Scratching the Itch
In a bedroom this size, there was no way to slip out without waking Vincent. Dragging the blanket around my shoulders, I made a slow circuit of the room and found water sitting in what looked like a porcelain basin. There wasn't much of it — nowhere near enough to wash with — so in the end I soaked the blanket I was wrapped in and settled for wiping away the fluids and their smell, dried and crusted onto my skin, as best I could. Even that much left me feeling fresher than I'd expected.
Now for the important part.
I had to get Vincent's semen out of my belly, where it had been sloshing around since earlier. Even by my own judgment, this was a situation that could only be called pregnant. If the Covenant's precepts really had forced ovulation on me as a penalty, then judging by the sheer volume of seed packed into my womb, the only reasonable conclusion was that Vincent had well and truly gotten me with child.
But there was no way to know for certain. Wasn't pregnancy supposed to be nowhere near that easy? Which meant it was far more likely that Vincent had simply pinned me down whenever I tried to push his seed out, driven me until I fainted, and left it stored in my belly for half a day. Better late than never — I had to get it out now.
But a great obstacle was waiting for me. Merely wiping my groin with the water-dampened silk of the blanket had nearly knocked me out with pleasure. I was terrified Vincent would wake at the moans spilling out of me unbidden. If he caught me like this, I might bite my tongue from sheer shame — or the penalty might send me into heat all over again.
I clamped the edge of the blanket between my teeth to smother my moans at the source, gripped the soaked portion with trembling hands, and settled into position. Lying on the floor with my legs spread, I brought my hand — blanket wadded between my fingers — to my entrance. I parted my folds to expose the hole of flesh within, and semen, thinned pale as water, dribbled out. Wetting my fingers, I pushed them into the opening that kept spitting up his seed.
"Mmph! Hnngh!"
At the mere intrusion of my fingers, my walls flinched — walls left exquisitely sensitive by that cock, veins bulging and ridged from ravaging me all night, by the crown of its glans. Congested with blood, they grew hotter with every brush of my fingertips. I had to finish this quickly. At this rate I would climax before I'd scraped out even half the milky fluid inside me. I slipped in a second finger and dragged out even the clotted globs that had been drifting in my depths.
Before long the semen trickling from my entrance was running down my perineum, past my anus, dripping to the floor and pooling there in a sticky mess. To think it had kept that viscosity for hours, even inside the mildly acidic environment of my channel. Perhaps even Vincent's seed was beyond all standards.
"Hahk! Nngk!"
With the silk blanket still in my teeth, I managed to scrape out roughly what had been lingering in my channel — but what to do about the semen packed into my womb, I had no idea. True, I was wiping down my inner walls with blanket wound around my fingers, but sooner or later I would have to deal with that mass of baby batter sitting in my womb. How on earth was I supposed to open a womb seated at a depth my fingers couldn't even reach, and drain out the milky fluid filling it? Come to think of it — if I used Vincent's massive pillar, the way rubbing it against my cervix had forced it open as though he were pouring straight inside, couldn't it work in reverse? Open the mouth of my womb and make it spit the contents back out?
What kind of nonsense am I spouting...
Perhaps I had already become a female in truth — there I was, picturing Vincent's magnificent cock on the flimsiest of pretexts. Get a grip. I had lost my virginity to rape just yesterday. Vincent had taken my maidenhood by force and then, sanity gone, devoured my body. Any sane person would have been justified in trembling with fury. Above all, toward Vincent — who had so humiliatingly forced from me a declaration of femaleness, just as my mother once had — hatred should have come long before anything resembling fondness.
Yet, unnaturally, I could not bring myself to hate or despise him. Was it because he was a child I had raised from his earliest years?
Just as my hand stilled and I sank into those thoughts, a voice I should never have heard reached my ears.
"Adela?"
I froze solid with shock. Vincent's hand groped at the empty spot where I'd been lying; at last he opened his eyes, swept the room with his gaze — and met mine.
"Ah...!"
The blanket in my teeth slid to the floor with a soft hiss. Nothing remained to hide me from Vincent's sight. He had caught me sprawled on the floor, legs spread, sex bared, fingers stirring my own depths. Shame sent the room spinning before my eyes; heat flooded my face.
Vincent gazed in silence at my disgrace — then flashed a grin, rose, and came toward me.
"What, wasn't that enough for you? You should've said so."
"N-no! It's not that! Don't come any closer!!"
"Not that, is it? Sprawled out looking like that, and you claim you're not trying to seduce me into fucking you?"
