Milking Therapist and Penis-in-Charge Maid (2)
A gamble is a term used when success brings a wonderful outcome and failure brings a terrible one. Put another way, if there is no real gain even in success or no real loss even in failure, it cannot be called a gamble. In that sense, what Parin had thrown out this time was indeed a gamble.
She had said it to Gyeoul, whose emotional state was clearly abnormal to anyone watching. —The content of the hypnosis will be whatever you desire.
It had been an unavoidable measure, chosen because they could not properly tend to Gyeoul’s emotions and had to deploy her urgently. Had it truly been the right choice? Parin did not know. After all, Gyeoul had already agreed to cooperate; it would have been enough to simply put her back to sleep with hypnosis and leave her in her room. That alone would have reduced the chance of Gyeoul committing any impropriety toward the princess to a definite zero.
Yet Parin’s intuition had sounded a warning. If she did that, something truly terrible would happen. Once Gyeoul woke from the hypnosis again and realized her body had simply been used while she slept… the consequences would be catastrophic. And so she had rolled the dice.
Even though the other party was an imperial princess, she would cast the hypnosis exactly as Gyeoul wished. She respected Gyeoul’s will, her feelings, and Gyeoul herself that much. Whether that gamble had succeeded, Parin still could not say. For all she knew, Gyeoul might be in the middle of committing spectacular rudeness against the princess right now.
Honestly, Parin could not even be certain what exact image the hypnosis Gyeoul had requested was aiming for. It was like looking at blueprints; one did not necessarily picture the finished building perfectly in one’s head.
“Haa…”
Parin let out a sigh filled with anxiety, yet she thought, …I have no choice but to trust her. She trusted that Gyeoul had not requested the hypnosis with any malice, and more fundamentally, she trusted the fundamental goodness and sincerity of the person named Gyeoul. Gyeoul was someone who deserved that faith.
Suddenly, the image of Gyeoul’s body rose in Parin’s mind. Those enormous breasts. But what drew Parin’s interest far more than the breasts was the body part very close to them. The glimpse she had caught when Gyeoul, now changed into that obscene maid uniform, had raised her arms—
Parin shook her head violently.
“Haaah…”
She exhaled the heat that had built up inside her body, then looked down at her own crotch. The place that still looked perfectly flat, like any ordinary woman’s. How much longer could she keep it this way? How much longer?
If she could not find a way to resolve the curse before then…
“…Haa.”
Letting out a sigh of an entirely different meaning, Parin placed her finger on the bell atop her desk. Gyeoul had gone to do her work. Therefore, she too had to do hers.
“Miss Miel, I have a few questions. Could you come back to the headmistress’s office?”
**
If Trisha had not been gagged, she would have said this: “Milking therapy…?”
But because of the gag, it came out as “Haheung hiho…?” and Gyeoul responded with nothing but silence.
She entered the room without a word and began dragging Trisha across the floor.
“Mmph!!”
The sound Trisha made carried two meanings at once.
—What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Who do you think I am?!
And also:
—Hey, you fucking bitch! I want to rail you so bad—take this thing off right now!!
Yet Gyeoul remained completely unresponsive. Expressionless, silent. She dragged Trisha along, then tossed her onto the bed as if throwing a sack.
“Mmphh!!”
Regardless of how much Trisha squirmed or protested, Gyeoul reached into the bucket, pulled something out, and attached it to the four corners of the bed.
“Mmph—mmph!?”
Then something soft pressed down onto Trisha’s stomach, bearing weight. Gyeoul had sat on her. On the imperial princess’s belly.
“Mmmpm!?”
If one were to interpret it: —Y-you insolent wench!! and also —That ass, holy fuck! How can an ass be this fucking hot?! If only she could grab it with both hands and slap it, her wish would be complete! And she wanted to rub her cock against it too!!
The figure before her lacked any trace of intellect or dignity. It was nearly identical to the students when they had first arrived at the academy. In truth, the only reason they were not like that now was because Gyeoul handled their sexual needs every single day. If Gyeoul refused to provide relief for even three days, they would all revert to exactly that state. No, perhaps it would be even worse now that they had tasted the “painkiller” known as Gyeoul.
At any rate, with her weight settled on Trisha’s stomach, Gyeoul took out a single bead and held it over Trisha’s body. The bandages that had folded and bound Trisha’s limbs immediately came undone—only to stretch her body out across the bed and tie her down once more. Now lying in a perfect spread-eagle position, Trisha lifted her head in shock.
“Mmph!?”
It was magic. Naturally, Gyeoul had not suddenly awakened to sorcery; the spell had been sealed inside the bead by Parin. After Parin had explained Trisha’s current condition, Gyeoul—who had become a milking therapist and penis-in-charge maid—had said this:
—In that case, I believe we will need a means to change the method of restraint in order to treat Lady Trisha. There are also several areas where I must request Sir Parin’s assistance.
It was Gyeoul, yet not Gyeoul. Even though it was a hypnosis she herself had cast, Parin’s heart still fluttered every time she witnessed Gyeoul transform.
