Aurein's POV
"As promised, I won't do it to you yet, Aurein," he whispered, his breath grazing my ear. "But this is a preview of what it will feel like when we finally do it. At least this way, you'll understand what it's like—whether it hurts or not."
I nodded again. My heart was racing, fear and anticipation tangling together so tightly I could barely tell them apart.
With his free hand, he lifted his middle finger and placed it just before my lips.
"Lick my finger," he said quietly. "Make it wet. Smooth."
His middle finger hovered there, commanding and unyielding.
And because he was my lover, because I trusted him more than I trusted my own thoughts, I obeyed.
I parted my lips and began to lick his finger slowly, deliberately, letting my tongue trace along his skin until it was as wet as he wanted it to be. I could feel him tense slightly, could feel the subtle shift in his breathing.
"Good boy..." he murmured against my ear, his teeth grazing it in a gentle bite. "Or should I say... good girl."
The moment he said that, something inside me snapped and bloomed all at once. Pleasure rushed through me so sharply it almost stole my breath. It shouldn't have felt that good—just words—but it did. Hearing it from him made my body react before my mind could catch up.
As his final preparation, he slid that same finger into my mouth. I sucked on it as he guided it in, his finger pressing against my tongue, moving slowly, teasingly, before he withdrew it again just as carefully.
"I'm going to insert my finger into you," he whispered. "I'll be gentle. Don't scream. Don't make a sound. It will hurt the first time." His voice softened. "Are you scared? If you don't want this, I'll stop."
"No," I breathed. "Please do it. I want to feel it. I'll try not to make any noise."
"Alright," he said. "Here I go."
I couldn't see what he was doing. All I could see was Serena's back, turned away from us. I silently prayed she wouldn't move, wouldn't turn, wouldn't wake.
Then I flinched as I felt it—the lightest touch of his fingertip brushing against that impossibly sensitive part of me.
My hands tightened around his forearm without meaning to.
"Shh... stay quiet, Aurein," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my neck.
His fingertip lingered there, pressing, massaging that soft spot slowly, as if testing how I would react.
"Mfff—"
The sound slipped out of me before I could catch it, broken and breathless. My toes curled instinctively against the sheets, betraying what I couldn't say aloud—how my body responded before my mind could intervene.
"Aurein," he murmured firmly, "control your voice."
I nodded as I leaned my face against his palm, eyes squeezed shut.
"Now I'm going to push my finger in slowly," he whispered. "If it hurts, grip my arm harder. If you can't take it, tap my my arm and I'll pull away."
I braced myself, both hands wrapped around his arm, every nerve in my body burning with anticipation.
Then I felt it—the tip of his finger beginning to push inside me.
I sucked in a sharp breath and clenched his forearm hard.
"I'm going slowly," he said quietly. "Relax your muscles."
Relaxing was nearly impossible. I was too sensitive—every touch felt amplified, every movement sending sparks through me that made me flinch.
As more of his finger slid in, he began to move it in small circles, clearly trying to ease the tension in my body. It still hurt, just enough that I pressed his arm again to let him know.
He paused briefly, glancing toward Serena. She remained asleep, breathing evenly, unaware of everything happening so close to her.
So he continued.
His finger pushed deeper, inch by careful inch. I wanted to cry out, but I didn't. Instead, I gripped his forearm even harder, nails biting into his skin.
I had read about this in books. I knew, in theory, that it would hurt. But knowing was nothing compared to actually feeling it—experiencing it firsthand, with General Voltaire.
It was only his finger, not even his manhood, yet the sensation was already overwhelming. His fingers were thick, and it felt as though my body was being stretched far beyond what it was used to.
"Half of my finger is inside now, Aurein," he murmured. "Can you feel this?"
As he pressed against a spot inside me, my body reacted instantly.
"Nngh—!" I moaned despite myself, a wave of pleasure surging through me so suddenly it made me shudder, my manhood betraying me at once.
Serena shifted in her sleep.
Both of us froze.
For a breathless moment, we waited, barely daring to move, listening for any sign that she might wake. My heart hammered painfully in my chest.
Why did this have to happen now, with her here? Why did every stolen moment between us have to be this dangerous?
And yet—even knowing that—I couldn't bring myself to want it to stop.
"She's not waking up," General Voltaire whispered at last. "I thought she was going to."
I exhaled shakily.
"I'm going to push further now," he continued softly. "It will hurt while I do it, but once my finger is fully inside, it should ease. I promise."
Slowly, he pressed further again—and just as instinctively, my hands tightened around his forearm.
