Chapter 29
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She wanted to finish this somehow, but with no experience and an utterly unprepared body, it was an impossible task. After so many failures, she had even begun to doubt whether the place she was aiming for was indeed the correct entrance.
Frustration at her plans going awry rose to a peak. The lingering tension and guilt towards her partner combined, bringing her once again to the brink of an explosion.
“Why won’t it go in, damn it, why!”
In the end, she flung away the rope-like object she had been clutching and was about to give up entirely. That was the moment.
The man, who had been lying still, suddenly half-rose. Thinking he meant to shake her off as she thrashed atop him, Fiona started at the hot breath she felt near her shoulder. For some reason, he had rested his head against her shoulder. Startled by this unexpected move, Fiona also felt a strange sense of relief.
‘So he doesn’t reject me, after all.’
Given the circumstances, she had naturally assumed he would hate her. Perhaps it was the drink, but the fact that he had moved of his own accord to touch her felt significant. Though not a single word had passed between them, she felt somehow that their connection had deepened. Suddenly, Fiona felt an impulse to look into his eyes.
What did her husband look like? What colour was his hair, his eyes? What expression and gaze did he wear as he looked at her? Lost in these thoughts, she slowly stroked the back of his neck.
Seeming not to dislike her touch, the man buried his forehead against her shoulder, panting and growling softly. The gesture seemed both a complaint of weariness and, in its own way, a comfort to Fiona. His docile attitude helped calm her frantic heart.
Yes, this was not something to be rushed. Fortunately, he was far more cooperative than she had feared. She would calm down and try again. A new resolve formed.
“Hoo… Yes, let’s get a grip.”
Emboldened by this unexpected encouragement, Fiona took a deep breath and relaxed her body. Perhaps it was a foolish thought, but at this moment, she felt fortunate not to be alone, to have him here with her.
“To finish this, this needs to go in here… but it’s not working.”
She briefly explained to him what she was trying to do. Only then did it occur to her how little consideration she had shown him. He had been subjected to her actions without any understanding of what she was attempting.
“A part of your body… needs to enter my body. Do you understand what I mean?”
Inwardly, she half-hoped that upon hearing this, the man might instinctively move to assist, but all that came back was a sense of bewilderment. Though large in stature and clearly past adulthood, and reportedly skilled at slaying monsters, he was evidently utterly ignorant in this regard.
At this point, Fiona began to question the very concept of s****l union. Could children only be made in such a manner? How did other people manage this business? As this thought took hold, certain images flashed through her mind. Moments she had accidentally witnessed while living on the poorest, dirtiest street in the village—unpleasant, filthy memories she had deliberately erased.
In barns where people rarely went, in secluded thickets, by streams after dark. Men would pant disgracefully, and women would make spine-chilling sounds, writhing as if in ecstasy. The sight of a glistening, wet c**k disappearing between a woman’s legs, accompanied by the slapping of flesh, was so grotesque that recalling it even now made her want to retch.
It was only then that Fiona remembered the vial of oil the maid named Marie had pressed into her hand at the last moment. Truth be told, when she received it, she had merely thought, Why give me this? with her usual cynicism.
There was a reason for it.
Finally understanding the maid’s intention, she rummaged in her bosom and retrieved the small bottle, smaller than her palm.
‘So… I need to lubricate it?’
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