The Iron-Blooded Empress (8)
There was no need for great alarm.
No need for great bewilderment, either.
It was only the sound of a man and a woman coupling.
Piel was a virgin, but she was by no means ignorant of what passed between men and women. As a noble young lady she had received an education in such matters, and more than once she had resorted to her own hands in an effort to quiet the impure desires she harbored toward her mother. War, too, had shown her the raw face of plunder against women; she had witnessed frank, brutal intercourse more times than she could count on one hand.
Whether the pairing was proper or not, it was something every man and woman who lived in this world did at least once. There was no reason to treat it as anything special.
Her own mother and father were husband and wife, after all, were they not? It was a little embarrassing, but as their child the only proper thing to do was step aside and leave them to it.
And yet that girl—why…
…Mom.
Why did her chest feel as though it were being torn apart?
The problem here was not the Viscount and Viscountess. It was their daughter. Had she known her mother was not unwell, she ought to have withdrawn and given the two of them their time.
But though her heart throbbed with relentless pain, her eyes refused to look away.
Curiosity welling up from somewhere deep inside her rooted both feet to the garden soil, and a lust whose source she could not name kept her gaze locked straight ahead.
Surely not… surely…
She could not bring herself to believe it. Knowing something in her head and actually witnessing it were two different things. That her mother—so delicate and small, like a flower only just beginning to bloom—should be joined so nakedly with a man…
A woman who was the very definition of demure propriety, pinned beneath a man with her legs spread obscenely wide—it was a sight so alien it defied recognition.
"Ah-eut! Haaang!"
As the sounds of their coupling grew fiercer, Piel closed the distance a little more. Her eyes had been seized by the pussy flaring and twitching savagely between those parted thighs.
She had glimpsed it now and then while bathing, and occasionally as a child, but never like this—stretched taut around a man's length, splayed open so brazenly for anyone to see.
It was a barbaric coupling unfolding in broad daylight, before the dusk had even begun to settle. They were only a Viscount's household, true, but still nobility of a sort—and yet the way the Viscount and his wife coupled was as vulgar as any commoner's.
"Aang! There—thrust harder there! Aaaah!"
Every time the man drove his hips up, the vermilion-haired woman's waist arched, and her breasts—whiter and softer than those of Piel, who had already come of age—bounced without mercy.
Lewd cries of pleasure filled the flower garden. The wet slap of flesh, the bodies of man and woman coiled together like snakes.
"I hate you—Viscount, I hate youuu!"
Even as she dribbled water from below in clear enjoyment, the woman wept. What could she possibly have to resent? The Viscountess pounded her husband's back with small fists, voicing her grievances.
"Sss—hhut—my pussy, my pussy feels so gooood…!"
And yet after only a few more thrusts into her soft flesh, the resentful sulking vanished somewhere, and she abandoned all dignity to spit out nothing but filthy words. Pale white legs dangled and swayed around the man's waist. The primal coupling of two people who had always presented themselves so neatly looked for all the world like beasts in heat.
Where Piel's gaze fell, there was no refined Viscount and Viscountess. Only a bitch and a male, bodies tangled, unable to contain their rut.
The difference in their builds was so great that the woman looked terribly precarious. All that had fully matured on her were her breasts and her hips—and Piel knew well enough that for a woman, that was all that needed to grow. Still, the soft white cheeks that had not yet lost their youthful bloom, and those tear-brimmed amber eyes, looked as unripe as green fruit.
This was the mother she had believed would remain pristine no matter the circumstance.
So who, then, was this woman rocking her hips in time with a man's crude thrusts right before her eyes?
"Haa… haa…"
A strange flush bloomed across the girl's cheeks as she panted out sticky breaths. Between the neat, heavy folds of her skirt, the red private flesh showed through, and the flaring shell of her sex was twitching and sucking greedily around the thick red meat.
Every time the cock—thick and long as a rod—drove in and out, sticky white fluid leaked in long strands from the joined place where they locked together.
The pale froth of semen and juices mixed together ran down toward the cleft of the girl's buttocks, and the hot sensation must have sent a shiver through her, for her pink anus clenched and fluttered again and again.
The emotion that followed Piel's shock was, absurdly, disappointment.
You always hated Father so much…
She had never shown it in public, but as their child Piel had known that her mother did not love her father. Watching the woman wipe away tears and soothe her own wounds, she had sometimes felt nothing but pity for her.
Why? Why do you like it so much? Why do you spread your legs so easily, and open your mouth so vulgarly…
But the mother pinned beneath the man did not seem to find this act entirely unpleasant.
And yet, if she thought about it calmly, Darin had every right to be angry at her daughter for misunderstanding. When you had to couple with a man you did not even like, were you supposed to look miserable doing it? And they had already decided to become husband and wife for the children's sake—pushing him away now would have been ridiculous.
What… what am I even thinking…
Piel was no fool. It did not take her long to realize she had been thinking something abnormal. Her mother, who had once been a commoner, would never have had a choice to begin with.
