A soft moan escaped her lips, a thin and muffled sound. The blunt tip of his p*nis brushed against her thigh, making Swan jump. Her thighs trembled sharply, then parted involuntarily. His hand, which had brushed lightly against her mound, moved up to undo the neckline of her dress, fully exposing her full, pale br*asts.

Atlion’s eyes lingered on her firm, rounded br*ast before his mouth latched onto her hardened n*pple. The way he buried his face in the valley of her br*asts resembled a child seeking comfort, but the force with which he sucked at her n*pple was far too intense, sending sharp sensations through her p*ssy.

“Ahh!”

The powerful suction left her gasping, her breathing rapid and erratic. Atlion bit down gently on her n*pple with his teeth, causing her hips to twist instinctively. She could feel a trickle of w*tness seeping from her core.

The heat intensified as his hands cupped her soft br*asts, kneading and squeezing. His mouth moved from one n*pple to the other, licking a long trail across her cleavage before sucking firmly on the other side.

“Ahng, haa…!”

Her legs spread wider, as if pulled apart by the rising heat that was building in her core. The growing itch inside her made it impossible to stay still. Atlion, who had licked and sucked her repeatedly, opened his eyes. Swan, her tear-filled gaze fixed on him, bit down on her trembling lower lip.

The man who had been pressing his chest against her like a lazy animal shifted his position and lifted his knees. Without hesitation, he spread his legs and thrust his considerable p*nis into her.

“Ahh!”

The force was rough and unrelenting. Swan, struggling to breathe because of the tight corset around her waist, grabbed his forearm with wide eyes. Noticing her difficulty, Atlion loosened the corset slightly to help her breathe. Her full br*asts relaxed, drooping gently as the tension eased.

“Swan.”

He thrust deep into her waist, murmuring softly as her ginger curls spilled across the white sheets. Atlion looked down at the swollen cl*t he was teasing and the entrance that surrounded his thick p*nis. It was mesmerising – the sight of her flushed, rosy core embracing his dark p*nis. To be buried inside her like that brought an unprecedented sense of ease.

He began to move in a slow, languid rhythm, his breathing steady and relaxed. Swan, flushed and overwhelmed, whimpered softly as she clung to his forearm. Atlion was intoxicated by the sensation of her inner walls tightly embracing his p*nis, each movement adding to his euphoria. Her slick, lustful opening swallowed him whole.

“Ahh… ngh, ahh…” .

He drove his p*nis into the base, eliciting a guttural moan as her firm walls clung greedily to him. Sweat trickled down his skin as he kneaded Swan’s ample br*asts, their full, voluptuous curves spilling out of his grasp despite his hands being larger than any knight’s. Her br*asts bounced in rhythm with his relentless thrusts.

The sound of his hips slamming against her and his heavy balls hitting her perineum echoed through the room. Overwhelmed by the searing sensations, Swan writhed beneath him, instinctively trying to push him away as tingling pleasure shot down to her toes. Her reflexive struggles were in vain – he caught her hands and held them tight as her nails dug into his skin. Her frantic scratches raked his chest, but instead of being a deterrent, he welcomed it, savouring the raw passion of her desperate response.

“Ah, haa! Your Majesty…!”

Atlion looked lovingly at Swan, her body trembling under the strain of his thick p*nis filling her narrow entrance. His dark, flushed p*nis stirred within her walls, drawing a gasp as her eyes fluttered with the overwhelming sensation. Leaning down, he planted a tender kiss on her eyelids, a stark contrast to the raw intensity of their union.

Swan let out a moan, her voice laced with pleasure and devotion as he spread her folds with his fingers. The sensation was intoxicating – a tantalising mix of vulnerability and submission, her already stretched entrance accommodating him even more.

“Ahhh…”

It was an erotic sight, her flushed body reacting instinctively. The act of exposing herself completely to him, even though she was already deeply impaled, sent a wave of heat through her. Her legs opened wider, almost reflexively, like a frog’s stance, as she began to rock her hips, her voice rising in broken cries with each subtle movement.

Atlion guided Swan’s hands to her knees, positioning her to spread her legs even wider for him. His gaze lingered on her, taking in the sight with unbridled admiration.

“Your Majesty, Your Majesty! Ahhh… haa!”

Her cheeks flushed a deep red with embarrassment, her expression a mixture of shame and longing. Atlion swallowed hard at the sight of her folds glistening, the mixture of his prec*m and her *rousal pooling at her entrance. Moving his p*nis swiftly inside her, he released himself with a deep groan, his stiff *rousal showing no sign of subsiding.

Still gripped by an insatiable hunger, he moved her into a new position, lifting her to her knees and guiding her to lie face down with her hips raised. Swan kept looking back at him, her nervousness evident in her trembling body. Before entering her again, Atlion slid two fingers into her slick p*ssy. Her p*ssy accepted it easily, offering no resistance.

“Mmhh…”

The soft sounds of her whimpering echoed through the chamber. Atlion glanced at her briefly before adding two more fingers, his movements deliberate. By the time he slid the last one in, it was almost as if his entire hand could fit inside her.

