"You know," Alphonse said, tilting the untouched cup of wine in his hand, "you could stop chasing him."
Madeleine's eyes snapped back to his. The furrow between her brows deepened.
"Excuse me?"
"Lucius. You've been playing his nanny all night. I can see it on your face." He gestured vaguely at her with the cup. "The tension. The clenched jaw. The way your eyes keep scanning the crowd like you're a sheepdog counting heads."
She opened her mouth to argue. Closed it.
"If you spend the entire party trying to keep him from embarrassing himself," Alphonse continued, his tone light, conversational, "you won't enjoy a single moment. From the look of things, you could use a moment."
Madeleine studied him. Her brown eyes were sharp, appraising.
[Mind Connection]
[ Mind Connection established ]
Target: Madeleine Clairmont
Status: Active
Mana drain: 2/sec
Her thoughts poured in.
'What does he want? Why is he being nice to me? Nobody is nice without a reason. Especially not a Hohenberg.'
Suspicion. The default mental posture of a merchant's daughter raised in a world of transactions.
'There are at least three guild representatives I haven't spoken to yet. The Silbermann family. The Dwarven envoy. Father specifically asked me to make introductions. If I waste time here—'
Her gaze flicked over his shoulder toward the crowd.
Then another thought surfaced, rising from deeper water.
'But God, I'm tired. I've been watching Lucius all night. Stopping him from drinking too much. Stopping him from insulting people. Stopping him from starting fights. I'm not his fiancée, I'm his keeper. I'm exhausted.'
'And Alphonse seems... different. From the last time I saw him. Calmer. More put together. When did that happen?'
Curiosity. A small flame, barely lit, but present.
'Five minutes. I'll give him five minutes. Then I find the Silbermanns.'
"Fine," Madeleine said. She uncrossed her arms. "Five minutes. But if Lucius breaks something or insults a duke, it's your fault."
"Sure."
She almost smiled.
Alphonse set his untouched wine on a passing servant's tray and gestured toward the edge of the courtyard, away from the guests.
"I noticed something on the way in," he said as they walked. "When the carriage was coming down the coastal road. There's a tower. Past the east wing. It looked like it was open to visitors."
Madeleine glanced in the direction he indicated. Past the lantern-lit courtyard, past the last of the food pavilions, a stone path wound through a manicured garden toward the estate's eastern edge. Beyond it, visible as a dark silhouette against the sky, a tower rose.
"That's the old watchtower," she said. "The Montefalcos built it two generations ago. Coastal defense. They converted it into a viewing platform a few years back. You can see the entire bay from the top."
"Want to see it?"
Through the connection, her thoughts flickered.
'A tower. Alone. With a boy I barely know. At night.'
'Don't be ridiculous. He's Lucius's cousin. He's younger than me. He's being polite.'
'But still—'
[Mind Influence]
It's just a tower. Fresh air. A break from the noise. Nothing more.
The suggestion settled into her mind. The ripples of suspicion smoothed.
"Actually," Madeleine said, and the word came out lighter than anything she'd said all night, "that sounds lovely."
The garden path was paved with flat stones. The ambient noise of the party faded with each step, replaced by the distant crash of waves against the cliffs below.
Madeleine walked beside him. The sapphire dress swayed with each step. Without the crowd pressing in, her body moved more freely. The generous curve of her hips shifted with a rolling, unconscious rhythm. Her breasts, heavy and full, swayed gently beneath the low neckline.
"So," Madeleine said, breaking the comfortable silence. "A [Mage]. That's what Sophie told me."
"News travels fast."
"Sophie was practically vibrating when she said it. She's proud of you."
"She's a good sister."
"She is." A pause. "I always wanted a sibling. Being an only child is... lonely. Especially in a merchant house. Everyone around you is either an employee or a competitor."
"Or a fiancé selected by your father for strategic purposes."
The words landed harder than he'd intended. Or exactly as hard as he'd intended. It was difficult to tell the difference with Alphonse.
Madeleine's stride faltered for half a step. Through the connection, a spike of discomfort.
'He's direct. Too direct. '
Then, quieter. 'But he's not wrong.'
"Lucius wasn't my choice," she said. Carefully. The way you'd handle a glass you weren't sure was cracked. "My father negotiated the engagement with Lord Heinrich. I was informed after the terms were agreed."
"And you accepted."
"I didn't have the option of refusing. Not without consequences that—" She stopped herself. Shook her head. "This isn't appropriate conversation for a party."
