The Green Forest (6)
The Green Forest (6)
Rumors, unexpectedly, sorted people. What was common knowledge to some was utterly unheard-of to others. The gulf between them widened the further the ripple traveled, spanning stories you simply might not know and those you *must* not know.
Talk of the Deputy Chieftain secretly eyeing the chieftain's seat, or of every last bandit in the stronghold daydreaming about becoming chieftain, fell under 'stories one might not know.' But the fact that the Deputy Chieftain's wife made advances on the stronghold's handsome men—or those skilled in bed—belonged squarely among 'stories one must not know.'
"You said you were training in martial arts before? What made you stop and end up in a place like this?"
And now she was dragging me deep inside one of those very stories. The Deputy Chieftain's tent—with the Deputy Chieftain away—was spacious, with beds arranged symmetrically on opposite sides, as if the two slept separately. We sat at a table at the far end, drinking tea.
I answered her idle question with a straight face.
"I was training with a sect, yes. But they only gave me menial chores and never once intended to teach me proper martial arts. I decided that if my life was going to be like that, I might as well leave and at least make a name for myself."
"Oh my, such manly ambition! Ohoho..."
The Deputy Chieftain's woman covered her mouth as she laughed. Her clothes were reasonably neat, and she'd gussied herself up with cheap hairpins and cosmetics, cutting a fine enough figure. Her looks were ordinary, but she made the effort to keep clean, and the mingled scent of faint powder and bare skin stirred my lust.
She swept her hair back, shot me a glance, lowered her voice a notch, and rubbed her legs together like a snake coiling tight.
"My husband will be back tomorrow. He said he was going far off. Traveling through the mountains at night is dangerous, so he always waits for daylight."
Her clothing was thin, so the outline of her thighs pressing together was fully visible. Every time her skin rubbed against itself, the faint rustle of cheap cloth teased my ears. The low-grade fabric flaunted its price tag with a busy little racket at every movement of her body.
"On nights like this, a woman left in the stronghold... she's bound to get lonely, isn't she?"
She tossed her hair once as she spoke. The coquettish gesture seemed intended to make her performance look high-class. She never came right out and said 'let's sleep together.' She simply swept her eyes over me again and fixed her gaze on my upper body, toned with proper muscle from training.
"So, on this deep, dark night, I was just wishing someone might soothe my loneliness."
And then she waited for my answer, with the haughtiness of a noble lady selecting a servant. From that single mannerism alone, I could guess what her life in this stronghold had been like.
She must have had a pretty good arrangement going with the men. She spent hot nights being fawned over, and the men got to hold a decent enough woman in their arms just by buttering her up a little.
As long as both sides kept their mouths shut, a neat little play completed itself: a noble lady and the men she deigned to choose. In this stronghold, she was a predator who picked and devoured men at her whim—the real top dog.
I lowered my gaze to the table. When my eyes brushed her cleavage, the woman bent her waist further and openly let her collar gape. The teacups and her slender fingers came into view on the tabletop. When I extended my hand, she twined her fingers around mine like kelp tangling a fish.
Once your fingers interlock and you press skin to skin, kneading the spaces between the knuckles, there's no need to explain what comes next to anyone with half a brain. All that mattered was that our eyes met, that the woman's face had flushed. And that, without either of us leading, the two of us rose and moved our bodies into the bedroom.
The tent flap closed, and the lamp went out.
I wrapped my arm around her waist and threw us both onto the shoddy bed of grass and cotton.
******
"Hnng...! Hup...! Hah...!"
When you spend your time in a place like this, throwing your weight around over men who cater to your whims, you're bound to fall under an illusion: that you can do whatever you want with men, that you are a predator lording over an inferior lot.
"Hoo...! Hoo...! Ah.... Ahh...!"
Sure, in this stronghold where only fools bent to her will, she must have truly reigned like a queen, toying with men.
"W-wait just a...! Hah...! What the...!"
But she'd picked the wrong opponent. Unwittingly, the man she'd dragged into her bed was one trained by a genuine sex demon—a man who was going to tame her and dominate her right here.
