This is the SFW version of the novel without the smol/l*li stuff (it will nuke this novel). For the NSFW version, please visit my Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/SmallScribble.
#######
She scrambled to investigate, pressing her fingers against smooth skin, probing desperately again, and again, and yet again. The sole evidence of her ordeal? Her slightly bloated belly, still distended from consuming copious amounts of her own precum.
She should feel relief, elation, perhaps even gratitude, shouldn't she? Yet, deep within her fractured mind, a strange, gnawing void persisted, an emptiness left in the phantom limb's absence.
Rising unsteadily to her feet, her gaze swept the room, landing upon the discarded, untouched trays of food littering the floor. They were ruined, inedible masses. Hunger finally stirred, a raw, demanding sensation she had almost forgotten existed.
'I need to eat,' the thought emerged, surprisingly clear amidst the mental fog.
Rosalinda lurched towards the bustling dining hall, driven by a hunger she had nearly forgotten.
Yet, as the first succulent morsel of roasted meat touched her tongue, her expectations shattered.
It tasted utterly bland.
"Chef!" she demanded, her voice thin and brittle, "Did you forget to season this?"
The head cook, wiping his hands nervously, bowed low. "My apologies, Your Highness. I assure you, it was prepared with our usual precision."
She took another reluctant bite, forcing it down before pushing the plate away with a grimace.
"Then why," she seethed, "does it taste like I'm consuming dampened leather? This is revolting."
Her cutlery clattered onto the plate as she stood abruptly, her meager appetite annihilated by the crushing disappointment.
Without another word, Rosalinda swept out of the dining hall, leaving behind a tense, confused silence. The chef waited until she was gone before cautiously picking up her abandoned fork and knife. He sliced a thin piece, placed it in his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully.
'Tastes perfectly normal…' he pondered, his brow creasing. 'What happened to her?'
-
-
-
-
"Sergeant…"
Ysabel stood frozen, the call ringing in her mind but not registering.
"Sergeant? Hello? Are you still there, Sergeant?"
The voice, impatient now, finally pierced the fog. Ysabel snapped back to the present.
"Y-yeah! I'm here! What is it?" she stammered, scrambling for composure.
Across from her, the soldier she'd been conversing with sighed dramatically, puffing out her cheeks. "We were just discussing where to go for our date tonight?"
Heat flooded Ysabel's face. "Of-of course! I was listening! Totally!"
The other woman's expression grew skeptical. "Oh, really? Then tell me... what did I just suggest?"
Blankness. Ysabel's mind raced, finding only static. "U-uhm… I… ah! It must be… Wait!" Her face flushed a deeper crimson whilst inspiration struck.
"Third Princess! She… she just summoned me! Emergency! Very urgent!" She scrambled to gather her gear, turning her back in a frantic retreat. "I'll see you later!"
"Hey, wait..."
But Ysabel was already gone, leaving her comrade fuming and unheard.
'What the hell is happening to me?' Ysabel berated herself, her boots pounding a staccato rhythm as she fled, shame burning hot in her wake.
'What is wrong with me?!' she gasped again, finally halting her panicked flight to gulp in air she hadn't realized she was denying herself.
'I can't… stop… thinking… about that day,' she confessed to the silence, her cheeks burning anew.
The image of the blonde haired, blue-eyed woman rose unbidden in her mind, as vibrant and intoxicating as a poison.
'When she… when she stole my first kiss…' Her fingers unconsciously traced her suddenly too-sensitive lips.
'And when she forced her… her thing inside me…' Her trembling hand slid lower, resting protectively over the steel plates of her belly armor.
'ARRRGGGHHHH!' A choked sob escaped her as she slammed both palms against her temples.
The memories were like hooks in her flesh, dragging her relentlessly back to the ecstasy and terror. That woman's voice, cool and mocking, whispered through her brain. Her smell, of leather, skin, and some dark spice, lingered like a ghost.
But most of all… that triumphant smile. The one she wore when Ysabel shattered beneath her.
"Why can't I banish her face?!?" she pleaded aloud, the impulse to dash her skull against the palace wall beside her overwhelming in its intensity.