7. The Prince's Secret
7. The Prince's Secret
The drawing room of the Count's mansion was unusually quiet today.
Normally, servants would be bustling about, carrying bite-sized snacks or teacups, but Marianne, who was in charge of the prince's reception, had dismissed all the staff for some reason.
Beron didn't find this particularly strange. His mind was already completely preoccupied with concerns about the prince.
Marianne sat at the head of the table, smiling gently as she toyed with her teacup. Beside her, Beron drank his tea with a somewhat stiff expression.
"How is His Highness the Prince doing?"
Marianne broke the silence first. Since the first day, Prince Lucas had shown no sign of coming out of his room. Officially, it was known that he was fatigued from his long journey.
Of course, Marianne knew the real reason, but she wasn't foolish enough to show it.
"The long journey has taken its toll on his body. It's something that will improve with proper rest, so it's nothing for Miss Marianne to worry about. He's been eating well."
"That's truly a relief. I, Marianne, will pray that His Highness the Prince recovers his health before he leaves Bellua. If there's anything he needs, please don't hesitate to let me know."
"I will convey my gratitude for Miss Marianne's considerate heart."
Starting with this, a routine conversation about schedule adjustments and meal menus ensued...
Beron's gaze drifted to an unfamiliar object placed beside the table. He couldn't help it. It had already been five days since he arrived in Bellua. Beron had familiarized himself with every piece of furniture and every minor decoration in this drawing room.
But today, as if to be conspicuous, there was a strange object on the table that he had never seen before.
"By the way, what is that?"
At Beron's question, Marianne let out a small sigh, saying "Oh, this," and reached out her hand.
"My apologies. I should have put it away earlier... I forgot after receiving it earlier. It's a prototype that's applied for sales permission, you see."
It was a truly peculiar object.
At first glance,
'Is it an art piece?'
That was Beron's first impression. And for good reason—it was semi-transparent, allowing a clear view of its interior, and its surface was engraved with mysterious patterns.
This palm-sized cylindrical object was pierced and fixed onto a thin rod.
'Given the symmetrical patterns, it might be an art piece with some geometric interpretation. Miss Marianne said she forgot to put it away by mistake... but perhaps this is a scheme to sell it to us.'
Beron had tried every possible means for the prince's sake.
Naturally, collecting art was also one of the methods to alleviate Lucas's stress.
"An unusual material and a carved prototype... Is Bellua a city famous for sculpture?"
At that naive comment, Marianne covered the corner of her mouth with a fan she produced from somewhere and laughed, curving the corners of her eyes like a young lady from somewhere. It was a standard laugh, flawless for a golden-haired, bun-haired young lady.
"Huhu... Rather than an art piece, it's an object with a slightly more practical purpose. It's a bit embarrassing for a young lady to say with her own mouth. Hohoho!"
"......"
She knew full well what kind of scolding she would get from her parents or brothers if word got out that she had made such a thing. She might even be married off somewhere as if being sold, or perhaps sent to live as a nun.
But Marianne was confident.
The conversation between the prince and Beron.
Confidence in how desperate Beron was. And the added confidence that Prince Lucas would not awaken to infidelity because of this. And what you might call confidence in this object, this masterpiece, created by Noah.
Pop—!
Marianne pulled the 'onahole' off the rod. And she showed it to Beron with the hole facing him.
"Do you still not have an idea what this is?"
"Hmm......"
Beron furrowed his brow and peered into the strange hole. What were these protrusions inside made for? It was a natural question.
"Try putting your finger in."
"My finger?"
Beron made a puzzled expression but didn't refuse. Carefully, he pushed his ring finger into the hole. And at that moment.
As if she had been waiting, Marianne firmly squeezed her own slender, jade-like hand.
"......!"
There is a flow to the world.
As a man, one instinctively realizes sex without being told, and if unable to have sex, one realizes masturbation. This order might also be reversed.
And there are truly all sorts of ways to relieve this sexual desire, so among them, there are inevitably prophets(?) who want to fuck anything that can be fucked.
Thinking of a slime as that target is a natural flow, if it is natural.
As the internal ridges and protrusions pressed and scraped against his finger, it was a natural flow that Beron, unlike the virgin prince, realized what this was.
Startled, he pulled his finger out, jumped up, and exclaimed.
"... M-Miss Marianne! Are you playing a joke on me? If I were to inform Count Lowell of such a blasphemous thing...!"
"Huhu... If it reaches my father's ears, I might be locked away in a convent that very day."
But contrary to those words, Marianne boldly spread the entrance of the hole and showed it to Beron.