"Keep still."
My hand grasped the mound of her breast, squeezed lightly, trapping the nipple between two fingers. With an exquisite touch, I stroked up and down, grazing the nipple against her skin, while my other hand reached down between her thighs.
"Hh... hhaa...!"
I toyed with her ear lightly with my tongue and gauged her reaction. She flinched as if jolted by electricity, so I licked her ear, sucked on it, while kneading her breast.
"Ah... ahh...!"
We hadn't even started properly, yet the woman's eyes had rolled back, staring at the ceiling. Even her profile revealed a face stained with pleasure and bewilderment. Her expression said this:
"Hah... hahh...!"
This isn't how it's supposed to go. Something's gone wrong.
Something was definitely going wrong, but she didn't know exactly what. Confusion. Amidst that confusion, I slowly slipped my fingers between her thighs and brushed against her secret place.
"Hnnggh...!"
You mustn't just shove a finger straight in.
Rather than tearing wildly into the cleft, you have to sweep around it, make her frantic, stimulate her just right. I hadn't even touched her properly, yet her rough pubic hair was fully soaked, and a squelching sound accompanied every movement of her thighs. She looked like someone dipped from the waist down in a viscous liquid.
"Ahh...! Hng...!"
Nasal sounds mingled in, and her legs trembled. Her feet, which had been flailing uncontrollably, finally stretched taut and pressed down against the bed. It looked both like she was trying to escape and like her body was boiling over, not knowing what to do with the surging pleasure.
I kept working my fingers, pressing around the area of her bean and stroking gently downward. Not too rough, but not too weak. You have to move meticulously at a precise speed. This can't be done with simple motions.
When the Sex Demon explained the movement of these hands, he taught me to apply the profound principle of the Golden Capturing Hand.
"Ah... aahh... hng...!"
The woman struggled to get away. She'd clamped her legs tight shut, trapping my hand between her thighs. Her face flushed bright red, she shook her head from side to side, trying to say something to me. Her lips moved, and her face, heated to its limit, contorted.
"Ah... s-something... some strange place... ahh...! Ah...!"
Ignoring her words, I grabbed her breast even harder and moved the stroking hand faster. The hand, glossy with her nectar, began stimulating the spots she liked—swiftly yet very smoothly.
I never applied great strength, yet she couldn't wriggle free of my grasp. Without brute force, I focused power on the spots I wanted and turned the force of her resistance back against her, granting her even sharper pleasure.
"Hh...! Ah...! Ah, aahh.... Ahh...! Ah...!"
The faster my hand moved, the more ragged her breathing grew. She clutched at my clothes, thrashing her feet and hugging tightly into my arms, shaking her head, taking deep breaths—completely losing control of her body.
"Ah...! Ahh...! Hng...! Ah...! Ahh...! Aaaahhht...!"
Like water coming to a boil in a kettle, like turning red-hot and steaming away, her rising voice began to leak out of the tent.
And then, as my hand swept over her weakest spot and I bit her earlobe—
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
Pusyut! Pusyuwut!
Her body stretched out straight as she hit her peak. As if wringing every last drop of water from her entire body, she shot fluid from her lower half, her back arching into a bridge before she went limp and clutched her chest tight. Droplets sprayed into the air, glinting in many colors, and she stared up at the ceiling with a dumbfounded expression.
"Ah...! Hah...! Hah...!"
In the lamplight, her body was smeared with a mess of fluid and sweat. I looked at the bed, ruined by nothing more than my fingers and a single round of caresses, and whistled.
It hit me all over again—memories of the days I spent on that cliff.
The Bedroom Arts and caressing techniques I'd mastered, wondering whether they'd actually be any use.
Those bizarre caressing methods that incorporated inner energy, and the hand movements that applied the profound principle of the Golden Capturing Hand.
Every bit of it was clearly worth learning.
For getting out of this stronghold.
And for rising to become the greatest under heaven.
I glanced to the side. The woman was looking at me, her eyes trembling.
Expectation and fear.
I was ready to answer the complex feelings held in those two eyes.
Because the night was long.