Chapter 1.2

Barely suppressing the moan threatening to escape her throat, Erta whispered softly.

“I-I’m sorry for dripping w-wetness without permission….”

Slap—

“Hnngh…!”

“Fine, I’ll forgive you specially just for today.”

The man swiftly pulled out the whip and immediately thrust a thick finger into her emptied entrance.

His touch was rough as he explored inside her body.

Feeling sensations entirely different from when the whip handle entered her, Erta involuntarily shook her hips.

Every time the man’s finger pushed deeper inside her, it rubbed against sensitive spots that had swollen with anticipation.

When his thumb pressed firmly against the sensitive nub at her entrance, Erta became increasingly dazed and unable to maintain her senses.

“Ah, nngh, aah….”

The heat inside her body built up until she felt it might burst.

As the man thrust his finger even harder, Erta couldn’t close her parted lips and helplessly trembled.

“Haa, hngh—!”

“Greedily swallowing without any dignity.”

The man’s movements exploring her insides quickened.

Squelch, squelch—

Slap—

“You still haven’t come to your senses.”

“Hnn, haa—!”

Her heated breathing continued nonstop. Erta’s fluids flowed endlessly, creating wet, slippery sounds.

Each time transparent liquid seeped from below, the man criticized her.

“What a shameless woman, full of greed.”

With his other hand, he slapped her thigh, filling the air with the sharp sound of skin hitting skin.

Slap—

Squelch— Squelch—

Erta struggled to maintain her sanity. It felt like brilliant fireworks were exploding before her eyes.

At that moment, the man thrust his finger deeply inside her with sudden force.

“Aah!”

Erta felt her mind melting into mush. Pleasure filled her body to the brink, nearly overflowing.

Yet, it was still slightly insufficient. If only a little more, just one more drop fell.

Crack—

It was at that instant. The man, holding the whip again, struck the reception room table where Erta lay.

The loud crack of the whip hitting the table exploded sharply in her ears.

Shivers ran down her spine. Her lower abdomen tingled intensely.

The climax she longed for was right before her eyes.

Again, his thick finger thrust deeply into her as if reaching her womb, scraping strongly against her inner walls.

Yet still, the moment she desired had not arrived.

Just a little more.

Like a traveler parched in the desert, Erta desperately tightened her thighs, swallowing his finger deeper inside her.

***

A deep sigh escaped the lips of the woman with long, lush, curly red hair flowing down.

“Haa. Today too.”

Her thick eyelashes, large eyes, and alluring gaze were heavily downcast.

In a luxurious, spacious bedroom that radiated wealth, a place anyone would envy, Erta opened her eyes with an expression filled only with melancholy, as though burdened by something deeply troubling.

As she stepped from the bed onto the floor, her slender ankles drooped weakly, as if they might sink into the ground with each step.

‘How empty it feels. In the end, it wasn’t real.’

Erta recalled the dream she had just experienced. Waking up before reaching the climax in the dream only intensified her disappointment.

And that wasn’t all.

‘Even in my dream, I couldn’t experience being treated roughly like an animal.’

Because she hadn’t experienced the act of being taken like a beast, nor the greater punishment the man had mentioned, Erta’s disappointment deepened further.

‘When will I ever fulfill my desires outside of dreams?’

Lately, every morning when she opened her eyes, Erta found mornings difficult.

Erta Geranion.

The esteemed daughter of the Marquis Geranion family, a renowned noble lineage within the empire, she was known in high society as the ‘Red Rose.’

With a charming beauty mark beneath her right eye and striking appearance, Erta naturally drew the attention and admiration of many wherever she went.

“Oh my, it’s Lady Erta. She seems to grow more beautiful each day.”

“How wonderful would it be to live just one day with a face like hers?”

Erta was an object of admiration among noble young ladies.

Without making any particular effort, thanks to her family’s prestige and her own beauty, Erta naturally became a central figure in social circles.

Yet, didn’t they say that beautiful flowers have rough vines and sharp thorns?

Though Erta herself had never intentionally raised such thorns, among the nobles, she was seen as someone difficult to approach carelessly.

“How can Marquis Geranion’s daughter be so elegant?”

