A Talent for All the Wrong Places
Don't you dare applaud me for that kind of thing!
In the dead of night, while every soul in the mansion slept—every soul, that is, except our dear protagonist Aspen, who was off railing someone as usual—I stirred awake with a strange, ticklish sensation.
My breath came a little short, and my clothes felt stifling.
"Ugh... what is this..."
Even groggy and half-asleep, the prickling wouldn't let up, so I stripped off my clothes to check whether I'd broken out in hives or picked up some kind of bug—but nothing seemed amiss.
"Hmm... have I come down with an allergy or something?"
The moment I paused to think it over, a sharp jolt of electricity struck my nipples and chest.
"Hngahk♡"
It was a sensation of staggering intensity, unlike anything I had ever felt in my life.
Something felt so off that I turned my chest this way and that for a closer look, but there was no visible problem to be found.
On a hunch, I brought a fingertip to my nipples—which had perked up in a pretty blush of pink—and a wave of bliss beyond anything from moments before swept through me.
"Nnnngghhk!"
"What on earth is happening to me..."
As I looked around trying to take stock of the situation, my eyes landed on the green jar I'd been given earlier. If it wasn't that, there was nothing else it could possibly be.
(Still... it should be fine as long as I don't touch them.)
I let out a sigh—there wasn't even anyone I could blame for this—and had just made to climb back into bed when my nipples began to burn and itch.
Within the span of a few seconds the sensation swelled and swelled, until enduring it without touching became impossible.
"I can't touch th—"
My brain knew perfectly well that I shouldn't, but my hands—whether some residue of yesterday's lesson still lived in them—had already started caressing away on their own, exactly the way I'd been taught. I sank down right where I was and kept at it.
Nipple play, a pleasure I'd never known back when I was a man. My pussy was already sopping wet, nectar dripping in slow beads and beginning to pool on the floor.
"Haah... nnghk... hnnghh... haah... haah..."
Any thought of needing to leave this room had long since evaporated; I went on pinching my nipples, rolling them, even pressing down on them.
"Mmnh... I can't do this... I have to stop..."
I kept telling myself to quit, thinking it over and over—but my hands defied me at every turn, touching and teasing without pause.
Then, just as my body reached a rolling boil and the caressing was about to crest, a shock surged from my nipples straight down to my womb, as if a live wire connected the two and I had grabbed it barehanded.
"HNNNGHHHK!!"
I was already coming from caressing myself alone, but I forced my moans down.
What was happening below, however, was another story entirely.
(Splurt!)
A clear, faintly sticky spray burst from my pussy, reaching all the way to the far-off door.
(Haah... haah... haah...)
I wiped up the puddles—sweat or nectar, who could say—and changed my clothes. My pajamas, the only pair I'd been issued, were soaked through beyond salvaging.
And because I'd been far too busy frigging myself senseless to tidy the wet clothes away, tonight I had to sleep in my maid uniform.
Once the cleanup and the change of clothes were done, I leaned against the bed and let the existential crisis roll over me.
"Haah...... fucking hell..."
Powder or no powder, what I'd just done had been, unmistakably, by my own two hands. So rather than feeling as though something inside me had shattered, it felt as though something inside me had simply... changed.
"Hoo..."
After a good ten minutes of sorting through my thoughts, I slid slowly back into bed. And I resolved to throw out every stray thought and hold on to just one.
"The moment I get out of this mansion—or back into a man's body—everything will be fine."
Cradling that swelling dream, I drifted off to sleep.
(Knock knock knock)
...
(BANG BANG BANG!!)
My eyes snapped open at the tremendous clamor. The clock read just past nine.
And morning attendance was at nine.
I was late.
"Glay!! Late AGAIN?!"
Judging by the voice, it was Hailey once more.
(Rattle-clack)
(Click)
But the one who unlocked the door and stepped inside was Emilia, master key ring in hand. The moment she entered, her gaze swept the room.