Startled, Swan turned her head to look at him, her body trembling with fear. The sensation of his four fingers, slick with her love juice, thrusting deep inside her was overwhelming. Fear mixed with the intense, electric pleasure that coursed through her body, leaving her breathless.

“Ahh, no, Your Majesty! It’s… it’s too much, please! I feel like… I’m going to tear.”

Atlion smiled softly, his voice calm yet commanding.

“This is the same place that carried my child, isn’t it?”

Swan shook her head frantically, her thighs trembling uncontrollably as his four fingers mercilessly teased her inner walls. The overwhelming sensation caused her to squeeze her eyes shut, a haze of dizziness clouding her mind. Her hips twisted instinctively, her body moving on its own as she thrust her rear in a primal response.

The push and pull of his fingers left her feeling as if she might break apart, yet an insatiable desire for even greater pleasure consumed her – a craving for something more substantial than the hardened p*nis he held at attention. Panting heavily, her lips quivered as Atlion abruptly withdrew his fingers.

Startled, Swan turned to look at him, still on her stomach, her hips instinctively shifting in search of the lost sensation.

“Say you want it.”

Atlion commanded, his voice deep and rough, vibrating in her ears.

Swan froze, her breath caught as his words hit her like a thunderclap. The throbbing pain inside her refused to subside, and the heat radiating from her core only intensified, turning her thoughts into chaos. But when she heard his demand, a fragment of clarity snapped into her mind, pulling her out of the fog for a moment.

“Live as my wife.”

“……”

“You only lived with this lowly man because it was difficult to raise a child alone. Letting go of the burden was also because you wanted it too much.”

He had indulged in his own delusions. Swan looked at him with cold eyes, but kept her gaze fixed on the blood flowing from the torn flesh. She didn’t want to react to his words, but she felt the urge to tend to the wound on his thigh. It was amusing to see him acting dominant, as if he had the upper hand after putting Swan in that state. But as she looked at his emaciated form, all she wanted to do was “hold him and caress him gently”.

She wanted to let him suck on her n*pples to his heart’s content.

“Come on, Swan…”

Atlion’s voice was both a plea and a command.

He reached for her and lifted her trembling body into his arms. Now sitting on his uninjured thigh, she looked up at him, her hands clutching his chest. Swan avoided touching his injured leg, carefully keeping her weight off it, but her voice trembled as she finally spoke.

“What… what are you trying to do?”

Her words came out ragged, drenched in emotion, her trembling tone betraying the conflict within. She could feel the firm rise and fall of his chest, heavy with a mixture of anger and longing, but Swan didn’t want to take back what she had said.

“You know I understand what it means to be Your Majesty’s wife.”

She whispered, her voice barely audible but cutting, as if to remind him of the reality they both faced.

Tears streamed down Swan’s cheeks. She knew that not everyone who opposed her was simply a bad person. They had their reasons, and she understood her place. She was not the kind of woman who would ruthlessly fight for what could never be hers. From the beginning, it had never been her dream to become royalty.

All she wanted was a simple life like everyone else – a modest, warm household, even if it meant living in poverty. Hiding Atlion’s belongings, refusing to return him to his lost past, was an act born of her misguided belief that it would secure him for her. But the inhumanity of her actions led only to tragedy.

She bore an illegitimate child, and without Theo she would have ended up living the same life as her mother and grandmother. Unable to give her daughter a proper upbringing or to fit in with the village, she would have been ostracised and one day branded a witch and executed.

And were it not for this fate, she would have been forced by the Emperor himself into a position far beyond her means – a place of ridicule and scorn, where she would live under the weight of mockery and derision, painfully aware of her misplaced ambitions.

“Should I make you my mistress then?”

He grabbed her wet chin roughly, his voice laced with anger. The words hit her like a blow, her heart sinking heavily into her chest. Swan could only stare at him, unable to respond as his expression wavered between rage and something far more fragile. For a moment he looked as if he might cry, his emotions raw and exposed. But just as quickly he wiped away any trace of vulnerability, his tone becoming cold and cutting.

“Do you really think I wouldn’t do it?”

“Your Majesty…”

“Do you think I couldn’t bind you to me, even if it’s only as a woman in my bed?”

“I…”

“Making you nothing more than a mistress would be no challenge at all.”

“And what about the child?”

She asked, her voice trembling as she finally spoke, her gaze steady despite the storm of emotion within her.

Swan asked, her voice trembling as if her own heartbeat had dropped to a frighteningly low rhythm. Her tears, once hot and flowing, had begun to cool. She looked at the man, who stared back at her for a long moment before finally speaking.

“Then what about the child?”

“I am different from you. A child is no burden to me.”

Emotions flooded his blue eyes. The last tear in Swan’s eye fell to the ground. Her face twisted into a sad grimace. Atlion gently laid her down on the bed. Swan looked up at him helplessly.

“Do you think about Mirabella at all?”