Chapter 76 - Seventy-Six: Charm II

Chapter 76: Chapter Seventy-Six: Charm II

I kept my hand pressed over her tattooed womb, feeling the slight firmness beneath. With my other hand, I let my middle finger drift lower, through her slick, trimmed pink fur, until the tip rested against her swollen, dripping entrance. I held her gaze, my expression unreadable.

Her own amused, proud smile widened in anticipation. She shifted her hips, an open invitation.

I didn’t tease. I shoved my finger deep inside her pussy in one hard, sudden thrust.

Her breath hitched. "Nnn~!"

I began to move it, not in a gentle come-hither motion, but with slow, deep, probing circles, teasing the spongy inner walls that were already hypersensitive from days of relentless use. She was incredibly wet, hot, and still loose from our earlier sessions, but the walls clenched down on my finger with a practiced, eager tightness.

As I finger-fucked her with that deliberate, intimate invasion, I asked the question that had been circling in my mind since the breakfast table. "Who fathered your five daughters? Blossom and the others. The litter you’re so proud of."

Rina’s eyes fluttered for a second at the dual stimulation...the finger inside her and the direct question. Then her smile returned, brighter than ever, suffused with a deep, genuine affection that was more unnerving than any of her lewd boasts.

"Oh, them?" she sighed, her voice full of wistful warmth. "That was my sweet old lord. Master Lysandros. My best litter."

She leaned into my finger’s movements, rocking gently. "It was... years ago. Right before his mind went fully into his work. He was still so sad, so hungry for life. He spent a whole week with me in my warren, hardly leaving. Fed me the finest fruits, massaged my back... and fucked me day and night." Her pink eyes grew distant with the memory. "He said he wanted to create something perfect with me. Something that wasn’t tainted by death. And he did. Fifty beautiful, healthy, strong daughters~"

My probing finger, slick with her pussy’s juices, found its way lower, slipping past the sensitive folds and pressing against the tight ring of her asshole. With the same suddenness, I pushed inside. The resistance was different...tighter, smoother, more internal. She gasped, her body arching, but her smile never wavered.

The number she’d thrown out finally registered past the haze of lust and her insane stories.

"Fifty?" I repeated, my voice low, my finger working deeper into her ass with a slow, twisting motion.

She laughed again, the sound breathy and proud, a mix of horniness and maternal bragging. "Yes~ The last forty-five, I sold to various slavers over the years! Got a wonderful price for them, too. Prime stock. The old lord was... prolific. I bore litters for him more than ten separate times over the years."

My finger stopped its invasion, buried to the knuckle in her backside. Her casual, cheerful accounting of selling forty-five of her own children into bondage was like a splash of ice water. She was chattering on about profits and noble client preferences, but I cut her off.

"How," I interrupted, my voice sharp, my finger giving a deliberate, uncomfortable twist inside her, "is that possible? Physically?"

She didn’t flinch at the tone or the intrusion. If anything, she seemed delighted by my focused, analytical attention. She rocked back slightly, taking my finger deeper into her ass with a soft, wet sound.

"Oh, that’s easy, silly~" she trilled, as if explaining something simple to a child. "Rabbitkin pregnancies only last a month. Maximum. Sometimes as short as three weeks if the seed is strong and the womb is eager!" She patted her stomach, right over my other hand on the tattoo. "This one, if it takes, will be quick, too. Quick gestation, large litters, rapid maturation... it’s what makes us such valuable assets!" She said it with the pride of a master craftsman discussing the quality of her materials. "By the time the first litter is toddling, I’m already swelling with the next for my hubby. It’s a beautiful, efficient cycle."

Efficient...? Beautiful...?

My finger was still deep in her ass. Her body was warm and pliant around it. She was looking at me with affection and predatory hunger, waiting for me to fuck her again, to add to the legacy she was so proud of. I slowly pulled my finger out, the slick sound loud in the silent room.

I looked at her...the cheerful, amoral Rabbitkin. She might be genuinely the most fucked up person I ever saw in this world.

I pulled my fingers from her body, wiping them absently on my trouser leg. The tactile intimacy was gone, replaced by a chilling, intellectual curiosity. She was a puzzle made of fucked-up pieces, and I needed to see the whole picture.

"So," I said, my voice steady, a faint, strange smile on my lips. I settled back on the floor, putting a little distance between us. "With a... cycle like that. A life like this. How did it start? How were you raised, Rina?"

She blinked, as if the question was both unexpected and deeply unimportant. She shifted to a more comfortable sitting position, her legs folded beneath her, unabashed in her nakedness. The red handprint on her ass was already fading.

"Oh, me?" she said with a dismissive wave. "Standard warren life. Born in a burrow south of here, in the Whispering Woods. My mother was Matriarch before me. A dozen sisters, a few brothers...they get sold off early, usually for manual labor."

