Chapter 8

Henry’s manhood entered Catherine.  

Even though she was thoroughly wet, her insides still felt impossibly tight. Whether it was because Catherine was more petite than most women, or because he was larger than most men, neither of them could tell. But this disparity always made the beginning of their union feel as intense as the peak of pleasure.  

The psychological thrill of stimulating each other’s most private places added to the excitement.  

What he truly wanted was to thrust into her fully in one go. But knowing that such an action might hurt Catherine’s delicate body, Henry restrained himself with the last shreds of his rationality.  

He pushed his hips forward as slowly as he could manage. Catherine, still covering her face with her hands, mumbled something incoherent. Though unclear, it sounded like she was saying he was too big or asking him to move more slowly.  

How much slower could I possibly go? 

Henry clenched his teeth as he gripped both sides of Catherine’s waist.  

His massive length was forcing her narrow passage to stretch to its limit. The sensation of being stretched and penetrated was slightly painful. But wasn’t it said that pain and pleasure were two sides of the same coin? Tears welled up from the strain on her skin, but Catherine could feel a strange heat building between her legs. Henry moved inside her so slowly that she could discern the shape of him. Her walls tightened to accommodate his substantial girth. The shame of it all was unbearable. Not just the embarrassment—it was humiliating. Catherine couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes and look at him.  

Henry’s lower abdomen pressed against Catherine’s rear. Her breathing came in shallow gasps, as if it was difficult to fully accept him all the way to the base. She had taken him daily, yet today felt especially challenging. Perhaps it was because this was their first time coupling in this position. Catherine braced herself with her arms and lifted her upper body slightly.  

The thought crossed her mind: lying prone and passively accepting his manhood felt akin to the mating of animals. It was a moment that shattered the values she had been taught as a noblewoman—always to carry herself with dignity and grace. If she had known her life’s purpose would culminate in spreading her legs and raising her hips for a distinguished husband, she wouldn’t have tried so hard to live virtuously.  

“Aah…”  

Perhaps noticing her wandering thoughts, Henry abruptly pulled back, only to thrust forward with force. The sudden motion knocked the breath out of her, and Catherine squeezed her eyes shut. If Henry’s intention was to clear her mind of all distractions, he succeeded. Catherine, unable to think of anything else, began trembling as she called out his name.  

“Hen…ry…”  

His manhood, which had struck her cervix in one swift motion, pulled out only to push back in repeatedly. What started as slow and deliberate movements gradually became faster and rougher, leaving Catherine’s arms and legs trembling. Her limbs were far too weak to withstand Henry’s relentless strength.  

Eventually, Catherine collapsed onto the bed. Lost in his own passion, Henry had been thrusting into her with all his might. When she fell helplessly onto the mattress, he finally opened his eyes and looked down at her. He watched her for a moment, her entire body drenched in sweat and her breathing labored. Then, Henry bent down toward her.  

His heat was palpable as he drew closer. Catherine, lying on her side with her face turned away, cautiously opened her eyes. She knew he wasn’t yet fully spent, but she lacked the strength to lift herself again.  

Henry reached out toward the headboard, grabbing the pillow that had been pushed aside. Catherine, assuming he would touch her again, blinked rapidly at his unexpected action. She wanted to ask what he was doing, but for some reason, she felt too embarrassed and exhausted to speak, so she stayed silent.  

After retrieving the pillow, Henry tilted his head briefly before sliding his hand under Catherine’s stomach. Startled by the sudden touch, Catherine flinched, and Henry used the opportunity to lift her hips. With the gap created between her abdomen and the bed, he slid the pillow underneath her.  

“W-what are you doing?”  

Catherine had never used a pillow for anything other than resting her head. While she had occasionally stacked pillows to elevate her feet after long walks in the city, placing one under her stomach was entirely foreign to her.  

With the pillow propped beneath her, her hips jutted upward in an awkward position. Flustered, Catherine tried to raise her upper body, but Henry’s weight pressed her back down.  

Henry’s large frame covered Catherine completely, leaving no space between them. His solid chest pressed against her back, and his hardness nestled between her soft thighs. The heat radiating from his arousal against her already slick entrance made it clear that Henry intended to resume their union in this position.  

“Wait… ugh!”  

Catherine barely had time to protest. Predicting her resistance, Henry grabbed her arms and pinned them down. Her legs, which had been flailing in protest, were also trapped beneath his. With her arms and legs immobilized, Henry moved his hips, sliding himself back into her wet core.  

“Hah… ahh…”  

This time, it wasn’t just her lower body that was pinned. Her entire body had to bear the weight of him.  

It was overwhelming.  

She was out of breath.  

Whether Henry noticed her struggle or not, he continued moving his hips. And he was relentless.  

He lifted her hips slightly to withdraw before thrusting forward again, pressing his abdomen tightly against her curved back. The wet sounds of their bodies colliding filled the room, leaving Catherine’s mind in a haze.  

Her arms and legs were completely immobilized. All she could do was cry out as she lay prone with her hips raised.  

“Aah… ahh…!”  

She didn’t want to make a sound, but every time Henry pushed into her, his weight forced the cries from her throat.  

The consequences of waking him were harsher than she had anticipated. Catherine had only touched him because their contract marriage was her means of escaping her grandfather’s control and finding freedom. Yet now, she felt like a criminal being punished for a grave offense.  

“P-please… ahh… stop…!”  

Even uttering those words was a challenge, as her breath hitched twice during the effort. But it seemed Henry had no intention of stopping—or perhaps he couldn’t hear her through the blanket muffling her voice. Either way, Catherine’s situation was undeniably dire.  

Still pinned beneath Henry, Catherine clawed at the bedsheets. Her back, slick with sweat, pressed against his chest. She couldn’t tell if the moisture was hers or his; their bodies were so entwined they felt like one.  

She had reached her limit. She feared she might suffocate before she could bear a child and gain her freedom. Desperate, Catherine wriggled her head and arched her back in the only plea for help she could manage.  

But no matter how much effort she put into moving, she couldn’t shake him off.  

As her vision began to blur, Henry muttered something unintelligible and shuddered. He had reached his climax. His entire body tensed as he gripped her wrists tightly. The pressure on her wrists was so intense that tears welled up in Catherine’s eyes.  

“Hah…”  

The coupling, which had left her unable to move or cry out freely, was exhausting. She was sure her wrists and ankles would be bruised by morning. Catherine already dreaded the gossip her maids would spread upon seeing the marks on her body. For servants who thrived on whispering about their masters, her condition would be prime fodder. In the worst-case scenario, rumors might spread that she was being abused by her husband in a loveless marriage.  

She sighed deeply.  

Henry, who had been lying still atop her, finally rolled to the side.  

The storm that had felt endless was over, leaving Catherine utterly drained. Her body was sticky with sweat, and the bed was damp. But she was too tired to care. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and fall into a deep sleep, decorum be damned.  

“…We should clean ourselves and change the sheets.” 

Henry muttered.  

Just as Catherine was about to drift off, she heard the sound of a bell ringing near her ear.  

Henry had rung the handbell used to summon Marina to the bedroom in emergencies.  

The room was filled with evidence of their passionate encounter. Catherine’s half-closed eyes flew open. She didn’t want Marina to see her in such a disheveled state. Panicking, she grabbed the discarded blanket to cover herself, but Henry snatched it away and tossed it aside.  

“I’ll have her bring fresh sheets. Don’t use this one.”