Her turquoise-painted nails clutched her flushed face as Hayasaka curled into a tight ball, legs bent, instinctively trying to shield her exposed intimacy. Her toes clenched, fully aware of how lewd she must look to Kagura from this angle—legs curled, feet parted, as if deliberately presenting her slick, dripping slit for his gaze. The pale, translucent skin of her inner thighs, her engorged, reddened slit oozing fluid, her delicate, restless feet, the sensual curve of her hips, and the glistening, erect pink bud—all were laid bare under his scrutiny.
Worse, Hayasaka was in the throes of an intense, long-suppressed climax. Her lower body went numb, involuntarily squirting a mix of fluids in uncontrollable spasms, drenching the face of her beloved, revered master, Kagura.
"Wuuu…"
The overwhelming climax drove her to tears, her face burning red, tears seeping through her fingers to her ears, which felt aflame. She couldn't see herself, but she imagined Kagura saw her as a shameless, lascivious maid lost in ecstasy.
Ah… Young Master Kagura will mock me, but… he said he loves me. That's wonderful.
Kagura, oblivious to her thoughts, was consumed by the sensation of her fluids coating his face, hair, mouth, and nose—a heady, addictive scent of a girl's intimacy that could drive any man wild.
Gripping the insides of her thighs near her knees, he flipped her lower body toward his face, pressing her legs together. The twitching, pulsating slit was framed perfectly between her pale skin, a singular pink oasis that shyly opened and closed under his gaze. Its parted lips glistened with sweet nectar, beckoning his tongue to dive in feverishly.
His tongue worked like an earthworm loosening soil after spring rain, parting and folding her tender, heated flesh—teasing, tapping, or sweeping from the juiciest center upward, pressing against the sensitive pearl at the peak, flicking side to side, lightly tapping, or enveloping it in his lips. A gentle nibble, a coating of saliva, and a soft suck produced slurping sounds akin to an old dog lapping at broth, enough to make virgins blush and young men burn with desire.
Kagura savored every inch, finally lifting his head. His lips and tongue glistened with her viscous fluids, thickened by saliva, trailing long strands before breaking. He gazed at the now-splayed, dripping slit he'd ravished, panting heavily.
Hayasaka clutched the soft flannel sheet to cover her flushed, disoriented face, her breathing rapid and suppressed, her chest heaving. Her swollen, rosy nipples stood out starkly against her pale breasts, but with her knees pressed nearly to her chest by Kagura, he barely noticed them, fixated instead on her pulsing slit, as if longing to plunge his eyes inside.
If he could shrink himself, he might dive in to experience it firsthand.
"Greetings, Master Kagura, a new bounty is—"
"Skip it, skip it, get lost."
In the heat of the moment, Kagura had no patience for the system's chatter, instantly dismissing the new bounty. The system continued, "You've skipped the bounty and received the item [Springwater]. This item ensures a woman's complete and permanent cleanliness, inside and out. Would you like to use it?"
"Springwater? Wouldn't that stop her from producing fluids?"
"Rest assured, this item won't diminish your pleasure. It enhances various possibilities and eliminates hygiene concerns."
"Oh… then use it on Hayasaka Ai."
The moment he spoke, his consciousness returned to reality, and Hayasaka seemed transformed, as if reborn.
What did "complete cleanliness" mean?
Maintaining his position, Kagura leaned down, lightly sniffing the second entrance capable of taking him. Ah, incredible. Not only was there no unpleasant odor, but a faint trace of her favorite osmanthus perfume lingered. The surrounding flesh, tight and pristine, was as tender and pink as her nearby slit.
"You… hey! Are you an idiot?! Sniffing there?!"
Hayasaka, sensing his actions, was mortified and furious, tempted to kick him away and slap him silly.
This reckless young master—how dare he sniff such a place?!
Snicker— Kagura yanked her legs back, deftly stripping off her now-cumbersome white cotton panties. Gripping her knees, he forced her legs straight before him, his erection sliding between her thighs, nestled against her slick slit, its purple tip pressing against her flat abdomen.
"You…! What are you—ah!"
Hayasaka, seeing him press her feet to his face with rapt devotion, covered her own in abject embarrassment, letting out a mortified squeal.
As a maid, she never imagined her master would do such a thing. Feet, trapped in socks and shoes all day, sweating—they're filthy. How can he bear to taste them?
