You Were Never Special

With a man driving into her from above and another from below, Roina was smeared through with pain, shame, and pleasure all at once.

If this was what you meant to do, then why?

She could not make herself believe that Ethan was inside her. He was large and blunt, yes, but he had never once looked at her through a veil of prejudice, and she had not even imagined he was capable of this. Why, then, had he ever shown her kindness? In a place where no one gave her affection, was it really so amusing to watch her heart leap at some false little glimmer of hope?

She had not noticed the tears gathering until they spilled.

The knight, who had been moving slowly, flushed at last with a dark, fevered excitement. His breath came hot and ragged. Burning hands closed over her hips, and little by little he spurred himself harder. He must have reached the edge of what he could endure.

She could not turn her head, so his face remained hidden from her, yet past the desperate clutch of his fingers she felt what moved in him all the same.

She shut her eyes tight. She still could not believe it. And yet every time he drove into her, fast and hard, a pleasure she could not withstand surged up, and moans spilled from between her parted lips.

"Ha—ahh, ah! Mmph, nn—!"

"Moaning like a beast, ha— Roina, does it feel good? Putting yourself to the use you were made for. Heh."

Tears ran down her face even as she moaned, rocked up and down on the man beneath her. Roberto's words dragged that fact into the light. She wanted to endure it in silence, but each time she tried, the searing cock split her open and drove in until her lower body clenched around it. She had long since been trained to the crown prince's use, and the unfamiliar stimulation had only just wrung an extreme of pleasure out of her.

Her lower mouth had already taken in a manhood thicker and darker than the one from before, and once he began, his powerful rhythm only quickened. White froth gathered at her entrance—the foam of seed that had already been spent inside her once.

"Haa. A wench like you, ha—! This is what you're for. Ahh—!"

"Mmph, ah, nngh! Hup—!"

"Kh— if you would grant me leave, now…"

Roberto gave a light nod and snapped his hips back and forth with violent force. The pace was nothing like what had come before. Roina could not keep her mouth shut; she swayed and whimpered, and tears kept sliding from her eyes, whether from pleasure or from self-loathing she could no longer tell.

She wanted, with everything in her, to stop feeling. But the large man moving honestly to his desire beneath her poured a heavy, blunt pleasure into her like fire. The orgasms she had already crested, again and again, seemed stacked one upon another, and once more they beat against the dam inside her.

"Hnn, ahh! Haah, mmph, aaah—!!"

Then, all at once, the dam burst. Her lower belly twisted deep. The sex that had been clenched tight around him shuddered in a long, helpless contraction, slipping free of her will, and she shook beneath the fierce pleasure, tears dropping one after another. On reflex she twisted her hips, trying to escape, but two large, burning hands held her fast, and it did her no good. The crown prince drove himself deep into her mouth as well and trembled, a fine shiver running through him.

A hot rush. Acrid semen flooded her mouth. She swallowed. The taste was revolting, yet years of conditioning left her mouth no room to hesitate; it took the seed down without pause.

The man stationed below finished half a beat later, spending inside her still-quivering body. He had done the same thing as the crown prince, and yet what poured into her lower belly felt hotter still, packed in tighter than before, a fullness that strained her. If only it had gone a little deeper. As deep as His Highness. The hazy, wanton thought flicked through her mind and was gone.

The two men rocked a few times more, driving their seed in deep, then withdrew one after the other.

Hah. Hah. Wrung out by pleasure piled upon pleasure, the small, slender body sprawled across the office desk and dragged in ragged breaths. Semen she had not managed to swallow pooled in her mouth and gleamed, cloudy, with her spit, and her petals, swollen red from the relentless penetration, overflowed with white slick every time she drew a breath, too full to hold it. The two men's seed had mixed and bloated her from within. For all that had spilled in the violence of the coupling, thick white fluid still packed her full. Roina, who had not yet wholly accepted what was real, only stared blankly ahead with unfocused eyes.

On the very desk where the crown prince conducted his ordinary business, a maid ravaged past all dignity by two men lay slack as a doll with its strings cut, red handprints and bite marks like scattered petals preserved across her white skin.

A heavy night-flower fragrance, and the raw, obscene scent of sex, saturated the office.

Roberto looked at her and felt a languid satisfaction. His smile was cruel. He caught the ribbon hanging loose at her throat as if it were a leash and forced her eyes to his.

