City of Witches Chapter 348

Diana began reading through the third volume of The Devilish Deliveryman.

It was obvious from the first glance that the author was her mother.

Not only was the handwriting elegant, but ink and a quill pen were placed on the table as well.

Chapter 1.

Sin and Punishment.

The Witch who fell in love transformed into an even more beautiful being

Her hair, once mocked as ashen, now gleamed with a luster like wolf's fur, and her bewitching lips and dreamy eyes were enough to make street Witches turn their heads

The book opened from the beginning.

At first, she thought it was merely what they call a romance novel.

A story dealing with the love between a man and a woman, like The Sorrows of Young Werther or The Red and the Black.

"Gray hair…."

Moreover, the most prominent feature described for the Witch, who appeared to be the protagonist, was her ash-gray hair….

It seemed as if her mother, Countess Lucy, had projected herself onto the character or something.

Still, Diana could generously understand.

The early part of the story was nothing special.

A description of the Witch, utterly smitten with a plain but handsome milk deliveryman, roughly spanning three to four pages from volumes 1 and 2.

And circumstantially, it seemed the Witch had been refused a meeting by this milk deliveryman.

There was a description of her sighing on a moonlit, splendid second-floor terrace while recalling his face.

'Ah, why won't you meet me? Cruel man. This solitude is thicker than the darkness of midnight, and the agony of longing is sharper than countless blades….'

"...Refusing a Witch?"

Though she thought it was something that couldn't possibly happen, she figured it was an artificial setup for dramatic effect.

Just like those theatrical lines one would absolutely never utter in reality.

So far, that was all there was, but to give a brief evaluation of it….

"Hmm…."

It was intriguing.

The so-called "cultured books"—that is, the books Countess Lucy permitted for entry into the Central Library—contained no such content.

Even if they vaguely touched upon matters between men and women, they ended with ambiguous expressions that seemed evasive.

In contrast, this book felt like an unknown world she had never known until now.

Or perhaps it was something like a cheap, addictive flavor that clings to the tongue?

Like the peripheral stimulation from the Mortal Realm snacks her mother occasionally bought for her, sending a tingle.

Since there was still plenty of time before the Countess returned, Diana settled firmly into her chair.

After much agonizing, the Witch sought out the deliveryman. A cold voice and a sneer painfully rang in her ears.

'Didn't you decide never to seek me out again?'

'I did say that.'

'Didn't you say you despise those who break promises?'

'I did say that too.'

'Then why have you come here? Were promises with humans lighter than those with a Witch?'

"Aha…."

It seemed the Witch had first declared some grievance and announced she wouldn't meet the man again.

Yet she had been waiting for the man to come to her, and eventually couldn't bear it and went to see him.

So far, okay.

Even without reading volumes 1 and 2, the plot was sufficiently inferable.

Afterward, the Witch and the deliveryman exchanged words back and forth.

'Falsehood is a great sin. A sin unforgivable, even if uttered by beautiful lips.'

'I know. I came here with the resolve to bear any punishment.'

Shame tinged the Witch's face.

It was the awkwardness and humiliation of a noble Witch lowering herself, and even more so, an expectant expression colored her complexion.

The Witch, who had been avoiding eye contact with her gaze lowered, opened her mouth.

'What punishment awaits me?'

'It seems the Witch came expecting punishment.'

'That can't be.'

'Are you telling another falsehood this time?'

'…….'

"Punishment?"

Diana's head tilted in puzzlement.

She had been following along without much difficulty until now, but suddenly felt bewildered.

The man punishing the Witch?

Even this far, it felt astonishing.

But the Witch was waiting for the punishment the man would give, and couldn't even deny it?

It was starting to become difficult to understand.

"Will he slap her palm…? Or a walk?"

Absentmindedly reading the elegantly written prose, Diana suddenly felt a jolt like hitting a speed bump.

Simultaneously, Diana's eyes darted left and right.

The deliveryman demanded a kiss from the Witch.

Kneeling before the healthy male's physique, with a blush burning with carnal desire, he offered his lips—a demand akin to begging.

A kiss.

The amorous acts between men and women that had kept Diana awake at night these past few days.

But it's hard for anything to match the initial shock.

Diana had endlessly replayed that scene in her mind and prided herself on having grown enough not to be greatly disturbed by a mere kiss described in words.

But this was no ordinary kiss.

The Witch!

Before a man!

Kneeling!

Demanding a kiss!

It was only natural for a slight twitch to appear at the corner of Diana's eye.

This was a subversive text that tarnished the honor and authority of Witches.

Had it not been written by her mother, she would have immediately advocated bringing it before the Witch Council to be rightfully buried and burned.

"……."

'You desire a kiss even before receiving punishment.'

'I recalled being held in your arms and kissing you every night.'

'Not I. I did not recall a single thing about the Witch.'

'Is that so….'

"That, that insolent fellow…."

While feeling shock and revulsion.

Diana turned the pages with the mindset of a viewer watching a trashy drama to see how far it would go.

And a moment later.

If the sentence about the kiss demand earlier was like a speed bump, this time a crater-level shock surged upon Diana.

The kneeling Witch gracefully rose to her feet.

And as if shedding a skin, she cast off the garments enveloping her noble body.

With each soft garment piling on the dirty earthen floor, the Witch returned to the state she was born in.

Her breasts, plump and ripe like seasonal fruit, as if meant to be grasped by a man's hand….

-Thud!

