Morning sunlight streamed through the windows, painting golden lines across the ceiling. I stirred in bed with a groan, the blankets tented uncomfortably above my waist.
Yep. Morning wood. Again.
At least this time I didn't wake up tangled between two half-naked women. Progress?
Selvira had left earlier, leaving behind only the faint scent of jasmine and ruined self-control. I had almost lost it with her last night—and this morning, my body was clearly still holding a grudge. I tried to sit up but realized I'd been sleeping naked again. Somehow that had become the new norm.
After a quick wash and slipping into the usual noble outfit—tight pants, boots, and an open-chested vest that made me feel like a discount romance novel cover model—I made my way to the breakfast room.
That's when I saw her.
One of the personal maids—Lisette, I think?—already seated, her silver tray set neatly with fresh fruits, buttered bread, and sausage links. She wore the standard maid outfit: lacy, tiny, and short enough that her sacred part was barely covered when she sat down. Just one inch of fabric saving my fragile sanity.
"Good morning, my Lord," she said, standing up with a graceful bow, then sitting beside me. Not across. Beside. So close our hips nearly touched.
My body was already reacting before I even picked up a fork.
I cleared my throat and tried to ignore the steadily growing tent in my pants. I reached for the bread, and then—unmistakably—her eyes dropped to my lap.
She didn't flinch. Instead, she smiled softly, lifted her skirt, and asked with a voice as casual as offering a second cup of tea:
"Would you like to use my sacred part to ease your tension, my Lord?"
I froze, mid-bite. "…During breakfast?"
She tilted her head, as if that was the weird part. "Of course. It's quite normal for nobles. You're always welcome to use our bodies whenever you desire."
My brain screamed, Say no, Tanaka! Don't do it! You're a modern man of virtue!
Then my pants screamed, Do it or I'll explode right here.
I gave the most reluctant nod in recorded history.
"…Sure. Just—uh—keep feeding me, please."
Without hesitation, she lower my pants, revealing my big hard rod, she straddled my lap under the table, hiked her skirt, and lowered herself onto me, inserting my rod into her sacred hole. I gasped, nearly choking on a grape. She didn't blink, didn't moan—just smiled as if we were politely dancing at a ball.
"Please chew thoroughly, my Lord," she said sweetly, taking a sausage with a fork and guiding it to my lips. "We wouldn't want you to choke."
I opened my mouth, more on reflex than intention, groaning as warmth enveloped me below the table. I chewed automatically, eyes fluttering half-closed. The food, the feel, the absurdity—it was overwhelming.
"Delicious, isn't it?" she asked, slowly moving her hips as if adjusting her chair.
"This is…" I whispered, "this is the weirdest breakfast of my life."
She giggled. "I'm glad to be of service."
And then,
The door creaked open.
Another maid peeked in, carrying a pitcher of juice. She stopped cold when she saw the scene: Lisette bouncing gently in my lap, feeding me food while I trembled like a man barely holding on to his soul.
"Oh," the new maid said brightly. "Shall I return later, or would you like your juice now?"
I stared, mouth full, eyes wide.
Lisette answered calmly without even pausing her rhythm. "Please return in ten minutes. He's almost done."
The door closed.
Lisette just hummed a happy little tune, like this was just another Tuesday, while moving her hips, and feeding me more food.
Then,
Finally I reach climax, I shoot my love juice inside her sacred hole, giving her "blessing".
Both the meal and the "blessing"—done. Lisette gently rise, my rod is out from her sacred hole. She dabbed me clean with a cloth she pulled from her apron. Then she asked, with cheerful innocence:
"Would you like a second round, my Lord?"
"…I think I just saw God."
She beamed. "How wonderful."
I collapsed against the backrest, drained, dizzy, and questioning every life choice I had ever made.
Maybe I was wrong to resist this world.
Maybe resisting is what makes it harder.