Volume 7 Chapter 7 Abducted Through the Night ◆
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”Just wait a moment, please,” the girl said with a smug grin, her tail swishing as she hurried off with a wuff of pride. Her friendliness was almost too much, as if she were already a loyal servant. Kuzuha, forcing a wry smile at the awkward exchange with the dog Beastkin, waved her off and shut the waiting room’s door.
A heavy sigh escaped her lips. Was this really the right choice?
The moment she was alone, a hollow emptiness crept in, wrapping around her like a cold mist. The dog Beastkin’s obedient demeanor, their constant attentiveness to ensure she was never alone—it was thoughtful, almost suffocatingly so. Yet, despite their care, her heart refused to settle. Regret tugged at her, an anchor pulling her back to the homeland she still longed for.
Zaan was exactly as the rumors described: a stout, broad-shouldered man with a surprisingly jovial air. At least he’s not some vile schemer, Kuzuha thought, a small relief. Or perhaps he was just hiding his true intentions. Still, he’d promised to aid in Karakas’s revival, and for now, that was enough to ease the weight on her chest.
His younger sister, Silke, didn’t seem to have a bad impression of him either. Kuzuha’s defiance against the monsters of the Abyss, her refusal to flee, had apparently sparked hope that she’d protect their home. Things were moving smoothly. If all went well, Kuzuha’s final duty as a royal might soon be fulfilled. If Karakas could be restored, the scattered Foxkin might return. It wasn’t atonement, not exactly, but if her people could reclaim their lives in their homeland, that would be enough.
She tilted her head back, gazing at the ceiling as if it held answers. Her eyes fluttered shut, and unbidden, the image of that infuriating wolf princess and the human man flashed through her mind.
The wolf princess played her cards well, Kuzuha admitted grudgingly. Like Kuzuha, her clan had been driven from their homeland by the cat tribe. Kuzuha had always known the wolf princess was ruthless, willing to do whatever it took to achieve her goals. But cozying up to the Hero? That was a move Kuzuha hadn’t seen coming. And using that human man as her pawn? Utterly unexpected.
There was a time Kuzuha had wanted to kill him. His audacity, his nerve to approach her after what he’d done—r***. Yet the wolf princess’s boldness, her ability to flip alliances without hesitation, was something else entirely. It took a certain shameless grit to lead a clan, didn’t it?
A pang of envy twisted in Kuzuha’s chest. She wasn’t nearly as cunning. If she’d joined their side, maybe she could’ve ridden the winning horse. As a leader, chasing cold pragmatism might’ve made her life easier by now.
”No way that’d work,” she muttered, her voice sharp with self-reproach. “As if that jerk even cares how I feel. He probably thinks r*ing me was no big deal. ‘Come join us,’ he says. Like I’d let some flippant words sway a princess like me!”
Her tail lashed out, striking the floor with a sharp thwack. Kuzuha knew she was clumsy at this—being a princess, even just living. But that was fine. She’d do this her way, on her own strength. That was the least she could do to preserve her pride as a princess.
”Nyan Escape, Cat’s Paw Shuriken!”
Her head snapped up from where it had dipped, lost in thought. A faint sound reached her ears, distant but distinct, making her tilt her head in confusion.
…What’s that noise outside?
She strained her ears, catching the faint patter of running footsteps. Had something gone wrong? She rose, intending to check outside, when heavy thud-thud footsteps barreled toward the door. Maybe someone’s coming to fetch me, she thought, stepping away from the door.
”Sir Zaan’s guard squad, you filthy fox!”
”…Huh?”
The door exploded inward, kicked off its hinges with a splintering crash. The wooden sliding panel collapsed onto the floor.
”You the damned fox cozying up to Sir Zaan?!”
The voice was gruff, masculine, laced with venom. A figure loomed, their face obscured by a dark haze, taller than Kuzuha, their tone unmistakably male. The sudden hostility screamed enemy.
An attack— She hadn’t dismissed the possibility entirely, but she’d been too optimistic, unprepared. She shifted into a defensive stance, ready to fight. But in that instant, something crashed through the window.
”Nyan Escape, Furball Smoke!” A choked cough followed.
Smoke engulfed the room, clouding her vision. Enemy magic! Kuzuha’s instincts screamed danger, but before she could react, something was shoved into her mouth from behind. She was tackled to the ground, her wrists bound with handcuffs, and a sack yanked over her head.
”What, not even a single barrier up? Too careless, Princess Kuzuha,” a voice sneered.
”Got her! Pull back!”
