The Iron-Blooded Empress (Finale)
Piel was beginning, little by little, to understand her brother's heart. The more she did, the more she knew—rationally—that she was only hurting herself. And yet, confronted with her mother's ravishing naked body, her own flesh refused to obey.
She had glimpsed her parents' coupling only once, and already a possessive hunger for her mother was welling up inside her.
Then what of her brother, who had been beaten again and again by their father for peeping on that same marital act—what thoughts must he have been nursing all this time?
By now, he had surely long since ceased to be human. He had become a monster.
When a man lusts after some ordinary pretty girl, and a rival appears, and that rivalry becomes a burden, he will invent alternatives—share her, or give her up. But a woman whose beauty transcends beauty itself, a femme fatale descended upon the earth, the very crystallization of loveliness—a scarlet-haired woman like that was not something anyone wished to share.
And Mother was far more beautiful naked, without a single scrap of cloth upon her, than she ever was clothed.
That entrancing form felt like the only one of its kind in the world, and so the base instinct to monopolize it rose up as something both inevitable and innate.
"Aah—nnngh!"
It was not even a proper cry of pleasure—just the whimper of a bitch in heat. The woman's small hands, nails bared, raked down the man's back, hard as iron.
Whether he liked the whining of the bitch he was mating with, the man's spine gave a visible shudder.
He had not meant to finish yet. But the girl he held was so maddeningly, detestably alluring that he spilled a shallow climax before he could stop himself.
— Pop.
When that still-rigid length pulled free, a thick, viscous strand of fluid stretched from the entrance of her sex. Had her body been reluctant to part with him? The red inner flesh, stretched wide open, fluttered savagely even as it expelled his seed.
Unlike its utterly spent mistress, that lewd lower hole still seemed to be craving the man's cock.
How can she be like that…?
The shape of it was so neat, the color such a pretty pink—and yet the way it greedily, ceaselessly smacked and gaped made it seem like something not of this world.
Piel was learning for the first time that a woman's sex could be so obscenely wanton a place. She had masturbated herself, of course—but never like that.
Was her mother, in truth, a succubus born to bewitch men and wring them dry? While the daughter reeled in confusion at this unknown lewdness in her mother, the Viscount of Bayorn looked nothing but pleased.
The man pressed his mouth to the woman's soft bare flesh, marking his territory. The Viscountess, already gone vacant, made no response at all—only sprawled with her legs splayed open like a frog's. She seemed barely capable of the most basic discrimination of sense.
After climaxing so many times, one would expect even a fraction of his vigor to wane. But the man had long since been drunk on the rapture of knowing that the beautiful girl pinned beneath him was his.
He could not contain his passion. He only wanted to join their bodies again. A man who had carried an unrequited love for decades still had not quenched his thirst.
Father isn't normal either. The difference in their builds alone must be crushing her…
Piel had passed beyond disbelief into sheer absurdity. As head of the Bayorn house, he had been absent from his duties for hours now—and he was still at it?
Even granting her father's legendary stamina, the degree of madness was excessive. She had known he was obsessed with Mother. She had not known it was this bad.
"Ahh—no, I don't want to—darling, stop—"
The girl, having briefly collected herself, felt her husband approaching. She forced strength into her limp legs and tried to rise.
She trembled so hard she looked pitiful and wretched as a baby bird. The way she waved both hands, terrified of being caught again, was equally forlorn.
The Viscount hesitated a moment at the sight of the wretched girl—then pressed his advance once more. Looking down, he saw that gaping hole still seemed to want him.
Unable to win his partner's heart, the man seemed determined at least to conquer her body.
The girl's resistance lasted only an instant. The man's hands closed around the scarlet-haired woman's slender waist, and he set his pelvis flush against her firm thighs once more.
— Thud!
"—Kyaaah!"
The woman shuddered and gasped like an epileptic, thrashing idiotically. Schlick, schlick. The massive man drove his hips harder.
He did not forget to kiss her face as he courted her. The woman receiving that courtship only swayed limply in his arms.
Have they really been going at it without rest since morning?
That would mean at least six hours of this. Piel was beginning to worry for her mother's health.
The daughter thought she understood, now, why Mother hated Father so. There was no mood for the woman, no consideration. He was nothing but a beast whose eyes had rolled back in the pursuit of his own affection and lust. Even the sweetest pleasure, taken past its limit, becomes pain.
"Haa… haa…"
But she herself was no different from her father.
— Sliip, sliip.
Her hand was already sweeping down beneath her underclothes in her excitement.