The floor faintly stained as though water had been spilled; me, asleep in my maid uniform; my drenched pajamas crammed into a corner. She took note of each piece of evidence in turn, then drew quietly closer to me.
"It seems you enjoyed yourself. Excellent."
With that, she silently gathered up my pajamas and carried them out.
I gave my face a hasty wash, skipped the makeup I couldn't manage anyway, dabbed on some moisturizer, and hurried out. I scurried into formation, and just as we had yesterday, we made our way to the Annex.
One glance at the supplies laid out told me it was dildo class all over again. I took one more deep breath, same as yesterday, and took my seat.
Then Emilia lifted her dildo and began the lesson.
"Today, we will be locating your own G-spot."
"Of course, kisses at the entrance to the baby room have their own charm, but finding your G-spot is an equally important endeavor."
The content was utterly debased, but delivered with that serene face and that earnest, careful tone, it almost felt like a professor lecturing on a real subject.
(G-spot my ass! I've never even properly inserted one of these of my own free will yet!!)
Cursing inwardly, I slathered gel onto the dildo with a grim just-get-it-over-with mindset. I'd been too scrambled to notice yesterday, but seeing it up close this time, it truly sank in.
According to the maids' descriptions in the novel, Aspen's cock measured 35.5 centimeters. In other words—a monster.
(It's a novel, sure, but anyone taking that thing would die!)
(...Wait. Didn't I take the whole thing yesterday...?)
The Nth existential crisis of the season came over me as I smeared the gel.
(Haha... if my friends ever saw me like this, they'd ride my ass until the day I died...)
Once the gel was applied generously and thoroughly, I parted the entrance of my pussy with my left hand, took the dildo in my right, and eased it in slowly.
The moment the head made contact, a fresh rash of goosebumps swept over my whole body.
"Hoo... hoo..."
Keeping up the deep breaths, I carefully worked it deeper inside. With just the head fully swallowed, it already felt strange—uncomfortable in some way I couldn't name.
Perhaps because I was so tense, my walls clamped tight around it, and through that grip alone I could make out the shape of the head. It was a sensation I had never once felt in my life—no sudden rush of arousal, none of that burning edge from last night's solo session, none of it.
Somewhat reassured, I pushed it a little further in.
(Squish—)
A bit deeper, and the tip of the dildo knocked against my front wall.
"Hnnnngh—!"
(Drip, drip, drip)
I definitely hadn't been worked up, and it hadn't felt all that strange—and yet the moment I slid in a touch deeper, my entire body went rigid at once and another obscene sound slipped out of my mouth.
(Slide—)
The instant the brief spasm passed, I yanked the dildo out. And as I stood there flustered, unable to decide where to look, my eyes collided with Emilia's.
She met my gaze, then closed her eyes in that gentle crescent smile of hers and nodded, the very picture of pride. All around us, a dozen women were stabbing blindly at themselves in search of their G-spots—and I had found mine in a single stroke.
My head began to ache over whether I should laugh at the high marks surely coming my way, or weep at being gifted in nothing but a place like this. In the end, I decided it was time to get used to this sort of thing. I couldn't spend the rest of my life having crises of the soul over it.
I picked the dildo back up and slid it in slowly—then pushed it a shade too deep.
"Ah, wrong spot..."
As I slowly drew it back out, the tip pressed into my wall one more time. Slower than before, nowhere near as firm—and yet something about the feeling was off.
"W-wai, hngahk—"
The instant the wall was pressed, every ounce of strength drained from my body and I toppled over backward. The trickle leaking out of me the whole way down was just a bonus.
Emilia, watching, came over once more with that proud look on her face. By now I'd had quite enough of that pretty face, thank you very much.
She drew the dildo out of my sprawled body, then clapped in my direction to rally the room's attention.
(Clap, clap)
"Everyone, please set your dildos down for a moment and turn your attention here."
At Emilia's word, the whole class abandoned its G-spot hunting and listened.
