Dark... No, Unicorn Knight (5)
There were still a few hours until sunrise. Leona had barely made it back to her private quarters without being spotted by anyone. She quickly washed her body and flung herself onto the bed.
Her muscles, exhausted from hunting down slave traders and corrupt knights, were utterly spent. But her mind was sharper and more restless than ever. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding. Thump, thump, thump. It should have slowed now that she was clean and sprawled out on the bed. But lying there alone in the dark, it beat even louder.
Leona squeezed her eyes shut. She just wanted to sleep. To forget everything. But the moment her eyelids closed, it appeared—that scoundrel's face, taking vivid shape in her mind whether she liked it or not.
And then his... hot. Heavy. That masculine, rough scent that carried his unique musk, different from the sweat of other knights—not unpleasant at all, but strangely addictive... His cock started flooding her thoughts too.
Her senses, accustomed her whole life to the metallic tang of armor and the leather grip of sword hilts, had been overwritten in just a few nights by this new memory. And that scent dragged her under—
"...W-Want it... again? Even after doing it so much already...?"
Under the covers, her thighs rubbed together on their own. She noticed the subtle dampness gathering there, fresh from her bath. With a scream-like yelp, Leona bolted upright.
"I'm crazy! Totally insane! Snap out of it, Leona! You're a knight! A knight! Urgh, uurrgh...!"
Whack! Whack! Whack! She pounded the blanket with her fists, then kicked it off the bed in a fury. Clutching a pillow, she buried her face in it, muffling her screams into the stuffing.
"Uwaaaah! Grroooh!"
The humiliated wails turned to sobs as shame poured out of her.
"...Hic, h-hic...!"
Waves of degradation crashed over her. But that humiliation fueled her arousal, tormenting her further. Feeling pathetic from the shame only excited her more, breeding even greater humiliation—which sparked even more excitement. It spiraled, growing endlessly... and so did that.
"No. No. That's not it... It can't be... H-He... that bastard... that bastard!"
Leona tried to force her anger, swinging a fist at Werner's imagined face. But even in her fantasy, she couldn't defy him. The punch turned into a servile caress, stroking his cheek instead.
Then the delusion hit: him spitting on her face as a "reward." She felt it so vividly that her pussy clenched, soaking itself.
"Grrooh! Grooooh!"
Whack! Whack! Whack! Her legs kicked the innocent bed again.
The memories are too clear. That's the problem.
Her naked self, gnawing the slave trader's neck with her teeth. The scene replayed in fresh detail. She couldn't excuse it as madness, delirium from threats, or a foggy mind. No—licking the blood from her lips and his boots, wagging her tail at that scumbag's praise... She had been perfectly lucid then.
And crawling on all fours, rubbing her bare ass against his pants, begging for rewards... That self had been crystal clear too.
Vice-captain of the prestigious Kraus Knight Order. That's what she'd always believed she was. On her enlistment day, when Isabella's sword touched her commoner shoulders, Leona had vowed to live honorably.
"...But I did that...!"
She pulled the pillow over her face. Her shoulders, unyielding even before slave traders' blades, now trembled uncontrollably.
If it had been rape, it would have been easier. She could rage, vow revenge, cling to her pride. But it wasn't.
She remembered: when he slapped her ass, her knees buckled on their own. When he called her "Silver" like a pet, a strange warmth filled her chest, lifting the crushing weight that had burdened her knighthood.
And that liberation... it felt so good.
"...No."
Leona shook her head violently.
"No, no, no, nooo—! It was blackmail! He blackmailed me into it! That bastard must've used some spell to mess with my head!"
She clung to that conclusion. Filthy scumbag Werner, forcing her with threats. Noble Leona, serving his dirty commands only to hide her shame from Isabella. The easy answer: She was the victim. He was the villain. No guilt, no blame.
But right then, faces of the children she'd saved flashed in her mind. Especially one beautiful girl—braver than the others, who'd stood up to the slavers. Her image burned brightest.
"Then... if Werner hadn't been there... what about Gareth and his crew?"
The words slipped out, shattering her excuses at the root.
Gareth. The trash selling off territory folk as slaves. The creep who sexually harassed her from afar with his cronies, knowing she'd hear. Kent's loyal dog, untouchable despite her knowledge.
She knew he was scum, but excuses piled up: lack of proof, Eric's faction protection, house balance. Vice-captain duties crushed her; she never drew her sword on him.
