I’m a Hostage Princess, But My Confinement Is Way Too Cozy - Chapter 54

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.

Anyway, the original Sylvia wanted to escape the castle, but I have no reason to leave. Why would I go anywhere when my heaven—where handsome men give me pleasure every night—is right here?

If there’s one regret, it’s that, unlike other devastating reverse-harem novels, Sylvia never got to have a multi-partner scene. While reading, I kept hoping for one, even if it broke plausibility, but now that I am Sylvia, I understand why.

Kallist, Ruasil, and Zeke—these three can’t share my bed while in their right minds. Especially Kallist, with his intense possessiveness; just seeing me being intimate with another man would make him see red and reach for his sword.

The commotion outside eventually died down. The quiet suggests the conversation reached some conclusion. As expected of Ruasil. He’s probably the only one who could talk Kallist down with his silver tongue.

I slipped back under the covers, demurely. When Kallist comes in, I’ll pretend I was asleep and heard nothing.

As I closed my eyes, sleep swept over me like a wave. I surrendered comfortably to the cozy, sinking sensation.

***

“Ha.”

A hollow laugh escaped Kallist after his confrontation with Ruasil, as he entered Sylvia’s bedchamber.

This woman must have heard his voice. Instead of coming out to greet him—which would have been the least she could do—she was sleeping as if without a care in the world. It was absurd, yet, he found it hard to be angry. Even though he had entered the room still seething with rage from his talk with Ruasil.

On the contrary, the moment he saw her face, his white-hot anger cooled silently, like red-hot steel plunged into ice water. The relentless thirst that had tormented him for days vanished, as expected. His reason, which had briefly deserted him, finally returned to its rightful place.

With his mind now clear, he replayed the actions he’d taken to come to her, yet he felt not a shred of regret. Something more important than the glory of the battlefield or the thrill of slaughter had taken root in him. A tarnished reputation or loyalty were never values he held dear anyway.

“I’ve truly lost my mind.”

A self-deprecating smile touched his ruthless lips. He sat down beside the sleeping Sylvia and waited, like a well-behaved dog, for its owner to wake up and look his way. He could have smacked her backside or grabbed her hair and shaken her awake—that would surely rouse her—but he didn’t particularly want to. Time flew by just watching her breathe softly and gazing at her flushed cheeks and red lips.

‘Her Highness must have fallen asleep, as the Ritual of Purification was quite lengthy. It would be best for you to take your leave now.’

Kallist ground his teeth, chewing over Ruasil’s words. Just what had that ‘purification’ entailed to leave her so exhausted she’d fallen asleep?

The priest of Erios claimed he felt no desire for a heretic, and Ruasil himself had insisted nothing s****l had occurred with Sylvia. But Kallist’s suspicions refused to die down.

‘I need to check for myself.’

He lifted the woman’s skirt and gently stroked her pale b******s. That alone made his lower body throb unbearably. His fingers trailed down the cleft, brushing against her soft, dry v***a. The tightly closed entrance gripped the tip of his finger with a firm hold. His dry Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Tight,” he murmured.

A vile smirk twisted his lips. Even if Ruasil had defiled her, he had no intention of letting her go, but confirming she was still solely his sent an undeniable surge of joy through him. His heart fluttered foolishly, like a boy belatedly stricken with lovesickness.

He pushed his middle finger all the way inside, savoring the sensation of the taut, clinging inner walls. It felt so good he thought he might come even without his c**k inside. As he wiggled his finger, Sylvia’s lips parted slightly, and a moan-laden murmur escaped.

“Mmm…”

The lewd sound tickled his ears. He saw red. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He threw off the duvet and rolled her negligee up above her b*****s. The enticing, ripe n*****s greeted him like a temptation.

He wet his dry lips with a dry tongue and lowered his face. Cupping a b****t too large for one hand, he pursed his lips and drew a n****e deep into his mouth. A sweet liquid filled his mouth.

“……!”

His eyes widened in disbelief as he slowly swallowed the mouthful of milk. This was unmistakably b****t milk.

‘Is she pregnant?’

While it was common knowledge that women produced milk after childbirth, he was ignorant of female anatomy, and right now, he had no room for such logic. As if to reconfirm this miraculous fact, he suckled at her b****t, lost in ecstasy. As her milk ducts were stimulated, fluid stirred within her depths. Sylvia twisted her waist with a crackling sound, her brow furrowing.

“…Ah, that’s good…”

“Bet it is. Slurp… Your owner’s here to suckle your milk.”

A smile full of satisfaction spread across his face as he pushed another finger inside. Sylvia’s breathing grew slightly rougher, but she showed no sign of waking. He gazed up at her face, contorting in pleasure as he greedily drank her milk, then, as if possessed, captured her lips.

Though not as sweet as her milk, her sharp, tangy saliva coated his tongue thickly. He sucked on her writhing, hot tongue, smack, smack, smack, scattering kisses all over her face. He brushed her hair back and pressed his lips to her forehead—

‘Oh no…’