Fingernails painted a delicate azure clung tightly to her flushed countenance as Ai Hayasaka's form shrank into itself, her legs curling inward in a subconscious bid to shield her most intimate sanctum. Her toes tensed, fully aware of how lascivious this posture must appear to Kagura before her—akin to a deliberate parting of thighs, brazenly unveiling the glistening seam of her desire, framed by alabaster thighs where veins shimmered faintly beneath the skin, a rosy nexus swollen and spilling forth its nectar, dainty feet with nowhere to rest, the sensual curve of her hips, and the tender, protruding bud glistening with bright dew—all laid bare under Kagura's unflinching gaze.
Worse still, Hayasaka now trembled through an overwhelming crescendo, a climax long pent-up that rendered her lower body numb and helpless. Pearls of moisture mingled with her essence, forced out in uncontrollable spasms, anointing the face of her most cherished and revered master, Kagura.
"Wuuu…"
Such ecstasy drove Hayasaka to tears, her visage aflame with heat as saline trails slipped through her fingers to pool within her ears, setting them ablaze with embarrassment. Though she could not behold her own reflection, she imagined herself in Kagura's eyes as a shameless, wanton maid lost to rapture.
Ah… to be mocked by Young Master Kagura, yet he claims to adore me… how delightful.
Kagura remained oblivious to Hayasaka's musings, conscious only of the deluge upon his face—her scent saturating his hair, his lips, his very breath. It was the intoxicating fragrance of a maiden's secret garden, one whiff of which could ensnare a man's senses and set his blood aflame.
Seizing her thighs near the knees, he drew her lower half toward his visage, pressing her legs together until the quivering crevice at their apex nestled at the center. Amidst snowy flesh, that lone blush of pink shyly parted and closed beneath his stare, its petals glistening with sweet ambrosia, luring his tongue to approach in a frenzy.
His tongue, like an earthworm tilling spring soil after rain, teased apart that heated, tender terrain—probing, flicking, sweeping upward from the richest depths, scraping along with relish. He pressed it against the crowning pearl, teasing it side to side, tapping lightly, enveloping it within his lips, grazing it with teeth, coating it in saliva with faint suckling sounds reminiscent of a hound lapping broth. The *slurp* and *sip* alone could flush the cheeks of innocent maidens and stir the loins of ardent youths.
Having savored her thoroughly, Kagura raised his head, his lips still adorned with Hayasaka's viscous nectar, thickened by the mingling of saliva and tongue. As it stretched and snapped, he gazed upon the glistening flesh he had rendered so shamelessly splayed, panting heavily.
Hayasaka clutched the soft velvet sheet to veil her fevered, disheveled face, her breaths quick and stifled, her chest heaving with each rise and fall. Her taut, rosy peaks stood vivid against her pale breasts, yet with her knees pinned near her chest by Kagura's hands, his attention remained riveted not upon her bosom but upon the succulent hollow below, as though he longed to plunge his very eyes within.
Were he able to shrink, Kagura might well have ventured inside to explore its depths firsthand.
"Lord Kagura, now announcing—"
"Skip it, begone."
Aroused beyond measure, Kagura dismissed the system's prattle, bypassing a new bounty. Undeterred, it chimed again: "Bounty skipped. You've received the item [Fountain of Purity], which ensures a woman's complete and eternal cleanliness from within. Would you like to use it?"
"Fountain of Purity? Would that mean no more nectar?"
"Rest assured, this item enhances rather than hinders your pleasure, offering new delights while dispelling any qualms of hygiene."
"Oh… then bestow it upon Ai Hayasaka."
No sooner had he spoken than Kagura's awareness snapped back to reality, and Hayasaka before him seemed transformed, as if reborn.
What did it mean to be cleansed from within?
Maintaining his stance, Kagura leaned closer, inhaling gently at the secondary haven beneath her. Ah—indeed, not a trace of unpleasantness lingered; instead, a faint whisper of her favored osmanthus perfume wafted forth. The taut, rosy flesh there gleamed as tender as the dewy crevice just beyond.
"You… hey! Are you daft?! To sniff *there*?!"
Sensing his actions, Hayasaka bristled with mortification and fury, tempted to kick him away and deliver a stinging slap.
This wretched young master grew ever more audacious—how dare he sample such a place?
*Swish*—Kagura tugged her legs back, deftly shedding her now-cumbersome white cotton undergarment. Grasping her knees, he straightened her legs before him, his arousal slotting between her thighs, its flushed tip pressing against her smooth abdomen, enveloped by the silken grip of her slick, delicate skin.
"You…! What are you—ah!"
As Kagura, half-lidded with rapture, pressed her feet to his face, Hayasaka recoiled in dismay, covering her visage with a cry of abject shame.
