Open Your Mouth
"E-Excuse me..."
For all Celine's desperate resolve, the voice that slipped out was as timid as a voice could be. No answer came. She knew better than to expect one, and yet she felt a flicker of disappointment all the same.
Carefully, she opened the door and stepped into the chamber. There, beneath the faint glow of a dim light, stood the Emperor.
Celine flinched and let go of the door, her head bowing instinctively.
Bang!
Behind her, the door slammed shut with a sound that rang far louder than it should have. Startled by the noise, Celine could have kicked herself.
This isn't how it's supposed to go...
She had been flustered from the very first step, and cold sweat was already sliding down her back.
"... ..." The silence hung heavy. Celine waited for the Emperor to say something — anything. But nothing filled the room except a deep, airless stillness, and the tension seeped into her back until the fabric clung damp against her skin.
How long she stood like that, she couldn't say. At last, the Emperor's lips parted.
"Raise your head."
Celine snapped her head up — and stopped breathing. Every scene from the penny romance novels that had filled her mind, every line of dialogue she had rehearsed so earnestly, vanished in an instant.
She's huge...
That was Celine's first true impression of the Emperor. It was something she hadn't grasped before, watching her seated with eyes closed — the word tall fell pitifully short. She was a giantess who could look down on even most grown men, and that enormous body bore proportions so flawless they verged on the unreal.
Thump.
The Emperor took a single step closer. Celine reflexively dropped her head back to the floor, remembered the command a heartbeat later, and jerked it up again.
Golden eyes gazed down at her. Not a speck of emotion stirred in them — only the cold blankness of a statue. Faced with that expression, Celine felt a sliver of dread curl through her: what if the reason she'd been summoned wasn't what she'd imagined at all?
"......" The Emperor did not speak. Instead, a slow, deliberate gesture pointed toward the bed set in the corner of the room — the bed Celine had cleaned that very day, the one that had shown no trace of ever having been used.
The command carried a weight that could not be refused. No — defying it never even entered her mind as a possibility. As if in a trance, Celine's feet carried her toward the bed. Her heartbeat pounded so violently she could barely hear anything else. What would follow a command to move to the bed required no imagination.
Holding her breath, Celine approached and carefully undressed, folding her clothes and setting them neatly to one side. Then, shielding herself out of shame, she stole a glance over her shoulder — just in time to see the Emperor shed that voluminous robe in a single motion.
The garment slid away, and the Emperor's breasts — hidden until that moment — abruptly stabbed into Celine's vision. Startled by the overwhelming, almost violent size of them, Celine's head dropped as if slamming into the floor. Thanks to that, she missed the moment the rest of the Emperor's body was bared; her gaze stayed fixed downward.
And there, in her field of view, appeared her own breasts — pathetically insignificant next to the Emperor's.
No... still, mine are at least above average... right?
But that shameful bit of self-consolation did not last long.
Ssshhk.
A heavy friction noise split the silence — the sound of the Emperor's last garment surrendering to gravity and sliding the rest of the way to the floor. What that meant was unmistakable.
Gulp.
Celine swallowed drily, and the plan she had memorized replayed itself in her head. Even if Her Majesty looks cold on the outside, her heart could be different. Maybe she's been waiting for my touch all along. When Her Majesty sits on the bed, I won't be scared — I'll go to her first, wrap my arms around that broad chest, press my lips right up against her ear and whisper how much I adore her. I've been waiting for you, Your Majesty. And then maybe even that face will melt like spring snow, and she'll hold me close, so tenderly...
In her imagination, the plan — cobbled together from a decade of penny romance novels — unspooled in a flash. It took less than five seconds for that sweet fantasy to be smashed to pieces.
"Huh?"
A vacant sound leaked from Celine's mouth. At the very edge of her vision, it had finally intruded.
What... is that?
Something massive. Something grotesque. It clung there between the Emperor's legs, and a moment later Celine understood what it was.
A man's organ. That the Emperor possessed one was hardly a shock — Celine had already known. The problem was the size. This was her first time seeing one in the flesh, and even so she could tell it was nothing close to normal. It was a violent wrongness that transcended any notion of simply "big."
And before that sight, Celine's body locked up entirely.
