As he prolonged the moment, circling the opening with his p*nis, he whispered as if exhaling a sigh. Swan lifted her head, her gaze drawn to him as he did nothing more than tease her quivering entrance. Her eyes landed on the corners of his red lips, curled into a deep, messy smile.

“What can I do for you?”

“Your Majesty… Your Majesty…”

She remembered the saying about trembling from below – it felt almost primal, yet undeniably true. Her hole continued to leak, as if desperate to grasp and consume his p*nis, and Swan looked at him with a look of desperation.

It should have become more bearable with time, but the overwhelming sensation of being filled only grew more unbearable. She longed for it to be over, if only for a minute, but the thought that it might last longer filled her with dread. What disturbed her most was the involuntary reaction of her body, which betrayed the resistance of her mind and made it all the more difficult to endure.

“Ask for it. Ask me to f*ck you.”

“Oh, oh, oh.”

“The man you have chosen is me and me alone. Nothing but me will ever satisfy you.”

A low whisper echoed in her ears. Her gaze fixed on the serpentine tongue flicking out. The sharp, red tip of his tongue brushed against her lashes, causing them to curl upwards. Swan trembled slightly. His face, fierce and untamed, was undeniably beautiful.

“Swan.”

Swan, her half-lidded eyes fixed on him, nodded slightly.

“Please… f*ck me.”

The rounded tip of his p*nis slid smoothly into the smooth opening.

“Mm!”

Her lips pressed tightly together as her nails raked across his shoulders, leaving red marks. Again and again she clawed at the same spot, her movements filled with desperation. The lewd rhythm continued – in and out, over and over – leaving Swan unable to collect her thoughts. Instinctively, she moved her hips, grinding her chest against his firm torso.

“Hngh, ahh, ahhh!”

The overwhelming pleasure, sharp enough to make her n*pples tingle, caused her teeth to clench tightly together. After several deep thrusts, the man lowered Swan to the floor and withdrew. She looked at him hesitantly, trying to gauge his intentions. His hands moved to turn her over, leaving Swan holding onto the bedpost for support as she cast a suspicious glance back at him.

“You know this position, don’t you? It should be quite familiar.”

“Ah, hngh…”

The dark red p*nis, slick with c*m and love juice, brushed against her perineum. Swan, trembling slightly, moved her hips in anticipation, waiting for him to enter. Atlion smiled as he cradled her slender, soft form and planted a kiss on her delicate shoulder.

Swan clung to his p*nis as if embracing it. The long, thick, stallion-like p*nis pushed against her hole. Swan gasped, her hips tightening instinctively.

“Ah, ahh! Ah! Hngh…” 

“You shouldn’t hold my p*nis like you hold your husband.”

A laughing voice was heard. The man pushed gently as he pulled Swan’s body slightly away from the pillar. His slow but precise movements made Swan gasp as her nails dug in. She pressed her nails firmly into the pillar and shook her hips in rhythm with his movements.

“Ah, ah!”

Atlion’s hand moved to the smooth perineum, his *rect p*nis pressing and rubbing against the clinging inner walls as if they were pulling him in. He gripped Swan’s pale body and looked down at her as she moved frantically, her body eager to take him in. It felt satisfying – there was nothing left but the overwhelming pleasure of taking her back.

Swan’s opening – that tantalising, intimate part of her. 

She was his now, completely and undeniably. There was no way he would ever give her up again. She was his, completely. And with that, it was settled. 

***

Una looked out of the round window. The setting sun, sinking behind the gentle ridges of the hills, was red and beautiful, like her mother’s wavy hair. As she rose to open the window, the woman who had been sitting on the bed, stroking her hair, approached.

“Princess.”

Una opened the window, letting in the still, cool evening air. The cold quickly turned her cheeks pink and she turned back to the woman. The woman, her light brown hair pulled back neatly, hugged Una with a gentle expression.

“The evening air is cold.”

After closing the window, the woman carried Una back to the bed. Una, fiddling with a blue ribbon, looked at the woman. She was unfamiliar. Una stared blankly at the hem of the woman’s light green dress before shifting her gaze to the closed, motionless door.

