The Dialectic of Master and Slave - Chapter 83
“Do you like it when every hole is filled to the brim?”
The emperor whispered like a devil, his thigh pressing down hard enough to lift Jaha’s hips.
With every brutal thrust, the massive bed rocked violently. From the holes where his c**k and the artificial toy plunged in and out, thick white mucus overflowed endlessly, spilling without pause.
“Back then, even just the tip would make you cry in pain, and now here you are, moaning so sweetly with both holes stuffed full.”
He chuckled faintly as he traced the outline bulging against Jaha’s lower belly each time he pushed in.
“Feels like a lifetime ago. Though, really, it hasn’t been that long.”
Overwhelmed by the deep, throbbing pleasure, Jaha couldn’t stay still, her body trembling with each spasm.
Before long, an immense flood of seed filled her to the brim.
The emperor rolled the ring on her n****e as the veins along his length ground against her most sensitive spots.
“I’ll rub all your favorite places raw. Feels good, doesn’t it? That rough, relentless friction?”
“Ah— ngh, hhk!”
Drenched in melting, honeyed heat, Jaha shuddered like she’d been electrocuted. Her body was malfunctioning—slick gushing endlessly even as her limbs lay limp. The fever spreading through her veins only demanded more.
The emperor’s c**k swelled thicker inside her, pulsing as her walls clenched and sucked him deeper. Unlike before, she knew how to cling now, greedy and tight, as if begging for every last drop.
“Seems you want it even deeper—your womb begging to be stuffed full.”
Gripping her slender thighs, he began pumping in earnest.
“I’ll bury it deeper—until you lose yourself in pleasure.”
The ring rotated automatically, tightening and loosening around her n****e in a relentless rhythm. The thrusts of the artificial phallus plunging into her rear grew even more violent. A flood of arousal gushed from between Jaha’s thighs—enough that one might believe she had truly wet herself.
“Succumb to this ecstasy. Admit how desperately you need this. Your body has grown so depraved you can’t survive without me ruining you like this.”
The whispered words seeped into Jaha’s hazy consciousness like a hypnotic chant.
She shook her head. Even in this delirious state, barely clinging to awareness, she resisted—and the emperor’s expression hardened at the defiance she couldn’t suppress.
How dare she still reject me when her body betrays such pleasure?
It wasn’t just incomprehensible—it was infuriating.
No matter how noble her upbringing, no matter that she’d attended the Academy, he hadn’t expected such stubbornness.
A sudden thought crossed the emperor’s mind: What if things had been different?
If Jaha hadn’t come to this country as a slave, but as a foreign envoy—
A woman with the pride of being academy-educated would surely carry herself with confidence—enough to catch his interest. Since he couldn’t simply take a noblewoman as he pleased, he’d have to formally court her. Share tea, take walks, and if he wished to keep her by his side, eventually propose.
The emperor, having imagined this far, was struck by a wave of shock—not from disgust, but because it felt right. Like the first button of a perfectly fastened coat.
Though mere conjecture, the sequence felt utterly proper. So much so that it made reality seem dissonant, as if this—what they had now—was the aberration.
Deep down, he faintly recognized the root of this discord.
A strange certainty gripped him: had he not taken Jaha by force, she wouldn’t reject him so fiercely now. But it was spilled water, an impossible dream from the start.
He’d merely treated a slave as a slave. Where was the sin in that?
Gritting his teeth, he arched his back higher. Jaha’s cries sharpened under his renewed thrusts.
Does it matter? She’ll break eventually.
A slave only needed to learn her place.
He’d carve depraved etiquette into her bones, topple that stubborn fortress of hers.
Until she accepted the pleasure he gave. Until she accepted him.
“Fine. Struggle all you want. But soon, you’ll forget. Even this resistance—even the desperate refusal you cling to now.”
His violet eyes, glinting through narrowed lids, flashed like a serpent’s.
“In the end, you’ll do anything to fall into my arms.”
“Ngh—*ah!*”
Lost in the throes of ecstasy, her body convulsed as he spilled himself deep inside her.
Yellow petals, scattered across the bed, were sullied with seed and slick.
◇ ◆ ◇
They say dreams are a reconstruction of fragments from daily life. Perhaps it was because she’d seen Cedric after so long that he appeared in her dream.
The exact details were hazy, but she remembered bits—explaining to him how she couldn’t give him the soap because the emperor had snatched it away, clinging to him and pleading to return to her original world.
When tears spilled, Cedric wiped them away with careful hands. After hesitating, he cupped her face and softly pressed his lips to hers.
