I woke up with both dildos still in place, and for one stupid second my brain went completely blank.
As I tried to sit up—both the dildo—the one in my mouth slid deeper with a wet, muffled mmph, and the one in my ass went inside me a bit more—before I managed to pull the mouth one out with a soft plop and gasp for air.
My whole body was slick with cum, my dick lying soft and spent against the sheets, and when I reached back to remove the one from my ass, it came out coated in my own mess.
Did I seriously stuff myself full and then pass out? Am I getting really deranged? Well, this has happened before with me... so, I guess, I was deranged from the start?
My throat was scratchy as I muttered, "I guess being a virgin makes me..." Then I stopped, frowning at the thought. But am I even a virgin anymore after Darius? The question hung there awkwardly, making my ears burn. Well, I gave him a blowjob—and he hated it.
Daius likes the heroine, not me—it's better that I don't do this again.
I shoved the covers aside and stood up with a wobble, legs trembling so badly I had to catch myself on the bedpost.
Fuck, why did the author even make OG Caspian one of the male leads? He should've been the protagonist instead of the heroine. This body is built to be adored—every part of it screams that it's meant to be desired. To be fucked so badly that it can't even stand up without constant support.
With shaky steps, I made my way into the bath chamber. The hot water soothed me the moment I sank in, rose and lily petals floating lazily across the surface while steam curled around my shoulders and hair.
I let out a long breath, sinking down until the heat eased the ache in my muscles.
Then the maids came in, cheeks already pink.
"Your Majesty, should we wash your hair?" one asked softly.
"Um... fine." I leaned back a little, still too out of it to protest.
I didn't understand why they always showed up at moments like this—when I was naked, half-asleep, and surrounded by steam like some fragile ornament.
I hesitated a moment, water still dripping warm from my skin onto the marble bath floor, then asked soft, "Why do you always show up right during my bathing and dressing time—like clockwork every morning?"
"Your Majesty, you specifically told us to," the nearest maid replied quick, her blush deepening rosy across her freckled cheeks as she kept her eyes low respectful, hands twisting the edge of her apron nervous.
I blinked slow, steam curling thick around us from the sunken tub. What? Are you kidding me right now? This body—this pale, slender frame with its soft lines and delicate bones—clearly couldn't satisfy anyone in that way.
It looked built for pampering slow, gentle touches, not raw use or command. OG Caspian held zero real power there, not as a lover pinning someone down hard, not as a man who took charge fierce and breathless.
He seemed more the type to end up splayed open, gasping pinned under weight, begging pretty than ever doing the fucking himself.
Hehe... hot BL sex. Handsome boys tangled sweaty...
I froze solid mid-thought, cheeks heating sudden.
What the hell am I even thinking? Don't drift off like that—focus, damn it.
I forced my mind sharp again, clearing throat quiet before asking next, "Are you scared of me at all? Don't be—say whatever's really on your mind, be honest."
"Your Majesty, you've never once misbehaved with anyone—not us, not staff, not even whispers of cruelty," the maid nearest me said steady, a little taller than my frame with warm brown eyes and expression careful, respectful bow of her head. Her voice held no fear, just quiet truth.
I tilted head slight. "Well... that's a good thing, right? No complaints there."
She looked embarrassed quick, gaze dropping to the tiled floor glistening wet, then added softer, "I'm sorry if this comes off rude or bold, Your Majesty, but... we actually like dressing you, bathing you close like this. Most of our mothers cared for you when you were small, scrubbing your tiny back, and some of us grew up watching you too—brushing your hair, picking your silks. It's... familiar, almost fond."
I frowned light, water beading on my lashes. "Why do I feel like you're mocking me somehow? Like I'm some doll on display."
"Your Majesty, no mockery—truly. You're prettier than any girl at in the empire, all soft skin and fine features, though some people call you tyrant. We blush because you're always naked bare in front of us, so open and trusting, and you look... cute. Like something precious to handle gentle."
"Like a child, almost," another maid added shy with a small smile, her hands dipping into a clay bowl of shampoo-like oil, scent blooming lavender sweet as she stepped closer.
The words landed strange heavy in my chest, twisting odd—not quite offense or anger, just a quiet pang.
Cute? Like a child?
I sat there dripping silent on the bath stool, steam swirling lazy around my shoulders and the maids' skirts, while the taller one poured the warm oil slow over my wet hair, fingers threading gentle to massage deep into my scalp—circular presses firm but soothing, suds foaming white and silky down my neck, easing tension I didn't know knotted there.
"Your Majesty, are you planning to marry someone soon? The empire's buzzing with whispers again," a younger maid ventured careful, combing through my strands with wide-tooth ivory.
I stilled full, heart skipping faint. "I... don't know yet. Not decided."
The taller maid paused her massage brief, eyes curious soft. "Your Majesty, do you even like women... or men more? Be honest with us."
"What?!" I sputtered half-laugh shocked, water flicking from my hands. Well, i don't like women at all.
"You faced so many proposals even as a kid," she explained gentle, resuming the lather with firmer circles that pulled soft tingles down my spine.
"What do you all think suits me best?" I asked curious now, leaning into the touch despite myself.
"Well... you seem close with your childhood friend always. But honestly? I think you should date a man—someone strong who keeps you happy safe, cares fiercely about you without question," the younger one said bold, rinsing suds with a copper pitcher warm.
"If you marry a woman, you'd have to take charge full—protect her, lead the bed and throne. Besides, no one can truly stand beside you equal," the tallest added thoughtful, her fingers working shampoo deeper to my temples.
"Wh—why not?" I asked, voice dropping quieter.
"Because they'd look inferior next to your glow, Your Majesty. You're too pretty—too beautiful delicate that they'd feel jealous plain, dim beside your light. Like stars next to the moon."