"We're not at the party anymore."
She looked at him. In the moonlight, her brown eyes were darker, the freckles across her nose almost invisible.
"No," she said softly. "I suppose we're not."
The tower loomed ahead. Up close, it was larger than it had appeared from the road. Seven stories of mortared stone, each level marked by narrow windows. A wooden door at the base stood open, a single mana lamp burning in the bracket above it.
Alphonse stepped through first. The interior was a spiral staircase. Narrow, steep, winding upward around a central column. The steps were worn smooth.
"Seven floors," Madeleine said, peering up into the gloom. "I should warn you, I'm not exactly built for climbing."
'Here we go. The stairs. Always the stairs. Everyone else will sprint up and I'll be the one gasping halfway, red-faced, sweating through my dress, looking like a—'
She cut the thought off. But the residue of it lingered. A sour taste of shame that had been marinating for years.
"Take your time," Alphonse said. "There's no rush."
They climbed.
The first two floors passed without incident. Madeleine kept pace, one hand trailing the wall, the other gathering the hem of her skirt to keep from tripping.
By the third floor, her breathing had changed. Deeper. Faster. A flush crept up from her chest, spreading across her neck and cheeks.
'Don't stop. Don't you dare stop. He'll see. He'll notice. He'll think—'
"Want to rest?" Alphonse asked. He'd paused on the landing, turning back to look down at her.
"No! No, I'm fine. Just... the dress is heavy."
He nodded. Said nothing more.
Fourth floor. Fifth.
Madeleine's breathing was audible now. Her chest heaved, the heavy breasts rising and falling in dramatic swells that strained the sapphire fabric. A sheen of perspiration glistened on her collarbone. Her curls had begun to frizz at the temples.
Through the connection, her thoughts were a cascade of self-recrimination.
'He's barely winded. Look at him. He was in a coma three weeks ago and he's climbing like it's nothing. And I can't manage seven flights without—'
'This is why Lucius looks at other women. This is why Father had to pay for the engagement. Who would choose this? Who would choose a body like—'
'Stop. Just climb. Don't think about it.'
[Mind Influence]
Why did he invite me? Of all the women at the party, beautiful, elegant, slender women, why did he choose me? Is it pity? Is it a game?
The suggestion threaded into her existing insecurity and amplified it. Not enough to break her. Just enough to widen the crack.
Madeleine's pace slowed on the sixth-floor landing. She braced one hand against the wall, the other pressed to her sternum. Her lips were parted, pulling air in quick, shallow draughts.
"Alphonse," she said between breaths. "Why did you... invite me up here?"
He stopped. Turned. Leaned against the wall with one shoulder, looking down at her from three steps above.
"Because you looked like you needed to breathe," he said simply.
'That's not an answer. That's a deflection. He's good at those.'
"Come on," Alphonse said, offering his hand. "One more floor."
She took it.
The seventh floor opened onto the sky.
The top of the tower was an open platform, ringed by a waist-high stone parapet. No roof. No ceiling. Just the night above them.
Madeleine stepped out of the stairwell and stopped.
"Oh," she whispered.
The view was staggering.
To the west, the bay curved in a perfect crescent. The harbor stretched along the shore, the masts of merchant ships rising like a leafless forest.
To the east, the Montefalco estate itself, seen from above. The ring of white buildings. The artificial lake at its center.
Madeleine walked to the parapet. Placed both hands on the stone. The sea breeze caught her hair, pulling the curls across her face.
She closed her eyes.
Through the connection, Alphonse felt it happen. The weight lifting. Not all of it, not permanently, but enough.
Her shoulders dropped. Her breathing slowed. The lines around her mouth softened.
'This is beautiful. This is so... I can't remember the last time I just... stood somewhere and felt...'
She couldn't find the word. The feeling was too unfamiliar to name.
She turned to thank him.
Alphonse was already there.
Inches away. Close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body. Close enough that when she turned, her parted lips were aligned with his.
He kissed her.
Not tentatively. Not gently. His mouth found hers with a precision that left no room for accident or misinterpretation. One hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her curls, tilting her head to the angle he wanted. The other settled on her waist, pulling her forward.
Madeleine's mind detonated.
'He's — he — I can't — Lucius — the ring — my father — this isn't —'
Through the connection, Alphonse felt the war. Every rational argument she'd ever internalized deploying at once. The engagement. The contract. Her reputation. The consequences.
Her body didn't care.