The Emperor began walking toward her, slowly, unhurried. Celine's pupils rattled as though an earthquake had torn through them.
"Eek!"
A sound close to a scream tore out of her. Refusal, revulsion, and terror flooded her skull to bursting. The beautiful flower field blooming in Celine's imagination was engulfed in flame and reduced to ash in the space of a breath.
The first night she had dreamed of was never this. A night where she was handled as preciously as the world's rarest jewel, sweet confessions of love murmured between kisses. A night so gentle that the next morning the two of them would hide their blushing faces beneath the covers, too shy to look at one another.
If love was made with that thing, she would die. No — something might happen that would make death seem merciful.
Celine's throat seared dry. To survive, she had to stop the Emperor.
"Y-Your Majesty..."
The Emperor's footsteps stopped dead. And that grotesque thing stopped too — right in front of Celine's nose, close enough to feel her breath.
Celine strangled the urge to screw her eyes shut and forced herself to look up, straining for a composure she didn't have. There was still nothing to be read in the Emperor's eyes. She simply looked down at Celine in silence.
"P-Please... just, just a moment... no... um..."
Celine's terror-frozen voice trembled without an ounce of dignity.
"I-I'm not... r-refusing! I swear I'm not! It's only — I'm, um, I'm not mentally prepared—"
The words collapsed into incoherence.
"I-I'm just so honored... I'm so nervous my body won't stop shaking on its own! Yes... hehe... it just won't stop..."
Celine hurriedly assembled new sentences in her head and pressed on.
"If I, if I served you looking this wretched, it might — it might spoil Your Majesty's... mood instead..."
Her orphaned eyes wandered the empty air before finally settling, barely, on the tips of the Emperor's feet.
"I don't — I don't ever want to displease you... so, so please."
This isn't a refusal. She had to make that point somehow, no matter what.
"Give me just a few days... and I'll pull myself together, so I can serve you properly... please, please don't be angry with me..."
When the words ran out, Celine couldn't even breathe for the tension as she waited for the Emperor's reaction.
"......" The Emperor did not answer. Not an eyebrow — not even the corner of a mouth — so much as twitched. She simply looked down at Celine. That gaze held no desire, no anger, no pity. Only a chilling stillness filled the space between them.
A few seconds dripped by. Then, abruptly, the Emperor gave a small nod and spoke.
"As I thought."
Celine took it for affirmation, and color flooded her face.
I'm saved.
Relief spread across her pallid, washed-out features. She hauled her trembling lips upward and managed a smile brimming with joy.
Love with the Emperor? Never again. From now on, she would never dare dream such overreaching dreams.
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
Mumbling the words through a throat tight with gratitude, Celine bowed her head deeply to give her thanks — and in that instant, the Emperor's hand shot out, rough, and pressed down hard on the top of her bowed head.
"Y-Your Majesty?"
Her head forced down, Celine called out cautiously, the question plain in her voice.
"Open your mouth."
Confused as she was, it was the Emperor's command — so, understanding none of it, Celine opened her mouth.
And in that instant—
"Mmph!!!!"
The Emperor's massive organ began forcing its way past Celine's lips. Celine jerked her head back in a spasm of panic — a desperate, feral struggle to live, to get away. But the attempt was crushed under the hand pinning her head in place.
By some mercy, Celine's mouth was far too small, far too narrow, to take the Emperor's monstrous desire in one go. For a brief moment, a stalemate held.
"Mmph! Mmmph!"
Celine seized that sliver of an opening and looked up at the Emperor, terror-glazed eyes swinging with desperate pleading. There's no way that can fit. Please stop. Please. Through eyes brimming with tears she sent up the frantic appeal, praying the Emperor would give up here and now.
And at the same time, an absurd thought — fear momentarily conquered — flickered through her head.
My first kiss... is just this?
To Celine, a "first kiss" had always been something fragrant and beautiful and sweet. She had guarded her innocence all these years for that one moment. And now the thing crushing her lips was not anyone's tender mouth — it was a scalding, filthy mass of flesh webbed with bulging veins. The wretchedness of it drew fresh tears pooling at the corners of Celine's eyes.
The Emperor's gaze remained sunken and empty, watching from above with a face that granted Celine's agony not a moment's thought.
"Tight."