The longer she stayed, the more resentment toward the mother who had raised her so carefully, and jealousy toward her father, welled up inside her. There was nothing good to be gained from continuing to peep on a married couple's relations.
I shouldn't do this.
But that was only what she thought.
Gulp.
The girl who swallowed back the saliva rising in her mouth could not tear her eyes from between her mother's legs.
A sour, strange fishy scent drifted from the woman's thighs and clouded her daughter's nostrils. There seemed to be a faint hint of mandarin in it, too.
The Viscountess's whole body gave off the cunning fragrance of a woman meant to bewitch and devour others. It swallowed the man's scent in a single breath and lured the daughter as well. The Viscount of Bayorn, who was breathing it in closest of all, already seemed to have lost his reason.
"Ah—aung—aaang!"
What could possibly feel so good that such a refined woman would cry out like that? The woman's body, which had been rolling across the flowerbed soil as they coupled, was spun around in the man's rough hands.
"Ah!?"
In the brief moment their joining came free, the labia majora and minora—swollen a deep red—displayed themselves without shame between her thighs. The milky fluid spilling from the gaping hole ran in a stream and soiled the garden.
Piel thought:
Even after countless couplings with her husband, it was prettier and more modest in shape than her own virgin sex.
And she felt a pang of regret.
Because from behind, her mother's cute little anus would not be visible.
Looking at a soiled girl's pussy ought to have made her wrinkle her nose at least once—but Piel felt nothing of the sort. She only let impure thoughts rise in her mind.
She wished she could put her mouth to it, just once.
After he finished once, the position changed. She was sprawled face-down, pitifully—no, collapsed was the better word. The Viscount never left the spent girl alone. He slapped her crotch a few times with the head of his forearm-thick cock, then forced his way back into her soft flesh and drove his hips home.
"Kyaaaak!!!"
Was it the pain of excessive coupling? Or was she so far gone with pleasure she was losing her mind?
She could not tell. With her senses half gone, Piel stared feverishly at her mother's sex as it greedily munched and sucked on his cock. Watching her father so busy devouring a woman's body, she could well understand why her mother was gasping and panting so hard.
Tsuup, tseup. Cheok—cheok. Every time the man put his full strength into his body, it was the sound of a wet pussy greedily swallowing a cock. The sight of it was so ravenous and filthy it looked like a bitch that had gone days without a man.
"Hhk—I don't want it, I said I don't! Ahhk!"
Her upper mouth denied reality and said she hated it, but every time her husband drove his hips up, she rocked her own hips in perfect time, and she was no different from him.
Those cute lips that were always so carefully closed hung open, sloppy and wet, drool running freely. Her unfocused amber pupils were drowned in pleasure and saw nothing at all.
From her face-down position, her plump thighs spread wider and wider, more and more disgracefully. For the first time, Piel could not contain the dark hunger inside her, and she stared it down without blinking even once.
"I don't want it—please, stop…!"
Whether the vermilion-haired girl truly hated it or secretly loved it, Piel could not say. Held fast by those rough hands, all she could manage as resistance was to rock her hips and twitch her pussy.
"Aaaah, aaaaah…!"
As time passed and her whole body convulsed without rest, it seemed she had reached climax again and again. Every time the woman shuddered, her red sex chewed down hard around his cock.
It was vulgar—and yet so lovely it could blind a person. The man fixed a heavy stare on the woman's eyes, rolled back in climax. His throat bobbed as a surge of emotion rose in him. The Viscount of Bayorn could no longer endure his thirst, and he swallowed the soft lips that were crying out in pleasure.
Gulp, gulp. It was the force of a man intent on devouring every last part of this woman. He swept his tongue through her mouth as though determined not to leave a single drop of her saliva behind. Watching them, Piel grew worried. She wondered if her mother might turn into a mummy.
A fierce kiss full of affection was too much stimulation for a girl already at the peak of her excitement. Darin thrashed and flailed, throwing a full tantrum in her struggle against the overwhelming pleasure—but that massive frame would not release its lovely girl.
"Hiiiek!!!"
From the fluids flying so messily, Piel could tell just how good the Viscountess was feeling.
Her cute toes curled inward and wriggled, and the woman's body—which had been thrashing her hips back and forth, squeezing out clear or milky fluid again and again—finally went limp.
But the man still did not seem satisfied. He lifted her under the knees into a mating press. He was savoring a girl so wet and plentiful, and it seemed he had no intention of stopping until he reached the end.
"Hik… hiik—s-stop…!"
She had been crying out for hours, and a hoarse, metallic edge scraped from inside her lips. Somehow it felt as though man and woman had switched places.
The Viscountess's pure white body was as dry as a towel from which all the moisture had evaporated. Even so, sticky fluids still ran from below. Perhaps it was a survival instinct, so she would not become a mummy.
Watching the man and woman tangle their bodies together in a frenzy, like two snakes, Piel understood once more.
She understood why, of late, she had begun calling her "Mother" instead of "Mom"—why she had started putting distance between them.