Piel devoured her mother with bloodshot eyes and still drowned in self-loathing.
Did every last one of these damned barbarian bloodlines know nothing but how to exploit the scarlet-haired girl? She had played at refinement all her life—and yet she, this girl, was no different from her father, no different from her brother.
And still her long, smooth fingers traced curves between her legs. The unfilial daughter stimulated her own clitoris as it began, gently, to swell.
Piel knew she had gone mad, and still she did not stop touching herself. She did not need to look down. The soaked sex and the sticky mucus coiling around her fingers told her she was no longer in her right mind.
Parting the dense gray thicket, she revealed her lewd labia. The hot fluid she had spilled while peeping on her mother had already wet the red flesh within.
And even that was demure compared to the Viscountess's sex, which gaped and fluttered without mercy before her daughter's eyes.
Squelch, squelch. The strange sensation made one corner of the girl's eye crease. Every time she thrust into herself, her inner walls and her fingers met with a lewd sound. But the noise the couple—already reduced to a pair of beasts—were making shook the entire garden, so there was no fear of being overheard.
— Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
A violent mating press, as if he were punching her womb with his fist. The girl, tongue lolling, had long since fainted. Between her legs his seed frothed and bubbled; the Viscount, as if determined to sire a third child, showed no restraint, climaxing and thrusting in the same relentless cycle.
Even that heat-swollen sex seemed to have reached its limit under the tight insertion. After so much rough fucking, when his cock slipped free by accident, it could no longer return to its original state.
— Thud, thud, thud-thud-thud.
Whether the end of their coupling was near, or whether the beast devouring the woman had simply lost all reason, the motion of his hips grew more and more violent. The Viscountess's bare body, cradled in her husband's arms, shook with pitiful helplessness.
The noble couple, limbs tangled like animals, presented a sight so lewd and base one could hardly bear to look. Even Piel, peeping on them, felt cold sweat bead on her brow at the naked ugliness of it.
She had always been a beautiful noblewoman who never let her composure slip. Awkward though she sometimes was, she had trained herself in chastity and dignity for the sake of becoming a true aristocrat. Piel, too, had always quieted her own lust by looking upon her birth mother's austere bearing.
But those days, it seemed, had come to an end.
"Mama… Mama… ah—"
She held her breath as tightly as she could and let her affection for her mother bloom. What expressed it was the wetness rising between her thighs. She had a little more hair than Mother—and that, somehow, only made it look more indecent.
There may be people who have never had sex. There are no people who have had sex only once.
And so Piel, too, had crossed a river she should never have crossed.
At first the sight of her mother so unclean had shocked her. But watching Mother moan with sounds she had never heard, taking her husband into herself, Piel felt a jealousy and a heat of unknown origin set her crotch on fire.
I shouldn't… I really shouldn't…
But that is how people are.
A flower blooming on a high mountain cliff—no one would dare reach for it.
But if the pure bud one had worshipped as untouchable turned out to be just another common girl—no, a wildflower more shameless than any of them—
Then even knowing it was wrong, the urge to pluck it just once would inevitably rise.
I could do better. I wouldn't torment Mother the way Father does. I don't carry the risk of pregnancy the way Brother does. We're both women—we could be gentle with each other, take care of each other, enjoy a soft coupling together…
Just as the daughter was squelching between her own thighs, spinning her dark fantasy—
The man's thick muscles contracted, and he poured out a hot breath. His massive thighs convulsed. Thud-thud-thud—! In a single burst, white seed battered the girl's cervix.
"Hieek!!?"
How much he had spent, the Viscountess—eyes still shut—arched her body like a bow and cried out. The jet of semen striking her insides seemed to have woken her.
The seed pulsed and rolled, thickly spilling from the red cleft. She had taken so many creampies that even the faint growth of her pubic hair was soaked through with fluid.
The man's head lifted in satisfaction, and the woman's face—hidden until now behind his enormous frame—came into view.
In the eyes of the woman with the round, adorable lids lay a sorrow beyond measure. And still she was beautiful. Darin was a woman who could display her most bewitching beauty precisely when she was being taken.
And even now, this foolish girl—
"P-Piel… I have to g-go meet…"
—was still holding onto the single fact that she needed to go welcome her precious child.
At that, the unfilial daughter's hand stopped rubbing between her legs.
…Huh?
The blue-eyed girl blinked, sensed something wrong, and touched the corner of her eye.
Only moments ago she had been drowning in a swamp of pleasure—and now, from that same girl's eyes—
What on earth have I been…
—a rain began to fall.