That was all the Emperor said. Celine's pitiful signals had no effect whatsoever. Instead, merciless force began gathering in the hand resting on her head.
"Nghhhhh!!!!!!"
Celine's jaw hinge stretched to its very limit, a scream squeezing out through the strain. There was no mercy in it. The Emperor pried herself into the cramped space by sheer force. Tearing pain and suffocating pressure crashed over Celine at once. Her begging eyes rolled back white — and still the Emperor did not stop.
Crrk. Crrk-crrk.
Sounds no mouth should ever make began to rise from Celine's throat — hideous, wet popping noises, like bone and muscle screaming as they gave way.
"Kghk...!"
At that moment, the Emperor wrenched the organ roughly out of Celine's mouth.
"Khh...!! Haahk... huhk... khhuh..."
Her airway tore open with a slimy sound of peeling membrane, and Celine folded at the waist, retching violently. Her lungs burned as though shredded. A long, translucent thread of mixed saliva stretched between her mouth and the Emperor's organ, swaying.
"Haahk, huk, heuk...!"
Hands shaking, Celine braced herself against the floor and instinctively dragged her body backward. She wanted to run, but her legs had gone to water and would not bear her weight. Face plastered with tears and snot, she lifted it and looked up at the Emperor — and there, before her eyes, hung that weapon-like thing, still hugely swollen, its hunger unsated.
"Eek!"
If that thing came in again, she would really die. Her jaw would shatter, her throat would be punctured — she would die.
The Emperor said nothing. The room held nothing but the sporadic echo of Celine's agony.
"S-Save me... huk, please..."
Her dislocated jaw rattled as she spoke, grinding her words to pulp.
"I d-didn't do it well... ugh, I feel like I'm dying... please... Your Majesty..."
Gasping for air, face smeared with tears and spit, she barely managed to lift her head — and in that moment, Celine saw it.
The Emperor's smile.
It was the first smile the Emperor had shown her since she entered this room.
Deep in the extremity of terror, with her thought circuits paralyzed entirely, a single impossible thread of hope sprouted in Celine's mind.
Ha... haha... she smiled... is her mood better? Will she... forgive me now?
Thinking only of staying alive, Celine scrambled to respond. She forced strength into the corners of her trembling mouth. It was groveling and pitiable, but to keep from souring the Emperor's mood, Celine smiled awkwardly back at her, in kind — crinkling her tear-soaked eyes, pouring every scrap of her yearning into the hope that this ordeal might finally end.
But that earnest, pleading smile did not last long.
"Wh...?"
The Emperor's hand reached out and seized Celine by the hair, yanking.
"Ahhk!"
Celine's body was dragged helplessly across the floor. The moment she understood that nothing — nothing — had changed, her awkward smile collapsed into raw terror.
I... I have to run...
But there was no way to.
"Uuuuuugh!!!"
This time there wasn't even the pretense of warning. The great slab of flesh slammed down mercilessly into a mouth still hanging slack from its dislocated jaw. Deeper than before. More brutal. Celine's begging to be spared was swallowed whole, drowned out by the pain.
It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts
The sensation of soft flesh deep in her throat being pulverized was sickeningly vivid. An eerie grinding shrieked from her jaw joint. Before long, the searing sting of the corner of her mouth splitting open, the agony of her throat's entrance being wrenched wide and violated — every last sensation was devoured by a far more desperate craving.
Q-Quick... get it out...
Pain? Tearing? For a moment, Celine forgot them entirely.
My breath....
The furnace raging inside her ribcage scorched her mind white.
AIR!!!!
Her oxygen-starved brain shrieked like something gone mad. The edges of Celine's vision charred black, and the world spun in circles. Let her jaw break — fine. Let her throat be ruined forever — fine. She wanted one thing, only one: a single sip. One sip of air, and she wanted it more madly than she had ever wanted anything.
Celine's hands flailed through empty air and began raking at the Emperor's legs like a lunatic. Decorum be damned — Celine wanted to breathe right now. Even if she had to punch a hole straight through her sealed throat, she wanted to breathe.
She flared her nostrils and thrashed, straining to stretch her mouth wider, loathing the massive flesh that had corked her airway shut.
Move... get it off me...!