Her lips moved against his. Not pushing away. Responding. Slowly at first, then with a desperation that shocked her more than the kiss itself.
[Mind Influence]
This is what I've been missing. This is what a kiss should feel like. This is what wanting someone actually means.
The suggestion fused with her own emerging awareness. She'd never been kissed. Not properly. Lucius had pressed his wet mouth against hers exactly twice, both times tasting of wine and neither time lasting longer than three seconds. Those weren't kisses. Those were obligations.
This was different. This was heat and intention and the dizzying sensation of being wanted. Not as a contract. Not as a name on a document. Wanted.
Alphonse deepened the kiss. His tongue traced her lower lip, and when her mouth opened, he tasted her.
Madeleine whimpered into his mouth. The sound was small, involuntary, and it embarrassed her so completely that she tried to pull back.
He didn't let her. His hand on her neck held firm.
When he finally broke the kiss, it was on his terms. He pulled back just enough to see her face.
Her eyes were glazed. Her lips were swollen, glistening. A thin thread of saliva caught between them before breaking.
"Alphonse, I..." Her voice was wrecked. She swallowed. "I'm engaged. I have a... Lucius is your..."
Her hand drifted to the gold chain around her neck. At its end, hanging between her breasts, half-hidden by the neckline of her gown, a ring. The engagement ring.
Alphonse looked at the ring. Then at her face.
"Do you think," he said, his voice low and steady, "that I'm going to let that pile of lard be your first?"
The words hit her like a bucket of cold water.
'First. He knows I'm... he can tell? Is it that obvious? God, is it written on my face?'
[Mind Influence]
He's right. Lucius doesn't deserve it. Lucius doesn't deserve anything I have.
"Alphonse, you can't just—"
"The man who's supposed to be your husband," Alphonse continued, stepping closer, his hand still on her waist, "can't get through a single party without embarrassing himself and you. He insults his own cousin in public. He drinks until he can barely stand. He leers at serving girls while you pretend not to notice."
'He noticed. He noticed the serving girls. I thought I was the only one who—'
"You're going to give your first time to that?" Alphonse said.
"I won't let that happen," he said.
"This is wrong," she whispered.
"Everything worth doing feels wrong the first time."
He kissed her again.
This time she didn't hesitate. Her mouth opened for him immediately. The kiss was messier than the first. Wetter. She was learning, mimicking his rhythm, and the eagerness of it, the raw, untrained enthusiasm.
His hands moved.
The clasp at the back of her gown was a simple hook-and-eye arrangement, designed for a lady's maid to unfasten. Alphonse's fingers found it without breaking the kiss. One hook. Two. Three.
The fabric loosened. The structured bodice, which had been compressing her figure into a socially acceptable silhouette, sagged. The neckline dropped, revealing more of her chest. More of the deep cleavage that had been straining against the fabric all night.
Madeleine broke the kiss with a gasp. Her hands flew to her chest, catching the dress before it fell further.
"Wait — don't —"
Her face was crimson. Through the connection, the fear was visceral.
'He'll see. He'll see everything. The stomach. The thighs. The stretch marks on my hips. He'll see what I look like under the dress and he'll—'
'He'll change his mind.'
'They always change their mind.'
"Madeleine." His voice cut through. "Let go."
"I'm not slim. I'm not... pretty, underneath. You'll—"
"Let. Go."
His hands closed around her wrists.
He pulled her hands away from her chest.
The dress fell.
It pooled around her hips, caught momentarily on the swell, then slipped past and crumpled to the stone floor around her ankles.
Her arms crossed over her chest immediately.
[Mind Influence]
Don't hide. Let him look. This is the moment where everything changes.
Her arms lowered. Slowly. Trembling. But they lowered.
Alphonse took one step back.
He looked at her.
Madeleine Clairmont, stripped of the armor of her gown, was a revelation.
Her breasts were monstrous.
That was the word. There was no other. They were enormous, heavy, pendulous. Each one larger than his head. They hung with the particular weight of natural flesh, full and dense, the nipples visible through the wet linen as dark, wide circles capped with thick, protruding buds.
No corset in the world could have contained them.
Below them, her stomach was soft. Not flat. Not meant to be. A gentle curve of flesh, slightly rounded, with a line of downy hair trailing from her navel downward.
And those hips. Mother of God, those hips.
They spread wide from her waist like a bell's curve, each one marked with faint silver stretch marks. Her thighs were thick, pressing together at the top.