"Remember this. The reason you serve me alone is to keep a secret, not because you are special. You are a tool that exists to take men. Forget again that you are mine and put on airs, and I will break you completely and throw you out into the mire."

His blue eyes glinted, cold enough to raise the skin. Lying there powerless, as good as naked, Roina felt the threat in her bones and trembled with fear. There was only one answer she could give.

"Yes, Master… Everything I am exists for you…"

A tear that had been hiding beneath her lashes gathered, then rolled—down over her chin, and fell.

Roina opened her eyes in her own room.

It was a single cramped cell, made by roughly clearing out a space that had once held cleaning tools. There was a reason Mayli could come and go so easily no matter how firmly the latch was set. Everything in the room was old. It creaked. It had gaps, and the wind passed through them.

Her eyelids fluttered in a hollow daze. The coupling that had given her a vicious pleasure and raked her self-respect raw at the same time still lingered, distinct, in every part of her body.

But the marks were nowhere to be found. One of the spells carved into her turned her clean again and concealed the wounds. However much of a brute the crown prince chose to be, not a single trace remained on her. Not where anyone could see.

When she sat up, the old blanket rustled, crumpled, and slid down over her knees. It was not soft in the least; the cloth was stiff. Even so, if she wrapped it around herself and curled in, it gave her a passable warmth. It was one of the few things she owned, and for that alone it was precious.

Beyond the room, the sun had not yet risen. The hour was a dim, gray dawn. Body and mind were both in tatters, and still she had woken earlier than she usually did.

Were the people of this world simply built differently, or was Roina's body unusually hardy? By any reasonable measure she ought already to have collapsed under a schedule like hers, and yet she was holding on well enough.

Once she was calm enough to turn her thoughts over alone, the anger she had been deliberately looking away from jabbed up, sudden, from one corner of her mind.

The crown prince had said it himself. And then, wearing the mask of a gentle lamb, a righteous young heir to the throne, he had gone behind that face and trampled her dignity without mercy.

To all appearances, Roina was exceedingly obedient. The original Roina, the one she had become, would indeed have been right to submit. The crown prince had been well satisfied by how docile she seemed.

But she was angry.

I am not your slave, and I am not your pet. I decide what I need. Not filth like you.

If she had truly been Roina, she would have taken the crown prince's words as truth and crumbled at once. She had not. Had she been the sort of person who broke so easily, she would never have endured the brutal life of a slave in the Imperial Palace to begin with.

Even before she became Roina, there had been plenty of people who tried the same thing on her. Only the rank, the violence, and the shape of it had differed. A superior at work who neatly lifted her achievements for himself, murmured that it was all thanks to her, that he would not forget, and tried to slick his way past it—or tossed sexual harassment at her as if it were nothing. A peer who tore her down and tried to hang his own mistakes around her neck. An old boyfriend who meddled in everything she was and tried to rule her. They had all been the same.

And she had made every one of them regret it. She was sick to death of gaslighting, and she knew with perfect clarity what hypocrisy looked like when it set out to deceive her. The world had made her that way.

That was the crown prince's logic. It was not even funny.

Other people do not get to decide what is good for me.

In any circumstance, that fact remained the ground under her feet. It was how she kept herself, and how she went on being herself. A crown prince could not shake it merely because he had been born with a handsome face.

She shook her head and rose fully. She gathered her creaking body, straightened her clothes, and decided to begin the day earlier than anyone else. Then she opened the door and startled so hard she nearly jumped.

"Eek!"

"……"

Him again. Roina clutched at her pounding chest and only barely calmed herself. He had been one of the very few people in this place she had thought might be all right—and yesterday, the crown prince's shadow had ravaged her without mercy.

"What is it, Sir Ethan?"

Ethan. He was standing before the door with a rigid face. He felt like an entirely different man from the one he had been before they entered the office. I'm afraid. He's the same as the crown prince. The thought flickered through her, and before she knew it she had taken a step back.

"I was told you were in danger yesterday, during the day. His Highness the Crown Prince has ordered me to remain at your side for the time being."

"…Isn't a man of your standing far too valuable to waste on guarding something like me?"

Roina went blank. A knight in the crown prince's direct service was absurdly excessive as an escort for a maid of slave birth, treated as less than a servant.

It stifled her.

Why is the crown prince doing this to me at all? What reason does he have to fixate this hard on a mere bedslave?