands that had been holding herself open, Euphemia caught his thick forearm and tried to drag it down. As expected, it was hopeless. Perzen only swung his feet outward, perched on the edge of the bed, and drew his arm in—and she, still holding on, was pulled along without resistance.
"Sit properly."
She lay draped awkwardly across his knees, like a child collapsed there to be scolded with a smack across the backside. His throbbing sex prodded her belly.
"Euphemia."
"I know..."
Having come this far, the end was as good as decided. Even so, she moved as slowly as she could and settled astride his lap.
Smack!
"Haahk!"
"Not that way. Face me."
The small rebellion had barely formed before he struck her backside and told her she had sat the wrong way. Euphemia pressed her lips tight, turned, and sat facing him.
"Wh-why..."
They were face to face, and still his left hand reached a little far. Thinking he meant to strike her again, she hunched in on herself and asked.
"Lift your hips a little."
She did not want to. She did not—but she set both hands on his shoulders, bent the legs she had stretched out so neatly, shifted into a squat, and raised her hips a fraction.
"Well done."
"Nnng..."
Not her head. Perzen stroked the backside she had, without meaning to, thrust back in an indecent curve, and laid a faint kiss upon her nape.
"Now sit, and take it in yourself."
"Do I really have to go this far...?"
"I believe I was plain. What you need is not to refuse, nor to doubt. It is to do what must be done."
He caught the right hand resting on his shoulder and, kindly, closed it around himself.
"Sit."
He murmured it the way a master commands a dog he keeps, a pressure strangely difficult to refuse woven through the calm. After an anguish that was short and yet felt long, Euphemia brought the head of him to her own entrance and gently lowered her hips.
A wet press, and a catch.
"Hk...!"
Soaked in thick nectar, her sex announced his inward progress with a particularly vulgar sound.
"Nn, hnnk!"
She shook. When he had filled perhaps half of her, the legs she was squatting on trembled of their own accord, like aspens. Perzen was the only man she had ever lain with, and not many times at that, and now, after so long, he was being driven into her. The discomfort was bad enough. She feared that if she lowered her waist any further she would be pierced clean through, and so she stopped where she was.
"Ah...!"
Then his hands caught those squatting legs and yanked them wide. She dropped. In an instant Euphemia was seated to the hilt, and the head of him struck roughly at the mouth of her womb. Her whole body shuddered, and she screamed without a sound. A sudden knock there ought to have brought pain, and nothing of pleasure; yet for some reason her head went white with it, and she spilled still more nectar, thick and slow.
His palm slid down her back. Gripping her waist, he stabbed once more, deep, into that same place.
"Hnn...! Nng! Kyaa—!"
Her stopped breath broke open. Euphemia cried out something close to a scream and clutched his nape tight. His hands had gone only to her waist; if she did not hold on, her body would tip backward, so the embrace was only natural. What was not natural was how she strained to pull her hips as far back as they would go. It was too unfamiliar, and too frightening. If there were a torture worked by pleasure instead of pain, she thought, it must be this—her upper body folding forward while her lower body tried to flee.
But he had her waist fast.
A wet slap.
"Aahng!"
Drawing her hips back that way meant nothing at all.
"Rather indecent, is it not, Euphemia. The maids are waiting outside. Do you mean for them to know, in every particular, the manner in which you are being held?"
"Hik...! Aahng!"
It felt good, and it confused her. His soft, coaxing words drove straight into that muddle. Clinging by force to what reason she had left, Euphemia wrapped her convulsing legs around his waist and drove him deep herself.
"Kkh, hk...!"
The head pressed the mouth of her womb as if to crush it, gently, and for an instant a sharp thrill raced up her spine and threatened to drive her mad. If she clung like this, she thought, perhaps he would be unable to move. She did her utmost and latched onto him, binding him the way an infant does.
"Ah..."
It could not seal him completely. Rather, stuck fast against the mouth of her womb, he moved slowly, as if kissing her there, and the stimulation made her shoulders jump. She sobbed, and at last she broke into tears. For Euphemia, it was the first time in her life she had been taken so—at the very mouth of the womb.