She spoke with the same casual tone one might use to describe their hometown’s main industry. "We’re raised to understand our value from the start. Strength, fertility, obedience, and... enthusiasm." A sly grin. "They start pairing you with the captured human men in the warren early, to see who takes, who produces the best kits. I was always a standout. Big litters. Healthy kits. A... vibrant disposition."

She preened slightly. "When I was about... oh, fifteen in human years, a slaver caravan came through. They buy the promising young does to stock high-end markets. My mother sold me for a small fortune. I was proud. It meant I was the best."

There was no resentment?

Huh...

She described being sold by her own mother into sexual slavery as a normal thing.

Well in this fucked up world maybe it was.

I’m also curious about those ’Captured Human Males’ But...

Better not ask about it.

"The caravan was good. They fed us well, trained us in... comportment. How to please different kinds of masters. I was bought by a minor noble in the capital. He was boring. Then I was traded to a mercenary captain. He was rough. Then... I caught the eye of Master Lysandros during a tour of the... establishment where I was working. He saw more than just a body, you know? He saw potential. He bought my contract and brought me here." She spread her arms, indicating the mansion. "And the rest, well... you see it."

"Doesn’t it ever bother you?" I asked, my smile still in place, a mask for the cold fascination beneath. "Being bought and sold? Your daughters being sold?"

Rina looked genuinely perplexed. "Bother me? Why? It’s the natural order. The strong and desirable are valued. The valuable are traded. My mother was valued, so she sold me for profit and improved the warren’s standing. I am valued, so Mistress Vesper sells my daughters for profit and maintains this household." She tilted her head. "It would be like a prized apple tree being bothered that its apples are sold at market. It’s what it’s for. I’m fulfilling my purpose. And I enjoy it." Her eyes gleamed. "The fucking, the breeding, the luxury it brings... what’s to be bothered about?"

My smile felt brittle. I was talking to a creature whose morality was as alien to me as her fluffy tail. And she was carrying what might very well be my child inside her.

I didn’t like that at all.

My hands went to her breasts, my thumbs circling her large, dusky areolas before pinching the nipples firmly between my fingers. She gasped, her back arching, pushing her chest into my hands.

"The lord’s wife," I said, rolling the tight nubs between my fingers. "Do you remember her? Vesper’s mother. What really happened to her?"

Rina’s response was another burst of laughter, rich and tinged with dark glee. She loved these secrets. They were part of her value, her insider status.

"Oh, the mistress?" she giggled, wriggling under my pinching fingers. "She was a slut. A stupid slut. Her undoing was getting caught."

She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially, as if we were sharing a juicy scandal. "Little Vesper saw it. She was... seven? Eight? She followed her mother into the west wing one day, saw her slip into a bedroom. The little brat peeked through a window." Rina’s eyes sparkled. "She saw her mother on her knees, taking three men at once. A spice merchant and his two personal guards. They were ravishing her. Vesper ran all the way to the main quarters and told her father."

She shuddered with a mix of fear and arousal. "Master Lysandros... he was a gentle man until then. But when he heard... something broke. He went crazy. He had the men captured. Brought them to the courtyard. He made his wife watch." Her voice dropped to a hush. "He cut their balls off himself. Slowly. Then he... did other things. Took days. They died screaming right in front of her."

My fingers stopped pinching. I just held her nipples, listening.

"The mistress... she got sick after that," Rina said, her tone shifting to mock sympathy. "A wasting sickness. Grew pale. Weak. Died within a year. So sad."

I looked into her pink eyes. "Sickness?" I asked, my voice flat and sarcastic.

Rina’s grin returned, wider and more knowing. "I’m not supposed to tell anyone this~" she sang, drawing out the words. She was thrilled to be sharing the ultimate secret. "After the... incident... the master changed. His grief turned... sharp. Obsessive. He started his work... The experiments. And his wife... she was his first real subject."

She shrugged, as if discussing the weather. "He used her for all sorts of things before she finally died. Strange rituals. Potions. I don’t know the details...all I cared about back then was getting fucked and having lots of babies!" She laughed, a bright, carefree sound. "Well, that’s still all I care about, really. But I’d bring him his meals, and sometimes I’d see things... her tied to a table, covered in glowing runes... him chanting... her screaming in a way that wasn’t about pleasure. It was noisy. Messy."

She sighed, a whimsical sound. "He loved her, you see. Even after her betrayal. He loved her so much he couldn’t let her go. Even in death. He wanted her back. And he used everything and everyone he could to make it happen."

She leaned forward, her smile now tinged with a possessive pride. "Including me. He’d have me in the room sometimes. Said my ’vitality’ helped the rituals. My life-force balanced the death-energy. I didn’t understand it. I just knew it made him hard, and he’d fuck me afterward, harder than ever, like he was trying to purge the death out of himself and replace it with life." She patted her stomach again. "That’s how some of the earlier litters were conceived. Right there in his workroom, with his half-dead wife probably watching."

"..."

Alright. I think I had enough of this mansion.