Oscar inserted his finger into the narrow opening from which fluid was leaking. He felt the slick length that swallowed his finger twitch again. It was as though his entire body had shrunk to the size of that single finger. He sensed the fine, delicate texture of the muscles vividly.
His long finger went deep, then withdrew, only to push in again and press firmly at a certain point. The woman’s lower back, which she was supporting with her arms, trembled faintly. As he applied more pressure, her knees nearly gave way.
Oscar supported her abdomen with the hand bracing her lower back and pushed his finger even deeper.
He recalled the moment when he had pressed somewhere far inside with his fingertips.
As he rubbed and pressed a hot, slick place within her, moisture surged out, soaking his hand. At the same time, the woman went still. Her pupils loosened languidly, her gaze turning unfocused, and a thin moan slipped from her lips.
“Ah… hng…”
The instant the sound—finer than a streak of rain—reached his ears, Oscar froze. The moan, so faint he could hardly be sure he had heard it, clung stubbornly inside his ear.
You—moaning, overwhelmed by the flooding wetness and whatever sensation it brought.
Squish, squish.
Lewd sounds—enough to drive one mad by hearing alone—rose from beyond the narrow passage swallowing his fingers. The path that consumed them continued to leak clear fluid, as though chewing.
“Haa…”
I’m losing my mind.
Why had he told this woman to lie down?
Oscar von Reinhardt—who had always acted with efficiency, guided by reason—now felt parched, like a man consumed by thirst.
His penis ached, swollen to the point of bursting. He let out a hollow laugh at the sight of its thoroughly wet tip.
Gritting his teeth, he pulled his finger from the narrow passage and brought the head of his penis to the opening. The woman, who had been holding her breath, inhaled sharply at the thickness—so different from his finger.
“Endure.”
He did not even realize he had spoken as he attempted the parched intrusion.
He pressed the thick head against a passage that had barely accommodated a single finger. Even that alone made it feel as though all the blood in his body were heating uncontrollably.
Could I really stop this?
The fleeting thought that crossed his mind was crushed as casually as a discarded cigarette.
The passage he had believed could admit only a finger proved unexpectedly elastic, and the fluid easing the friction was more than sufficient.
He tensed his lower body. As he rolled his hips forward, his rigid flesh slowly pressed into the delicate muscles.
“Haa… ugh…”
A strained breath escaped her. At the same moment, he felt the fine muscles around him tighten firmly.
Intentional or not, one thing was clear: everything about her affected him. Not only her unfocused gaze, but every minute movement, every breath, scraped raw at his nerves.
The scent rising from her struck his nostrils. Her pale buttocks and thighs, clasped tightly by his pelvis; her waist with its deep indentation—every detail stabbed somewhere deep inside him.
“Haa…”
As the muscles surrounding him contracted, it felt as though he were being consumed—eaten, melted down, absorbed entirely by the woman.
No.
He wanted to be.
In that instant, the scene from the previous night overlaid itself as though mocking him.
You—covered entirely in my semen.
As the obscene image, enough to make his head swim, flooded his vision, heat surged from his lower abdomen, racing backward through his veins at a terrifying speed. There was no time to stop it. In a blink, it reached his heart, then shot upward and struck his brain.
His reason, pared down to the bone, was swept away like driftwood on a storm-tossed sea.
He could no longer endure the urge to ejaculate, which felt on the verge of bursting. It was absurd—that he could not hold back even for a single thrust, without any drawn-out lead to climax.
But… considering the state his body had reached, perhaps it was not so absurd after all.
Sweat slid down his tensed lower abdomen. Blue veins suddenly bulged along his thick neck, yet the strain coursing through them registered as nothing.
A blue flame flared beyond Oscar’s eyes.
He wanted to ruin her.
He did not know what ruining her meant, nor what he expected to gain from it. He only knew that he wanted to melt completely into this narrow, constricting passage.
Beyond a dangerously swollen dam, water waited, ready to spill at any moment. It was already seeping through. The limit had been reached.
“Haa.”
Oscar let out a sharp laugh as he watched the dam collapse. His savagely twisted lips clamped down over his teeth.
The semen—already overflowing, poised to release—surged toward the tip of his penis as if it had been waiting. A wave of deep pleasure rose from his pubic bone and rushed downward, engulfing the young Reinhardt’s master entirely.
Gush, gush.
“Kuh…”
A fluid unlike the lubrication produced by his touch spurted from the tip of his penis. He felt the warm, viscous liquid flood the tight passage with unmistakable clarity.
Was this what it felt like when everything inside melted and poured out? Or was this the abyss—one that, once fallen into, offered no escape? Yet he had no desire to stop. Perhaps he was already there.