Marianne thought Beron's first impression wasn't wrong.
This is an art piece...!
Look at this form, which perfectly embodies the lewd and beautiful pussy of that renowned elf Noah. The twisted ridges and intricate protrusions inside possess a strange sculptural beauty.
Isn't it often said that the human body is God's greatest masterpiece? Then this object, modeled after the world's most beautiful pussy, deserves to be called the greatest art piece itself.
"Don't you think... it's truly beautiful?"
"......"
Gulp—.
A beautiful pussy.
Upon hearing those words, Beron shuddered. Then he sat back down and stared intently at the object Marianne presented, lost in thought.
Perhaps, no, certainly.
He began to think that such a beautifully sculpted 'pussy' might be the answer to the prince's terrible trauma.
It didn't even smell like it came from a real woman's body.
"Is this... really a sculpture?"
A sculpture? If not a sculpture, what is this object for? In response, Marianne showed him by pretending to insert and remove her finger from the 'onahole'.
"It is an art piece whose value is proven only when it is used. If you're interested, I'll give this to you as is. It's just a prototype, so you can take it with a light heart."
"The name of this is..."
Marianne frowned slightly and continued.
"The creator said it's called an 'onahole'. I'm not quite sure what it means, though."
"Onahole... is it."
Thus, Beron acquired the prototype of the onahole 'Elf's Temptation ver.Noah'.
===
What was lacking could be filled with magic. A little more than a day had passed since I handed the completed onahole made of slime material to Marianne.
"......"
"You don't look well. If it's alright, shall I say a prayer for you?"
"I-I'm fine. I-I'll be fine if I just rest in my room for a bit. About the children's textbook production... Ugh. I-It's better to talk about it later. Well then..."
"Yes, Noah-nim. Regarding the children's magic guidance, we will follow your wishes. If, if it's alright, shall I accompany you to your room?"
"Ah, no... It's fine..."
Under normal circumstances, I would have gladly accepted Irene's kindness, but today I couldn't.
Only after confirming that Irene wasn't following me did I relax my body and stagger against the wall.
"Haa... Fuck..."
I couldn't help but swear.
And then I immediately channeled magical power.
Namely, magic that bypasses and dulls sensations.
Only then did my body feel lighter. I took a deep breath and started walking again. I bit my lip in pointless irritation, but the one to blame was ultimately myself.
The current situation was none other than my own doing.
The final thing lacking in the process of making the onahole. It was the fact that the slime core lacked the will to 'fuck'.
The solution was simple.
I just had to extract and implant not only the onahole's appearance but also that will from my own body. For someone like me, accustomed to manipulating sensations in various ways, it was truly easy.
The prototype 'Elf's Temptation' was an object born that way.
It had become a kind of magical tool.
If Marianne's plan succeeded... the onahole would surely be in the prince's hands by now.
That much was fine.
How much could he possibly use it? After using it, it would take at least a few hours before he could use it again, and even if he did use it, he might experience a refractory period.
But what I overlooked was...
The fact that this world might be a world inside an adult game.
"Fuck... how long is he going to keep going..."
It was only because I had dulled the sensations. The onahole had been in continuous use since some point. Even now, as I walked quietly, I could feel the sensation of insertion inside my vagina. And it had been going on continuously since earlier.
Something was continuously scraping against my vaginal walls...
Instinctively realizing this was a bad sign, I hurried toward my private room. I needed to quickly check the prince's condition with the Orb.
The path to my private room felt longer than usual. Pretending to be fine and greeting the children and nuns I encountered along the way was pure torture.
"Noah-nim! Noah-nim! I have a question...!"
"Come back later. I have a very important... matter to attend to right now..."
I quickened my pace and clenched my lower abdomen.
I had bypassed the sensations, but the load was probably still accumulating. The roof of my mouth itched, goosebumps rose, my thighs felt weak, cold sweat formed on my spine,
And my pussy was getting wet.
With an expression that looked perfectly normal from the outside, I arrived at my door and hurriedly turned the knob to enter. I immediately locked the door behind me.
The moment I stood with my back to the door,
My body shuddered and trembled.
"......"
My small, personal room.
Simultaneously with the thought that I wasn't too late, a faint pleasure spread languidly from my toes up my spine to the top of my head. I could sense it immediately.
I looked down.
My dark green skirt was slowly getting soaked through from around my crotch. The unpleasant sensation of it trickling down my thighs was an added bonus.
Drip, drip...
Soon, a puddle was forming under my shoes.
"Fuck."
This was the result of that prince bastard grabbing the onahole and fucking it non-stop since morning.
The point is, it meant I had come.