—Specifically…
Gyeoul had then requested several items. Among them were words Parin had never heard before, forcing her to ask for explanations.
—Condoms. Twenty or more, fifty or fewer.
—Con…dom?
—You are unfamiliar with them?
Gyeoul had explained in a businesslike, mechanical tone: transparent rubber contraceptives, their characteristics and mechanism. After listening to the full explanation, Parin had let out a thoughtful hum.
—We do not have such items.
—Could you not create them with magic?
—It would be possible if we had rubber, but we do not have any at the moment. Would another material not suffice?
—Then could you enchant a leather pouch with this kind of magic?
After much back and forth, the milking assistance tools Gyeoul ultimately received from Parin were these: a bead enchanted to change restraints, leather pouches to substitute for condoms, and a rag and bucket.
“I will now remove your clothing.”
Trisha wore a one-piece dress. Still seated atop her, Gyeoul lifted the princess’s skirt. It was not difficult. Trisha’s cock had been pushing the fabric up as if begging to be freed. Gyeoul simply grasped the hem that the erection had already lifted and pulled it upward.
The hand wearing the long glove finally touched Trisha’s cock.
“!!”
Trisha felt a dizzying surge of pleasure in that instant. She had been startled. Not only had she been forcibly laid down, but most of her field of vision was blocked by Gyeoul—specifically by the angle of that white-pantied ass. She could not see what Gyeoul was doing to her cock. She had been staring at that beautiful rear, thinking how badly she wanted to fuck it, how she wanted to rip the wrapping off and pound it senseless, when suddenly a soft sensation touched her shaft. Naturally she had been startled. Her entire body, not just her cock, twitched violently, yet her massive erection could not thrash back and forth—because Gyeoul was holding it firmly.
“Size, girth, and rigidity of the penis… all excellent.”
Gyeoul, who had expected as much, continued to hold it. Not roughly, but with firm resolve. Her voice contained nothing but polite, businesslike courtesy.
“Please do not thrash about.”
“Mmphh!!!”
When Trisha protested, Gyeoul let out a small sigh.
“It seems we will need to extract a few loads before conversation is possible. I will now perform three milking sessions.”
“Br…?”
“Commencing the first milking.”
Gyeoul’s hand began moving up and down.
“Mmph!”
Trisha’s body trembled at a pleasure she had never felt in her life. Yet the trembling did not stop after a single spasm; it continued, turning into frantic struggling. Gyeoul’s hand did not simply stroke once and stop. It kept moving, slick and steady, feeding pleasure into the cock.
“Mmph…!”
Trisha let out a pathetic moan through the gag. Yet mixed into it were both bewilderment and rage. Because Gyeoul’s hand was striking only the precise part that built up the urge to ejaculate. The area just below the glans, the very end of the shaft if one ignored the head. The frenulum. Two fingers wrapped around exactly that spot, applying pressure that was neither too strong nor too weak, then—
Slick. Slick.
Each stroke forcibly drove the need to cum higher. It was obvious that an ejaculation forced like this would not be a satisfying one, but a weak, irritating, unsatisfying release. Of course it was intentional. Such pinpoint accuracy would have been impossible without deliberate intent.
Trisha tried to endure as long as possible, tensing the muscles in her thighs and waist, but—
“Resistance is meaningless. Please ejaculate obediently, miss.”
“Mmph…!”
In the end, barely one minute after Gyeoul began moving her hand, Trisha felt the semen surging up from the root of her cock. The moment Gyeoul accurately caught that sensation, she spoke in the same businesslike, courteous voice.
“Ejaculate, miss.”
“Nngh, mmph…!”
The humiliation of cumming on command, combined with the pleasure racing up her spine, nearly drove Trisha out of her mind. At the exact instant before semen began spurting from the tip of Trisha’s cock, Gyeoul covered the glans with the leather pouch that served as a condom substitute.
Trisha’s semen slammed against the inside of the leather pouch with powerful force. If one listened closely, one might have heard the vigorous thumps—thud, thud!—of her ejaculation.
“Mmph! Haa, haaa…! Haaaa…”
Gyeoul stared at the leather pouch being battered by the cum. Her face remained expressionless. Yet each time the pouch shook, her own body gave a tiny, almost imperceptible flinch. It was so slight that one would never notice unless watching Gyeoul closely.
When the cock’s twitching finally subsided, Gyeoul stroked the urethra with her hand to milk out the remaining semen, then removed the pouch from the glans.
“Haaauuu…”
The leather pouch had only one enchantment: when poured, its contents would empty completely and cleanly without leaving any residue on the surface. Gyeoul emptied the pouch into the bucket she had placed beside the bed. Roughly 180 milliliters by intelligent measurement. An enormous quantity of semen even for a futanari splattered into the bucket with wet, heavy sounds.
The scent of semen spread through the room. A flush rose on Gyeoul’s cheeks. Yet her voice remained perfectly courteous and businesslike.
“The first ejaculation is complete.”
Once again she grasped Trisha’s cock, wrapping her fingers precisely around the frenulum once more.
“I will now begin the second milking.”
“!?”