Her arms were yanked, dragging her across the floor. They were hauling her outside. She kicked at the ground, struggling, but strong hands hoisted her up.
My magic… it’s not working?
She tried to summon her Unique Skill, to burn them to ashes, but her mana scattered, useless. The handcuffs—she recognized the sensation. They were like the ones used in the Hundred Caves, designed to disrupt her yin-yang magic [T/N: Yin-yang magic (Onmyojutsu), a mystical art involving spiritual summons and barriers]. The attackers had come prepared, knowing she was a master of yin-yang arts.
”Mmph! Mmmgh!” she growled through the gag.
”Shut it, fox!”
A sharp smack landed on her b*, igniting a surge of fury. Such an outrage against a princess! She thrashed, only to be dropped onto the floor. Her collar was grabbed, dragging her again. When she resisted, they seized her legs and arms, pinning her in a helpless position as they carried her.
Damn it, they got me! An attack? The opposition’s doing? They said Zaan’s guard squad, but Silke never mentioned anything like that!
The attackers moved with practiced efficiency, leaving her powerless. Who were they? She flared her nostrils, but their scents were muddled, masked by some magic that distorted their voices and shrouded their faces in black mist.
Her sight, smell, and hearing—all countered. They were too well-prepared, professionals at this kind of dirty work.
She was thrown with a thud onto something soft—a mat, she realized, laid over wooden planks. The faint smell of burlap and the stale air told her she was inside a carriage.
They’re kidnapping me. Why not just kill me? If the opposition wanted to stop her marriage to Zaan, killing me would be simpler. I had no allies here, no one to protect me. Is there another reason?
Muffled voices reached her. At least one male and two females, their words distorted through masks. Then, a faint flapping sound—wings. Harpies, likely guards. But there was no clash, no fighting.
Are the Harpies with them? A chill ran through her. The opposition might include more than just the dog tribe. She’d heard Harpies were assigned as guards, but no one had explained why. Are there more enemies than I thought?
This was bad. She was on her own, defenseless in her bridal attire. No hidden weapons, no shikigami tucked away. She’d dismissed arming herself as uncouth, but now, with her magic sealed, she was helpless.
Heavy footsteps clomped into the carriage, the air shifting with a harsh presence. Her body tensed as the carriage jolted, starting to move.
”Well, well, you filthy fox,” a male voice growled, dripping with contempt. “Thought you could cozy up to Sir Zaan? Wearing fancy clothes like you’re somebody, huh? A fallen princess like you doesn’t deserve ’em!”
It was the same man from before. He yanked her up, and—
”Mmph?!”
Her dress was pulled down from her shoulders, the cool air hitting her exposed c*. A rough hand grabbed her from behind, squeezing hard.
”Damn, these are huge,” he sneered. “A broke, fallen princess with t* like these? You thought you could seduce Sir Zaan with ’em? No way in hell!”
His hands kneaded her c*, rough and invasive.
”Mmmph!”
A tingling sensation shot through her as his fingers pressed against her n. She shook her head, trying to shake off the ticklish violation.
”You’re a real piece of work,” he growled. “Offering these lewd t* to Sir Zaan? If he got distracted by ’em, ignoring his duties, what then? Guess I’ll have to take care of ’em myself.”
A sharp, electric jolt ran through her as he took her c* into his mouth, his tongue lapping greedily. She was being devoured, violated by this crude thug.
This can’t be real. She hadn’t noticed his arousal, masked by the distorted scents. He sees me as a mate. That’s why they hadn’t killed her.
Since Slomvanilla’s fall, males had been unleashed across the continent, restoring a “normal” society. But a decade of female-dominated rule had dulled Kuzuha’s instincts to the danger of males. She knew this pattern—she’d been through it before. This was the prelude to r*.
Panic surged. She was in her fertile cycle, set to last another week. If r* now, she could conceive by someone other than her betrothed. Even if the chances were lower with a different species, they weren’t zero—especially with humans or similar tribes.
If she were r*, her engagement to Zaan and their alliance would collapse. Even if it wasn’t her fault, the brutal reality would destroy everything.
She struggled, kicking with her unbound legs to push him away. But her tail was grabbed, pinning her in place.
”What, pointing that at me? Begging for it?”
Another smack landed on her b*, the sound echoing. More blows followed, relentless.
”Mmph! Mmmgh!”
”You’re making d* sexy noises for someone getting spanked,” he taunted. “Huge t***, huge a—every part of you’s just begging for c***, ain’t it?”
His crude words stung as her half-removed dress was torn further, exposing her to a man who wasn’t her betrothed. Resistance was futile.