Her blade, since joining the order, had never truly cut what deserved it.
But that scumbag did. The manor’s outcast playboy... in one night. Cruel, but the surest, most efficient way.
"..."
Leona slowly lifted her tear-streaked face from the pillow. As strength returned to her blurred eyes, she stared straight at the ceiling.
His face appeared. 'Damn, he is pretty handsome.'
She should be furious. Her pride wounded. Years of knightly service outdone by one night with a wastrel— it should enrage her as knight, vice-captain, Leona.
But oddly, her chest filled not with anger, but unprecedented relief. A feeling even Isabella had never given her.
She knew its name but wouldn't say it. Admitting it would crush her pride.
Still... 'He did what I couldn't. For me.'
Acknowledging that broke the dam. Memories with Werner reconstructed in her mind.
Werner. Wastrel. Undeniably. But was that all?
Knowing Gareth's secrets so precisely. The exact times and places of slave abductions. Which vassals were corrupt, which clean—like reading his palm.
Could a real wastrel stumble on that?
"...No way...!"
Her voice grew faint. Maybe he knew from the start. The family's rot. Eric's true face. Vassals' schemes.
So he wore the wastrel mask on purpose. Bearing scorn alone to lower guards, hiding claws until the perfect moment.
Colors shifted. Over the wastrel face she'd known forever, a new hue overlaid—irresistibly.
"...No. This is just... me rationalizing."
Leona's right hand slipped under the covers slyly.
"Masturbation... report due... Gotta do it today too."
No real need. Lie to him, say she did. She knew that.
Yet she couldn't stop.
"Hah! Haaah!"
The pain of that scumbag yanking her hair by the roots revived sharply. The feel of his cock invading her forbidden depths so casually.
"Haa, ahh...!"
Alone in her room, no one to hear—but shame made her pull the blanket over her head. Legs spread wide, she began her filthy double-handed masturbation.
"I'm... I'm using you too. To take out corrupt knights... Pretending to submit. It wasn't... good. No way."
Squelch-squelch-squelch! Imagining Werner's cock, she jammed her fingers into her pussy.
But no matter how hard or fast, it wasn't enough. Her fingers were smaller, thinner than his. She needed deeper, harder, hotter, thicker.
Desperate, she masturbated faster. The excuse of "reporting" was long forgotten. Pleasure dominated her.
Finally, she whispered her sweetest lie.
To the lewd squelch-squelch-squelch of her pussy lips sticking and peeling apart, the proud knight's self-justification layered on.
"That bastard... threatened me with Isabella. To sweep out Gareth-types, no choice. As a knight, protecting the people... Had to. Had to... Didn't enjoy it. No."
The coward's sweetest rationalization. She was just. Inevitable choice. Sacrifice for greater justice—not because she liked it.
Once defined, everything eased. Shame became noble sacrifice. Self-loathing, duty. Humiliating desire for that wastrel—
Changed to something not love.
So convincingly, neatly—words fell into place.
But beneath, her fingers lingered in her secret depths. Breath quickened. Her mind echoed only Werner's rough touch and voice—no "greater good" or "justice."
"...I hate you. Gonna kill you. For real. If I go all out, one slash."
But picturing his face heated her chest wildly. Imagining his next handling made her womb quiver. Him touching another woman—
Her heart clenched unbearably.
"Agggh! Ahh, c-coming, coming, Master! Praise meee ♥♥♥!"
Her pussy squirted messily, staining the bed.
Post-orgasm clarity hit. Sprawled on the floor, Leona muttered self-mockingly.
"...Crazy bitch. Leona, you're a total crazy bitch now...!"
Her life: sword only. While noble ladies whispered love at balls, she polished blades apart from them.
Love? Irrelevant to knights. No luxury for her.
But now. Her heart, never swayed by any man, thundered for the one she should despise most.
Couldn't be love. Must be sickness. His curse. Temporary chaos—had to fade.
"...It'll go away soon... Soon...!"
She knew, though. Last night, running naked through the woods with him—she'd lost something forever.
And what filled that void wouldn't fade with time.
Vice-captain status. Years of training. Lifelong vows.
Before him: sandcastles.
Too obvious. Too clear. So she couldn't admit it.
"...I hate you. Hate you. Hate you...!"
Clutching the cum-stained pillow, biting the case, she chewed the words over and over.
Leona's Affection has exceeded 80!
Stat Injection now available on Leona!
"What the hell? Suddenly?"