The Violated Rose
The Violated Rose
Their bodies were so hot.
Affection and lust became a flame, burning their bodies.
So much so that if this heat escaped outside, winter might end and spring begin right this instant.
Rosaria and Canaria gazed at each other, flushed. Only ragged breaths were exhaled. Merely overlapping lips filled their minds with a sensation unlike any before, so blissful it was almost frightening to go further.
Canaria hesitated.
If she went any further, she felt she would lose herself entirely. Knowing that this maddening sweetness would double, simply imagining that roughly estimated happiness was enough to make her heart feel like it would burst. So she kept thinking that adapting to this sweetness should come first, and did nothing but continue to press her lips to Rosaria's.
Rosaria said nothing.
No, she couldn't.
Because, just like Canaria, her head was filled with that pink smoke rising from the sweet pleasure. Right now, it was hard to even think about whether she was breathing, what she was thinking, or what was being done to her. The more she thought, the more her lower body grew indecently wet.
Just like that, while they were each locked in a tug-of-war between reason and desire, the first to be defeated by desire was Canaria.
For a demon was a being honest with its desires.
Love was right before her eyes.
And that love had permitted itself to be coveted. What was more, it had been Rosaria who seduced her first, as if pleading.
It was a trinity sufficient to collapse Canaria's reason. And so, hoping desperately that she would not cross the final line, she stopped pressing her lips to Rosaria's in order to covet everything except her purity.
Then, for a moment, she gazed at that face.
A face flushed red from the heat.
Hair slightly damp with sweat and clinging to her skin.
In those beloved silver eyes, there was a plea.
The ragged exhale was soft and warm,
and above all, the clothes she was wearing were more than a little suggestive.
Damp with a faint sweat, her bare skin showed through.
Skin like white jade, and the pink buds upon the ridges it traced were visible through the thin fabric.
She was beautiful.
She was lovely,
and utterly, profoundly lewd.
It was enough to kindle desire.
It was also the reason Canaria lost to instinct.
Very slowly, she placed her hand atop that fabric.
Canaria gently caressed from the lower abdomen upward.
A small stimulus, yet Rosaria, now so sensitive, moaned.
Even the sight of her biting her lip to endure it was beautiful.
The way she was embarrassed by the sound her instincts had let slip, despite her wish not to make it, was lovely. And those eyes, pleading for more, drove Canaria mad.
"...Rosaria."
She whispered that name into her ear.
To recognize who the figure before her was.
A silent suggestion to herself that she must not cross the line.
Because if she didn't, it felt like she would take even her purity. Softly, she called that name and teased her ear.
A voice sweeter than ever reached her.
Rosaria's shoulders trembled slightly.
That sight ignited the flame further.
Then her hand began to move, seeking to explore Rosaria's contours.
The gentle touch that had started at her lower abdomen slowly, softly moved upward, seeking the flower bud. It was softer than a feather's movement, and as stimulating as an electric charge rising.
The paradoxical sensation created by pleasure gradually overtook Rosaria.
That hand moved along the lines of her abdominal muscles.
Each time a finger softly traced a line,
Rosaria's sensitized body gave a faint tremble.
Canaria's body grew hotter with every tremor.
At the same time, Rosaria grew just as hot.
The higher the hand rose, the hotter their bodies became.
Lightly, Canaria touched Rosaria's ribs.
"...Hng."
Rosaria held it in with all her might.
A lewd moan escaped from between her bitten lips. Canaria licked her own lips. Then she teased it even more gently.
Just as a musical instrument produces a beautiful sound when its keys are touched, every time Canaria softly touched her ribs, and the closer that touch came to the ridge, the more the moan seemed to quiver.
Soon, that hand moved toward her armpit and the upper side of her chest.
The temperature felt scalding.
She could feel the pounding of her racing heart.
A single second now beat three times.
And for a moment, she looked at Rosaria's face.
"...Canaria."
Rosaria called her love's name piteously.
A tiny tear had formed at the corner of her eye. Her expression was one of crumbling before the approaching pleasure, her face going mad from that spreading sweetness.
She wore a look mingled with fear and anticipation.
Because she was not used to this kind of pleasure.
The sensation of her burning body and her growingly wet lower half felt alien.
Yet, because she did not dislike it.
Very quietly, moving only her lips, she pleaded.
To do more.
Because it was not yet enough,
to make her a little happier.
It was Rosaria demanding pleasure.
But unable to bring herself
to voice it aloud,
she remained silent, moving only her lips.
"...I can't quite hear you, Rosaria."
Had she not said she would be mischievous today? Keeping that promise, Canaria wanted her to speak aloud the word she couldn't quite say out of embarrassment.
They were both in a state near madness.
Rosaria was ashamed to say it.
And though she feared the wave of actions Canaria would unleash after she said it... more than that, she feared she would not be able to bear it if Canaria didn't, and that was far more frightening.
Canaria, too, found it hard to hold back now.
