Volume 7 Chapter 13 Beastman Daughter And Mother ③
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”We are extremely grateful for your kindness in embracing my daughter… I have never seen her look so happy.”
After gently laying down the daughter who had fainted with a blissful smile, Ms. Mor bowed deeply and said,
”However, it seems like Young Master is not yet satisfied. If you so desire, please allow me to alleviate your ardent longings.”
Her voice was a low murmur, a velvet invitation that hung in the air between them.
Indeed, despite his earlier release, a restless heat still coiled within him, a hunger unquenched. He recalled the days with Lena, when his stamina had been fleeting, but now—a side effect of Life-Sharing, no doubt—his appetite had grown voracious.
As he stared at the woman who had just surrendered her daughter to him, her eyes held a storm of emotions: gratitude, desire, and something wilder, untamed.
Ms. Mor stepped closer, her voice a hushed caress.
”Let me serve you, the one who has claimed my daughter.”
How could he resist such an offer?
”Mhm. Next, I want to hold Mor.”
His nod was eager, almost childlike, as if she were a prize he couldn’t wait to claim.
Just then, a memory surfaced.
”Wait. Earlier, you mentioned ‘beastman etiquette,’ didn’t you?”
”Yes,” she replied, her voice a soft exhale.
”This time, show me that way.”
A fleeting hesitation, then surrender. “…As you wish.”
The room seemed to hold its breath. Ms. Mor’s form shifted, graceful yet primal. She sank to her hands and knees, her hips rising in a silent offering, her silhouette a study in vulnerability and strength.
”This is how we mate,” she said, her voice steady despite the tremor beneath. “Please… take your fill.”
Her tail swept the air, a languid gesture that belied the tension in her frame. The curve of her body was a question, an invitation written in the language of flesh and shadow.
He remembered—the way she’d yielded before, the trust in her surrender.
”I haven’t thanked you for that yet,” he murmured, his voice a brushstroke against the silence.
”In that case…” Her breath caught, a fragile thread.
He moved with deliberate intent, his touch a whisper against her skin. His lips grazed the curve of her hip, his breath a warm current against her exposed form.
”Ah, Lord—not there,” she began, her voice a fractured plea, but he silenced her with a kiss to the small of her back, his tongue tracing the path of her spine, dipping lower, lower, until—
A shuddering exhale escaped her, a soft keen that echoed through the room. Her body arched as he explored the sensitive hollows of her, his touch a blend of reverence and possession. The sound of his breath, hers, the soft hush of skin on skin, filled the room like a symphony.
His fingers joined, a delicate dance, stoking the fire he’d ignited. Her response was a cascade, a series of broken notes—“Aohh! Aohhh!”—her body a trembling arc as she shattered, her voice a wild, wordless song.
She collapsed sideways, her breath ragged, her form a tableau of abandon. Her hips remained raised, a silent testament to her surrender.
He paused, drinking in the sight, the air thick with the scent of her, the heat of her desire. This was no mere invitation—it was a command.
He stepped closer, his movement deliberate, his intent clear. She shuddered as he pressed against her, her body welcoming him with a warmth that bordered on reverence.
A startled gasp escaped her, a soft cry that was almost animalistic. Her tail stiffened, her body a conduit for the pleasure that arced between them. He moved with her, his rhythm a slow burn, his senses drowning in the velvet heat of her.
”Ms. Mor,” he groaned, his voice thick with wonder. “This feels—too good.”
Her response was a whimper, a plea. “Ooon! Master! Mor is—so happy! Both of us—to be cherished like thisss!” Tears glistened on her cheeks, her body a limp offering, yet her core clung to him, a desperate, loving grip.
”Ms. Mor,” he repeated, his voice a rough caress. The need to claim her, to lose himself in her, was a tide he couldn’t stem. His lips found hers, their kiss a collision of tongues, a mingling of breath and desire. Her fur brushed his skin, a soft, sensual stroke, as he pressed deeper, their bodies a seamless fit.
The pleasure was a storm, building, relentless. “Puhah! Mor—I’m—can I—inside you!? Let me fill you—!”
“Yes! Master—please—inside me!”
His release was a roar, a surrender to the overwhelming tide. “Moruuu!” His hips drove forward, a final, desperate thrust, as he spilled into her, his name a broken whisper on her lips.
