The improper hand of my master, attempting to lift the hem of her dress.
I grabbed her hand.
“Why…”
She whimpered as if pleading.
Her pupils had fully morphed into the shape of a heart.
A deep sense of guilt surged from within .
‘…Because of the heat.’
It had started with .
Although the Bloodstone Cult may have had a hand in this, the fact that I had ultimately spread it to others was undeniable.
The way my master had ended up like this… no matter how you look at it, it was my fault.
She was warm, comforting, and yet firm when necessary. Rational yet emotional.
That’s why it was the first ti I had seen her so utterly close to her instincts.
And it frightened .
What would happen once she snapped out of this state of instinct?
What if she thought she had lost to her desire?
Would she feel sorry and decide to leave ?
That was the kind of person my master was.
I didn’t want to lose her.
And so, it was inevitable.
I grabbed my master’s hand more firmly, the hand that was trying to shake off, the hand that was attempting to lift her dress.
“Ugh…”
She let out a faint sound as I suddenly exerted more force.
Looking up at , her tear-filled eyes seed so unlike her usual self.
My master appeared smaller sohow.
And weaker.
Her wrist was thinner than that of an average girl.
From her nape ca a fragrance as luxurious as fine tea.
Her ears, flushed a pinkish hue, made want to playfully nibble at them imdiately.
I swallowed the saliva that had filled my mouth.
It wasn’t who was aroused.
That’s why I needed to guide her right now.
Regain your composure.
I opened my mouth to console her as she whimpered while gripping the hem of her dress.
“Master, we still have plenty of days to et ahead of us.”
“But…”
“There’s no need to rush.”
Maybe I was being cowardly.
Perhaps I was overly cautious.
But I was scared.
What if I embraced her now, only for her to leave later, overwheld by guilt?
So, I needed to focus solely on calming her current state.
I had to soothe her heightened instincts.
I needed to ensure her heart wasn’t hurt.
Minimal intimacy.
Of course, even that wasn’t exactly permissible between a teacher and a student.
Any form of physical contact, however minor, would likely be considered inappropriate within this relationship.
But.
If it’s us—
If it’s and Asilia—
Maybe this much would be acceptable—
“I’ll satisfy you with just my mouth.”
“…With your mouth?”
“Yes.”
If it was just this much, even if she regained her senses, she might forgive .
With that thought, I made the suggestion to her.
“…But, I finally ended up like this, disciple.”
She pulled back the hem of her dress, revealing her damp thighs.
I gently covered her dress back over her legs.
Then, more politely but also with a slightly firr tone, I asked her.
“Master. Earlier, you said you were sorry to , didn’t you?”
“…Yes. I’m sorry. For harboring such feelings for my disciple.”
As she clung to as if pleading, I grasped her shoulders firmly and asked resolutely,
“If you’re sorry, then shouldn’t you listen to what I say?”
Perhaps startled by my firmness, my master, deflated, nodded her head.
“…I should.”
Seeing that, sothing in my chest blazed.
I wanted to pounce on her imdiately.
But I held back.
It wasn’t who was in heat; it was her.
“So, I’ll satisfy you with just my mouth.”
“…Your mouth?”
“Yes.”
Now it was my turn to guide her.
Though my master was usually firm when she needed to be, she was terrifying when she spoke in a commanding tone.
…This ti, it was my turn to do the sa to her.
I leaned in close to her ear, wide-eyed, and whispered softly.
“Open your mouth, Master.”
Master blinked, clearly taken aback.
It must have been the first ti she’d been ordered by her student.
“I said, open it.”
She glanced up at nervously, resembling a rain-soaked puppy.
“…Okay.”
She nodded and closed her eyes, tilting her head toward .
Her lips slowly parted.
Her tongue, already wet and glistening, lay inside her mouth, crimson and trembling.
Deeper still, her flushed throat contracted and relaxed, as if yearning for sothing.
I gently grasped her chin with one hand.
— Flinch!
Surprised?
She shuddered, startled.
“Open wider. Stick out your tongue.”
Master obediently adjusted, her hesitation fading as she extended her tongue toward .
The usually composed and graceful master now appeared utterly vulnerable.
Calming my pounding heart, I issued another command.
“Don’t let any spill.”
I tilted her head slightly upward, firm but careful, as I held her chin steady.
Then, I let my saliva drip into her open mouth.
— Flinch!