"I was only trying to wipe the semen out! Stay back, you rapist!"
I twisted away to flee, but the instant my eyes left him, Vincent was already at my side; he seized my M-splayed legs and pinned me in place.
"Ahh, so that's how it is? I tell you to call me Seobang-nim and you call me a rapist instead — you swear you'll get pregnant, then try to scrape my seed out behind my back?"
"Let go of me, Vincent. Stop this. How can you do this to me?!"
Vincent pressed his throbbing cock against my entrance and rubbed. It was violently thick and long, ridged to the point of brutality, and hot enough to scald. Already my body was betraying my mind, weeping its nectar in the hope that this massive thing would please, please not hurt it.
"You couldn't wipe all the way up into your womb, could you?"
Avoiding his eyes — Vincent was drinking in even my breath, sweet and deep, as though to swallow it whole — I could not answer. The memory of how his cock had left me raw and sensitive sealed my lips.
"Answer me."
Pressed down by his ferocious presence as he asked again, granting no mercy, I answered in a tiny voice.
"I... couldn't..."
Looking pleased with my answer, Vincent lifted his head and gazed down at me. That look made my whole body shiver. It was a sticky gaze, as though he were tasting me with his eyes alone. His stare, which had been sliding over my body like oil, finally came to rest — fixed on my groin. On the part of me soaked glistening by the seed that had trickled out.
"Still, you did try. That deserves punishment, don't you think?"
That was exactly why I'd tried to finish without waking him — I'd known he would seize on this as a pretext to ravish me all over again...
"What kind of punishment would you like?"
"No. Stop this. I've done nothing to deserve being treated this way by you."
Whether he even heard me or not, Vincent scooped me up into his arms and headed for the bed.
"Don't, Vincent. Don't make me hate you."
With me held in his lap atop the bed, Vincent began to copulate face-to-face — no, to mate.
"Nngh! Take it out, you bastard! Aahh!"
Different from yesterday — though I struggled to take him — my channel accepted Vincent as though welcoming its master home, bitter pain mingling with the lewd squelch of my juices.
"Ahh, nngh! No! I said no!!"
To think I was rocking my hips to his thrusts in Vincent's embrace — it felt as though my heart were being torn apart. And as I was forced to sway to his self-serving rhythm, Vincent caressed me everywhere, stoking my pleasure higher and higher. He stroked down my spine, planted kiss-marks along my throat, tormented my breasts and nipples until I could no longer think straight. My body began responding on its own, heat climbing, until at last moans pickled in pleasure rather than pain spilled from my own lips.
"Haahng! Vincenthhhh! Nngh! Mmph!"
When Vincent kissed me, I didn't even have the strength left to turn away. And the moment my body went slack and surrendered wholly to him, Vincent revealed his sinister intent. He wet his fingers with the juices and fluids trickling down me, stroked my rear, then slid them down along the cleft of my backside.
"Nnghk! Not there—?! No, not there, Vincent! Seobang-nim! Not there, please!"
I was begging him, calling him Seobang-nim of all things. Vincent's finger smeared my overflowing juices around my anus and teased at the puckered ring.
"Don't! Nngh, please don't! I'll do it the front way! Please, let me do it the front way! Haahng!!"
"As punishment, we're doing here today, too. Crying won't save you."
Vincent's finger began prying my anus open and pushing inside.
"Let's take enough of my seed here to get you pregnant too, Adela."
"Nnnnngh! You can't get pregnant from there! It won't work!"
"Shall we find out whether it does?"
Knowing full well that it couldn't, Vincent probed this way and that with the finger buried in my ass. It felt strange. Of course it would — he was stabbing in reverse at organs that had only ever flowed one way. But separately from that, when he rubbed one particular spot, pleasure came climbing up my spine just as if he were scraping that special place inside my pussy. Judging by the sensation, it was my Skene's gland — seated behind that spot, connected through the passage leading to my anus — the part of a woman that corresponds to a man's prostate.
And on top of that, with the finger plunging in and out of my rear "massaging" that spot, my body twisted beyond my will under the double pleasure — tripled by the monstrous cock piercing my channel, pressing against my womb, setting off every pleasure point inside me. With my body slipped from my control, all I could do was scream.
"Aaaahh! Vincent, nngh! Something's wrong with me! Hyaaahh! Aaaaahhh!"
"Nngh — Adela, I love you! Bear my child!"
Kissing me, drinking in the sight of me as I came apart at the peak, Vincent too spat his semen deep into my womb.