The room fell silent, save for their ragged breaths, the soft thud of his heart against hers. He rolled onto his back, his gaze meeting hers. Her eyes were dazed, her tongue a lazy swipe against his cheek. He smiled, mirroring her gesture, their afterplay a tender, wordless conversation.
For a moment, the world narrowed to this—the warmth of her body, the taste of her skin, the quiet hum of satisfaction that lingered like a promise.
* * *
We remained like that for some time, the air thick with the warmth of our shared silence.
A sharp intake of breath broke the stillness. “Nnnh!? Ah—no, Georgia, don’t—” Ms. Mor’s voice, a thread of silk stretched taut, snapped into a gasp. “Master’s… there…” Her words dissolved into a low, velvet hum, the sound of surrender.
I sat up, the mattress exhaling softly beneath me, and saw—
”…Hah…” Ms. Mor’s voice was a whisper, a prayer to no one. “Master’s… essence…” Her fingers trembled, her body an offering.
Georgia knelt below her, her movements deliberate, reverent. The room was alive with the scent of salt and skin, the air heavy with unspoken things.
”…………………………………”
My body, spent from earlier, stirred at the sight, a slow burn igniting in my veins. Ms. Mor rolled onto her back, her breath coming in shallow waves.
”You,” she murmured, her voice a challenge, “Georgia. Here. Now.” Her command was a current, pulling us all in.
”Yes, Mama,” Georgia replied, her voice a drowsy melody. She moved with the grace of someone already lost, settling over Ms. Mor, their bodies a map of shadows and light.
”Then,” Ms. Mor began, her hands guiding, her voice steady, “if I may… Master, since I am unworthy… let Georgia… in her way…”
I hesitated, but her gaze was a dare, and how could I refuse? Georgia’s presence was a heat, a pull, and I—
”Kyaiiin!” Her breath caught as I moved, her body arching like a bowstring drawn tight.
”In that case,” Ms. Mor murmured, her voice a promise, “if I may be so bold—”
A soft, damp sound, like petals brushing against silk.
”Wha—?”
”Kyaan!?”
Ms. Mor’s tongue was a secret, a theft, and Georgia’s body responded with a language all its own. Her muscles clenched, released, a rhythm I could feel in my bones.
A moment later, a warmth enveloped me, soft and insistent. Ms. Mor’s mouth was a whisper against my skin, her breath a current.
”Whoa,” I managed, my voice rough. “Ms. Mor… that’s—”
”Kyoonn! Master! Mama’s… I—” Georgia’s voice broke, her body a storm.
I moved slowly, deliberately, the friction a dialogue. Georgia’s cries were a symphony, each sound a brushstroke against the silence. Her tail, a silken weight, swept across my skin, and I—
”Cain!?”
Her body jerked, a sharp intake of breath. I tightened my grip, experimenting, and—
”Kyafun! Master! That’s—no, that’s—”
Ms. Mor’s laughter was low, knowing. “The base of the tail,” she murmured. “A beast girl’s weakness.”
I obeyed, my fingers pressing gently, and Georgia’s response was a cascade, a flood. “Kyain! Kyain! Kyain! Kyaaaaan!”
Her body was a puzzle, and I was solving it, piece by piece. Ms. Mor’s tongue was everywhere, a shadow, a ghost, and I was drowning in the both of them.
My control slipped, a slow unraveling. I gripped Georgia’s hips, my movements urgent now, desperate.
”Georgia,” I gasped, my voice hoarse. “I—”
”Master!” Her voice was a plea, a demand. “Inside me—please—”
And then—a jolt, a shock. Ms. Mor’s tongue was a thief, stealing my breath, my reason.
”Waaah!?”
My body betrayed me, a floodgate opening. “Waaah! Waaah! Waah! Moruu!”
Her mouth was relentless, a force, and I was lost, utterly lost.
”It’s—” Georgia’s voice was a whisper, a wonder. “Master’s… it’s—”
My body spasmed, a wave crashing over me. Georgia’s cry was an echo, a mirror, and for a moment, there was only the three of us, suspended in a world of heat and sound.
……Beast girl moms, I thought, dazed, are a force of nature.
Notes:
• Lena – Female. A young slave girl in her early teens. Her appearance is emaciated with brown skin, long black hair, and grotesque scars across her face, including one that blinds her left eye. She wears a black collar and tattered clothing. Her relationship to the protagonist is that of a rescued victim. She is silent and appears to have endured severe physical and emotional abuse.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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