Chapter 42
Chapter 42
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Tongue Over Finger
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Clop clop.
The horse was galloping hard. It showed no mercy, oblivious to the state of my backside.
I gripped the reins tightly in my fists. At the same time, I tensed my butt cheeks. It made enduring the ride a bit easier.
The itching seemed to fade a little.
But that relief was fleeting. The symptoms quickly worsened.
It intensified, tormenting me even more.
This felt just like a stomachache—one that hits on the way home.
Worse than running into a gang of thugs in a back alley.
To make matters worse, there were no bathrooms around, and I still had about ten minutes until home. Searching for a toilet was out of the question.
I resolved to hold it in somehow and urged the horse onward. There were no other options.
But right then, barely after moving a bit, the first wave hit.
My hands and feet trembled. Even a deer caught in headlights on the open road wouldn't freeze up this badly.
"Hoo."
The desperate one prevails. In the end, my butt successfully held back the shitty horde.
I'd repelled the first monster wave.
I needed to move fast. Get home quick and unleash the stragglers in the toilet.
But then came the second monster wave.
'Did I win?'
I wasn't sure. That day, I couldn't remember if I'd lost or won. Maybe I didn't want to remember.
Either way, I recalled it ending on a refreshing note.
This was exactly like that. The slight difference? No fear of shitting my pants like back then.
'It's still that agonizing.'
A finite gut punch versus an infinite itch. No easy choice.
'...No. Right now, the gut punch wins hands down!'
I could go anywhere. This was my toilet.
Modern cities were different. This was a fantasy world.
Shit in the forest bushes, and no one would know.
Just keep Charlotte quiet. Perfect secret.
But the pain I was dealing with was the latter. An endless itch tormenting my butt.
Would it go on forever? The anxiety gnawed at me.
Clop clop!
Charlotte's horse pulled up beside me and matched my pace.
"Father, you look exhausted."
"...Bad bed. Tossed and turned all night..."
I really hadn't slept. It wasn't just pulling an all-nighter—I'd suffered through hours of itching. My condition was shot.
What if I ditched Charlotte's ride for now? Fix the itch first, then circle back later.
Not a bad option.
Charlotte stared at me intently and asked,
"Father, your complexion is awful. Tell me if you're struggling."
"...Tell you if it hurts?"
What then?
'Would anything change?'
Charlotte was a knight. A knight who couldn't cast holy spells like a priest.
She couldn't help in a situation like this.
So why did she keep insisting I tell her? What could she possibly do?
I snapped without thinking.
"Father, I can apply some medicine for you."
"...What's that gonna accomplish?"
Thinking about it, it wasn't even real medicine. Just spit.
Her saliva wasn't special just because of her race or anything.
"It doesn't matter who applies it. Telling you or not, what's the point?"
"It's completely different."
Charlotte continued,
"When you bathe, Father, you always call for Denis. You say you need someone to scrub your back."
"......"
"Places you can't reach alone can be scrubbed clean with someone else's help. The same goes for this itch. I could scratch where you can't reach. Who knows?"
"...You..."
Did she know? Exactly where the itch was?
'How could she?'
Was it possible because she'd inherited Celine's talents and honed them to perfection?
I eyed Charlotte warily. She met my gaze without flinching.
I searched her eyes for any hidden agenda.
'...Her concern for me is genuine.'
Adventuring with the hero's party had sharpened my eye for people. Setting aside any skills, I could spot villains with bad intentions a mile away.
I could see it. Look into their eyes, and their true feelings seep through.
Nothing malicious from Charlotte. She was truly worried about me.
'...Maybe trust her just this once...?'
The itch was numbing my reason. A choice I'd never consider in my right mind started creeping into my thoughts.
'She got me through the first itch too...'
Maybe she'd pull it off again. Find some miracle cure I didn't know about.
Hope bubbled up unbidden. That's how dire things were.
My head throbbed. Was it the horse's rough gait, or had the itch spread to my brain?
I swallowed hard.
'Hold out.'
I clung to reason. Asking Charlotte would be my absolute last resort.
It didn't feel like the right choice no matter how I sliced it.
I gripped the reins hard and whipped the horse into a frenzy.
It neighed powerfully and picked up speed.
Charlotte kept pace behind me.
My legs trembled uncontrollably. The itch deep inside my butt left me unable to move.
The urge to scratch paralyzed my mind.
"Cha, Charlotte."
I approached her as she set up camp alone.
"What's wrong, Father?"
"...C-can you... help?"
"Ah. The itch?"
She nodded eagerly, as if it was obvious she'd help.
She pitched the tent, lit a campfire, even set traps to ward off intruders.
The process dragged on forever.
"...Charlotte?"
"Just a moment. It'll be done soon."
When I urged her from behind, she calmed me and kept at her tasks.
I knew it was necessary for a safe camp...
But wasn't this taking too long? My top priority was easing my condition.
"Charlotte...!"
"Understood."
I grabbed her and called out sharply. Only then did she turn to face me. Her expression was impassive now, as if she weren't feeling the itch herself.
"Let's go into the tent, Father. I'll take care of it inside."
I followed her into the tent. Under its cozy cover, I waited for her treatment.
"Father, could you remove your pants and underwear?"
"...Yeah. Gotta."
No room for hesitation anymore. After begging Charlotte of all people, acting shy now would be ridiculous.
I stripped off my pants and underwear in a flash. All I could manage was lightly covering my groin with my hand.
"If you're asking me for this... you must be in severe pain already. Pushed to your limit and had no choice but to speak up. Right?"
"...Y-yeah. So hurry..."
"Lie prone and present your butt, Father."
"......"
I couldn't defy her. I stuck out my butt just as she instructed.
Doing cat pose in front of a girl my daughter's age was mortifying—my cheeks burned hot.
"Checking now."
Her voice came from behind. I felt her gaze sweeping over my butt.
She naturally grabbed my cheeks and spread them.
I'd been through this once before. The first time in the inn's bathhouse. Recalling that made it somewhat bearable.
"Applying the medicine now, Father."
With those words, she pressed her lips to my butt. A soft sensation spread.
I tensed up hard.
Slurp, smack! Smack!
"Ugh. Hnng..."
She stuck out her tongue and started licking. Were those sounds really coming from my butt?
Goosebumps prickled my skin.
"Father, is it any better?"
She focused purely on the act, stripping away all emotion. Not burying her face in aggressively like before—she licked the afflicted area slowly.
"No... not at all..."
The itch hadn't faded. It pierced through the shame.
The source was deep inside my butt.
Spit alone wouldn't cut it. It needed to be injected.
I lacked the courage to do it with my own finger, so I'd turned to Charlotte.
She picked up on my condition right away.
"Father, I'm used to situations like this."
"...Used to it?"
"I know your butt better than anyone. So insertion itself won't be hard."
"......"
Charlotte went on,
"Father, between tongue and finger—which feels better?"
"...Wh-what do you mean better... I hate both..."
"To reach inside, one has to go in. Or do you want this instead?"
She pulled a 20cm king dildo strap-on from her subspace.
I shook my head firmly.
Finger or tongue. Finger or tongue...
If one had to go in to scratch the source of the itch, which should I pick...
"Tongue seems better."
"Understood."
"......"
The finger just felt too repulsive.
Still, wouldn't the tongue be better?