Diana closed the book as if she had skimmed a forbidden Magic Path text.

"Sh-sh-sh-sh-she's throwing away her cl-cl-cl-clothes…."

A new truth she had neither expected nor imagined.

It delivered a shock to Diana comparable to the legendary fruit said to impart knowledge of good and evil.Kneeling before a man, begging for a kiss, and even stripping off her clothes.

"This... this is something that should absolutely never happen! No way!"

Diana, alone with no one watching, fuming with excitement, her face flushed.

Clenching her small fists and grinding her teeth, she simply couldn't believe it.

Was it really true that the author of this book was her mother?

Except for the occasional silly antics in front of Diana, her noble and unflappable mother—writing such absurdly obscene literature?

Not just reading it, but actually writing it herself?

"......"

But Diana's gaze, which had been seething with rage, soon drifted back toward the crimson leather cover.

Her breath grew short.

It was unpleasant. Disgusting.

Yet, at the same time, a strange curiosity kept poking at her mind, over and over.

So, what exactly was the 'punishment'? she found herself murmuring endlessly.

"Ahem..."

A fierce battle between disgust and curiosity.

In the end, curiosity emerged victorious.

Diana glanced around furtively and carefully opened the book as if handling explosives.

All sorts of vulgar and explicit descriptions of the female body passed by in sensual language.

After forcing herself to swallow those parts, the true nature of the 'punishment' mentioned by the courier finally appeared.

The Countess, her hands bound, was tied to the bed like a pinned butterfly, gazing at the courier with a pitiful look in her eyes.

A pitiful, wretched, and obscene gaze.

The miserable sight of herself, dragged around by the yoke of love, only deepened her wretchedness.

Paradoxically, it was accompanied by the sweetness and thrill of moral transgression.

The shy, rosy-hued tip, like the blossom of a crabapple tree.

Even before a breath could touch it, the soft tip of a gentle quill pen tenderly caressed the hardened glans, making her forget all shame.

Diana momentarily looked away from the book.

"What on earth is this...?"

The courier's punishment was not as obscene as Diana had imagined.

That is to say, it was less shocking than the sudden appearance of a naked Witch.

The courier had tied the Witch naked to the bed.

And then proceeded to lightly tickle every part of her body with the feather of a quill pen.

Briefly picturing the scene in her mind, it was definitely... something inexplicable...

"...I think I need to read more to understand..."

Feeling the heat rising to her head, Diana began to devour the text.

The feather, tickling every nook and cranny of the Witch's body, even the secret places that no one but herself should ever touch.

'I can't take it anymore. Please hold me... I beg of you...'

'The punishment isn't over yet.'

'Please... violate me roughly. Like this... it's too agonizing...'

"......"

For the first time, she found a part she could empathize with.

It was true that being tickled with a feather would be torturous enough to make you feel like you were suffocating.

Of course, Diana had no intention of letting anyone tickle her body with a feather.

From then on, the content was generally easy to understand.

Although the areas the courier tickled were described in sticky detail, aside from phrases like 'the Witch let out a lewd moan,' it was just a tickling punishment.

The Witch's body, trembling pitifully, was now beaded with sweat like night dew.

Her hot breath carried a sweet, alluring charm like tropical fruit, and her body had grown so heated that even the light brush of a feather now felt like a lingering caress.

'You're wet, Witch.'

'Don't say such things.'

'Did that feather feel that good?'

'Ah... ah... ah...'

The courier used the tip of the feather like a knife, stirring the Witch's most sensitive protrusion.

The Witch arched her body intensely, letting out lewd moans like a beast in heat.

Her thighs, now soaked enough to drench the feather with just a brush, were filled with the utterly vulgar scent of a female.

"......"

The novel, which had started as a cliché romance, grew exponentially more explicit as it progressed.

Gradually, sentences Diana couldn't understand began to appear more frequently.

But.

Even if she didn't fully grasp it, she could certainly guess.

That this novel was truly, truly, truly obscene.

That merely imagining and picturing the scenes as described was enough to make her chest feel inexplicably tight and her breath catch from its explicitness.

Soon, a scene appeared where the courier undressed and climbed onto the bed.

The naked male body, described as if drawn, was something she had never seen before.

Muscles hardened from labor, or skin tanned and robust, completely different from the softness of a female body.

But the most unexpected of all was the description of the male member.

A hardened pillar of flesh, standing erect.

The rounded glans was as large as a child's fist, veined and standing stiffly without any sign of wilting, pressing firmly against the Witch's lower abdomen.

'Do you want this?'

'Yes, I want your thing...'

'Please say it more directly.'

'Your cock... that hot, hard pillar of ecstasy... I want it deep inside me...'

Diana, who had been reading each word with bloodshot eyes, forgetting even to breathe, reached the final sentence:

'Now I'll put it in.'

It was a scene of the male member.

Being inserted into the female's sex.

"Eek!"

Diana jerked her hand away from the book as if she had touched a boiling pot, utterly startled.

She shook her head violently from side to side.

If Gehenna had been ordinary Victorian-era England instead of a city of Witches.

If Diana had been an ordinary noble daughter of a Countess rather than a Witch, she would have debuted in society two or three years ago and might even be engaged by now, given her age and appearance.

But for Diana, raised under Countess Yesod's strict prohibition against men, this level of stimulation was far too intense.

"It's filthy!!!!"

Diana quickly closed the book, returned everything to its original place, and fled the Countess's study as if running for her life.