Though Hayasaka knew of Kagura's fetish for women's legs and feet, their master-servant dynamic and hygiene concerns had limited such acts to occasional thigh jobs with stockings and lube. She never expected him to seize this moment…
Unbeknownst to her, the [Springwater] item ensured her body was pristine. Even her sweat was now pure, carrying a faint osmanthus scent.
Her feet were no exception.
Her dainty feet, with their exquisite arches, were petite—barely over 150 cm tall, her soles were small, feeling like soft, pliable toys against Kagura's face.
Her plump, springy toes pressed against his eyes, his nose nestled between her soles, inhaling deeply. He was astonished to detect a faint milky sweetness on her translucent instep. With his eyes covered by her toes, relying on scent and touch, he felt as if warm, creamy confections were pressed against him—defying thermodynamics, yet undeniably real.
The weight of her feet pressed just right, his lips grazing her velvety soles, gliding up and down, finding no trace of roughness, likely thanks to [Springwater]. This silken texture spurred him to rock his hips, his erection grinding between her thighs. Both hands gripped her slender ankles, pulling her legs upward as he tilted his head back, eagerly stuffing her turquoise-painted toes into his mouth.
Hayasaka watched, mortified, her hands covering her face, peeking through slivers between her fingers.
She desperately wanted to yank her feet back—the ticklish sensation of his tongue weaving between her toes made her squirm—but his erection was trapped between her thighs. Wriggling risked hurting him, so she endured the peculiar shame, muffling any odd sounds.
From Kagura's view, his left hand kneaded her sole with relish, while his right encircled her ankle, feeding her toes to his mouth. His tongue savored each soft digit, sucking and licking, letting saliva trickle down her glossy instep toward her knee.
Below, her modest breasts, rarely exposed to light, were even paler, almost ethereally so, making her rosy nipples stand out like twin bullseyes, drawing his gaze to her most vulnerable spots with unerring precision.
As Hayasaka grew accustomed, her toes playfully teased his tongue, like children chasing each other around a pole, frolicking and giggling.
It was akin to a young noble chasing a maid's skirt in his youth—Hayasaka's toes danced nimbly in his mouth.
Yet her gaze grew increasingly exasperated, tinged with reproach, blaming herself as his devoted maid for failing to curb his perverse proclivities.
Feet licked by Young Master Kagura… I won't wash them for a week.
A jest, of course. If he couldn't shake this fetish, she'd clean herself diligently, keeping her body pristine for his indulgence, sating his youthful, fiery desires.
Kagura pushed her calves forward, licking her sensual ankles, sending her mind buzzing. She longed to smother her face with a pillow to hide her shameful, lustful expression from him.
Still in her Eriri cosplay, the thought of Eriri's thigh-high stockings contrasted with these irresistible feet stoked Kagura's ardor.
Ah, my sister—a forbidden, taboo existence. The usually haughty girl now shyly covering her lips under my mouth, my erection teasing her most private slit, grazing that glistening bud…
His erection throbbed painfully. He withdrew slightly, still holding her ankles, gazing down at her. "Is it okay?"
"…Pervert."
Hayasaka's tearful murmur was all she managed before feeling a hard, searing mass slowly breach her embarrassingly slick slit.
Her body, save for the tattoo, was a dazzling expanse of alabaster, with only the faint pink of her nipples and the honeyed slit standing out. Without those, a woman's form was pure and divine, but their presence rendered it lasciviously profane, as if her snowy skin existed to highlight those tender pinks.
The moonlight existed to frame her beauty, and her beauty coalesced into dewdrops, trickling from the pink slit only Kagura could savor.
Muffling a deep breath, Hayasaka tilted her chin, accommodating the massive intrusion.
Yet a small portion remained outside—its tip pressed firmly against her cervix, slightly deforming her womb, unable to advance further.
Her petite frame was to blame;娇小 girls had shorter passages, much like their dainty feet, which Kagura couldn't resist toying with.
The protruding segment wasn't a loss—it fueled his fantasy of ravishing an underdeveloped, forbidden loli, the illicit thrill hardening him further.
"Mm…"
Hayasaka let out a faint, pained whimper.
For a girl who was a virgin just yesterday, this girth was overwhelming, especially with Kagura licking her feet, his excitement surpassing their first night.
So licking your slit isn't as good as your feet? What a perverse young master!
Not quite—slit-play was near daily, but feet were a rare treat.
"Oh… Hayasaka, you're incredible…"
Kagura clutched her knees, pressing her feet against his face in a daze, his erection slowly pistoning inside her. He coated it in her juices, the crown grazing her tight folds, scraping out her slickness to glaze his shaft.