"Before anything else, please give a round of applause for our Glay, who located the A-spot—the subject of our next lesson—in a single attempt."
(Clap clap clap clap)
(I said I don't want applause for THIS... T_T)
Checking that my body had settled, I tried to rise—and Emilia stopped me.
"Glay, please remain lying down for the moment."
Obedient as ever, I lay back down.
"Now then, everyone—do you know the difference between the G-spot and the A-spot?"
"It is—"
Before the words had even finished leaving her mouth, Emilia spread my legs and drove the dildo home. Then, without a moment's fumbling, she began pressing down on my G-spot again and again.
"Li..ke!.. thii..s!!.. you pre..ss—"
Her voice climbed and dipped over and over, in perfect time with every press against that spot.
"As you can feel for yourselves, the sensation arrives quite readily this way, and you will find it lies not far from the vaginal entrance."
"And the A-spot is—"
The words were barely out when she stabbed the dildo hard into my innermost depths.
(Squuuish—)
"Hyaahk!"
(Splurt... trickle, trickle)
The moment she pierced it, a fountain of that clear, sticky fluid erupted from between my legs.
"Hngahk... haahk... hnnnghh...♡"
Dignity be damned—what I felt in that moment was simply, devastatingly good. Neither the time a dildo had rammed into my womb in a single thrust, nor my solo session last night, had come anywhere close. For a few suspended seconds, every sense I owned seemed to flock to that one spot, as though it were massaging me from within.
"As you can see, this spot can be felt with ease even when the inside is not yet wet, and it makes orgasm considerably easier to reach than the G-spot."
"What you have just witnessed is what is commonly known as an 'orgasm'—the very summit of the sensation of 'pleasure'—and it is our Master who, for our sake, has so specially prepared these places within us..."
Without so much as a glance at me as I lay juddering, Emilia carried on in that placid, crisply enunciated voice. It was only once the orgasm had subsided into something survivable that thoughts of dignity finally crept back in.
(Fuck... at this point, one more existential crisis can't hurt, right?...)
Unable to tell whether the liquid streaking my face was nectar or tears, I lost all track of time until, at some point, class came to an end. And once again, without fail, it was Emilia who kept me behind.
"Glay, a moment, please."
Emilia held out two sheets of paper.
"You were unable to hear the earlier explanation, as you were rather occupied with your orgasm. These are today's class materials—do give them a read."
"It may seem that skill in caressing and in the act itself is all that is required, but study of this kind teaches you how to respond when the Master says things such as 'Come along,' or 'Where would you like me to stab you?', and how to carry yourself across a range of situations—threesomes, foursomes, and beyond. A command of these fundamentals is strongly advisable."
Having received this light overview of a pointlessly systematic Introduction to Sexology, I gave a small, meek nod.
"And I am glad to see that you enjoyed yourself so thoroughly yesterday."
"Ah."
"Um... Head Maid, about that powder from yesterday..."
As I fumbled toward the question, Emilia stepped one pace closer and took my hand in hers.
"When the two of us are alone, you have my permission to call me Emilia-ssi."
"Now then. Speak freely."
Whether it was the reassurance or the courage it lent me, I calmly laid out everything that had happened the night before.
"Hehe. 'The erased number four must not be scratched or touched.'"
"Scratch it or touch it, and the effect intensifies severalfold beyond what was originally intended."
"Ah! So that's why..."
"Even so, I am relieved it went no further than your nipples. Right up until yesterday, they gave you nothing at all."
(Press!)
"Hngk!"
"To think that a light press like this draws such an adorable sound from you. Truly a relief."
I couldn't work out whether I ought to be happy about that—but she had gone so far as to prepare a product just for me, so I offered my thanks, ate a light lunch, and returned to my room.
"Let's see now... this evening, once again, nipple stimul... zzz..."
I had stretched out on the bed to look over my schedule, and I fell asleep exactly like that, mid-sentence.