My Mother Had Become a Female in Heat (1)
After I became Ma Cheonseong's disciple, Ma Cheonseong — no, my Master — set about controlling me with utter thoroughness.
Once we set out traveling again by carriage, he forced upon me a brutal regimen he called sparring, an ordeal disguised as training. The moment each "sparring session" — really a form of torture — ended, he had me rest the body and then drill the mental cultivation methods, after which he fed me various medicines, made me meditate, and honed my breathing techniques and qi arts.
It was, quite literally, a schedule with no room to breathe. By the time each brutally intense training block ended, I was so worn out I could only collapse; after washing and eating, drowsiness would come creeping over me in waves.
Days of this repetition passed, and eventually we spent more time parking the carriage in some quiet spot to train me than actually riding anywhere. A wandering, drawn-out itinerary wears a person down by nature, but my Master ground me through it without the slightest concern.
I thought that once my stamina built up, it might ease a little — but the cursed madman only piled on more the stronger I got. He was clearly not human.
Mother, who had watched me with worried eyes when I entered his service, now merely told me to be careful not to get hurt, and began looking at me with pride for enduring the training so admirably.
Since then I saw no strange undercurrents between my Master and Mother, and my worry did ease somewhat — but as he himself had said, he had come for her from the very beginning, so I never forgot that he could extend that black demonic hand at any moment.
It happened on a day I was learning footwork from my Master. The man in black combat robes who drove our carriage was prostrating himself before my Master, offering an apology. He was the one who called me "young master," and he introduced himself as Mu-young.
He had the easy air of the uncle next door, and I liked him — so seeing him groveling before my Master made me a little uncomfortable.
"I was careless, and failed to prepare adequately. Please, take my life."
"How could that be your fault?"
"Master, what's happened?"
"It seems the provisions we bought in the last village have run out."
"The provisions? Then we'll simply have to cut back on our meals for a while."
"I beg your forgiveness, young master. Please, take my life."
This time, as he bowed his head toward me in apology, I caught him and stopped him.
"No, sir. You budgeted carefully — it was my training that kept stopping the carriage so often, so this is partly my fault too. Please, raise your head."
Watching me refuse Mu-young's apology with a faintly pleased expression, my Master began to ponder.
"Hmm, now what. Seyoung needs to keep training, which means a steady intake of meat, but the distance back to the last village — or on to the next — is awkward."
"Cult Leader, allow me to go back and purchase more."
"No need — that would take far too long."
After a moment's thought, my Master's face brightened as if struck by an amusing idea, and he offered an alternative.
"Then how about we forage locally?"
"Forage... locally, you say?"
"Indeed. Fortunately the forest nearby is thick and deep — surely there's something to be found. That way we needn't spend days returning to buy meat and days more coming back."
"But wild game carries a strong smell. Will that be acceptable?"
"Leave the matter of smell to me — I'll handle it. As it happens, we have spices to spare."
"Madam, how could I possibly impose upon you?"
"I lived in the mountains and learned all manner of things. Leave it to me."
Only after receiving my Master's permission did Mu-young begin preparing to go hunting.
"Seyoung, you go along as well."
My Master ordered me to accompany him.
"Me too?"
"Most of that meat is for you, is it not? See to this, and I'll excuse today's stamina training."
"Then if you came too, Master, it would go even fast—"
"And who would guard my wife then? Less chatter. Off you go."
"Yes, Master."
Truthfully, I had my own hang-ups about the meat situation, so going along put my mind at ease. I wanted to hurry back and taste Mother's cooking again after so long.
Not long after Mu-young and Seyoung left to hunt, Yuhwa set a pot over the hearth Mu-young had built and was preparing the ingredients to go with it.
"Madam. A word, if you would."
Ma Cheonseong called Cheon Yuhwa to a halt.
"Yes. Speak."
Cheon Yuhwa stopped her hands and looked at him.
"Perhaps you might step inside the carriage for a moment. It is a matter of some importance."
At those words, Cheon Yuhwa's body began to heat all over again.
For the several days since leaving the inn, Ma Cheonseong had kept Seyoung grinding through training, and had not entered Cheon Yuhwa even once during the daylight hours. But when night fell and the exhausted Seyoung finally slept, Ma Cheonseong would seize on the absurd pretext that Seyoung had "given permission," and ravage her body.
Even when she begged him to stop as he savored the feel of her through her clothes here and there — warning that Seyoung might wake — he only took that fear and made it a weapon, deliberately teasing her most sensitive places as though intent on swallowing her whole.
Her body burning, afraid a sound might escape her, she would bite her lip, bite her fingers, hold her silence — and then the peak would come for her. But he never let her cross it easily.
With a demon's instinct he sensed the exact moment she approached climax, stopped, and drifted off to sleep as if nothing had happened — again and again. A climax stunted by petty pleasure did little to relieve the ache.
A body stoked over days had reached the point where even ordinary daytime life was a struggle. And Ma Cheonseong, feigning ignorance, would casually flick at her sensitive spots.