She had to breathe. She had to live. Court etiquette, awe of the Emperor — all of it had long since evaporated from a brain burned white by oxygen starvation. What remained of Celine was nothing but the raw survival instinct of an animal.
MOVE!!!!!!! I SAID GET OFF ME!!!!!!!!
Celine's nails tore furiously at the Emperor's thigh. If the flesh would rip away, if the pain would make her flinch and pull back — that was all Celine wanted. She squeezed and clawed madly at the Emperor's legs and hammered them with her fists.
It was useless. What met her nails was not the soft give of human skin. It was like scraping a wall of cold steel or a column of polished marble — appallingly hard, appallingly smooth. In the end, the thing that whitened, folded inside out, and snapped from the strain was her own fingernails.
I have to... I have to get it off.
When her hands failed her, Celine poured everything into her mouth. This horrific, hateful thing sealing off her air. If she severed it, she could live.
Jamming every last ounce of strength into her jaw, Celine bit down on the thing ravaging her mouth in a convulsive spasm.
Crunch.
There was no softness. No yield. No sensation of flesh giving way between her teeth.
"Nnnghk...!"
Only a dull, seismic shock — as though she had clamped her bare teeth on solid metal — a blunt agony that made her teeth feel ready to crumble, and it slammed through her skull. Celine's eyes went flat and dim with despair. Scratching, striking, biting — the Emperor did not so much as stir.
Celine's vision began to blot out at the edges, darkening by degrees. Her eyes, swimming in tears, lost their light and rolled slowly upward.
I'm dying... I'm really, truly dying...
Then, in the sliver of an instant before her breath gave out entirely, the pressure filling her mouth vanished.
"Cough!!!! Khuk, khh..."
The air that slammed into her reopened airway was its own fresh torment. Celine coughed in violent spasms.
"Haaak...!!!! Haaaaak.... haah..."
Panting, face drowned in tears and spit, she lifted her head — and Celine saw.
Why...? Why?
A smile too beautiful for this world, and a strange, rapturous delight floating in those golden eyes. Celine was dying — and the Emperor was smiling as though it pleased her.
At the sight, Celine felt an ice-cold horror begin to crawl up the length of her spine.
"Haaak...!!!! Haaaaak.... heuu..."
Blind with fear, Celine tried to flee, crawling across the floor on trembling legs — but before she had gone more than a step, her ankle was snatched in the Emperor's hand.
"S... save me...!"
Celine's voice ripped out of her like a scream. She was going to die. If her mouth was sealed again, this time she would truly die. She had to say something — anything. She had to unearth some reason for this violence, some crime she had committed that the Emperor would stop for.
"I'm sorry!!!!! Your Majesty!!!! Please!!!!"
Celine shrieked in desperation, blood-tinged saliva drooling from the corner of her mouth. She begged with a wretchedness that outstripped even her mangled speech.
"I d-didn't do it right... khuk, khoolk! It was... my cleaning earlier... I was making noise, wasn't I..."
Terror drove Celine to hunt frantically for a cause. There had to be a reason this had befallen her. The answer she seized upon was the water vessel she had shattered during the day.
Pressing her trembling hands together, she groveled.
"It will never happen again. I'll be silent... n-no, I won't come anywhere near you. Heuk.... please, just spare my life..."
But the Emperor did not answer. Celine's insides curdled. This wasn't enough. She needed more reasons to reach the Emperor.
"I, I have a... a little sister...!"
Celine wailed through her sobs.
"I'll never see her again...! She's blind...!"
The little sister who would be left to live alone in the dark if Celine died. The thought of that child waiting at the orphanage wrung a flood of scalding tears from Celine's eyes.
"If I'm gone... huk, she can barely get by on her own... please, Your Majesty — if not for me, then for that poor child—"
Celine begged until her voice tore. But.
The Emperor said nothing. Not even a denial. In that glacial silence, Celine understood instinctively.
The horrific end that was about to arrive.
"N-no..."
Thud.
"Uuuuurgh!!!!!!"
Celine's scream was cut off before it could even leave her throat. The Emperor's organ wrenched apart Celine's torn lips and drove in without mercy. The mouth that had begged moments before for the sake of her blind sister was pried open into a grotesque gape, and the tongue that had screamed save me was flattened and forced aside.
