Eloise was uncomfortable, though in a way, she was unconsciously making her audience uneasy—or rather, tormenting him. For her, this action, carried out by her own hand, was also a form of unconscious, slow torture.
The nipples stood up in response to the slight cool air. It had originally been quietly nestled on the breast, like a strawberry embedded in a fluffy cake—soft, barely noticeable, with no presence and no power to intimidate.
The moment she peeled off her shirt, a sudden shiver ran through her, and a few goosebumps rose on her fair skin. A tiny red dot suddenly burst open, standing upright, transforming into a bright red blossom. A solitary plum blossom in the snowy winter.
Compared to other nipples that won't appear until a man sucks on them, hers is very "well-behaved," with a natural, unadorned innocence that matches her personality. It's hard to fake that. But this also meant sensitivity.
The poor little nipple complained to her about two things. The first thing was that she hadn't expected the pillow's leather to be so cold, and when her nipple landed on it, it felt like landing on an ice surface, instantly triggering a fine, sharp current of pain that felt like being struck by a whip. She shuddered.
The second thing was that she hadn't expected the leather of the pillow to be so rough. She could not feel it by touching or licking with her tongue, but the sensitive nipple could clearly sense the rough grains, each of which was so fine that it could not be seen by the naked eye.
Therefore, with every slightest movement, it was a direct collision of soft and hard, fine and coarse. It was like a delicate, helpless girl falling into a bandit's den, at the mercy of rough, burly men who dragged her around, tossing her like a ball—crying was of no use.
As she pressed against the pillow and had to turn in circles, Eloise's little face was a picture of distress, her brows furrowed just slightly, as if unsure whether to frown or not. The tightening in her chest caused her breath to falter, her diaphragm trembling with each uneven breath, and even her slender shoulders and neck shook with it.
To an outsider, it would be easy to mistake this for a form of unbearable desire. It was unclear how Isidore perceived it, but his gaze grew increasingly intense.
As for Eloise, the moment she made contact, she had the urge to stop halfway, but such an action would seem awkward and inappropriate. She feared that Isidore might be displeased. His long, beautiful hands were still casually toying with the gun.
She had no choice but to force herself to go through with it.
"Um...ah..." She didn't want to make such embarrassing sounds, but they came out on their own from her nose. Her arm gave out after just one circle around the nipple, barely able to hold itself up on the ground, like the shaky legs of an elderly woman.
She even had a strange association, as if her nipples were some kind of converter, transforming friction into electrical currents that flowed through her body, crackling and whipping at her spine and the back of her neck, causing her scalp to tingle.
Pressed close, moved..., ah... Suddenly the waist felt soft, the upper body sank, the breasts were squashed into two flat disks, like two fat steamed bread that have been slapped, and the nipples were hard and prickly. That was the pea under the twenty layers of mattresses of the Princess and the Pea.
Eloise quickly turned to look at Isidore, her heart pounding with fear as she caught the barely noticeable frown that furrowed his brow. She gritted her teeth and kept moving. A pulsing vein appeared along her pure white neck. Now, the battle between the nipple beneath and the skin surface was even more intense, with a tangled and indistinct scent.
The more she moved, the stronger the delicate currents became. Her arms could no longer hold up, her body sank lower, pressing tighter, and the friction grew stronger... creating a vicious cycle. It was simply... too rough, painful... a strange kind of pain...
It itched so much that she would rather someone just beat her senseless to get it over with. She panted heavily, like a leaking sack.
In the end, her upper body completely collapsed onto the cushion, unable to lift itself. Her face pressed against it, her mouth slightly open, fluttering like a stranded fish. The skin from her jaw to her shoulder was flushed red, as if she had just undergone an intense struggle with a man.
"Pttf."
Her lower body spat out liquid, one mouthful, two mouthfuls. Drops felt onto the pillow. She rubbed her breasts so hard that she actually rubbed herself raw down there. At this point, she couldn't care about feeling embarrassed. She closed her eyes, steeling herself mentally, determined to complete this performance.
This time, Isidore didn't rush her in the slightest. At some point, his long legs had shifted to cross in the opposite direction.
For Eloise, there was one final step remaining. She straightened up, swaying slightly, her damp hair sticking to her temples, her gaze showing a hint of weary daze. She spread her legs and straddled, casually removing the skirt hanging from her waist, her hair becoming even more disheveled.
She pressed the pillow between her legs, as if straddling it. In summary, her vagina was perfectly aligned with the pillow's painting one. Isidore realized, then smirked: So her approach from start to finish was the same—using her own body parts to match the corresponding parts of the other.
No... he was quickly slapped in the face by his own arrogant dismissal. Eloise always had a way of leaving people stunned. She was a pragmatic person, not one to indulge in symbols. So she opened the package of the condom with her teeth, put it on the thin marker, and placed it at the spot to serve as a penis.
"The penis" was lying down first, and she sat on top of it, grinding it with her body. The meat moved back and forth as they rocked together, their eyes closed, and her disheveled hair flying wildly. Under her delicate fingers, the "penis" stood up little by little. Isidore's eyelid twitched, and a bloodthirsty glint brewed in his eyes.
Eloise's bare feet were planted firmly on the ground, her naked body was arched back, and she was rocking her waist and abdomen up and down, causing her breasts to sway. Her vagina was sliding up and down against the marker pen, and after just a couple of movements, the pen had sunk into the fullness of her flesh, only visible from the tip and the base.
Water trickled out from the gap, gathering into a small, glistening puddle on the surface of the pillow. Isidore stared at that spot, his golden pupils unmoving, not a flicker of emotion in them. He wondered if Eloise had the courage to stick the pen into that place in front of him.
Thankfully, she lacked the courage, and she only held the marker between her legs until her body shook uncontrollably and a stream of liquid flowed out. The marker was washed away by the flowing water, rolling onto the floor, leaving a long trail of water behind.
Isidore exhaled deeply, his neck tilting back, his face turned toward the ceiling, motionless. From Eloise's perspective, all she could see was the clear line of his jaw and the prominent Adam's apple. A shiver ran through her, and her heart beat a little faster. Could it be that he was not satisfied?
She swallowed, noticing the gun resting loosely in his hand, not gripped tightly. A bold idea popped into her mind—pardon her, but her nerves always had a way of getting out of line from time to time.
She suddenly lunged forward, attempting to grab the gun from his hand.
She didn't even come close to touching the edge, as her wrist was seized in an iron grip. Everything spun, and she was pinned beneath him, unwittingly walking right into her own trap. Isidore panted, his eyes burning red as they fixed on her. Without even glancing, he raised his arm, fired a shot, and with a resounding "bang," the pillow burst into bloom.
He tossed it carelessly, and the gun vanished into some unseen corner.
Once more, the world spun; Eloise was pressed down against the back of the sofa, with Isidore looming behind her.
"Ouch!" He thrust his thick, sharp blade into her from behind, and Eloise winced in pain as sweat beaded on her forehead. "Endure it!" he hissed, extending an arm. Without hesitation, she sank her teeth into it, the taste of blood spreading in her mouth.
He showed no pause, advancing inch by inch, slow and cruel—"This is what you brought upon yourself."
Until that membrane was completely penetrated, they were fully united.