"Hahk...!"
Pride or face, neither could be kept. The dizzy sensation shivering up out of her lower belly was too much. She buried her face in his nape and tried, desperately, to force it down.
It surged.
"Nn, haah... aaah..."
Hot. With no warning at all his climax began, and thick semen poured into her as if he were voiding it there, undoing every effort she had spent forcing herself calm. Right after, something clear and without any smell—not urine—trickled from where they were joined. Then, with a wet pop, he was drawn out of her by force. The strength left Euphemia's whole body, and she collapsed into his arms.
Perzen laid her, still faintly trembling, gently upon the bed, looked at the badly stained floor, and clicked his tongue.
"This... I shall truly have to punish you."
"Hnnk!"
She gushed again. From his side it had been only a word spoken without thinking, yet Euphemia, who had somehow heard it, reflexively parted herself and expelled thick semen together with the clear fluid.
"...Was it that good."
No such sight existed even in Lee Seojin's memories. Perzen spoke with a genuinely sour look on his face, but to Euphemia, disordered past all disorder, it sounded like nothing but mockery. She answered in a voice half given over to spite.
"It w-wasn't... good."
He said nothing.
"Yours was... t-too small..."
She had only wanted, somehow, to scratch his pride once. The line came out of pure stubbornness.
The bed creaked.
"Ah...!"
Euphemia regretted it at once, for Perzen came to her and forced open the legs she held clamped tight.
"I-I don't want..."
"It is quite all right. If my wife is so much a block of wood that she cannot even judge the size of what has gone in and out of her so many times—yes. Then a husband ought, by rights, to endeavor all the more."
Her clothes were undone. His face buried itself in the sweat-beaded cleft of her breasts, and he came into her where the afterglow had not yet faded, stirring her open.
"Hnnk...!"
The feel of him. The frame groaned. The bed rocked more roughly than it ever had.
The two maids waiting outside the door looked at each other without a word, their faces red. However far past forty they were, a woman's pleasure-soaked cries going on for nearly two hours were, even to them, unbearably indecent.
My, my... so they've finished at last.
The cries had sunk into a silence awkward in its stillness. The two maids understood that their time had come, and composed their faces.
A clear chime. Sure enough, the bell. They knocked for form's sake and stepped into the bedchamber.
He seemed to have aired the room in his own fashion before summoning them, yet the naked smell of what had been done there still hung thick enough to embarrass.
"Change the sheets, and wipe the stains from the floor. Before that, wash Euphemia clean."
Sweat had plastered her hair thick against her nape. Her eyes were half unfocused. Aside from that, he had dressed her again, so she did not look as if she might break. When the maids drew near, Euphemia did bring her gaze properly to them. She was only steeped in a deep fatigue, her spirit gone from how thoroughly she had been used.
"My lady, take my arm."
She was blank, like someone who, told to leap from the window this instant, would hear the order and obey it at once. Euphemia took their arms, leaned into them, and walked slowly toward the bath.
"Ah..."
Halfway down the corridor, a drop fell. At the feel of thick semen sliding along her thigh and striking the floor, Euphemia felt her fled wits returning, and in extreme shame she clamped her legs tight.
"It is quite all right."
As if it were nothing to mind, a maid bent and wiped what had run down clean with a handkerchief. How much—how much had he spent inside her? Her stamina had failed partway through. There had been no room even to moan. She had lain sprawled like a doll with only her legs spread, and merely received his lust.
Ah...
Between her clamped thighs it kept flowing, past her underclothes, and left an obscene stain even on the hem of her skirt.
"D-don't look..."
When they reached the bath at last and the maids undressed her, the semen stuck inside the dress stretched like cheese. Euphemia covered her face with both hands, tearful. Even inside that shock of shame, she knew what resistance was still left to her. While they attended her in the bath, she scraped out with her own hand the semen packed inside her that refused to come free.
"Nnh..."
Of course, even then. A faint afterglow of pleasure still lingered, and in the touch of her own fingers scraping it out Euphemia felt a slight pleasure—and fell, again, into self-loathing.