From the Tip of the Tongue of the Lowliest Maid - Prologue (Part 2)
This ecstatically sweet scent could be governed and controlled by only one person on earth: Ragnar von Rosenburg, the chosen ascetic of God.
…And the one who had seduced and corrupted such a Ragnar was none other than Arzeletta, the lowly maid of the slaughterhouse.
Ragnar lifted his remaining hand and grasped Arzeletta’s full, luscious b****t.
The skin, pure and soft like a pearl, yielded gently between his firm fingers.
The feel of the tiny nub tickling the center of his palm was endearing.
He dug deeper into her tender opening. The stark contrast between Ragnar’s flawlessly gleaming uniform and Arzeletta’s nakedness was distinct. It seemed to prove the relationship between the two in itself.
Perfect domination and subjugation.
The maid servant’s moisture thoroughly wet the great paladin’s hand. The scent of clean water, the scent of grass, Arzeletta’s familiar fragrance to him, but mixed within it, an alien fishy smell was felt.
Ragnar narrowed his brow.
“There’s hardly any left.”
“Ah….”
“I told you to keep it well. Arzeletta.”
It was the trace of what he himself had poured into the maidservant last night. He tenaciously scraped inside Arzeletta, searching for his mark. Arzeletta’s inside was warm and smooth, so there was no difficulty in receiving Ragnar’s touch.
He gently grasped her b*****s, where his handprint had quickly formed, and lightly pinched the n*****s, causing Arzeletta, who had tilted her head back, to groan softly again.
“Because that way, you will be able to conceive with the saint’s seed.”
“Ah, no….”
Ragnar’s long fingers slid out from between Arzeletta’s soft mounds. Even in the darkness, his thoroughly wet hand glistened.
Clang, a cold metallic sound was heard.
Ragnar thrust his monstrously e***t member into Arzeletta’s wide-open inside, simultaneously gripping her back.
He recalled the terrible curse that covered this back.
“That b***h’s wicked shell is trapping a demon!”
Along with the contempt and hatred of the estate residents directed at Arzeletta.
They were certain that Arzeletta’s back, that the ugliness of the scars, was her true soul. That she was hiding the soul of a demon with the shell of an angel.
Ragnar slowly began to move his hips. As her inside was invaded by his weapon-like p***s, Arzeletta writhed. Following the curves of her body, the deep darkness pooled and swayed like water.
“Arzeletta.”
He, who completely reigned over her, called Arzeletta’s name.
He raised his hand and brushed away the hair clinging to the woman’s forehead. Arzeletta, struggling to contain his weapon-like p***s within her small body, was incomparably lovely.
He kissed her flushed earlobe, her wet eye corner, and her panting lips in turn. Arzeletta lifted her trembling eyelids.
The emotion revealed in her thoroughly wet green eyes was sorrow.
“Poor Arzeletta.”
“Ah, euuh. Haa.”
“You must want to be embraced by your beloved Theogrim.”
At the name of Theogrim that came from Ragnar’s mouth, Arzeletta’s heart ached sharply.
“Rzel, my Rzel.”
She recalled Theogrim’s gentle violet eyes that called her. She recalled his clean silver hair that seemed to make even her heart transparent. She recalled the scar that Theogrim shared with her.
“Ah, aah…!”
“…Pathetic.”
Ragnar chuckled lowly. It was a laugh rarely experienced from him, who always wore a stern expression, but it was by no means joyful.
“Or, do you want to have Exion’s child?”
“Lord, please….”
“Is it that hopeless red hair you want to pass on?”
Arzeletta shook her head again urgently. It was more of a plea than a denial.
She did not want to say Exion’s name while moaning, impaled by Ragnar’s member. When she recalled Exion’s lonely back, the moment his red eyes, which yearned for her more passionately than anyone else in the world, held desperate sorrow, Arzeletta felt as if her heart would shatter entirely.
“Arzeletta.”
“…….”
“There is only one way to keep them alive.”
“Heuht…!”
Once again, Arzeletta’s elegant neck arched back. What was revealed was deep resignation. Arzeletta offered no resistance to Ragnar.
That was the only atonement she could make.
“Become mine, Arzeletta.”
It was the price for the sin she had committed herself.
“Conceive my child. I will bestow upon that child all the glory in the world.”
Under the red moonlight, the man’s shadow stretched long. Beneath Ragnar’s body, Arzeletta could not even move her fingertips as she wished, enduring the man’s hot and firm desire that endlessly penetrated her.
In all those moments, Ragnar captured all of Arzeletta in his eyes, as if to swallow her whole.
Arzeletta was excessively white and excessively frail. Excessively transparent and excessively lovely.
“…….”
Excessively beautiful.
In the strict doctrine of Impellias, anything excessive, anything over the top, was a heretical element.
Goodness, purity, and innocence—anything, if excessive, should be guarded against, but the most soul-corrupting of all was excessive beauty.
And Ragnar knew.
“Lord….”
“…….”
“Please, stop….”
That the doctrine was closer to the truth than anything else.
Ragnar’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at the woman writhing in his arms. While dominating Arzeletta, who was completely subjugated to him, with his gaze, he was simultaneously recalling someone.
The faces of the foolish men who, like him, were captivated by this lowly maidservant and ultimately tried to kill each other.
“Heuek….”
Arzeletta slowly adjusted her body to Ragnar’s actions and looked up at him.
She gazed at the man’s strong eyes that seemed to control even the sway of her hair, at the scar that looked as if it had been clawed within them.
It was a scar left by none other than herself.
It was a sin committed solely for the sake of her love.
For the sake of a lifelong love for which she had offered a single prayer, she had tried to kill this great and absolute agent of God.
“…….”
And had been miserably defeated.
What was offered as the price was Arzeletta, her very being.
Arzeletta laboriously raised her hand. She wound her fingers through the hair of the man who was obsessively penetrating her. Seeing his pupils tremble, Arzeletta lifted her chin.
Her kiss, which could no longer harm him, was swallowed by the man. His hot desire poured fully into Arzeletta’s body. Arzeletta’s closed eyes trembled again, rapidly.
They were sinking together, entangled.
…From the heaven of the great God, into a sweet hell filled with sin.