Kuzuha’s half-removed dress was yanked further, unraveling until she was exposed to a male who had no right to see her. For a fleeting moment, the memory of the Hundred Caves flickered in her mind—another violation, another wound.
”Damn, you’re reeking of heat,” he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “Come on, show me that fertile p***!”
A rough hand clamped over her undergarments, covering her most private place. It was just like that day long ago—the suffocating sensation of being seized by a male. His coarse, unfamiliar touch pressed against her, so different from her own warmth.
”Mmph!” she cried through the gag, her muffled protests desperate.
”It’s d* soaked already!” he mocked. “Thought you’d use this fertile princess p*** to seduce Sir Zaan, huh? What a dangerous vixen!”
”Mmm… hnn, mmph!”
His fingers invaded without hesitation, digging into her with a thug’s brazenness. A wet squish echoed through the carriage, obscene and unrelenting. Handcuffed and forced onto all fours, with his weight pinning her legs, Kuzuha could do nothing. Her hips were angled upward, her body betraying her as he probed deeper.
This was different from before. Her entire body trembled, the sensations amplified by her fertile cycle. The stark difference between normal times and this cursed heat made her breath deepen, her control slipping away.
Suddenly, the cloth over her face was ripped off. Kuzuha blinked, startled by the abrupt clarity. The carriage’s interior was plain wood, a mat spread across the floor, nothing else. She turned, catching sight of her assailant—his face unnaturally obscured, hidden by some illusion or concealment magic she didn’t recognize.
”Here’s the annulment contract,” he said, tossing a sheet of paper before her. Strange symbols adorned it, a magic circle unlike any used in this land.
”Press your finger on it to sign. It’s a mana seal—can’t be faked. Refuse, and you know what happens next.”
”Huff, huff…” she gasped, her breath ragged.
A faint rustle of fabric, followed by the clink of a belt buckle. Then, a familiar, sickening scent hit her—the raw, musky odor of a male’s exposed c****.
So it’s r*** or annulment. Either way, I’m done for.
His fingers stirred her insides with a relentless squish, urging her to decide. Her body burned, her thoughts scrambled by the unbearable heat.
The magic circle on the paper was foreign to her yin-yang arts. It was from the outer continent, its structure split into an outer shell and inner core—a classic foreign magic array [T/N: Magic Circle, a contractual symbol system from the outer continent, distinct from yin-yang arts]. The inner effect was unclear, but the outer shell screamed “binding contract.” Likely a vow to never see Zaan again.
If this reached Zaan, delivered by these dogs—opposition or not—her signature would leave no room for doubt. Pressing her finger would end the engagement.
What do I do? How do I get out of this? Her breath came in harsh snorts as she hesitated.
Then, a searing heat pressed against her core.
”Hurry up!”
The tip of his c* grazed her, a final ultimatum.
Resistance is pointless. If they wanted her dead, she’d already be gone. If survival was the goal, compliance was her only chance. Another tribe might still offer her a path forward.
Being r* would ruin the engagement anyway. If she conceived, no clan would take her. Resistance would only worsen her fate.
There was never a choice. She’d been naive, ignoring the whispers of opposition. Silke had said it was fine, but she’d misjudged too.
Instead of words, Kuzuha nodded. She extended her handcuffed hands, pressing her index finger to the paper. A red glow flared where she touched, her mana etching the seal. When the light faded, a pattern emerged.
The contract was done. She’d done it.
No physical change, no magical interference. But her bond with the dogs—and Karakas’s revival—was over.
In that instant, a brutal force pierced her core.
”Mmph?!”
”F*, you’re tight!” he growled.
For a moment, she couldn’t process it. Something thick invaded her, crushing her hips, sending electric shocks through her body. She’d been r*. Her scattered thoughts pieced it together.
”Nngh! (Why?!) Mmph! (Liar!) Mmph! (Filthy liar!)”
”Damn, this p’s sucking me in,” he taunted. “Fertile cycle’s no joke!”
He yanked her closer, thrusting with savage force. The overwhelming sensation threatened to erase her thoughts.
This is the worst. Compliance meant nothing.
They’d planned to r* her from the start. Make her think it was about the annulment, then violate her after. Knowing she was in heat, this sadistic male had planned it all.
”Nngh—mmph!”
”No escaping, vixen!”
She tried to break free again, but without magic or strength, it was futile. Flipped onto her back, he loomed over her, crushing her with his weight. The cloth gagging her was yanked away.
”Stop! I signed your d* paper!”