When she shifted her weight nervously, Alphonse caught a glimpse of what lay behind her.
Her ass was a separate entity. Round, heavy, each cheek large enough to fill both his hands and overflow them.
"Tits the size of my fucking head," Alphonse said.
Madeleine flinched. Her face contorted.
"Don't say—"
"And this ass." He circled her. Slowly. She turned her head to track him, but didn't move otherwise. "Madeleine, does Lucius know what he's sitting next to at dinner every night? Does he have any idea?"
'Stop. Stop talking about my body like that. Like I'm... livestock. Like I'm a...'
The flush on her chest was spreading.
"You're built like a breeding cow," Alphonse said, stopping behind her. His breath was warm against the back of her neck. "You've been hiding it under grey wool dresses like you're ashamed."
"I am ashamed!" The words burst out of her before she could stop them. "Do you think I chose this? Do you think I want to look like—"
"Like what?"
"Like a — like a fat —"
"Say it."
"I can't—"
"Say it, Madeleine."
[Mind Influence]
Say it. Let the word out. It's been sitting in your throat for years. Spit it out.
"Like a fat cow!" she spat, her voice cracking. Tears welled in her eyes. "There! Happy? Every dress has to be custom-made because nothing fits over my chest. Every staircase is a humiliation. Every ballroom is a gauntlet of looks from women half my size. I'm the merchant's fat daughter that Lucius got saddled with because his family needed the money. That's all I am. That's all I've ever been!"
Alphonse stood behind her. He reached around her from behind.
Both hands. He cupped her breasts.
Madeleine's whole body went rigid. A sharp intake of breath. Her hands flew up, grabbing his wrists.
"What are you—"
"Shut up."
His fingers sank into the flesh. Through the linen, the weight was staggering. Each breast overflowed his grip, soft and dense and impossibly warm. He lifted them slightly, feeling the heft, the sheer mass of tissue, before letting them settle back into their natural hang.
Her nipples pressed into his palms.
"These tits," Alphonse said against her ear, his voice low and thick, "are the most incredible things I've ever held."
'He's lying. He has to be lying. No one thinks—'
[Mind Influence]
He's telling the truth. Feel his hands. Feel how hard he is against your back. His body can't lie.
"Alphonse..." Her grip on his wrists loosened. "We can't... I'm engaged. My father would..."
"Your father sold you. I don't really think he cares about you." His thumbs found her nipples through the linen. He pressed. Circled. "And you know it."
He spun her to face him.
His hands found the neckline of her shift. Gripped. Pulled.
The linen tore.
The fabric ripped from collar to navel in a jagged line.
Her breasts burst from the ruined shift with a heavy, fleshy bounce. Freed from all constraint, they were even larger than they'd appeared through the fabric. Massive, pendulous udders, capped with dark areolas the size of his palm and nipples as thick as his thumb, erect and pointing slightly outward. Her stomach, exposed now, was a gentle dome of softness.
Alphonse hooked his fingers into the remaining linen and pulled downward.
The shift surrendered. It dropped past her hips, past her thighs, and puddled at her feet.
Madeleine was naked.
Completely, vulnerably, devastatingly naked in the open air atop a seven-story tower, with a hundred stars above her and a party of six hundred people below.
Her pussy was covered by a thick, dark bush. Dense and curly, spreading across her mound and slightly onto her inner thighs. Through the connection, Alphonse felt the pulse of mortification. She'd intended to trim before the wedding night, not that she'd expected anyone to see her before then. The hair was untamed, natural, the intimate garden of a girl who'd never had reason to tend it.
She covered herself. Both arms crossing, one over her breasts, one over her sex.
"Don't look at me like that," she begged. Her voice was small. "Please. I know what I look like."
Alphonse grabbed her wrists. Pulled them apart.
"I told you once. Don't hide."
He stepped back. Held her wrists at her sides. And looked.
He looked at her the way a man looks at something he intends to own.
"God, what a sight," he breathed. "Look at you. Those monster tits. That fat cow body. Those hips built for breeding." He released her wrists. Walked a slow circle around her. "The girls down at that party would kill for an ass like this. Lucius is the dumbest man alive."
'Cow. He called me a cow again. That word. I hate it. I've always hated it. Every boy at the merchant academy who mooed when I walked past, every noble daughter who whispered about my chest—'
'So why is my body—'
'Why am I so wet?'