All I could do was endure the pain spreading through me, sharp and unfamiliar, until—finally—he managed to slide his entire finger inside.
At that moment, my body ceased to obey me.
I couldn't move. I couldn't even tell where my limbs were. It felt as though the moment he claimed that space inside me, control slipped from my grasp entirely.
So... this is how it feels?
The sensation was nothing like I had imagined. His finger inside me was overwhelming—too much and yet somehow not enough.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, lifting his hand away from my mouth.
"I—I can't move my body, General," I whispered, my voice trembling.
"As expected," he said calmly.
It felt as though the only way my body could be controlled was by having a part of him inside me. I didn't understand how or why, but the instant he touched that place within me, it was no longer mine. It belonged to him.
"I wasn't sure how it would feel for you, since you're a man," he continued quietly. "That's why I was careful. Now I know."
Even then, I remained frozen—paralyzed by sensation.
Every time his finger pressed against something inside me, I felt an unbearable urge, like I was about to lose control of myself. As if I needed to release something, desperately, but my body refused to let it happen. I could feel it building, spilling forward instead, warmth spreading at the front of my trousers, betraying me completely.
"Aurein," he whispered, "I'm going to start moving my finger in and out. Tap my forearm if you can't handle it."
I nodded faintly.
He began to withdraw his finger slowly, and the moment he did, I instinctively closed my lips around his fingers, sucking them in desperation.
I wanted to scream. To moan. To beg.
But I held it back, swallowing every sound as his finger slid out inch by inch, my body clenching uselessly, as if trying to pull him back inside.
When he finally withdrew completely, I released his fingers from my mouth, breathless and shaking.
"Please... put it back inside, General Voltaire," I begged.
"My, my," he murmured teasingly. "Calm down."
Before returning his finger inside, he gently massaged me there, slow and deliberate, until my body responded without my permission. Then he slid back in.
It still hurt—but this time, it was smoother, more bearable.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
"A little... but it feels better this time," I admitted.
"Your body seems to like it," he said softly. "Perhaps you were truly born for this." His tone turned teasing. "Maybe you were meant to be a woman."
If that were true, then I wanted only him.
This time, his finger felt slicker inside me, the sensations sharper, deeper. That strange urge returned whenever he was fully inside, overwhelming and humiliating all at once.
I couldn't stop the sensation creeping up on me, a sudden, embarrassing urge that made my body tense—it was actually confusing.
My body feels like I wanted to urinate, but actually, nothing comes out.
"I'm going to press harder now," he whispered. "I'll play with it more. I hope you enjoy it."
He began to move—slowly, steadily—his finger sliding in and out, the tip brushing and massaging every sensitive place inside me.
Tears welled in my eyes. I wanted him to stop. I wanted him to continue. Both desires tore through me at once.
"Soft," he murmured. "This place of yours... so soft and warm."
Then he withdrew again.
"Can you handle two?" he asked.
"I—I will," I said breathlessly. "Please put it in."
"Very well," he replied.
I felt it then—two fingertips pressing and massaging me from the outside, easing me open, coaxing my body into yielding. My muscles softened despite myself.
And then he pushed in.
The pain returned, sharper this time, but he went slowly, carefully, gauging every reaction.
"General... it hurts," I whispered, tapping his forearm as tears spilled free.
"I'll stop," he said—but his fingers remained inside me as I gasped for breath. "This is only two fingers. Imagine if it were more. We may need to do this often—to prepare you. If that day cones and I force it before your body is ready, you'll bleed. I need to make you wider and loose."
He spoke as if preparing me for battle.
Then he kissed my neck.
The tenderness eased me, just enough.
He started again—slow, controlled movements—while my grip on his forearm tightened harder than before. He made me suck on his fingers again, muffling my cries, covering my mouth whenever my body threatened to betray us.
This time, the pain felt deeper, like my skin was being stretched beyond its limit, tearing me open from the inside.
"It will hurt," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Aurein."
He licked my ear gently, soothing me even as he continued.
When his fingers finally slid fully inside, the pain dulled—still present, but quieter now. Like the first time he entered me completely, except this time I could feel him moving inside, claiming the space with deliberate certainty.
He stayed there, unmoving, letting my body adjust.
"Good girl," he murmured teasingly. "You did well."
And in that moment, all I could feel was the certainty that I was his.
Not just in body—but in identity. As if something deep within me had shifted, rewritten by the simple presence of his fingers inside me.
Was it really like this?
Could something so small awaken something so irreversible?
He began to move again—slowly this time—drawing his fingers out with care, not forceful, not hurried, as if he were guiding me rather than taking from me. The sensation lingered even as he withdrew, my body still trembling around the absence.