She was going mad. To be tormented like this. Her mind was leaking away. Merely standing near him made her brain begin to melt.
She tried to deal with it herself, but her body seemed to remember the taste of his hands and refused to grant her release. It was as if the body that had gone unsatisfied since the inn were protesting to her — surrender to him. Spread your legs for him.
No. Cheon Yuhwa was Seyoung's mother. If she yielded to this man's hands now, then when real danger from Ma Cheonseong came for Seyoung, she would be unable to stand against him.
She had to say it now, while she could. Cheon Yuhwa was Seyoung's mother. To protect her child, she had to cast off this shackle of pleasure.
Following him into the carriage, Yuhwa met Cheonseong's eyes and began to state what she wanted.
"Husband. Please stop this now."
"Stop what, exactly?"
That smirking face irritated her for no reason at all.
"I am telling you to cease these games you play with my body, day and night alike."
"And what have I done?"
"You... you have toyed with every part of my body, have you not."
"Oh, that? Understand me, madam. It has been fifteen years since I last had a partner at night. I grow anxious if I'm not touching something — lonely, you see."
Ma Cheonseong approached her slowly and met her eyes.
"Has it ever left you so aroused you could not sleep?"
"That... has not happened."
"And now? Are you not aroused now? We promised Seyoung that when we meet each other's eyes, we speak truth without hiding it. Confess."
Ma Cheonseong, slipping slyly back into that old manner of address, teased her even as his hand closed over her breast...
"Take your hand off me. I am not aroused!"
Cheonseong caught the peach fragrance beginning to rise from Yuhwa's body, confirmed her arousal — and drank the scent in deeply.
"Yuhwa. The scent of your arousal is, with me here, an aphrodisiac in itself. And still you thought you could hide it from me and lie?"
His member, pressed tight against her, began to make its presence known against her mound through the cloth, radiating a savage heat. He too had been holding back for days, and it showed — wound tight and aching.
"I-I am not lying!"
"Then I shall have to seal that lying mouth."
His hand took her jaw and turned her face toward him, and as his tongue slipped into her mouth and began tracing her teeth, Yuhwa clamped her lips shut to bar the intrusion.
"Tsk. Such needless tantrums."
As though her refusal to open her mouth were endearing, Cheonseong's hands — the ones stroking her body — split their attention, one toward her breast, the other toward the mound between her legs.
"Ah! No— mmph—!"
Hold still, Yuhwa. You know what happens if you bite. There'll be a family council.
Cheonseong, busy ravishing his lovely woman's mouth, issued the command through transmitted thought. Truly, it was nothing if not wasteful.
Judging that the strength in her arms, backed by her internal energy, could no longer push him away, she tried instead to strike his cheek and stop him. But as if he had known, Cheonseong caught her wrist, gathered both her hands together, pinned them in one grip, and fixed them above her head.
The tongue that had been violating her mouth withdrew; his lips drew away.
"Puha— hah. Stop this. I am not aroused."
"Lying again."
"I am not lying!"
"Is that so? Then I shall have to relieve my own needs."
"What is that supposed to—?"
Ma Cheonseong drew out his member, now so swollen with arousal it throbbed. Perhaps sensing its moment had come, it had flushed past red to a bursting, quivering swell, faintly trembling. The surface, hard and corded with veins, could only be called savage.
"Not inside. Anything but inside. Please, show me mercy."
Somehow she had ended up begging him.
"Then today we'll try this way instead."
Ma Cheonseong turned her around, hiked up her skirt, and stripped away her undergarment.
"I said not inside—!!"
"Today I'll refrain from taking you inside, so present your rear here."
At Cheonseong's calm demand — phrased as though sparing her were an act of grace — Yuhwa could only bite her lip in silence and do as she was told.
The hot crown began to rub against the entrance of her most precious place. As it pried at the clenched opening and smeared the nectar dripping from her along the whole length of him, an anxiety swept through Yuhwa — would he truly keep his word?
When the shaft had been rubbed thoroughly against her slit until it was drenched, Cheonseong gave her his next instruction.
"Squeeze your thighs together."
"What?"
"Squeeze."
Pressing her knees and thighs together left a small hollow of flesh between her pelvis and thighs, and through it his member jutted out — as though the manhood had grown from her own body. Struck by the strangeness of it, Yuhwa asked him:
"What are you trying to do...?"
Cheonseong frowned at how much of his shaft stuck out past her, then continued his commands.
"Wrap your hand around the part sticking out. Don't grip — just hold it."
"Yes..."
Cheonseong exhaled at the warm sheath of her hands around him, then drew her body into his embrace from behind and set both hands on her nipples.
Yuhwa flinched slightly at being suddenly embraced from behind, and began to tremble at the sensation of her folds pressed under the hot column of flesh. From that point, Cheonseong began slowly moving his hips.
As if he were inside her.
But this was not penetration. The shaft stayed firmly outside, grinding back and forth against her bud.
"Haah— ngh?!"
"Don't let go."