A mere maid, she never imagined her master would stoop to this. Feet, confined all day in socks and shoes, perspiring and unclean—how could he bear to taste them?
Though long aware of Kagura's penchant for a lady's legs and feet, propriety and hygiene had restrained such indulgences to little more than silken stockings and lubricant aiding his release. Yet today, amidst the chaos, he seized the chance…
Unbeknownst to Hayasaka, Kagura had employed the [Fountain of Purity]. Not only were odors banished, but even her natural sweat now bore the purity of water, tinged with osmanthus. Her feet, too, shared this grace.
Her petite soles, sculpted with exquisite arches, suited her diminutive frame—barely over five feet—fitting Kagura's face like soft, pliant treasures. Their full, resilient toes brushed his eyes, his nose nestled between, inhaling deeply. To his astonishment, her translucent insteps carried a hint of creamy sweetness. With vision obscured by her digits, relying solely on scent and touch, he likened them to warm, yielding confections pressed against him—an improbable marvel defying thermodynamics, yet undeniably real.
Her legs' gentle weight caressed his face just so, his lips grazing her tender soles with soft friction, devoid of any roughness—a boon of the [Fountain], no doubt. This silken sensation spurred him to rock his hips, his arousal gliding between her thighs as he clasped her slender ankles, pulling them upward to cram her azure-tipped toes into his mouth.
Hayasaka watched, aghast, her hands plastered to her face, peeking through trembling fingers.
She yearned to wrench her feet free, the ticklish scrape of his tongue between her toes driving her to squirm. Yet, with his arousal still nestled between her legs, any twist might harm him. Thus, she endured, stifling her shame, clamping her lips to mute any errant sounds.
From Kagura's vantage, his left hand kneaded her sole with relish, his right encircled her ankle, guiding her toes to his lips. He savored each soft orb, sucking and licking, letting saliva trail down her glassy arches toward her knees.
Below, her modest bosom—rarely kissed by light—glowed even paler, a gradient from ivory to faint rose, rendering her vivid peaks starkly alluring, twin beacons drawing his gaze to her most vulnerable places with unerring precision.
As Hayasaka grew accustomed, her toes began a playful dance with his tongue, like frolicsome children chasing one another round a pillar—darting, clinging, tickling with glee.
Much like the maid's skirts every noble youth once pursued, her digits stirred vivaciously within his mouth.
Yet her gaze grew ever more exasperated, tinged with reproach—self-reproach for failing, as his devoted attendant, to steer him from such unutterable proclivities.
—*Feet kissed by Young Master Kagura… perhaps I'll forgo washing them this week.*
A jest, of course. Should he cling to this fetish, she resolved to cleanse herself diligently, preserving her purity for his youthful ardor.
Kagura nudged her calves forward, tracing his tongue along her shapely ankles, sending a buzzing tumult through her mind. She longed to smother her face with a pillow, sparing him the sight of her debased allure.
Presently, Hayasaka embodied his sister Eriri, her usual thigh-high stockings vivid in his mind. Gazing upon these indefatigable feet, his passion blazed anew.
Ah, a sister—kin, forbidden—her haughty demeanor melting into muffled shame beneath his lips, his arousal teasing the glistening bud near her most clandestine hollow…
At this thought, his desire swelled unbearably. Withdrawing slightly, he held her ankles aloft, peering down to murmur, "May I?"
"…Pervert."
Hayasaka's tearful whisper was her sole reply, yet before she could muster more, a firm, heated presence eased into her tender, drenched haven, mortifying in its intimacy.
Her skin, save for absent markings, dazzled with pristine whiteness, save for the faint blush of her chest and the honeyed cleft below. Without those accents, a woman's form might seem sacrosanct; with them, it turned profane, as though her alabaster expanse existed to exalt those rosy depths.
The moonlight existed to frame her beauty, which coalesced into dewdrops, trickling from the secret vale only Kagura could savor.
Stifling a gasp, Hayasaka tilted her chin upward, straining to accommodate the formidable intrusion.
Even so, a fraction remained unclaimed—its vanguard pressed firmly against her cervix, distending it slightly, unable to advance further.
Her petite frame was to blame; such dainty maidens bore shorter passages, their feet equally small and charming, ever tempting Kagura's touch.
That lingering remnant suited him, evoking the illicit thrill of caressing an unripe blossom—a forbidden fancy hardening his resolve.
"Mmm…"
Hayasaka whimpered faintly, pained.
For a maiden so recently deflowered, this girth proved daunting—more so with Kagura's fervor heightened by her feet, surpassing even their first night.
