Karen Florence (13)
"Ngh, hah, ahh, hnng."
Karen Florence thrashed and writhed, gasping for breath. Apparently I had a talent for this kind of foreplay after all. Not exactly a welcome gift.
"Didn't you say my handwork was hopeless?"
"It is hopeless—hyik!?"
When I pressed and rolled her clit firmly between my index finger and thumb, a high, shrill cry spilled out of her. What had once been a small, rounded bud was now engorged and swollen, flushed dark from all the attention.
"Then what does that make Miss Karen, sobbing so sweetly under such hopeless hands?"
"You—you—hngh."
Her composed, sharp-featured expression crumbled. They say the first taste of sexual pleasure strikes a person all the harder, don't they? Karen's mind was collapsing without resistance under the vulgar sensation.
"You're dripping like this even now. I do wish your mouth were as honest as your body."
Squelch. Squelch.
Even to Karen Florence's own ears, it must have been the sound of a thoroughly soaked pussy.
"No!" I'm not feeling it because of the likes of you, hah—ng."
Deny all she liked—give her cleft a few strokes and Karen's body answered instantly. Her face burned scarlet, whether from the shame of failing to hold back her moans, I couldn't say.
"Soaking your pussy like this, and that's what you have to say?"
"Ughk."
Her glare lasted only a moment. Under the unrelenting stimulation, her toes began to shudder uncontrollably. Her insides had melted loose and pliant—it was just about time for penetration.
"You don't have to admit a thing, Miss Karen. We have all the time in the world. I'll happily keep going."
"Who said—ughk, the likes of you—hiyek, I'd su, surrender—hyiiik!?"
Contracting pupils. Rigid muscles. Curling toes. Every one of them said her climax was close.
I quickened my pace, nipping her modest nipples with my front teeth and working over the spots that drew the strongest reactions. Torture her weak points enough, and Karen's moans turned hoarse and ragged.
"Nghk, ughk—!"
Karen bit her lip, trying to swallow her cries. It was a futile resistance. A honey-thick trickle of arousal suddenly slid down her thigh, and before long her pussy was squirting like a burst pipe.
Splurt. Drip.
She had come, then. I didn't stop my fingers just because she was climaxing—if anything, I worked her over all the more painstakingly.
"Hahk, hah, hahng."
Karen Florence was panting like a beast now. Inarticulate moans rang through the basement, and the ones laced with tears and fury sounded pitifully wretched.
I'm sorry.
I shoved the part of me that couldn't bear Karen's hatred into a corner of my heart. I had to be cruel. I had to be merciless. Because that was the only way I wouldn't end up as the sacrificial lamb.
A phrase I'd once stumbled across on the internet came to mind. The Courage to Be Disliked. Something I genuinely needed right now.
Steadying my breath, I called to Rihardt. "Young Master Rihardt."
"Hm?"
Question flickered in the eyes that had been watching me this whole time.
"Might I be so bold as to ask for your help?"
"What kind of help?"
A willing-to-hear-me-out sort of response.
"Could you lend me something I don't have?"
"Something you don't have?"
I laid Karen down, still adrift in the afterglow of her climax, and pointed at her groin. He smirked at the sight. In this direction, at least, his brilliant mind seemed to have already guessed my next words.
"Your manhood, if you would."
"You want me to fuck Karen?"
"Not merely fuck her—while believing that she is me."
Rihardt laughed, unable to contain his delight. "That sounds fun."
From this moment on, Karen would be having the most wretched sex of her life with the person she loved. She would suffer humiliation that even her rugged spirit would struggle to swallow. It would wound her deeply.
But this, I believed, was the only way to break her gently—because I truly had no stomach for destroying her with physical pain. I hadn't the slightest desire to bring a blade anywhere near Karen's body.
Rihardt pulled down his trousers, baring a cock that stood stiff and proud. A length and girth that could rival a tent pole—no comparison at all to my fingers. I caught myself thinking Karen's small pussy couldn't possibly take the whole thing.
His monstrous equipment on full display, Rihardt curled the corners of his mouth and spoke. "Lucy?"
What now?
A faint unease prickling in my chest, I answered. "Is there a problem, Young Master Rihardt?"
"However good my acting is, I can't exactly convince myself Karen is you, can I?"
Funny, that. Perfectly capable, and yet he balks. I grimaced and waited for him to go on.
"So here's what we'll do," he proposed.
I accepted, against my better judgment.
The position was rather delicate—because I was straddling Karen Florence's belly. And so, with Karen beneath me, I faced Rihardt. As I said, this was his suggestion: he claimed that if my face were there for him to look at, it would be easier to lose himself in the act of fucking Karen.
Truly worthy of a lunatic. An ordinary person like me could wring my brain dry and still never match a genius's insight. I conveyed my verdict to Rihardt, equal parts admiration and sneer.