"Shut up, shut up!" Hayasaka, mortified, covered her eyes, scolding him, then peeked through her fingers with a glare. "And it's not 'Hayasaka,' it's 'Eriri'! Get it right, you idiot brother!"
"Ah, ah, sorry."
Her exquisite tightness made him forget her cosplay, breaking his immersion.
"Ugh, really… if you're gonna finish, hurry up! Stirring around in my slit like that… what if I start feeling good too?"
Mimicking Eriri's tone, Hayasaka shot him a shy, sidelong glare, complaining.
Though their encounters were few, she felt their bodies synced uncannily, her slit molding to his shape, clenching and writhing with his thrusts, every sensitive spot filled, then emptied, only to be filled again in waves—gentle, relentless, like skilled oarsmen rowing a skiff in perfect rhythm, drawn deeper into desire's vortex, lost in ecstasy.
"Eriri…"
Kagura hoisted her feet onto his shoulders, gazing through the gap between her legs, thrusting steadily, calling her name with devotion.
Though it was a performance to sate his lust, not her true name.
"Brother…" Hayasaka played along, covering her eyes, leaving her glossy, pink-lipsticked lips free, her voice trembling with excitement. "Ravage me… ruin me so I'll never forget today… I love you, Brother Kagura, I love you most…"
No man could resist such words.
Kagura, a healthy young man, was no exception. He pressed down, gripping the backs of her knees, pushing her legs to her shoulders, tilting her hips to meet his thrusts.
"Brother Kagura, kiss me… kiss me!"
Hayasaka's hands, pinned, clutched the damp, wrinkled sheets as if to pull them over herself. Kagura leaned in, kissing her deeply, his lower body pounding like a pile driver, plunging into her slit, fitting like a sword in its scabbard, a small "hilt" left outside—her body's limit.
Her pert breasts, tantalizingly close, went untouched as he held her legs, a regret he rectified by propping her legs on his shoulders, his hands sliding to her modest yet perfectly palm-fitting breasts, kneading vigorously, thumbs and forefingers rolling her taut nipples like soft candies.
The stimulation dazed Hayasaka. She teetered on climax's edge repeatedly, unable to cross, like a progress bar stuck between 90 and 99, never reaching 100 but leaping to 1000 or beyond. She lingered in that agonizing limbo.
She yearned, her skin prickling with need, kissing him desperately to drown in the exquisite sex, but no matter how she urged herself, no matter how vividly she felt his shaft's pleasure, climax eluded her.
Instinctively, she stuck out her tongue, panting "Ha—ha—" to cool off, like a strange metal hammered repeatedly, yet Kagura withheld the final quench.
Was it his fault? She thought not—his technique wasn't masterful, but as her long-time bedmate, he'd brought her to climax thousands of times. Why now…?
"Mmm… hah…"
Kagura varied his pace—fast, slow, fast again—thrusting nearly eight hundred times, turning the beauty beneath him into a "mud doll," soft, wet, drenched in fragrant sweat, her half-removed JK uniform soaked.
The tattoo's "climax ban" drove Hayasaka to the brink of madness, her tongue lolling like a puppy's. Kagura, smirking, held off his release to switch positions.
He withdrew his overheated shaft, eliciting a soft pop as the crown emerged, like lovers' reluctant parting kiss. Her entrance, pounded and stretched, had shifted from pale cherry to slightly swollen red, pitiable yet lewd, with droplets clinging to his crown, trailing a thread that snapped onto the dark sheets.
Her dainty slit, slightly gaped, slowly closed, its lips folding like mimosa to conceal the deep-pink depths.
Kagura patted her rear. Hayasaka glared, muttering, "What are you, an old man?"
Though she griped, she knew it signaled a position change. Taking a breath to calm her climax-craving mind, she worried: Young Master hasn't finished… why?
Why? Because Kagura wanted to test [Springwater] by taking her rear, filling her intestines.
The item ensured absolute cleanliness—beyond even professional enemas—so hygiene was no concern.
Wiping sweat from his brow, Kagura sat at the headboard, propping a pillow behind his lower back, pointing to his towering erection. "Strip and come here."
"Tch… my dearest wastrel young master's really into this, huh?"
Hayasaka touched her numb slit, then yanked her hand back, shaking it in embarrassment.
Oh no, oh no, it's way too wet… Am I this depraved?