"You're doing well," he said calmly. "Relax your muscles, Aurein."
His voice was steady, grounding. "I'm going to put it back inside now."
And he did.
The moment his fingers pressed back in, deliberately and unhurried, a sharp, overwhelming heat rushed through me. Each careful push sent a wave through my body, so intense it felt as though something warm was already spilling onto my trousers, my control slipping with every breath.
He continued—slow, measured movements, sliding in and out with a patience that made the sensation unbearable. It wasn't fast. It wasn't rough. And yet—
My body reacted as if it were about to burst apart on its own.
It felt like something inside me desperately wanted to escape, to release, even though I didn't fully understand what it was or why my body was betraying me so completely.
"Ge-General..." I whispered, my voice breaking as I panted.
"What is it?" he asked, never stopping, his fingers still sliding slowly in and out, deliberately, as if testing how far I could be pushed.
And then—when he slid his fingers fully inside—
I felt it.
I couldn't endure it any longer.
Warmth spread beneath me.
"Oh no..." he murmured, stunned, as I instinctively looked down.
Liquid spilled uncontrollably, soaking through the fabric beneath me, spreading across the bed. I was already peeing, unable to stop it, my body reacting without my permission. The bed was drenched.
I felt unbearably small.
My dignity shattered in an instant.
"I'm sorry, General Voltaire," I said weakly, humiliation burning my face. "I couldn't stop it. This wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't mean to urinate—please don't think badly of me. Please don't think I'm not ready for this."
"Shh..." His voice softened immediately, warm and steady. "It's fine. It's alright. This is normal."
He leaned closer, whispering comfort directly into me.
"Even women experience this. I never realized men could as well. Don't be embarrassed. It only tells me that you're enjoying it."
His hand cupped my cheek, gently tilting my face up toward his. Before I could react, his lips met mine in a deep, reassuring kiss—slow, deliberate, as if he were trying to erase every trace of my shame.
When he finally pulled away, he smiled at me softly, reassuringly, as though silently promising that nothing about this had changed how he saw me.
Only then did he carefully withdraw his fingers, unhurried, mindful of my sensitivity. The sensation made me shiver—it tickled slightly, leaving me breathless even after he was gone.
He covered me gently.
"Alright," he whispered. "We should stop. You're completely soaked now—and so is the bed."
"But..." I murmured, still flustered, still burning. "I... I wanted to continue."
"We will," he said quietly, patting my head with fond amusement. "Don't worry."
"When?" I asked immediately. "Can it be soon? We can clean up and do it again. I promise—I'll try not to pee next time."
A faint chuckle escaped him.
"Now, now, my queen," he said teasingly. "You're getting a little needy. And I want to see it properly—I want to see you release everything, even when you urinate as I slide my fingers inside your warm and special spot."
"That's embarrassing, General Voltaire," I protested weakly.
"I told you—it's normal," he replied gently. "Come. I'll carry you I can clean you up."
I nodded.
"But... what about the bed?" I asked, shyly. "We don't have anything to lay our bodies now."
"Don't worry about it," he said easily. "I'll lie on the wooden floor. You can just lie on top of me. How does that sound?"
I pouted, but nodded again.
"Come," he said.
He adjusted his trousers, then removed his upper garment and draped it carefully over me. Moments later, he lifted me into his arms, carrying me with surprising gentleness. He moved quietly, mindful of the wooden floor even as it creaked softly beneath each step.
Outside, he brought me to a small spring near the farmland.
I couldn't bring myself to look at him. The embarrassment still clung to me like heat on my skin.
"You're still thinking about it, aren't you?" he asked.
"Yes," I admitted softly. "I'm sorry. Maybe you felt uncomfortable. Maybe the others you've done this with didn't... react like that."
He chuckled.
"Aurein," he said, "it's a reflex. I told you—and I'll say it again—it's normal."
Then, after a pause, he added, "I don't usually share this, but if it will make you feel better... I must."
"What is it?" I asked cautiously.
"There was an instance when I was doing it with one of my past lover," he began. "She was lying on her back. And suddenly, she couldn't stop herself—she peed all over me. Literally. Right onto my face."
He laughed softly at the memory.
"I don't know whether I should feel insulted that you've done this with someone else," I said honestly, "or comforted that I'm not the only one. I thought... because I'm a man... that it was wrong."
"I was exploring too," he admitted. "I didn't know how your body would react. But now I do."
"We'll do it again tomorrow night?" I asked quickly. "Please—without Serena. It's so hard to stay quiet."