She wanted to tease her more right this moment. She wanted to move to the next stage of this fit-to-burst pleasure, and to stain the love before her eyes with lewdness through her touch.
But she also wanted to see her plead directly.
And so, they held out a mischievous scale to each other. Desire and desire, the same single emotion but pointed in different directions, forged this ironic scale, and they each tried to tip it.
...This time, Rosaria was the one who couldn't endure.
Her fevered mind abandoned thought.
Reason was already submerged in pleasure,
and the body now ruled by its true nature cast aside its pride.
A masochistic desire to be defiled by Canaria swallowed her whole.
"......More."
The corners of her eyes trembled.
She felt she might burst from shame.
But she hated the thought of stopping here even more.
"...Please do more."
A truth hard to utter, she uttered it.
Having achieved her aim, Canaria smiled, a hint of cruelty edging it.
And at the humiliation of her first surrender, Rosaria closed her eyes.
But that was a bad move.
Because closing her eyes made her even more sensitive to sensation.
The brain-melting pleasure doubled in intensity.
The touch of Canaria's hand gently stroking the ridge.
The lewd scene painted in her mind was far too vivid.
But not knowing what expression Canaria wore,
nor where that hand was headed, the twisted pleasure born of the unknown spread intensely.
Soon, that hand reached the bud atop the ridge.
As soon as Rosaria's firm yet soft bud touched Canaria's gently heated hand, a subtle feeling began to arise in both of them simultaneously.
Canaria's hand quivered faintly.
Rosaria's fruit responded to it.
"Haa... haa..."
She breathed out and moaned at that faint trembling.
That was when Canaria softly cupped her chest.
"Haaah..."
A moan she couldn't hold back slipped out.
Then she gently teased the tip.
Holding it between her thumb and middle finger,
she softly stroked it with her index finger.
"Hgh—...!"
A half-formed, lewd cry escaped her.
Her body trembled in time with the stroking.
Soon, when Canaria squeezed it roughly,
Rosaria twisted her waist slightly.
And this time, she roughly caressed the tip.
She stroked it coarsely, as if scratching with a nail.
"Haaa..."
Rosaria let out a strengthless, lewd cry.
This time her waist slightly lifted off the bed.
Just like that, Canaria alternated between strong and weak, caressing Rosaria as if tormenting her. Because Canaria possessed heightened senses, she was considerate, defiling her softly when Rosaria tensed, and roughly when she relaxed, letting her feel the pleasure doubled.
Of course, Rosaria was not accustomed to such consideration.
So she moaned in pleasure, making lewd cries.
That was when Canaria moved her face toward her.
Because undressing her was too large a motion,
she brought her lips directly to the thin fabric.
Canaria's lips, a deep shade of pink,
swallowed Rosaria's bud, which was a light pink.
Then, feeling that bulge through the fabric, she licked it very softly.
The sensation felt on the tongue was felt on the nipple. An unfamiliar sexual sensation spread through Rosaria.
"Canaria... please..."
She was afraid of the pleasure that felt like it would do something to her head.
So she called the name of the person she could rely on most. Regrettably, forgetting that this person was the one defiling her.
Soon, roughly, yet without causing pain.
Canaria gently bit it with her teeth.
At that sensation felt even through a layer of fabric, they both began to go mad.
Canaria and Rosaria,
both thought it was fortunate.
Because if they touched directly, it felt like they would melt together.
The one teasing and the one being teased both felt relief. Though that didn't mean they stopped the act.
The teasing she had done with her fingers,
Canaria now did with her mouth.
She licked softly, and bit stimulatingly.
Pleasures of different colors, felt from contradictory sensations, kept flashing through Rosaria's mind.
......And then, the third time Canaria bit down.
A pleasure she had never felt before traveled up her chest.
For a moment, lightning flashed in Rosaria's mind, a sensation of pleasure she couldn't contain overflowing out of her body.
Rosaria, clutching the bedsheet fiercely, trembled faintly at the waist.
Rosaria felt her peak for the first time.
It was as if thunder had struck the wave-tossed sea.
It felt like she blanked out for a moment.
But soon her senses returned with a snap,
and the impact created by the inertia of pleasure struck her belatedly, hard.
She felt strongly that even her underwear was soaked.
Soon, the proof of that pleasure felt like it was running down her thigh. It was a liquid so alien and lewd that even her feverish body perceived it as hot.
"...I don't want to stop."
Canaria answered the request Rosaria had made earlier.
Then, softly stroking the thigh where the overflowing nectar had trickled, she made Rosaria, still burning from her first climax, even hotter.
Soon, her hand began to move elsewhere.
"...Not there."
Cheeks flushed, tears streaming from the unfamiliar sensation, Rosaria spoke with a trembling voice and grabbed Canaria's wrist.
Because her purity, at least, was something to be kept until she came of age.
And above all, because she felt that if Canaria touched her there now, there would be no coming back... For a mix of reasons, Rosaria snatched Canaria's wrist as it headed for her intimate place.