The mont my saliva touched her tongue, she jolted again.
“Stay still and swallow it all.”
She obeyed, swallowing my saliva.
— Gulp.
The movent of her throat, as she struggled to swallow, seed strangely beautiful.
“…”
I needed to stay focused.
This was simply the most efficient thod.
The Blood Witch had explained that my saliva acted as a cure for the heat, just as hers had worked for .
Thus, this was the logical course of action.
There was no room for inappropriate thoughts—not with Master in such a vulnerable state.
Kneeling before , Master quietly accepted my saliva.
— Cough!
The angle must have been too steep.
I adjusted her head back to a more natural position and let the rest of my saliva trickle into her mouth.
She held it there, gazing up at , lips closed around my offering.
“Swallow.”
She nodded without opening her mouth, making a soft noise of acknowledgnt.
“…Mmhmm.”
Munch—
Gulp—
She swallowed, then looked up at , her lips slightly parted.
“Did you swallow everything?”
“…Yes.”
“Show .”
“Ah—”
Asilia opened her mouth wide, as though she were being inspected, moving her tongue around to prove her obedience.
Her expression reminded of a puppy seeking praise.
The sight tugged at my emotions—a mix of guilt and sothing else I couldn’t quite na.
But I couldn’t ignore her.
I reached out to wipe away the saliva that had escaped onto her lips with my thumb, softly reassuring her.
“Good job.”
She blinked a few tis.
“…Thank you.”
She replied, her tone both pleased and slightly regretful.
I had poured out all the saliva I could muster into her mouth.
This should be enough to quell her heat.
Based on my own experience, it would take about an hour.
I exhaled, tension easing from my body.
That should be sufficient.
Or so I thought.
— Press.
A faint pressure pricked at my thumb.
It wasn’t quite pain, more like a persistent squeeze.
I looked down.
“Master…?”
My thumb, which I had extended to wipe her lips, was now caught between her teeth.
She was gently biting it, her lips wrapped around the digit, her gaze fixed on .
— Crunch.
Asilia bit down on Ian’s thumb once more before opening her mouth.
“…I listened well, didn’t I?”
Her saliva, now sticky again, coated Ian’s hand.
“Reward , Disciple.”
◆
Back when Asilia was teaching Ian swordsmanship, she had a cherished mory that often ca to mind.
Sotis, when instructing Ian, there were monts when she needed to be stern.
Ian was usually so mature, but during those tis, he would occasionally act playful.
— If I do this well, will I get a reward?
When Ian would ask such things in jest, it was so endearing, like watching a child beg for attention.
It was a glimpse of another side of him—a stark contrast to his usual composed deanor.
To Asilia, Ian was that kind of student.
But now, that very student had issued a firm command.
“Open your mouth, Master.”
He told her to open her mouth, stick out her tongue, and swallow his saliva.
And he had done so in his polite but resolute tone, leaving no room for objection.
— Thump. Thump. Thump.
Asilia’s heart pounded fiercely, as if it might burst.
For a master to obey her student’s command—
It was, of course, sothing that shouldn’t happen.
And yet—
‘…I think I might enjoy it.’
She thought she might feel good following her disciple’s orders.
That was the only reason.
That was why she obeyed.
Asilia opened her mouth.
When Ian frowned slightly, as though it wasn’t wide enough, she opened it even wider.
Even the simple act of opening her mouth made her entire body tremble with excitent.
Simply biting down on his thumb made her feel like she might lt.
And when she finally swallowed his saliva, her mind went blank, as though it had caught fire.
By the ti she had fulfilled her disciple’s orders.
Her mind and body were entirely blank.
All she could do was wait, dazed, for her disciple’s praise.
Like a puppy waiting to be petted.
That was all she could do.
“You did well.”
But her disciple’s praise was brief.
All he did was wipe her lips with his thumb as he spoke.
Asilia felt a lump rise in her throat.
Whenever she praised Ian, she always made sure to give him a hug or do sothing to make him feel rewarded.
And yet Ian was trying to let it end with just this.
‘…That’s unfair.’
For the first ti, she thought her disciple was being unfair.
She felt upset that he was trying to brush past it so lightly.
So Asilia bit down on his thumb.
To let him know she was sulking.
She pressed her lips firmly around it.
“Master?”
Ian tried to pull his thumb away.
But Asilia didn’t let go.
Instead, she sucked on it harder.
“Please praise more.”
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