She swiftly shed her bra and shirt, unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall with a whoosh.
"Hey, don't break character!"
Kagura shot back, patting his thigh for her to sit.
Hayasaka moved to face him, but he shook his head, turning her by the shoulders. Resigned, she sat with her slender back against his heated chest.
Only the second day, and already such a shameful position… what's next? I'm so weak from behind.
Gripping his erection, she aimed it at her slit's entrance.
But Kagura, having slickened his middle finger with saliva, kneaded her rear, probing her back entrance.
"Eek—" Hayasaka jolted forward, covering it with both hands, glaring back in displeasure. "Master Kagura… this is really inappropriate. Please don't mimic Western habits. Stick to normal sex. As your maid, I must dissuade you from unclean fetishes."
"…"
Kagura rolled his eyes. I made you pristine, and you still won't let me? Who's the master here?
Her tone was unexpectedly firm, so he relented. Fine, we'll stick to the front for now. There's time—she'll always be by my side. I'll convince her later.
He'd let her adjust to her [Springwater] body first.
Shifting to lie flat, he chuckled, patting his hips.
Hayasaka, face dark, straddled him, hovering over his erection, guiding it along her perpetually wet slit.
"Put it in, put it in."
The young master whined to his maid.
Hayasaka slapped her forehead, blushing but nodding. Stepping back, she leaned down, brushing aside stray hair, and took his erection into her mouth.
"Hey… I didn't mean there!"
Kagura was mildly annoyed, but her gentle licking felt like she was prepping him with care.
She'd done such shameful things at his behest before.
Slurp, slurp… Hayasaka thoroughly wet his shaft, then returned to her position, guiding it with an impassive expression. "Young Master, it's not just a girl's slit needing to be wet. Your shaft must be lubricated too, so neither of us feels pain. No need for excessive foreplay—we can dive right in. Doesn't it hurt when you shove it in dry, tugging the skin near the crown?"
"Alright, you're right."
Kagura took the lesson humbly—dry entry did sting initially.
Satisfied, Hayasaka nodded, biting her lip as she slowly engulfed his swollen crown with her dripping slit.
Inch by inch, she sank, finally settling on his hips, hands braced on his chest, her tongue swirling in her mouth to adjust to the fullness.
"Hah…"
Adapted, she began gently rocking her hips.
Gods, Hayasaka has no idea how erotic she looks swaying like this—so damn enticing.
It reminded him of visiting Eriri's room and catching Sora peeling off her stockings—silky black fabric sliding off her pale, slender legs, toes pointed as they slipped free, making his erection surge.
Since then, Sora's gaze held a hint of hostility. Kagura felt ashamed lusting after his sister's maid—it seemed like taking advantage, given their roles. So he restrained himself, indulging only with Hayasaka.
Grabbing her rear, he aided her movements, rocking her to ease his erection in and out.
Their union was vivid in his sight. Propped on a pillow, he watched their joined flesh, like the ancient Japanese deities Izanami and Izanagi, male excess filling female lack, yin and yang in harmony. Her fluids coated his shaft, the near-eight hundred thrusts turning her inner slickness milky, clouding his shaft.
"Hayasaka, I love you… I love you so much."
Kagura steadied his breathing, feeling her contractions, and, like rewarding a dutiful pup, granted her a climax.
The tattoo's "climax ban" lifted when she heard "I love you," triggering an instant orgasm, even without buildup.
With ample foreplay, her pent-up 90–99 desires ignited, a fiery storm consuming her. Her body stiffened, legs rigid, her slit spasming, clenching his shaft from all sides, writhing to milk his seed.
Hayasaka, drained, sank onto him, his erection pressing against her cervix, its soft-hard flesh kissing and massaging his crown, bathing it in lewd nectar.
"Wuuu…" She muffled her lips, clamping her thighs around his waist, inwardly cursing: This idiot young master, saying such things now…
"Ha… ha—"
Her climax subsided, and she collapsed onto him, pliable as dough, a doll crafted for pleasure.
"I love you most."
Nibbling her earlobe, licking its curve, Kagura quickened his thrusts, taking control.
Hayasaka, shyly covering her face, felt him grip her rear, lifting it slightly, pounding furiously.
One, two… hundreds of thrusts, their trembling bodies ablaze, his shaft burning, plunging in and out, her slickness splashing his abdomen, hot and sticky.