The arousal that had been building since the first kiss, intensifying with every touch, every degrading word, until her cunt was producing a wetness she'd never experienced.
Alphonse completed his circle. Stopped in front of her.
He unfastened his doublet. Let it drop. The shirt beneath followed. His chest was still lean, still recovering, the ribs faintly visible beneath the skin.
He unlaced the trousers. Pushed them down.
His cock sprang free.
Fully erect, it stood away from his body at an aggressive upward angle, thick enough that the veins running along its shaft stood out in sharp, pulsing relief.
Madeleine stared. Her lips parted. No sound came out.
'Oh my God. Oh my... that's... that can't...'
'How does something that big exist on someone that lean?'
'It's going to... he wants to... inside me? That's going to—'
"On your knees, little cow." Madeleine's legs buckled before her brain could process the words. She sank to the stone floor, knees hitting the cold surface. Her massive tits swayed with the impact, the heavy flesh slapping together with a wet sound.
Alphonse stepped forward. His cock bobbed in front of her face. The musk of arousal and sweat filled her nostrils.
"Open."
Her mouth opened. Tongue extending, trembling.
He pushed inside.
The head slid across her tongue, thick and hot and pulsing. Madeleine's eyes went wide. Her jaw stretched to accommodate his girth, lips forming a tight seal around the shaft.
Alphonse's hand found the back of her head. Fingers tangling in her dark curls. He pushed deeper. Feeding himself into her mouth inch by inch, watching her face contort as her throat protested.
"That's it," he murmured. "Good cow. Suck it like you mean it."
She gagged. The reflex hit when the head nudged the back of her throat, and a thick rope of saliva escaped the corner of her mouth, drooling down her chin and dripping onto her tits. Her eyes watered. Tears streaked her cheeks.
He pulled back. Let her breathe. Then pushed in again. Deeper.
Madeleine's hands gripped his thighs for balance. Her eyes rolled up to meet his, and the expression on her face — the watery, overwhelmed, desperate-to-please expression of a girl discovering submission for the first time — was everything.
But he didn't want to finish here.
He pulled free of her mouth with a wet pop. A thick strand of saliva connected his cock to her lips, stretching, thinning, breaking.
"Lie down."
Madeleine lay back on the stone. Her massive tits pooled to either side of her chest, falling under their own weight into two enormous mounds that trembled with every breath. Her legs were pressed together, thighs slick.
Alphonse knelt between her legs. His hands found her knees. Pushed them apart.
Her cunt was a revelation.
Nestled in the dense thicket of dark curls, her pussy lips were swollen, flushed a deep pink that darkened to almost red at the center. They glistened. Strings of clear arousal connected them, stretching and breaking as he spread her thighs wider.
"Look at this sloppy cunt," Alphonse said, running one finger along the length of her slit. Madeleine's hips bucked. A choked moan escaped her. "Dripping. All this from being called a fat cow? That's what gets you going, Madeleine?"
"N-no, I—"
"Don't lie." He pressed his thumb against her clit. Circled it once. She convulsed. "Your body can't lie."
He lined himself up. The swollen head of his cock pressed against her opening, notching between her slick folds.
Madeleine's hands found his forearms. Her nails dug in.
"It's going to hurt," she whispered. Not a complaint. An observation. Her eyes were wide, terrified, but beneath the terror, something darker. Something hungry.
"Yes," Alphonse said. "It will."
He pushed.
The head breached her. Her cunt resisted, the tight ring of muscle fighting the intrusion with everything it had. He was too thick. She was too tight. The math didn't work.
He pushed harder.
"AH—!"
Madeleine's back arched off the stone. Her mouth opened in a scream that she strangled into a choked gasp.
He felt her hymen give. A brief, distinct resistance, then a hot, wet surrender as he sank into her. "Oh God — oh God oh God oh God—"
Her teeth were clenched, lips pulled back. Her tits heaved with every ragged breath.
[Mind Influence]
The pain is pleasure. The stretch is fullness. He's filling something that's been empty your entire life.
The suggestion hit her nervous system like lightning. The pain didn't vanish — it transformed. What had been a burning, tearing intrusion became a deep, spreading warmth. A pressure that was unbearable and perfect.
"Oh," she breathed. "Oh."
Alphonse sank deeper. Inch by inch. He bottomed out with a final, decisive thrust.
He was fully inside her.
Madeleine looked down. Past the heaving mountains of her tits, past her soft stomach, to the junction of their bodies. His shaft disappeared into her, her dark pubic hair mingling with the sparse hair at the base of his cock.