"And where do you expect her to sleep?" he asked with a smirk.
Then my eyes widened. "Wait... Why don't we do it in the barn?"
"Where thieves might break in?" he countered.
I exhaled slowly. He was right. That barn, no matter how cozy, was still dangerous.
"But I know you want to release it too, General Voltaire," I said shyly.
He chuckled again.
"At least let me help you," I whispered. "I know you've been holding it in ever since you ate those oysters."
"Someone might see us," he said firmly. "I'll control it for now."
"But I really want to," I pleaded.
"You're addicted already?" he asked.
I nodded innocently.
"Don't look at me like that," he warned softly. "You know I can't resist when you make that face."
"Then let me do it for you," I begged, already kneeling in front of him ready to take his trousers down.
"Shh!" He grabbed my arms quickly. "Someone might see. Stand up."
"At this hour?" I argued. "I doubt it."
"You can't be sure," he said.
"Then where?" I asked helplessly.
"There's no need," he replied. "I'll clean you up. Let's rest."
"...Mm," I murmured, defeated.
I removed my trousers and it was just wet inside. There were white fluid staining on it. Probably, I released too much since it was the first time someone touched me inside.
* * *
The next morning, I woke to the sound of birds chirping cheerfully outside the hut. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the wooden walls, warm and gentle, and for a moment, I simply lay there, blinking in confusion.
I was alone.
And only then did I realize—I was lying on Serena's bed.
"Where are they?" I muttered to myself. "Did they leave without telling me?"
Before I could dwell on it any further, the hut door swung open.
Serena entered dramatically, flipping her hair as if she had been waiting for her cue. Her expression was sharp, fierce, and unmistakably amused.
"Well, well," she said. "The princess is finally awake." She smirked. "I thought you'd sleep in longer after whatever you were doing last night."
My breath caught instantly.
"W-what do you mean, 'whatever we were doing'?" I panicked. "No! We weren't doing anything! We were just sleeping—peacefully!"
"Oh? Really?" she replied sweetly. "Then what's that kiss mark on your neck?"
My hand flew up instinctively, covering it.
"Don't even try telling me it's a mosquito bite," she continued. "There is no mosquito in this world big enough to do THAT. Unless it was a special kind of mosquito named General Voltaire."
"No! Nothing happened!" I insisted, laughing nervously. "I swear!"
"Aurein, stop lying! Look at my eyes! It's a bit red!" she snapped. "I couldn't sleep at all because of your whispering and moaning! I was the one too embarrassed to even move—I didn't want to interrupt whatever business you two were handling!"
"I—I—uh..." I stammered uselessly.
"And don't even get me started on the extra folding bed I brought," she added irritably. "It smells like urine!"
"That—!" I gasped, horrified.
She sighed deeply, rubbing her temple.
"Listen," she said. "I don't care if you want to get laid. I don't care if it's with General Voltaire. But next time, do it when I'm not around! For the love of the gods—have some shame!"
"I'm sorry, Serena," I said quickly, utterly mortified. "I really should have thought about it first. Please don't be angry."
"What choice do I have now?" she replied. "Your urine already baptized my folding bed. I'll just sleep somewhere else tonight—maybe Elder Henderson's hut. At least I won't be embarrassed for you and the General."
Then she calmed slightly.
"Next time," she added, "control yourself. What if I hadn't been there? What if someone else? Would you still have done it?"
"I just..." I trailed off, unable to meet her eyes. "I'm really sorry."
"So," she said suddenly, eyeing me. "Does your back hurt?"
"What?" I asked, startled.
"Does it hurt? Can you walk properly?" she pressed. "I haven't seen it, but I wish I did. I'm sure the General's... you know, is huge."
"No!" I blurted. "He didn't put it in! He only used his finger!"
She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply.
"You really had to clarify that 'finger' part, huh?" she muttered, shaking her head.
"I'm sorry!" I said, face burning.
"Let me see your back," she said. "I need to check if it's bleeding."
"No!" I protested, covering myself. "That's embarrassing!"
"Now you're embarrassed?" she snapped. "After doing all that behind my back last night?"
I quickly changed the subject.
"Where is the General?" I asked.
"He's outside helping Elder Henderson cut some wood," she replied. "He told me to check if you were awake. Since you are, he said you should just wait here."
I nodded quietly.
"So," she said more calmly, "you're ready... for that thing? For you and him?"
"Y-yes," I admitted softly. "But he doesn't want to do it yet. He said he wants my first time to be somewhere special."
She grinned teasingly.