”Shut up! Kiss me, or I’ll finish inside!”
”Mmph?!”
He gripped her tightly, an arm behind her head locking their lips together. His weight pinned her, his thrusts pounding her core with a relentless thump. Her mind clouded, resistance fading.
Wait… what’s happening?! No, no, no!
The heavy, consuming sensation of mating in heat overwhelmed her. The deep, paralyzing pleasure rendered her helpless.
Her hips quaked. His merciless thrusts, devouring her like prey, left her reeling. As she struggled, a powerful pulse surged inside her.
A wet thump flooded her core. Too late, she realized what it was. The memory of that sensation—the moment she’d been filled before—returned. He’d c* inside her. Her hips jerked instinctively, her body tightening around him, trembling as if accepting it.
I’m… I’m c***ing.* R*** and brought to c***. The worst.
Her hips convulsed, undeniable proof of her climax as his seed poured in. Her lower body clenched, waves of impossible pleasure coursing through her.
Mating in heat was overwhelming. The sudden r* shouldn’t have felt this intense, this deep.
Confusion battled the violent pleasure. This wouldn’t happen normally. Who enjoys being r***? She wanted to scream that it was just her cycle, that she wasn’t some deviant reveling in this. Frustration and ecstasy crashed together, drowning her.
”Huff, huff… nnngh!”
Sweat beaded on her forehead, her hair clinging as she shook her head. The relentless force of his release pounded her, each pulse sparking unbearable shivers. She endured, breathless.
”Ha… ha… ngh!”
The long, pulsing flood finally subsided. His c* withdrew, leaving her empty. She glimpsed it—massive, disturbingly familiar. Are all males like this?
He stood, grabbing a canteen and drinking.
Her body was limp, her hips trembling, strength gone. She thought to run, but her legs wouldn’t move. Struggling to rise, a wet gush sounded as his seed spilled from her.
”Oi, it’s leaking!” he sneered. “Gotta keep it stuffed in that p***!”
He lunged again, a barbaric thief in the haze. Fearful, faceless. He shoved her down, pressing his c* against her. She tried to close her legs, but he pried them open effortlessly.
”Ngh… no more… please!”
”Quiet! Resist, and I’ll finish inside again!”
Liar. He’d do it anyway. All talk, hiding his face. He thrust into her, stirring her insides with cruel precision.
”Wait, let me rest! Please!”
He’d already filled her, yet he kept going. Her protests were cut off by a heavy thump as he drove into her, silencing her. Her spirit shrank, broken. Is this what it means to be taken?
He claimed her c* again, his mouth greedy. This body isn’t for you! She wanted to shove him off, but her strength failed. The floorboards creaked, the carriage rocking as wet slaps echoed.
”Damn, this p grips tight,” he mocked. “Clinging to another man’s c*? No way you’re fit for Sir Zaan! Say you’ll never go near him again!”
”I won’t! I swear, just stop—”
”Stop? Hell no! I’m f*ing you till dawn!”
His c* pulled out abruptly, the ridge scraping her insides, sending a shockwave through her. Her hips jumped, another easy climax forced upon her. Her body, hypersensitive, betrayed her again. She clenched her teeth, trying to escape in the brief moment he pulled back.
She sent desperate signals to her body. Handcuffed, her hips weak, she collapsed trying to stand. On all fours, he pounced, pinning her.
”Hnn… hnn!” Kuzuha’s voice broke, a shameful moan escaping despite her will.
”Ha, that’s a d* fine sound,” the man sneered, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. “What’s that? Feeling good, huh?”
”Ngh, no—hnn! Hff!”
Pinned face-down under his weight, she felt him invade her core again. The intense stimulation during her climax made her body jolt violently.
No. This isn’t pleasure. She wanted to scream it, but her voice wouldn’t come. Her breath grew ragged, interrupted by each thrust into her core. Words were beyond her reach.
He grabbed her ears, yanking as his hips slammed against her with a relentless slap. Her prized fox fur was a tangled mess. Her b* cushioned his brutal rhythm, each thump against her depths driving her to the edge of sanity. Her claws scratched the floor, her body tightening instinctively, responding to his movements despite her horror.
It’s too much. Her fertile cycle was to blame—she knew it. But the humiliation was unbearable. If only this weren’t happening…
”Damn, this p***’s too good,” he growled. “Might just take you home as my p*** wife. F*** you every day!”
”Ah! Hnn! Ngh, stop—ahh!”