"...What a splendid idea."
"Thanks for the compliment. Like this, it really feels like I'm fucking you, Lucy."
How can he say that with the party in question right there? I moved to retort to his trash talk, then simply kept my silence.
"And the view is lovely."
His gaze lingered shamelessly on my breasts. With my maid uniform top and bra already shed, my teardrop-shaped chest was on full display—exposure I had never intended.
"Was stripping me as well truly necessary?"
"Setting the mood, isn't it? Besides, looking doesn't wear anything out."
It wears something out. My psyche, for one.
"...I'll consider this the price for making an unreasonable demand of you, Young Master."
Karen shouted something, but the gag in her mouth garbled her words beyond recognition.
Rihardt pressed his monstrous length flush against Karen's groin. As the long, thick pillar bore down, nearly crushing her clit, clear arousal welled out of her. When he rolled his hips and ground against her, Karen twisted beneath us, unable to endure even that much—her body was so sensitized that the subtlest stimulation seemed to hit her like a storm.
"Well then, Lucy—I'm putting it in?"
"...Please do."
His cock knocked against Karen's tiny entrance, and at length pried apart the opening that had seemed certain to refuse him.
Squelch. Shlick.
Karen's body convulsed hard. Such was the violence of it that I, perched on her stomach, nearly keeled over—and the only reason I didn't was Rihardt's hand clamped on my shoulder. Before I could even thank him, he buried his face in my chest. His damp, scorching tongue teased the tips of my nipples, raising an odd shiver across my skin.
With Karen behind me, I could let my face twist freely. If she couldn't see it, there was no need to perform. Rihardt, reading my expression, pressed his lips to my shoulder and whispered.
"You should be enjoying yourself more, don't you think, Lucy? Keep this up and my ardor might just cool."
He was telling me to stop being stiff and start fawning. Hoisting the corners of my mouth with visible effort, I spoke.
"I love it all, Young Master. Your hands, your tongue, your cock."
Perhaps he could tell how begrudging every word was. Rihardt burst out laughing. "God, that's awkward, Lucy."
Embarrassment crept up my neck, and I looked away. He did not permit the escape. Catching my chin, he turned me to face him.
"A wooden puppet would be less stiff than you."
"...My sincerest apologies."
"Still, that lower mouth of yours is good for something."
He meant Karen's pussy, naturally. Where he and Karen were joined, I could see blood dripping steadily—her hymen had torn. Given the sheer size of what Rihardt carried, it was an inevitable outcome. He rolled his hips, and Karen's slender waist jolted.
"Lucy, aren't you clenching down awfully lewd and tight?"
The one actually taking him was Karen Florence, yet Rihardt spoke as though he were fucking me. I matched his tune.
"That's because your equipment is so large, Young Master."
"I'll start moving."
So this is harder than I expected. I wasn't even the one being taken, and yet a nearly identical shame washed over me. If I felt this way, how much worse must it be for Karen, who was actually enduring it?
Unconsciously, I looked back. There was a girl covering her eyes with both hands, as if she couldn't bear to believe it—that her first time was happening like this.
"Hyik!?"
Not a moan from Karen's mouth. Shamefully, it was mine. I whipped my head around to inspect the place where the chilling jolt had come from—and found Rihardt gnawing at my nipple.
"Lucy, are you going to keep shattering the mood?"
I ducked my head quickly. "Forgive me."
"As punishment, I'm taking it to the root."
Squelch. Squelch.
Karen's moans, leaking through the gaps of the gag, were all but screams now—a merciless penetration that spared not a thought for her circumstances. Then her convulsing body abruptly shuddered.
Sssssss.
A familiar sound. The sound of someone pissing sounds much the same, whether it's a man or a woman.
"Did it feel so good you wet yourself? You're a little piss-slut, aren't you, Lucy."
Whatever Karen's condition, Rihardt's cock kept tormenting her pussy. The fault was mine, but his cruelty was aimed at her. If he had tormented me instead, it wouldn't have ached like this. The one-sided sex inflicted by his superior body could fairly be called an act of violence.
Every time Rihardt swung his hips, white foam spattered from Karen's pussy—flesh churning against flesh so fiercely had whipped her arousal into froth.
"Lucy, I love you."
Words I could not bear. Not for me, and not for Karen either. You're not going to say it back? Rihardt stared at me with that look on his face. That gaze was fucking terrifying. Face contorting, I barely managed to return it.
"I love you too, Young Master Rihardt."
How did this exchange of counterfeit love land on Karen? Her ragged breathing stopped short. Then came a long, shrill scream, as though she were crying out, no. With the gag in her mouth, I couldn't tell how the words actually formed—but that she was rejecting this whole situation was painfully, unmistakably clear.