"So full," she whimpered. "I'm so full. It's too much. It's—"
He pulled back. Slowly. The dragging friction made them both groan. Her cunt gripped him, refusing to let go.
He slammed forward.
"AH—!"
The impact was brutal. His pelvis crashed against her, driving his cock to the hilt in one savage stroke. Her tits lurched violently, the heavy flesh bouncing upward and slapping back down. The wet, meaty SLAP of his balls hitting her ass.
He didn't wait for her to recover.
He fucked her.
Hard. Deep. Merciless. Each thrust a full withdrawal followed by a punishing drive that bottomed out against her cervix. The rhythm was relentless, a piston-like cadence that turned her body into a shaking, jiggling, screaming wreck beneath him.
"Take it," he growled, gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises on the soft flesh. "Take every fucking inch, you fat little cow."
"Nnnh— ah— AH— PLEASE—"
Madeleine's tits were in open revolt. They bounced wildly with every impact, slapping together, rippling, the heavy flesh hitting her chin on the upstroke and her navel on the down. The nipples traced chaotic arcs in the air. The sound they made — wet, meaty, obscene — was almost as loud as the slap of his balls against her ass.
"Moo for me."
"Wh-what?"
"You heard me." He pulled almost all the way out. Just the head inside. Holding her there. Watching her hips writhe, chasing him. "Moo. Like the fat breeding cow you are."
Through the connection, the humiliation was total. Absolute. A degradation so profound that every fiber of her being screamed to refuse, to push him off, to reclaim the shredded remains of her dignity.
[Mind Influence]
Do it. The shame is the pleasure. The degradation is the freedom. Let go of everything you were and become what he wants.
"M... moo."
The word came out broken. Barely audible. Choked with tears and arousal and the devastating, electrifying realization that saying it had made her cunt clench.
"Louder."
"Moo!"
He slammed back inside her.
"MOOOO—OH GOD—!"
The scream dissolved into something primal. Alphonse pounded her with everything his body could muster, driving into her ruined virgin cunt with savage, relentless force. The wet sounds were obscene. Her cunt squelched with every stroke, the excess arousal frothing white around his shaft, dripping onto the stone beneath them.
Madeleine was gone. Her eyes had rolled back, the whites visible beneath fluttering lids. Her mouth hung open, a steady stream of drool leaking from the corner and pooling in the hollow of her neck. Her hands had given up on his arms and were now clawing at the stone floor.
"Who owns this fat cow cunt?" Alphonse demanded, punctuating each word with a thrust.
"Y-you — you do — oh God — you do — please — PLEASE—"
"Who's your first? Your only? The man who broke in this sloppy breeding hole?"
"YOU! You, Alphonse! Only you! Only — AH — AHHHH—"
She was close. He could feel it through the connection. The orgasm building like a tidal wave, gathering mass and momentum somewhere in her core, ready to detonate.
He wouldn't let it happen on its own.
[Mind Influence]
He poured everything he had into the command. Not a suggestion this time. Not a gentle push. A detonation. Every drop of mana he could spare flooded through the connection and hit her nervous system like a bomb. Every nerve ending from scalp to toes lit up simultaneously. Her clit, her cervix, the G-spot he'd been hammering with every stroke.
CUM.
Madeleine's body broke. Her cunt clamped down on his cock with a force that was almost painful. Her whole body shook.
Alphonse buried himself to the hilt and came with her.
His orgasm ripped through him like a detonation of its own. His cock pulsed, swelled, and erupted inside her with a force that made his vision white out.
He could feel the cum filling her. The limited space inside her virgin channel couldn't hold the volume, and within seconds, it was leaking. Thick, white streams of semen squeezed out around his still-pulsing shaft, drooling down the crack of her ass, pooling on the cold stone beneath them.
The orgasm lasted thirty seconds. Forty. A minute. Sustained by the mana connection that refused to let either of them come down.
Finally, mercifully, it stopped.
Alphonse collapsed forward.
Beneath him, Madeleine was barely conscious.
Her eyes were open, but unfocused. Staring at the stars. Her chest heaved. The massive tits rose and fell in great, shuddering swells, the nipples puffy and raw. Tears and drool covered her face. Her dark curls were matted to her forehead with sweat.
Her mouth moved. Trying to form words. Nothing came out but a thin, broken whimper.
Ding.
[ Quest Complete: Covet What Belongs to Others ]