“Even when she’s just standing still, she exudes grace.”

“I heard His Majesty trusts Marquis Geranion the most these days.”

Her elegant and dignified image had formed naturally, without her needing to take any special action.

Placed at the center of noble society’s power, she constantly received everyone’s attention and admiration.

However.

Erta had a secret she could never share with anyone else.

It concerned her own personal preferences.

Erta sat weakly in front of her vanity. As she met her own eyes in the mirror, her frustration grew even stronger.

Even she could see that the beautiful face praised by others was gradually losing its vitality.

Erta lowered her gaze to her wrists.

Her pale, slender wrists were smooth and unmarked by even the smallest scratch. That fact only increased her sadness.

‘Haa. I wish someone would tie me up.’

A sigh no one could hear echoed softly within the room.

She disliked how clean and unmarked her wrists were. She wished there were some red marks left behind.

‘How wonderful it would be if someone tied me up so I couldn’t move at all.’

If only she could tremble, scream, and be roughly dominated, like in her dream last night.

But that was a wish that could only be fulfilled in her imagination.

‘…Of course, even in last night’s dream, I couldn’t experience wearing a collar or anything like that…’

Occasionally, Erta had these dreams where her desires were fulfilled, but upon waking, she only felt emptier.

Because ultimately, none of it could be realized in reality.

An even bigger problem was that she couldn’t share these inner thoughts with anyone.

It was impossible to confide in the maids who attended her.

She knew all too well how quickly gossip spread among noble households’ servants.

Nor could she tell her family. Perhaps if she had siblings, it might have been different—but her only family consisted of her parents.

Sadly, she didn’t even have a comfortable childhood friend like others did.

In conclusion, Erta had absolutely no one with whom she could comfortably share her inner feelings.

Thus, unable to speak to anyone, Erta had tried to resolve things alone, even attempting to tie herself up, but she could never feel the excitement she experienced in her dreams.

Being forcefully dominated was ultimately cathartic because of the situation itself.

Without someone to handle her, it was meaningless.

In the same sense, even pleasuring herself was ineffective. After all, without a sadistic scenario, she couldn’t become excited.

‘Then what am I supposed to do!’

How could she possibly get closer to fulfilling even a fraction of her desires? How could she relieve the pent-up longing deep inside her heart?

Of course, Erta had tirelessly tried many different ways on her own.

She had even sought out books to experience vicarious satisfaction, but the type of content matching her preferences was rare and difficult to find. Rather, like waking up from a vivid dream, they only intensified her desires.

Each night she spent alone, suppressing the deep yearning locked within her chest, left Erta feeling increasingly dried up and empty inside.

This had continued for nearly three years now. At first, it had merely been a minor concern, but lately, she had no appetite and often left her food untouched.

This morning was no different.

“Erta, is something troubling you?”

It was breakfast time with her family.

Her mother, the Marchioness Geranion, looked at her daughter with eyes full of concern.

“No, Mother. Nothing’s wrong.”

Erta answered calmly, pretending everything was fine. She even forced herself to smile gently.

How could she possibly tell her mother that her troubles stemmed from the fact that no one was tying her up or punishing her?

When Erta forced herself to eat something, the Marchioness’s expression brightened slightly, seemingly relieved.

Her father, Marquis Geranion, also appeared concerned. Only after seeing Erta chew and swallow her food did he bring up a different topic.

“I’m glad to hear that. It’s about time we found a suitable fiancé for our Erta.”

“I’m already looking into good marriage prospects, dear, so please wait just a little longer.” 

The Marchioness chimed in, agreeing with her husband.

‘Marriage?’

Erta’s hand, which had been reaching for her glass, momentarily froze.

Not missing this subtle reaction, the Marquis asked softly,

“Or perhaps, Erta, is there someone you already have in mind?”

“Oh, if that’s the case, please tell us. Is that why you’ve seemed so lacking in appetite lately?”

Both her parents looked at her expectantly.

The problem was that Erta couldn’t give them the answer they hoped for.

It was impossible for her to have a man in mind—unless it was a whip she was thinking of.

“Well, that’s….”

What could I say to avoid disappointing them? 

Erta hesitated, struggling to find words.