Forgiveness (Or Milking) (1)
Trisha jolted in shock, her hips bucking upward with a sharp cry. “H-hyaak…!?”
She tried to twist away, but Gyeoul held her firmly from above, refusing to let her escape. When Trisha attempted to squirm downward instead, the result was the same. With her pinned in place, Gyeoul’s hands began to move across those massive breasts in slow, deliberate circles—but in opposite directions. It was as if she were using the soft, heavy flesh to scoop and pump liquid upward from below. Her right hand moved clockwise, her left counterclockwise.
The sensation assaulting Trisha’s cock was relentless. First the shaft was squeezed tight, the pressure traveling all the way up to the glans before releasing. Then it began again, the cycle of pleasure repeating without mercy.
“Haaak♡ W-wait! I’m gonna cum!!”
“Please do. That is the purpose of this milking session.”
“B-but if I cum right now it’ll get all over your fa—uhiik…!?”
As if to say there would be no discussion, Gyeoul’s hand movements—no, her breast movements—grew even more resolute. Still, unlike hands that could target specific trigger points with surgical precision, breasts inevitably stimulated a much broader area no matter how carefully they were aimed.
“Ah♡ Hah♡”
That gave Trisha just a little more time to endure. A very little.
“Huaaak♡”
Her broken, panting moans began to sound embarrassingly like a bitch in heat. And yet the woman who would one day become the next Empress of the Empire had been reduced to this state, while Gyeoul remained utterly professional.
“Uoooh…! Cumming…!!”
“Please cum. Mmm.”
Even as thick ropes of semen splattered across her face, Gyeoul’s expression stayed perfectly blank. This was already the fourth milking. Perhaps because Trisha had only ever experienced incomplete, frustrating climaxes before meeting Gyeoul, her load this time was just as vigorous—spurting out with powerful spurt, spuuurt! sounds that slapped wetly against Gyeoul’s face.
The sticky white fluid clung to her skin with lewd plap, splat noises. It struck her cheeks, splattered across her forehead and brow, caught in her eyelashes, and even seeped into her nostrils.
“Ha… haa…♡”
Trisha trembled in a daze, still riding the afterglow of being milked between those perfect breasts. Her unfocused eyes caught a flash of pink that appeared and vanished.
‘Huh…?’
She forced her gaze to sharpen.
“Ah…♡”
A sigh escaped her, laced with both admiration and utter shock. Gyeoul was licking the semen that had dripped down the side of her cheek.
“Mmm… hahp…”
The pink blur in her vision was Gyeoul’s tongue slipping out between her lips and retreating again.
‘She really is…’
How could such a lewd creature exist?
But surely this time she had to be completely drained. Trisha just wanted to savor the lingering pleasure in her chest a little longer, and then—
“Huk!?”
Trisha let out a pathetic whimper. Gyeoul had begun moving her breasts again, slowly and deliberately.
Her face remained expressionless, yet…
“…♡”
A seductive allure now radiated from her. The corners of her lips had lifted slightly, and her eyes had softened into a gentle, knowing smile. Just a little. A very little.
‘S-surely she isn’t planning to keep going like this…?’
Exactly as Trisha had feared.
“Then, the fifth—”
Just as Gyeoul began to speak—
Knock. Knock knock.
Laia and Eladriel knocked on the door at the same time.
“Princess Trisha, and Gyeoul.”
“W-we have something we’d like to talk about… may we come in for a moment…!?”
Trisha screamed inside her own head.
‘I’m saved!’
She had no idea who it was—though she’d probably recognize them the moment she saw their faces—but right now she didn’t care. Whoever they were, thank you! Thank you so much for showing up before the fifth milking could begin!
Now she could finally get out of—
Gyeoul pushed Trisha’s breasts together from both sides.
“Uhyaaak!?!?”
“We will now begin the fifth milking.”
Trisha realized there was a faint trace of anger hidden beneath Gyeoul’s voice.
‘Why!?’
She felt utterly wronged. But whether Trisha felt wronged or not, Gyeoul’s breasts did not stop.
“Ugh!? W-wait! Gently! I just came so it’s sensitive—be gentle!”
“Don’t lie. The pain is minimal and the pleasure is far greater, isn’t it? Please ejaculate obediently. And to our guests outside,”
Gyeoul glanced sharply toward the door.
“Miss Trisha is currently undergoing milking therapy and is unable to receive visitors. I must ask that you return at a later time.”