Startled by his quickening movements, Yuhwa tried to pull her hands away — but at his uncanny command she could not move a muscle, and had no choice but to keep offering her body. Cheonseong buried his nose in the silk of her falling hair, drinking in her scent.
Yuhwa felt only degradation and shame, as though she had become a mere tool for venting his lust — and yet the stimulation of his shaft against her slit and bud sent the desire that had already been overflowing surging again, until she could not think straight.
"Stop, stop...!"
"Haah. You drive me mad, Yuhwa."
Nose and mouth pressed to the nape of her neck, drinking her in as though she were a meal, he drove his hips harder still — a full half-hour past the point any meal would have ended — until Yuhwa could barely remain standing.
"Ahh—! Please, stop. Stop!"
And just as she reached her peak, he stopped at precisely the right moment and reined himself in — and the desire denied release wrung a sob from her.
Savoring her whimpers pleasantly, Ma Cheonseong never stopped tormenting her nipples — then abruptly thrust his hips deep and spent himself into her hands wrapped around the crown.
Such a volume of seed burst forth that even both hands could not contain it, filling her palms with its force.
The smell, the thickness... it's so potent...
The seed filling her hands was thick past bearing, clumping like konjac jelly with its viscosity — so dense it did not even run off her fingers. Dizzy from the overpowering scent of night flowers, Yuhwa sank down as though vertigo had taken her, staring at the jelly-like mass before her eyes.
"If we don't get rid of the smell, it will be awkward when Seyoung sees."
Ma Cheonseong opened the carriage window, and the breeze from outside wafted over the seed smeared across her body.
The smell is too strong, I can't think. I have to wipe this off my hands, quickly—
Having opened the window, Ma Cheonseong looked at her state and asked, unable to resist:
"Hwa-ya. Is my seed that delicious?"
She had been about to glare at him — what nonsense was that — when she realized, with a shock that jolted her awake, that at some point she had swallowed the seed in her hands and was licking her palms clean with her tongue.
"No, this— I, that's not—!"
Certain she had gone mad, she stared at her hands, wondering how she could have swallowed such a quantity — but the seed that had filled them was already gone somewhere, and only the thick scent of night flowers on her breath marked where it had went.
"Hwa-ya. I intended to end things at this much. Why do you keep provoking me?"
"That's not it, I—!"
"Clean it."
Ma Cheonseong presented his member, still slick with seed and nectar, to Cheon Yuhwa. As though she owed it a duty.
Cheon Yuhwa meant to refuse — but already, drawn by that maddening scent, her lips were pressing against the crown.
Why can't I refuse?
He kept asking her to betray Seyoung. She knew she must refuse, and yet she did whatever he asked.
Cheon Yuhwa felt a wave of depravity at her own acts — failing to protect herself as a mother, betraying her son again and again as a female in heat. She had already ended things with him. She had to protect her son. And yet the female inside her screamed in her skull:
Surrender to him. Spread your legs for him. Please him. Take his seed.
With the carriage door opened for air, the space was already half outdoors. Holding his flesh in her mouth here, it felt almost like union with nature itself — a sense of liberation.
As she cleaned him, his member regained its vigor before she knew it, and the act resumed. Yuhwa found herself naturally taking his desire into her mouth as he wished, while inside her, a primal urge that trampled her reason ruled her — throw off the chains of reason that cage your desire, abandon your place as a mother, cast aside all thought of your son.
Her trampled reason murmured quietly: you must not. But soon even that reason was eroded by the pleasure Ma Cheonseong controlled.
Ah— ah, I mustn't, not this—
"Mother?"
Outside the carriage, her son — the shackle that held her pleasure, the child who could not save her — was calling for her.
"Back already?"
But Ma Cheonseong had no intention of stopping. He seized Cheon Yuhwa's head and drove his member deep into her throat, beginning to spend himself.
"Mother? Where are you?"
Under any ordinary circumstances she would have stopped him and gone to her child. But the melted remains of Cheon Yuhwa's reason — eroded by sexual torment and training since the day they first met — could no longer govern her. She tried to ride out the crisis the only way left: tightening the flesh of her mouth around his shaft, hastening his release.
Ah— please, finish quickly. He's looking for me.
"Swallow it all..."
Cheonseong drove his member in to the root and, with the command to swallow, spent himself harder still. At that single command, Cheon Yuhwa struggled with all her might to swallow the seed pouring down her throat. Tears leaked from her eyes; her lungs screamed for air — but there was no help for it. It was her husband's seed. As his wife, she had to take every last drop without spilling any.
"Nngh—"
"Mother? Are you here?"
The child's voice drew close to the carriage door. She had to stop — but she could not stop swallowing what was still pouring into her.
No, sweetheart, don't look this way. Mother says, don't look. Mother must take her husband's seed.
Just as the child leaned toward the door to peer inside, another voice called to him. In the instant the child turned toward the sound of his name, Cheonseong finished; and as his member slid from her mouth, Yuhwa sucked diligently at the crown to the very end, completing her cleaning.
The child turned back and called for his mother.
"Mother...?"