—*So licking your haven pales beside your feet, does it? What a perverse master!*
Not entirely; tasting her essence was near-daily fare, while her feet were a rare delicacy. "Oh… Hayasaka, you're divine…"
Clutching her knees, Kagura pressed her legs to his face in rapture, his arousal gliding within her. He coated it with her essence, its crown grazing her folds, scraping forth her nectar to anoint its length.
"Silence, silence!" Hayasaka hissed, veiling her eyes in shame, then glaring through splayed fingers. "And it's not 'Hayasaka'—it's 'Eriri'! Get it right, you oafish brother!"
"Ah, ah, my apologies."
Her haven's embrace had briefly eclipsed her role-play, pulling him from the scene. "Ugh, really… if you must release, hasten it! Dawdling within my tender hollow, stirring me to pleasure—what then?"
Mimicking Eriri's cadence, Hayasaka chided him with a bashful slant of her eyes.
Though their unions were few, their bodies melded uncannily, her depths molding to his rhythm, filling and withdrawing in perfect synchrony—wave upon wave, tender yet relentless, like oarsmen rowing a skiff into desire's maelstrom, sinking ever deeper.
"Eriri…"
Kagura hoisted her feet to his shoulders, gazing through the divide, thrusting steadily as he called her name with tender fervor.
A borrowed name, crafted to sate his longing.
"Brother…" Hayasaka played along, shielding her eyes, her glossy lips quivering with excitement. "Ravage me fiercely, so I'll never forget this day… I love you, Brother Kagura, most dearly…"
"Aaah…"
No man could withstand such words.
A virile youth, Kagura succumbed, pressing forward with ferocity. Pinning her legs to her shoulders, he angled her hips to meet his thrusts, as though she beckoned him deeper.
"Brother Kagura, kiss me… kiss me!"
Her hands, pinned, clutched the damp sheets in desperation. Kagura descended, claiming her lips, his lower half driving into her like a relentless engine, their union a sword and scabbard in flawless harmony—save for the hilt she could not engulf.
Her breasts, so near yet untouched, stirred his regret. Propping her legs with his shoulders, he reached past, hands cupping her modest yet perfectly molded mounds, kneading them as his fingers teased her rigid peaks, rolling them like soft confections.
The onslaught dazed Hayasaka, teetering on ecstasy's brink yet unable to cross—a progress bar stalling between ninety and ninety-nine, yearning for an unreachable thousand. Her skin prickled, her tongue lolling as she panted, hammered yet unquenched by Kagura's withheld spark.
Was it his failing? She thought not—he'd brought her to bliss countless times. Why now…?
"Mmm… ha…"
After nigh eight hundred strokes, swift then slow, she lay a glistening, pliant heap, her uniform sodden with sweat.
Barred from climax by an unseen mark, she teetered on madness, tongue protruding like a pup's. Smirking, Kagura withheld his release, shifting their pose.
With a soft *pop*, he withdrew his heated length, its crown kissed by her reluctant flesh. Her entrance, once pale cherry, now bloomed red and tender, dripping silken threads onto the dark sheets.
Her haven shyly contracted, its petals folding inward to cloak its depths.
Patting her hip, Hayasaka glared, muttering, "What are you, an old lecher?"
Yet she complied, rising to shed her attire—bra, shirt, skirt—letting them fall in a silken cascade.
"Don't break character!"
Kagura snapped, patting his thigh. She moved to face him, but he turned her, pressing her slender back to his ardent chest.
—*Day two, and already such shamelessness… I'm weakest from behind.*
Gripping his length, she aimed for her haven, but Kagura slicked his finger, probing her rear instead.
"Eek—" She jolted, shielding it with a scowl. "Lord Kagura, this is wholly improper. Cease these crude Western habits—let us love purely. As your maid, I must curb such unclean whims."
"…"
Rolling his eyes, he relented—her resolve was iron. No matter; time would soften her.
Reclining, he tapped his lap with a chuckle.
Grimacing, Hayasaka straddled him, guiding his arousal along her ceaselessly moist crevice.
"Inside, inside."
He cooed like a petulant lord.
Sighing, she slapped her forehead, blushing as she bent forward, brushing aside her hair to envelop him with her lips.
"Hey… not there!"
He bristled, yet her tender ministrations soothed him, as though sheathing him anew.
*Slurp, slurp…* She anointed him thoroughly, then resumed her perch, guiding him in with a stoic gaze. "Lord Kagura, it's not merely a lady's dampness that suffices—your own must be slickened too, easing us both without undue prelude. Doesn't it ache when dry?"
"Fair point."
Humbled, he nodded—unslicked, it did smart.
Satisfied, she bit her lip, enveloping his swollen crown with her dripping warmth, inching downward until she rested astride him, hands bracing his chest, adjusting to the fullness.
