From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Chapter 110

This work contains scenes of sadistic coercion and hardcore depictions of BDSM. Reader discretion is advised.

Her b*****s, uncovered by anything, were grasped by the man’s hand. It was a docile and submissive act, like all her being. The maid’s inner flesh, smooth as moisture-laden silk, fully filled the warrior’s calloused hands.

Her peaks, flushed red like flower petals, tickled the center of the man’s palm. Ragnar stroked her cute, pointed n*****s, which stood e***t for him as if praising them, and again lowered his body. He pressed his lips over the maid’s wet lips, damp from her gasping exhales.

Arzeletta arched her neck and parted her lips as Ragnar came to her.

“…Haa.”

A long and persistent kiss followed. The two mingled tongues and drank each other’s moisture as if long-separated lovers. Yet, it had been less than a day since their last kiss.

Arzeletta was full of sweet nectar within. Ragnar, holding the woman captive in his arms, kissed her deeply, and with his free hand, steadily warmed the body that lay docilely exposed to him as if offered.

“……”

In the slight gap when their lips parted, Arzeletta slowly opened her eyes. Her eyes, red as if intoxicated by sweet wine, were unbearably alluring.

Ragnar’s touch was much calmer and more meticulous than yesterday.

When he touched Arzeletta, he was not rough at all. Instead, he was incomparably more avaricious than yesterday.

It was a persistence that even inexperienced Arzeletta could feel. Arzeletta’s cheeks, easily flushed, were redder than she had ever seen them. It wasn’t merely the embarrassment from being exposed and groped. It was due to a more blatant sensation, a layer peeled back, another layer revealed.

‘…Like he’s a different person from last night.’

Even more than herself, who had ignored the man’s words to flee him and run here, committing a rather bold act. Even more than her own helplessly fluttering, irresponsible self, Ragnar’s hands, steadily exploring her, made Arzeletta feel more disoriented.

“Hmph…”

Arzeletta’s tender chest, reddened from being massaged for a long time, was swallowed by Ragnar’s tongue. As her b****t was steadily sucked by the man, who seemed three times her size, Arzeletta squirmed her hips, not knowing what to do.

Soon, even that was gripped by the man’s hand. The strong grip of his large hand, clutching Arzeletta’s small, squirming b******s, left red handprints on her white, soft skin.

The black bustier, lightly draped around Arzeletta’s waist, was impatiently removed by Ragnar’s hand.

Just like Arzeletta’s nape, arms, calves, and legs, which were usually visible, her v***a, exposed from beneath the fallen clothing, was also clean. Her pubic hair, docile like seaweed, was as black as her own hair.

Ragnar’s hand gently stroked the pubic hair on Arzeletta’s plump mound, between her legs. It was a touch similar to caressing a young, gentle animal.

“Haat, mm.”

“……”

“My, Lord…”

In the Lord’s violet eyes looking down at her, there was only resolve. The confused passion of yesterday was cleanly erased.

What newly filled its place was the man’s dominant nature and possessiveness.

Since last night, Ragnar had thought about Arzeletta all day.

The maid’s mystique, appearing before him as if to answer his secret desires, and yet her bewildered green eyes, as if she herself didn’t know what had happened.

Her docility, like how she showed not an inch of disobedience even as her neck was choked in his hand and she collapsed.

“Did the Lord and I commit a sin? Is something like this… a sin?”

And most of all, that one question Arzeletta had left him with.

Ragnar thought as he returned the Grand Duchess and strengthened defenses against the dead. At that moment, the appearance of the dead beast was, for him, almost a blessing.

As the protector of the domain, every moment he felt the responsibility of carrying the castle walls on his back, he recalled Arzeletta’s image.

Then, he suddenly realized.

What shook him the most right now was not just the sensual satisfaction he gained through Arzeletta.

It was her frightened eyes, taking a breath behind his back, at the moment the dead beast appeared.

“Stay still. Just wait. Trust me.”

Even her noticeably calm demeanor the moment he uttered those words.

It was a new kind of responsibility. The strange pang in his heart upon seeing the naked body of the woman he had thoroughly disarrayed, the feeling that he should say something more, that he should reassure her.