Even If It’s Depraved - Chapter 3

The man who had been sliding his hand lewdly over her damp underwear pushed his fingers inside her, parting the coarse hair and stroking the neatly closed entrance. Every time his fingers brushed against her soaked flesh, a wet, obscene sound filled the air.

Brunhilde thought this felt like a vile dream. Lewd. Wicked. And yet too intoxicating to resist.

Her body, which had known no man for seventeen years, had ripened without her even realizing it, ready to crave one. Her untouched depths were already burning with heat. Thick, calloused fingers traced small circles, stretching her open, and finally pushed inside.

“Ah—!”

Brunhilde clutched the rich folds of her dress instead of the man’s back. The foreign sensation was overwhelming. Her drenched insides welcomed his fingers with something like joy, twitching greedily as if begging to be stirred.

Soon, his fingers began to move. He teased her clinging flesh slowly, relentlessly. Every time his fingertips scraped against her, her shoulders trembled. When he probed deeper, her breath came in gasps.

Gazing at the golden orb beside her, Brunhilde wondered if she had sold her soul to a demon. This dizzying sensation, dulling her very mind, surely it was the price of corruption.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been writhing against his touch when his fingers suddenly withdrew. Drunk on pleasure, Brunhilde instinctively clenched her thighs, looking up at him with pleading, tear-wet eyes—even knowing he would mock her lack of chastity.

But unexpectedly, his face had gone hard. The mockery was gone, replaced by a subdued voice.

“Spread your legs.”

As she obeyed, caught between humiliation and exhilaration, he shoved down his trousers. Stripping in an instant, he irritably pushed aside the folds of her gown that had pooled between her thighs.

Caging her legs with his own, he fumbled at her hip. When her tight, wet underwear wouldn’t come off, he simply tore the fabric apart.

Brunhilde had never been handled so roughly. She flinched, instinctively closing her thighs—but he wouldn’t allow it. Gripping her legs firmly, he spread them wide and rubbed his rigid length against her wet entrance.

His thick, powerful thighs twitched against her, pressing her down. To her aroused senses, even that felt like a s****l torment. He released her thighs, teased her entrance with the head of his c**k—then drove his hips forward deep.

“Ah—!”

Beneath the pleasure that had been teasing her insides, a tearing agony ripped through her. Brunhilde bit her lip to keep from screaming. His massive shaft split her open, forcing its way inside as if determined to cleave her in two.

She’d heard the first time was painful—but not like this. A single tear, unable to bear the pain, spilled over her lashes. Even so, he didn’t stop. When he had buried himself to the root, a long, satisfied sigh escaped his lips.

“Must be because you’re a highborn princess—the tightness is exquisite.”

“Ah… ahh…”

“That face you’re making now—I like that too.”

His fingers brushed briefly over her pain-stricken features, and then he began to move. Brunhilde’s untouched body was so tight it was difficult to thrust, but the sensation of her pure virgin walls gripping his shaft was pleasure enough.

With every rock of his hips, her b*****s that were barely contained by her neckline, swayed in answer. The faint imprint of his fingers still marked her pale flesh, stirring his lust further. He cupped her b*****s and began to suck her n*****s.

“Nngh!”

Brunhilde, struggling through her first penetration, arched her back. Faint pleasure flickered through the heavy pain like a passing wind. She clenched reflexively, pulling him deeper, and he seized her jaw roughly. Releasing her slick, swollen b*****s, he crushed his mouth to hers.

“Mmph!”

Forced open by the grip on her chin, she let him in. His tongue invaded hungrily, flicking against hers before stirring her mouth wildly.

While she gasped for breath through the storm of his kiss, the tearing pain began to fade. The hand kneading her b****t, the tongue plundering her mouth, the c**k driving between her legs—they all felt like one thing.

The inside of her thigh, which she’d thought would ache forever, began to tingle again. She could no longer tell if she was in pain or drowning in pleasure.

“Hah!”

The moment his lips pulled back from the brutal kiss, a moan came from her. Brunhilde didn’t even know what sounds she was making, she just kept crying out. He squeezed her b****t again, sucked it once more, and dragged his length deep through her fluttering insides.

Pinning her down as she writhed, he lifted one of her knees higher.

“I’ll f**k you even deeper—so keep crying for me, you lewd princess.”

Her knees, hooked over his arms, pressed firmly into her inner thighs. Brunhilde’s s*x spread open wider. The man tucked her limp legs under his arms, straightened his back, and drove his hips upward.

“Hah—!”

It felt like a battering ram striking deep inside her. For an instant, her mind went white. Brunhilde gasped, head falling back. Once. Then again. The man thrust relentlessly, savoring every reaction. She could barely breathe, each impact forced a choked cry from her throat.

He kept pounding between her thighs until he’d had his fill. Brunhilde spilled out sounds—half moans, half sobs—until finally, exhausted, she went limp.