From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Chapter 94

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

“……”

“Have they forgotten my existence, or…”

Ragnar bent down and pulled the dagger from the dead beast’s body. The blade, enveloped in holy light, was still pure and undefiled.

“…Did they find prey?”

At Ragnar’s calm words, Arzeletta again felt a thin layer of ice forming over her heart. It was because the unpleasant fear of having been prey before a predator, the sensation of her entire body freezing, came back to her.

“Either way, if you defile my domain, only eternal annihilation awaits.”

Crumble, the beast’s bones, from which the blade was drawn, crumbled to ash. The pile of ash in the shape of the beast’s bones scattered like mist a moment later in the gentle breeze.

“Rest assured. This will not happen again.”

“……”

“I will need to strengthen the patrols.”

Thud, Ragnar walked a few steps away and picked up the rest of his uniform. The Holy Knight’s uniform and a clean shirt, garments that symbolized him living in a different world than her.

Ragnar’s movements as he put on his shirt over his already dried body were firm. It was as if the recent encounter with the dead had rekindled his pride as the Lord of this land.

Arzeletta felt a little sad.

“……”

Click, the firm metallic sound of a buckle fastening brushed coldly against Arzeletta’s ears.

The man who had been passionately touching her moments before, unbelievably ardent, was gone. Dressed in his uniform, he was the man Arzeletta knew well.

Ragnar von Rosenburg, the ruler of this land, the master of all who lived in this domain, and a Holy Knight who stood shoulder to shoulder with God…

Arzeletta sat forlornly on the nameless wild grass.

What remained was herself, once again left in disarray. A humble, lowly maid, Arzeletta, barely covering her body with clothes damp from his moisture.

The great him, having momentarily lost his reason, composed himself and returned to his proper place so quickly.

Again, feeling as though everything that had just happened was a fleeting dream, Arzeletta hugged her shoulders. Her scarred back throbbed.

“……”

Dressed in his full attire, Ragnar looked down at the maid, who was still trembling and sitting on the ground.

Habitually, his brows furrowed. Seeing his own fierce expression, the maid, who couldn’t cower any further, bowed her body even lower.

He had a general idea of what she was thinking, but the emotions Ragnar felt were entirely different from what Arzeletta surmised.

At Arzeletta’s disheveled state, Ragnar felt a sense of responsibility. He had been a Holy Knight who had carried all sorts of responsibilities his entire life, but this kind of responsibility was new.

The maid’s long, delicate eyelashes were wet. Her blinking eye corners were red. Her lips, bitten and sucked by him, were piteously swollen. He even saw drops of blood here and there.

Her neck, where her black hair was scattered, and her chest, hastily covered by clothes, were both bruised from his rough touch.

He lowered his gaze, looking at her neatly pressed thighs, just as they had been at first.

Recalling the maid’s shockingly wet interior, Ragnar again felt his throat go bone dry.

“-!”

Flinch.

As he reached out, Ragnar inwardly clicked his tongue at Arzeletta’s reaction of tightly closing her eyes.

Did she think he would hit her? Even without actively thinking about it, her body might already remember it that way. As a result of long learning, when someone’s hand approaches, they might hit her.

…It was he, and no one else, who had driven this woman into such a corner.

“…I’m going to dress you. Your hands are still trembling.”

Arzeletta looked down at her hands. Indeed, her fingertips were still trembling.

Ragnar personally dressed the maid’s naked body. Her b*****s, which had been fully contained in his hands and disheveled moments ago, and her pointed peaks, where his saliva had not yet dried, all disappeared into the ominous black fabric.

As her white skin, filled with traces of him, disappeared beneath her clothes, Ragnar involuntarily sighed.

He tied the knot over the woman’s white shoulder. Arzeletta waited docilely. That docility again pierced Ragnar deep in his lower abdomen. …He truly had no immunity to this kind of emotion.