“Haa…”
Gripping the woman’s lightly trembling white waist with one hand, Oscar let out a low moan and flexed his hips, drawing back slightly. The wrinkled inner walls tightened around him, gripping his manhood firmly. The semen that had just been expelled seemed to pool rapidly, making what had come before feel insignificant.
Crazy bastard.
A fragment of reason—nearly drowned beneath the surging sensation—whispered the thought. But that whisper was powerless against the sight of pale liquid smeared along his shaft.
Pale semen leaked from the place where they fit together without a single gap.
Oscar went still, forgetting even to breathe.
A numbing satisfaction spread through his body, making his head tingle.
Her inside—having fully accepted him—was filled with him.
—
Luxen’s climate was described as mild and clear throughout the year, but that did not mean it lacked seasons or precipitation. Luxen had winter. It was simply called mild because temperatures never fell low enough for snow. Rain, however, was another matter.
Much of Luxen’s rainfall was concentrated in autumn and winter. And it would not be an exaggeration to say that Luxen's precipitation was concentrated in autumn and winter, with rain falling much more frequently than in spring and summer. Unlike certain regions of West Norfolk, where rain fell lightly over long stretches, Luxen’s rain came in torrents. Sunny days and rainy days stood in stark contrast. And when it rained, it poured—often through the entire night.
Just like today.
Listening to the relentless downpour, Oscar thought,
Is it still falling?
And at the same time,
This incessant thing, too, is endless.
After behaving like a starved dog the night before, tonight was no different. He had been dragged into it again, like a fool.
He could not tell how much time had passed. The rain clouds blotting out the sky played a part, but that was not the only reason.
It’s dangerous.
He seemed to hear a voice drifting from an infinitely distant place.
You are in danger now.
Oscar, pausing in an act that felt as though it might never end, drew a breath in that suspended state. The clothes he had shed one by one under the rising heat lay scattered beside the bed like discarded trash. He and the woman beneath him were naked.
Oscar’s gaze shifted to the red ribbon still clinging tenuously to the end of the woman’s disheveled hair.
Ah.If that remained, then perhaps the phrase not wearing a single thread was inaccurate.
The ribbon looked even redder against her pale back. And her pale back, beneath the ribbon, appeared even whiter by contrast.
Her slender back—pitifully thin—rose and fell rapidly. Yet no sound of breathing reached him. Her face was buried in the blanket.
Oscar stared down at Seo-ah with cold eyes. Then he seized her waist firmly with both hands and ordered,
“Kneel.”
She squirmed and drew her knees beneath her, lifting her hips. Her narrow back arched more clearly, the outline of her sunken spine standing out. Between the deep clefts that inevitably parted, the delicate wet veil holding his manhood was visible.
“……”
Watching the scene, Oscar inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.
Reason had fully submerged and vanished by the time his body had begun to feel as though it were melting. What remained was nothing but a rutting animal, desperate to devour the small woman beneath him.
“I told you to kneel.”
At the cold command, the woman—her posture already on the verge of collapse—forced her hips up again. But it lasted only a moment.
Oscar knew her stamina was completely depleted.He did not stop.
Why should he?Why should he concern himself with this woman’s condition?
Sweat ran down his taut spine, his muscles rigid with strain. With his arms braced on either side of her shoulders as she sagged, he moved only his hips. His upper body remained almost perfectly still, giving his movements an eerily elegant precision.
He had no idea how many times he had ejaculated. There was no reason to count. With nowhere else for it to go, cloudy semen leaked again and again from the narrow passage. Yet even the slightest tightening of the delicate muscles around him made it feel as though he might lose control once more.
Just like now.
“Not enough?”
At the languid question, the woman’s shoulders—buried in the blanket as if she were dead—trembled faintly. It seemed the ignorant foreigner was beginning, at last, to understand. She had not known what a brothel was, but now she appeared to grasp what not enough meant.
“Then why do you keep moving?”
Her head, which had remained pressed into the blanket the entire time, finally lifted with great effort.
Oscar’s upper body, which had remained steady, tilted slightly to the side. The woman, unaware that his gaze—once fixed above her—had shifted and was now flowing downward, blinked in confusion.
I wasn’t moving…
The thought seemed almost visible on the woman face.
Her understanding hovered somewhere incomplete. Half-open. Half-closed. And now, absurdly, the woman held the white blanket between her teeth.
Seeing her like that—eyes wide, the fabric clenched between her lips—Oscar let out a hollow laugh.
Then the woman, still biting the blanket, turned her head and looked up at him. Her tilted gaze met his. Oscar, whose laughter had dried into nothing, tipped his head a little farther and murmured,
“How could you dirty the blanket I sleep with like this?”
—