And in that instant, a wretched truth circled through Celine's mind.
My life ends here? Horribly — like this?
Celine's vision grew dim by degrees. The last memory of her life — not a family's warm embrace, not the face of someone she loved, but a cock ramming down her throat and the Emperor's hips.
"Khehk."
Tears streamed in a steady, mindless trickle from Celine's eyes as her mouth made its ludicrous sounds.
I don't want this... stop...
Death by suffocation on a cock. She had wanted, at the very least, to be spared a death that grotesque.
"G-Ghekh."
Her nails scraped once at empty air and dropped, limp. In her oxygen-starved mind, her little sister's face blurred and burned away like paper.
I'm sorry... your big sister... your big sister was such a fool...
In the final moment of her life, Celine felt scalding liquid gush down into the deepest part of her throat. And that was the decisive blow that severed Celine's breath for good. Trapped in that terrible heat she could neither swallow nor spit out, Celine choked and gurgled — her eyes rolled back completely, and she went limp.
"......uh."
Celine forced her eyes open with difficulty. At first, there was nothing to see. Only after blinking several times did she understand where she was.
I'm alive...?
Celine had been certain she had died. And yet the air entering her nose felt vivid, distinct — sharp and brackish air.
"Ah..."
Pushing her upper body up, she looked down at herself — and froze. She was a wreck. Her body was blotched with dried fluids; her hair was matted into it, stiffened white in patches or still trickling, sticky, down her skin.
I'm... alive? Me?
Celine could not believe that she was still alive. But what reached her ahead of any relief was the horrific sensation her brain — having only just confirmed her survival — belatedly registered.
Her stomach heaved.
"Uurk...!"
Unbearable nausea punched up her esophagus. The moment she raised herself, Celine began heaving up everything inside her with no hope of restraint.
"Uueek!!!!! Huuk, khoolk! Blech!!!! Uueeek!!!"
An enormous tide of vomit poured onto the floor like a waterfall.
"Hah, hah... ugh, blech!"
The convulsions that turned her stomach inside out did not end after one round. Celine vomited and vomited again, as though determined to scrape herself hollow.
"Heuu... heuk..."
Forehead pressed to the floor, she dragged in shallow breaths. When the rough, gagging rasp of spewing stomach acid finally subsided, the heavy stillness of the room settled back over her.
Celine staggered upright to lift her head — and nearly stopped her heart.
"...!"
The Emperor, at some point dressed once more in the clothes that had been shed, sat with her eyes quietly closed, as though everything that had just happened were a lie.
Seeing it, Celine's skin prickled with gooseflesh.
Don't... don't disturb her.
If their eyes met again, as they had during the day, this time she might truly be killed.
As she hurried to slip out of the room, the wrecked floor snagged Celine's eye. She couldn't leave it like this.
I have to clean it. Quickly... before she changes her mind.
But there were no cleaning tools in the room. Celine scrambled into the clothes she'd folded in the corner. Because she had undressed before anything happened, they were still unspoiled.
Hair caked stiff with semen. The reek of filth rising off her skin. She was a pitiful sight — and yet when clean cloth settled over her bare flesh, the smallest measure of comfort washed over her.
Celine slipped out and came back with cleaning tools in record time. Then she began scrubbing the floor like a woman possessed.
Scrub. Scrub.
With the rag, she wiped away the horrific puddle — her own vomit mixed with the Emperor's seed and her own spit. The stench stabbed up into her nose and nausea surged again, but the thought that any sound means death kept her silent through it, tears running in steady lines down her face.
Even without a mirror, she could picture exactly how wretched she must look right now.
The Emperor still had not stirred. Utterly composed, as though the sight of Celine crawling about on the floor before her eyes were of less than no concern.
That, more than anything, made Celine feel degraded beyond words.
Go. Just go.
Cleaning finished, Celine retreated toward the door in backward steps. Too afraid even to turn her back on the Emperor, she crept along on all fours, groveling toward her, until her hand found the door handle.
Click.
She had no composure left for courtesy. Celine fled down the corridor at a run.
Terrified that the door might open again. Terrified that the Emperor might call her back.
Trailing the stench of semen and vomit behind her, Celine sprinted into the dark, toward the far end of the corridor.