Eladriel spoke up.
“W-we didn’t come to see the princess, we came to see—”
At that exact moment, Gyeoul’s breasts squeezed Trisha’s cock with renewed force.
“Hyaaahaaak!?!?”
The moan that burst out was half a scream from overwhelming pleasure, cutting off the high elf’s beautiful voice.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t hear you clearly. Please come back another time.”
“G-Gyeoul!? Are you seriously—”
“Hmph.”
“Uhyaaak!?♡ I-I’m cumming! I’m cumming—uughk—!?”
Another thick jet of semen erupted from the tip of Trisha’s glans.
‘Oh no…’
Gyeoul frowned. The forceful, pearly-white stream had struck her forehead and even soaked the hair beneath her katyusha headband.
‘I made a mistake.’
Despite her words, she had not actually intended to make Miss Trisha climax again. Now she could no longer use the excuse of “milking therapy.”
“Tsk…”
Gyeoul clicked her tongue. She did not want to face Lady Eladriel or Lady Laia right now. Under hypnosis, past events were automatically reframed in a convenient way. In Gyeoul’s current “memory,” what had happened earlier that afternoon went like this:
The regular Public Pussy Duty Member had been unable to attend for some reason, so she had temporarily taken over the Public Pussy duties. To make that possible, her fellow maid, the succubus Miel, had cast a sensory-blocking spell on everything below her shoulders.
The important point was this: the sense of betrayal, anger, and irritation Gyeoul had felt toward the students—including Eladriel and Laia—several hours ago still remained perfectly intact even under hypnosis. She was simply hiding it beneath her calm, professional, expressionless mask.
‘What should I do?’
Gyeoul did not want to meet the ladies. She didn’t even want to look at their faces right now. How could they—of all people—have done that to her, of all people? Just thinking about it made the feeling of betrayal surge up again.
Her face naturally grew colder. Seeing that expression, Trisha shouted desperately.
“I-I’d like to rest for a moment! It might be good to greet our guests!”
Her frantic cry was loud enough to reach the two people outside the door. And since Gyeoul was a maid…
“…Understood.”
With no other choice, Gyeoul released Trisha’s cock from between her breasts. The princess collapsed backward onto the bed, gasping for air.
Gyeoul straightened her clothes, then opened the door.
“Please come in.”
Eladriel and Laia both froze the moment they saw Gyeoul.
The first reason was the cold anger etched across her face. Her tightly pressed lips. The rigid muscles in her cheeks and jaw. Her icy gaze. It was the face of the woman they had fallen in love with coldly rebuking them without a single word. Even the proud high elf shrank back, and even the fearless lycanthrope faltered.
But the second reason was her sheer lewdness.
This was their first time seeing Gyeoul in the scandalously small maid uniform she currently wore. More importantly, she had only adjusted her clothes before opening the door. That meant the massive amount of semen Trisha had just pumped out twice was still covering her entirely.
The semen on her face was dripping down her cheeks and chin onto her chest. The semen on her breasts split into two paths depending on where it had landed. What had fallen onto the tops of her enormous mounds slowly slid down until it soaked into her blouse. What had landed in her cleavage flowed straight downward, drawing white lines across her belly until it reached the hem of her tiny skirt.
It looked as though she were wearing makeup made of semen and dressed in an outfit made of semen. The sight was dizzyingly obscene, yet at the same time elegant and refined.
“Ugh…”
“…!”
Both of their cocks reacted first.
“…”
Gyeoul’s gaze dropped to Eladriel’s cock lifting the front of her skirt and Laia’s cock visibly swelling inside her pants. The corner of her mouth twitched.
It was a manufactured smile. A cold, contemptuous one.
“G-Gyeoul, that’s not what we—”
“We came to apologize to you—”
“Perfect timing. How convenient.”
Gyeoul’s words cut off the two future rulers mid-sentence, but neither of them found it strange. On the contrary, the ones who had been interrupted closed their mouths most eagerly, waiting for her next words.
With one hand, Gyeoul politely gestured toward the bed. The very same bed where Trisha still lay sprawled, unable to even sit up from the aftershocks of pleasure and the exhaustion of being milked. It was large enough that two more people could easily lie beside her with room to spare.
“Since you’re already here, why don’t the two of you also receive milking therapy?”
She stared at them with eyes full of mockery, rage, and contempt.
“There is no need to refuse.”