I’m a Hostage Princess, But My Confinement Is Way Too Cozy - Chapter 13

Volumes 1 & 2 of HPCWTC are available uncensored on ko-fi! ※ This work contains depictions of coercive relationships, explicit language, and other graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

Thanks to that, a moment of fresh reality check arrived. To think that I had become Sylvia and spent the night with Kallist. It still felt unbelievable.

Even if the male leads don’t come looking for me, I have no particular complaints about Sylvia’s life. Meals arrive when it’s time, I can read interesting novels, and there’s a comfortable bed to rest my body on. Since I originally lived just going with the flow anyway, I’m satisfied with this level of life.

Living self-directed with goals for tomorrow was always beyond my capabilities to begin with. Living however someone else steers me suits my temperament, you could say. Rather than a life of desiring, I was content with a life of being desired.

‘Just try spreading your legs for any other bastard from now on. I’ll hang that bastard’s head right here.’

“He really was completely insane…”

I smiled contentedly while savoring the intense thrill of my first experience.

If my memory serves me right, after tasting Sylvia’s body, Kallist visited Drémoor Castle almost every other day. It was the instinct of a beast experiencing its first heat.

“It’s already evening.”

Before I knew it, bluish darkness had settled outside the window. I tried applying a little of the ointment Zeke had given me to my private parts before Kallist came looking for me. Fortunately, the burning sensation had subsided, and it didn’t sting even when I brushed the skin with my hand.

‘This works really well?’

I thought I should ask Zeke to get me a large supply of this ointment when he comes in tomorrow, and I laid my heavy body down on the bed.

***

A week had passed since Kallist first set foot in Drémoor Castle.

“Can’t lift your a*s any higher?”

“Ahh…”

“You were drooling all over my c**k begging for it, and now you try to pull away?”

“S-Sorry… Hahk!”

Every night, Kallist sought Sylvia out and tormented her until dawn. At first, he would enter her chambers late at night and leave as day broke. Now, he was already hiking up her skirts by the time the evening sun began to set.

Even spending the whole night holding and tormenting the woman wasn’t enough. The more he had her, the greater his thirst became. It was like drinking seawater—knowing it would only make him thirstier, he’d get hard again and pound into her like a dog in heat, shaking his hips.

‘The King and Princes of Roang are fools.’

If they had just sent this wench to his tent sooner, the Roang army could have slaughtered the Valencha Imperial forces and taken his head with ease. To have such a powerful weapon and not know how to use it… He offered a mocking moment of pity for the dead men before losing himself in the frantic violation of the woman. Only after confirming his seed had filled her lower belly and was dripping thickly from her entrance did his rutting finally cease.

“Don’t relax your hole. You need to swallow every drop.”

“G-guh!”

The convulsing, twitching entrance clenched tight, returning to its original shape. The seed that had been about to leak out was slurped back deep inside, disappearing without a trace. He grabbed her feverishly reddened b******s, squeezing them shut like closing a door.

“Good. Keep it gripped tight like that until I return tomorrow.”

“Hff…”

“Answer me.”

“Y-Yes…”

Her obedient reply drew a sadistic smile to his lips. This Roang b***h knew her place quite well for a princess. If she’d been a rebellious type, he would have had to teach her how to submit first, but he felt no such necessity.

Besides, her b******s had some flesh to them. Anywhere else would probably break too easily if he hit her. He had no taste for broken things or the feel of bone against his skin. This, too, was a preference he’d discovered while bedding Sylvia.

Stepping out of Drémoor Castle, he clicked his tongue at the sight of the bluish dawn sky. He hadn’t realized it had gotten so late. Yet again, he’d have to perform his duties as Crown Prince without a wink of sleep.

To his credit, he was more diligent in his duties than one might expect. As a candidate for the next emperor, he was flawless—if one overlooked his cruelty.

When he returned to his quarters, an aide was waiting and promptly guided him to the bath.

“Your Highness, your bath is ready.”

“My schedule for the morning.”

“Breakfast begins at nine, followed by…”

His aides, though fully aware he hadn’t slept properly in his bedchamber for a week, dared not ask him about it. Besides, outwardly, nothing about him had changed—not the look in his eyes, nor the sound of his footsteps.

Except for the fact that he had stopped swinging his sword at some point.

The moment Kallist entered the bath, the aides who had been watching his every move all let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. Their eyes met, filled with similar concerns.

“He hasn’t mentioned visiting the underground dungeons lately.”

“Exactly. I just hope he isn’t… working it out somewhere else.”

“That would be a real problem. Tch. But he’s a man of discretion. He’ll probably restrain himself until the next war.”

Compared to his aides’ worries, Kallist’s recent activities had been rather tame. He had simply grown bored of the sight of blood. Who would have thought that f*****g around could be more entertaining than swinging a sword?

Kallist tilted his head, observing the color of the water droplets rolling off his body. They were clear. Until recently, they had been tinged pink. Lately, however, they reflected no color at all. It was because he hadn’t been drenched in blood.

‘Have I been slacking off?’

He was aware of this change in himself—this newfound distance from bloodshed—but he made no effort to dig into the reasons behind it. He didn’t even attempt to rationalize it. The reason he now desired Sylvia instead of blood was simple.

Because that b***h from Roang was just so damn fuckable.