"Ha…"
Acclimated, she swayed her hips.
Heavens, she little knew how enticing her undulations appeared—utterly bewitching.
Like the time he glimpsed Qiong peeling off her stockings in Eriri's room—silk sliding from ivory legs, toes pointed, igniting his desire.
Since then, Qiong's wary glares had shamed him—ogling a maid so basely felt beneath him. Thus, he confined his revelry to Hayasaka.
Gripping her hips, he aided her rhythm, their union vivid before his cushioned gaze—a primal dance of give and take, her nectar whitening his length with each of countless thrusts.
"Hayasaka, I adore you… so deeply."
Steadying his breath, he savored her clenching depths, granting her release with those cherished words.
Her mark forbade climax—save when he professed his love.
Now, her pent-up blaze erupted, a tempest stiffening her frame, her haven convulsing to milk him dry.
Limp, she sank, his tip grinding her cervix—a silken kiss bathing him in her lewd dew.
"Wuuu…" She muffled her cries, inwardly cursing: *This fool, spouting such things now…*
"Ha… ha—"
Exhausted, she collapsed atop him, pliable as dough, a vessel for his whims.
"I cherish you most."
Nibbling her ear, he quickened below, seizing control.
Blushing, she hid her face as he lifted her hips, thrusting with abandon.
Hundreds of strokes set them quaking—his length ablaze, her depths awash, their mingled fluids splashing hotly across his abdomen.
After untold thrusts, she teetered anew, sensing his peak. Whispering tremulously, "Lord Kagura… together… let us…"
"Aaah, I love you, Hayasaka!! It's coming!"
He plunged deep, pinning her hips as she clung like an octopus, her haven greedily claiming his torrential release.
Yet it overflowed—his system-gifted bounty flooding her womb, spilling forth to stain the sheets.
Dizzy, he paused, but Hayasaka, still reeling, bit his shoulder, her sensitized form quivering against him, chiding her own wantonness.
"Ah…" Calmed, he caressed her tender back, murmuring, "I feel I'll melt within you."
"I too… no, I feel nothing…"
She faltered, then corrected herself.
—*Your length has melted me oft… I adore you, Lord Kagura.*
For ardent youths, one bout scarce sufficed—least of all for a system-blessed Kagura. They tangled until near eleven, bathing together thereafter.
Regaining strength, she tended him, but his renewed ardor pinned her for another round.
"What's the point of bathing then?! Lord Kagura, pray don't squander my efforts!"
Her plaintive gaze wavered between reprimand and plea.
—*And such copious release… without precaution—do you wish me with child?*
"Cough," he kissed her chin, intoxicated. "You're too alluring."
His finger teased her drenched rear anew, earning a swift, gentle slap.
"Lord Kagura, mind your proclivities' propriety." She patted her hip, averting her gaze. "And licking my… feet was ill-advised. Pray refrain henceforth…"
"Tch," rubbing his cheek, he embraced her from behind. "Your haven's the true fount of desire—lewd beyond measure—yet you bid me taste it daily."
"That's… unavoidable! Not my wish—you crave it… Sit, I'll cleanse you again."
She pressed him to the bath stool, lathering and rinsing him with gilded care.
Tidying the bed delayed rest—near midnight for him, later for her, with dawn at seven looming. His system sustained him; she, mortal, risked weariness.
Late revelry aged maidens, and he wished her ever youthful, her haven ever succulent.
Yet he eschewed sleep, glancing at the clock—11:58—then concealing a velvet box as he slipped into her room.
Lamplight glowed; she tended her nightly rites before a mirror. Seeing him, mask-clad, she stiffened. "What is it?"
"Nothing… just, how did it—"
"Awful, utterly dreadful…"
She cut in, glowering. "Asking a lady 'how it felt' post-deed reeks of insecurity—cease it. And confessing mid-act is frivolous—I loathe it, unmoved. I've detested you since childhood—a vexing, lecherous cad."
"Uh…"
crestfallen, he bowed his head—such tenderness rebuked stung deeply.
"Dearest wastrel, what's on your mind?" She approached, mask intact, patting his dejected face with a chuckle. "Fool—April Fool's! Hahaha—"
Her triumphant monotone rang out.
"What?? Damn—!"
He glanced at her precise clock—00:00, April 2nd. Yesterday, the 1st—Fool's Day.
Fuming yet amused, he watched her stifle giggles behind her mask, then boldly face him, ears betraying her flush.
"Sigh, you're incorrigible." He presented the box with a grin. "Happy birthday."
"Ah—"
She cradled her cheeks, gasping, then checked the clock.
April 2nd—her birthday, indeed.