After countless thrusts, Hayasaka neared climax again, sensing his approach. Determined not to miss it, she whispered, half to him, half to herself, "Master Kagura… together… let's…"
"Aaah, I love you, Hayasaka!! I'm coming!"
Kagura thrust deep, crown pressed against her cervix, hands clutching her waist, forcing her down onto his shaft.
Hayasaka trembled, crying out, clinging to him like an octopus, her slit contracting, greedily sucking his thick seed into her depths.
But it was too much—his system-enhanced volume overwhelmed her, gushing against her cervix, flooding toward her womb.
The scalding seed filled her petite slit, spilling out, drenching his thighs and abdomen, soaking half the sheets.
Dizzy from the release, Kagura paused, but Hayasaka, still reeling, bit his shoulder to stifle her cries, her numb body grinding against his chest, each brush prolonging her climax. She cursed her depravity, indulging in shameful lust, a maid brazenly draining her master's precious seed.
"Ah…" As calm settled, Kagura cradled her, stroking her sensitive back, whispering, "I feel like I'm melting inside your slit."
"Me too… no, I don't feel…"
Hayasaka nearly agreed but caught herself.
Your shaft melted me over and over… Master Kagura, I love you most.
For young lovers, one round was never enough, especially for Kagura with his system. They tangled until nearly eleven, then bathed together.
Hayasaka, regaining strength, cleaned him, intending for him to soak, but his renewed arousal led to another round in the bathroom.
"What's the point of bathing then?! Master Kagura, please, don't waste my efforts!"
Hayasaka's tearful, resentful expression was half-scolding, half-pleading.
And you came so much… no protection at all. Are you trying to get me pregnant?
"Ahem," Kagura cupped her chin, kissing her, murmuring, "It's because you're too cute, too irresistible."
His right hand mischievously probed her wet rear with his middle finger, earning a vein-popping slap—gentle, of course.
"Master Kagura, please mind the cleanliness of your fetishes." Hayasaka patted her rear awkwardly, turning away shyly. "And… suddenly licking my… my feet wasn't great. Please don't do it again…"
"Tch," Kagura rubbed his slapped cheek, wrapping his arms around her waist, whispering, "Compared to feet, isn't your slit 'filthier'? A wellspring of desire—so lewd. You let me lick it daily, tsk tsk."
"That… can't be helped! We can't use other places, and it's you who wants to lick, not… ugh, sit down, I'll wash you again."
Hayasaka, flustered, sat him on the bath chair, lathering and rinsing him with a gilded showerhead.
Cleaning the bed took more time, and by the time Kagura could sleep, it was nearly midnight. Hayasaka stayed up later, and with a 7 a.m. wake-up, she'd suffer without rest—unlike Kagura, bolstered by his system.
Late nights without sleep aged girls, and Kagura wanted his woman forever youthful, fragrant, with a tender, pink slit always ready for delectable nectar.
But he didn't sleep yet. Checking the time—11:58—he grabbed a velvet-lined black box, hiding it behind his back, and slipped into Hayasaka's room.
Her light was still on, and she was at her mirror, tending to her nightly skincare routine. Seeing him, her face masked, she asked stiffly, "What is it?"
"Just… how do you feel—"
"Awful. Absolutely terrible…"
Hayasaka cut in, face darkening. "Also, asking a girl 'how it felt' afterward reeks of insecurity. Don't do it again. And don't confess to your maid during sex—it's frivolous. I don't like it, it doesn't move me. I despise you. You've always been a troublesome brat, and now you're a full-blown lecherous creep."
"Uh…"
Kagura's head drooped. After such intimacy, her scathing words stung any man's pride.
"So, my dearest wastrel young master, what's on your mind?" Hayasaka approached, face still masked, playfully smacking his dejected cheeks, then bursting into laughter. "Dummy, April Fool's! Hahaha!"
Her triumphant, monotone laugh betrayed her mischief.
"What?! Damn—!"
Kagura glanced at her room's precise digital clock, catching it tick to 00:00.
April 2nd. Yesterday was April 1st—April Fool's Day.
Fuming yet amused, Kagura saw Hayasaka shyly cover her face, turning away to giggle, then realizing her mask hid her blush, boldly facing him.
Could he tell? Of course—her exposed earlobes were crimson.
"Ugh, you're impossible," Kagura said, revealing the black velvet box, presenting it with both hands and a smile. "Happy birthday."
"Ah—"
Hayasaka cupped her face, gasping, mirroring his earlier shock, and glanced at the clock.
April 2nd. Yes, her birthday.