“Mom.”

Una murmured softly, her lips parting like a small fruit.

The woman who had been caressing Una’s round head held her tightly in her arms.

“Your mother is here. You’ll see her soon.”

Una, who had been staring at the door, turned to look at the woman. The woman, who had been looking at Una with pity in her eyes, smiled faintly. Did she know her mother? How could she know who Una’s mother was or where Una’s home was? And yet she had said her mother was here.

Una, watching her with slightly parted lips, turned her head at the sound of the dark brown door opening.

“The princess?”

“She woke up a little while ago. She has a slight fever, but she’s very lively.”

“She didn’t cry or anything?”

“Not at all.”

The woman picked Una up and sat her gently on her lap, stroking her hair even more gently. Una, her lips quivering slightly, turned her eyes to the man who had entered through the door. Dressed in steel armour and a blue cloak, the man had a cold and sharp demeanour. He was the one who had put Una in the carriage.

Una stirred slightly as she looked at him, her shallow, quick breaths barely audible. The knight, who had been watching her, turned his gaze back to the woman.

“She seems uncomfortable.”

At his words, the woman looked down at Una, who was shifting restlessly in her arms, her expression flustered.

“Are you unwell, Princess?”

Una didn’t answer. In fact, she hadn’t said a word since they’d put her in the carriage. She didn’t even whisper, which made the woman feel quite uncomfortable from the moment they met in the carriage. Raoul, the Emperor’s direct subordinate and captain of the Imperial Guard, looked at Una with concern in his eyes.

“Lady Ritsol.”

“She seemed fine earlier. But she hasn’t said a word since the carriage ride.”

The woman gently placed the fidgeting Una on the bed before turning to Raoul. Una, her face pale, looked at the man. He approached her, took off his gauntlet and pressed a hand to her forehead. He seemed to be checking for a fever, as Lady Ritsol had mentioned.

“Could it be the fever?”

“Perhaps, but it could also be because she’s separated from her mother. Most children would feel that way, and the princess is probably no different. Of course she must be unwell.”

Raoul pressed his lips together in silence. Lady Ritsol shrugged, as if to say it wasn’t her fault. But the care of children was her responsibility. She was a woman who had raised four of her own and cared for the children of noble families as if they were her own.

It was thanks to the gratitude of those nobles, touched by her devotion, that she had been appointed the princess’s governess. So if the Princess was unwell, it was undoubtedly her fault.

Raoul looked at the Emperor’s daughter, who was staring up at him with a clear, innocent face. She was like a little white snowflake – delicate and pale, yet bearing a striking resemblance to her father. At first, he had thought there was nothing about her that reflected the Emperor. But as the saying went, “blood will tell”, and even at such a young age, her father’s shadow loomed large over her.

Especially those tight lips. That stubborn look.

‘She’s angry.’

Raoul turned to find the princess running after him, reaching the door at the same time. He looked into her violet eyes and sighed. Children were his weakness, especially girls of that age.

“His Majesty will be with you shortly.”

The princess pushed against the door, her determined gaze fixed only on it. Unlike her mother, whose eyelids tended to swell with tears at the slightest provocation, the princess was resolute.

Raoul sighed again, thinking that if she were his daughter, he would have simply picked her up and given her to the governess. In truth, he had never taken the time to comfort or soothe his own child when they were so young. Just the sight of him as a father was enough to make the boy bow his head and look away.

But this was no ordinary child; she was the Emperor’s daughter, not his own. Even if her mother had been nothing more than a commoner living a simple life far from the Emperor’s court, the princess remained a princess by law and by blood. Besides, hadn’t the Emperor been completely consumed by his obsession with her mother?

“Father!” 

The princess suddenly cried, her voice shrill and loud. Lady Ritsol, who had been approaching her, froze in surprise.

“Fatherrr!” 

The princess cried again, pushing against the door. Raoul, startled, looked at Lady Ritsol, who seemed equally startled. Stammering, she approached the princess and gently rubbed her back. But the princess didn’t acknowledge her or turn around. Instead, she clenched her fists and began pounding on the door, her voice steady and determined.