"Look at that," she said. "General Voltaire treating you like a proper lady." Then she added casually, "So what happens when we need to produce an heir? You won't be able to do that with me?"
I exhaled slowly.
"I'll face that when the time comes," I said. "But I need you to know—I'm sorry if there won't be any love when that happens. And I feel sorry for our child too. Their parents won't truly be in love."
"Oh, stop that," she said, lightly slapping my arm. "Don't be sad! At least if our child grows up like you, he won't have to hide from his father—because his father is just like him."
"But he'll face the same fate I did," I said quietly. "Trapped by laws that forbid loving freely."
She didn't respond right away. Instead, her eyes widened, and she started gesturing strangely.
"What?" I asked, confused.
"Hello?" she said pointedly.
"What are you trying to say?"
"Who are we in the future?" she asked.
"The king and queen of Ardentia?" I replied.
She nodded firmly.
My eyes widened.
"Wait," I said slowly. "If we rule the kingdom... then we can actually change the law."
"Exactly," she said proudly.
"So... my love with General Voltaire..." I began, then hesitated. "But what about you? People will think I only wanted this for myself. They'll think I ignored your feelings. You'll still be the queen."
"And as queen," she said easily, "I can publicly support you. I can tell everyone I have no objections. Problem solved. I'll go back to Grition."
"But I don't want you to leave," I said softly. "You're like a sister to me."
She looked away, blinking several times as if holding something back. Then she smiled.
"There you go again—dramatic as always," she said. "If you want me by your side, you don't need to force me. Okay, I will stay. God! Everybody wants me."
I smiled at her softly.
"Oh, by the way, since you and General Voltaire can't produce any child even if how many times you do it, I already told him I'm willing to be the mother of his children. I will allow it. At least, his blood and legacy will continue. His won't be the last of his bloodline. And hey, I am a great catch, that child might inherit my rare white silky hair." She proudly said.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yes," she answered. "However, he is deeply concerned. He refuses to let his child live in secrecy, branded as one born of the queen through an unlawful affair."
"He has a point," I said.
"Anyway, it's beneficial for me. At least, I'll get a taste of him soon too!" She said teasingly.
"Serena!" I uttered as she laughed.
"We'll think about it later," she shrugged. "What matters is that you now have a plan to change the law. Honestly, if I hadn't pointed it out, you wouldn't have thought of it. You should thank me."
"But it won't be easy," I said. "People won't accept it immediately."
"True," she agreed. "It might take generations. But who benefits? The future. And who will they thank? Us."
"You're right," I said.
"And you're not the only one like this," she added cheerfully. "Look at Rowan—he likes men too! Maybe Elric will grow up the same way, considering he's hearing things from us like this everyday while we are here!"
"So maybe we won't experience true freedom ourselves yet at this time when we pass this law," I said thoughtfully. "But if we don't start it, who will?"
"Exactly!" she said. "The moment we take the throne, we will push it."
"Thank you, Serena," I said sincerely. "I never expected this from you. Honestly... I hated you when we first met. I wanted you out of Ardentia and going back to Grition for good. But now, I wanted you just by my side."
She smiled—and hugged me tightly.
I smiled too, feeling her warmth.
And... her very generous breast.
"I didn't know it was this soft," I joked.
She pulled back, holding my shoulders.
"You want to touch it?" she teased. "I'll allow it. Come! Feel it, press it, do what you want with it. Try to play with it."
"No!" I yelped, pulling my hands away. "That would be disrespectful!"
She laughed.
"Yes," Serena said teasingly, trying to lean her breasts to me closer. "Let's see whether you get disgusted or heated when you touch a woman's breasts. Have you ever touched one before?" she asked, clearly enjoying herself.
"I... haven't," I admitted shyly.
"But you touched General Voltaire's manhood first—and you liked it?" she pressed.
"I did," I said, my voice shrinking with every syllable.
"So now's your chance to see the difference," she said, grinning. "Who knows? You might like it as well."
I followed her gaze without thinking—and promptly froze when my eyes landed on her overflowing chest. I swallowed hard.
"O-Okay," I said quickly. "But just this once. I'm not doing it again."
"Go on," she urged, completely unapologetic as she leaned her chest forward, far too confident for my peace of mind.
I squeezed my eyes shut like I was about to touch something that might explode, inching my hands forward with the hesitation of someone fully expecting regret.
And then—contact.
It was... firm. But also soft. Confusingly so. Like squeezing a balloon that had a firm rubber.
My curiosity betrayed me. I cracked one eye open.
She was smirking.
"So?" she asked. "How did it feel?"
End of Chapter 43