Her voice came out pitiful, uncontrollable. Is this what a princess looks like? Toyed with in this degrading position, r* and forced to beg. Her scent, her shame—he’d memorized it all. R*, yet her body felt pleasure. Her pride was in tatters.
”Gonna c* soon,” he taunted. “Say ‘please forgive me,’ and I might pull out.”
His words drained her strength. Resignation flooded in, washing away her will to fight. There’s no escape. He’d finish inside anyway—her core was already filled. Nothing mattered anymore.
His rhythm shifted, his hips pressing harder, faster. He’s going to c.* Relentless, he sought to defile her further.
Fine. I’ll curse him.
A spark of defiance flared. In the haze of despair, a final resolve surged.
Who ordered this doesn’t matter anymore. This man would pay for defiling a princess.
Fire ignited in her eyes. I won’t let this end quietly. I’ll show him the terror of a fox. Her weakened hands clenched into fists.
As she raised her head, his hips ground against her b****.
”Nghh! Hnn, hff!”
He embraced her like a lover, his c* pulsing inside her. It throbbed violently, scraping her walls, dragging her into another climax.
Curse you—
She clung to the thought, fighting the waves of pleasure. Her body convulsed, the fire in her eyes turning to shameful ecstasy. His seed flooded her, each thump dominating her, crushing her resentment and anger, filling her with unbearable pleasure.
”F***, I’m c***ing hard,” he groaned, satisfied. “This princess p*** milks my c* too well!”
He pressed deeper, savoring her. His c* stayed inside, pulsing even after his release, grinding against her b* as if toying with her.
”Damn fine a,” he mocked. “You’re making my c* stay hard. What’re you gonna do about it?”
Fresh from his release, he began moving again with a wet squish. His still-hard c* resumed its assault, claiming her core.
”Grips so d* tight,” he sneered. “A p like this’d ruin a kingdom. Don’t even think about marrying some noble or royal again. I’ll f* you till you’re too ruined for anyone!”
”Ngh, ahh! Hnn!”
Her mind went blank. The endless forced mating broke her resistance, her thoughts dissolving. Her lips were claimed, her tongue drawn out. Each slap of her b* sent pleasure spreading, his seed filling her again.
His relentless thrusts and her overreactive body overwhelmed her. Her consciousness faded, slipping away.
* * *
”…Huh?”
Darkness enveloped her. The carriage. The mat beneath her came into view, and realization hit. Her handcuffs were gone. Naked, she lay abandoned on the floor.
She forced herself to sit up. Her body was heavy, sluggish with the afterglow of climax. The lingering electric sensation confirmed it.
”…The worst.”
As she rose, a gush sounded from her core, his seed spilling out with a shameful noise. The reality of her r* hit her, sinking her into gloom. I’ve been ravaged. Kuzuha, the Foxkin princess, had nothing left.
No one’s here?
Silence surrounded her. The stench was overpowering, but no human presence lingered. She’d been left alone.
”…I have to escape.”
As she tried to stand, she noticed a black cloak discarded in the corner. A forgotten item? Nothing else remained—her bridal dress had been meticulously taken.
Standing, a wet gush sounded as more spilled from her, pooling on the floor.
”What the hell! That’s way too much!”
The floor was a mess of white. Do all males release this much? It seemed enough to conceive even outside her cycle.
The ordeal had sapped her, but anger surged, fueled by a flicker of recovered strength. R* was one thing—she could’ve accepted it as the fate of the defeated. But her body, reacting as if he were a lover, burned with betrayal. The lingering pleasure infuriated her.
Recalling the waves of climax, she shuddered. It’s like my body learned to enjoy it. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand. Wrapping the cloak around her nakedness, she froze.
”…This scent…”
She scooped some of the seed, staring at it. The masking magic was gone, and her senses sharpened. The cloak’s faint odor, the seed’s distinct musk—it clicked. The memories of her assault pointed to one man.
”…So that’s how it is.”
Her mind cleared, a single answer forming. The magic disguising him had relied on nearby equipment. Without him or it, the traces lingered, identifiable. They hadn’t anticipated this flaw.
”They messed up.”
A strange, cold laugh bubbled up—fufufu. Veins pulsed at her temple. With a twisted grin, like a demon claiming victory, she stepped off the carriage, swaying with sluggish determination.
Notes:
• Silke – Silke is the acting lord of Belandi, a Beastkin from the bird-beast clan that was relocated to Boorinel. She has chestnut-brown hair and first appears in chapter v6c9 along with Annerose to meet with Cianie.
• Slomvanilla – The white fortress, also known as the empress’s residence; a gigantic bedroom on the scale of a fortress.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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