Lady Class - Chapter 5 (M)
Warning: NSFW Image
That day, Rackley was invited to Irina’s tea party and was forced to participate in a card game.
She didn’t particularly dislike card games, but Irina’s games always came with troublesome rules that put Rackley in difficult situations.
The rule was that whoever won the card game could choose someone to carry out a penalty.
And in six out of ten rounds, Rackley was the one chosen.
The young ladies at the gathering deliberately picked her, enjoying the sight of her discomfort. If she showed real displeasure, they would simply laugh it off as a joke.
“Today’s penalty is to ask Duke Lascarton for the first dance.”
One of the ladies said this while shuffling the cards.
Duke Kahn Lascarton.
He was a high-ranking noble who had suddenly inherited his title last year when his predecessor collapsed. Unmarried and highly esteemed, he had joined the knights at the age of fourteen and became the vice-commander of the Black Lion Order at twenty.
The Black Lion Order was the strongest knightly order, renowned for patrolling the harsh borderlands and conflict zones. To become its vice-commander at such a young age was an extraordinary feat.
Because of his busy duties, Duke Lascarton did not reside permanently in the capital. He only visited occasionally, and since Rackley rarely attended social events, she had never seen him in person.
Moreover, three years before inheriting his title, the current Duke Lascarton had completely stopped coming to the capital. It was said that even his title was transferred to him while he remained stationed at the border.
Recently, however, he had gained notoriety in social circles for another reason.
“Has the Duke returned to the capital?”
“No, he’s still in Cotier, thoroughly enjoying himself with one of Kanrika’s famous dancers.”
“Oh? Still just with his hands?”
“My goodness, you shouldn’t talk about such things!”
One of the young ladies burst into laughter.
“How unfortunate. A man like him being impotent.”
Duke Lascarton was known to be a dark-haired, dangerously attractive playboy. But, unfortunately, he was rumored to be incapable.
Impotent.
The capital’s social circles were already rife with such gossip.
And now, Rackley was supposed to publicly ask that Duke Lascarton for the first dance? It was an obvious setup to embarrass her.
Rackley had no desire to get involved with him. Determined to avoid the penalty, she focused entirely on winning the game.
But during the game, Irina and the other ladies subtly steered the conversation toward an absent young lady. Then, they mentioned something called a secret class—something Rackley had never heard of before.
“Ah, well, if it’s the Lady Class, then it makes sense why she couldn’t come.”
The young ladies exchanged knowing smiles.
Because she was responsible for managing the Count’s household, Rackley didn’t have much time for socializing. As a result, she sometimes lagged behind in trends. Curious, she listened closely.
“Lady Class? What kind of class is that?”
A moment of silence followed. The girls widened their eyes at her.
“Rackley, you don’t know what the Lady Class is?”
Normally, these girls would jump at the chance to flaunt their knowledge, eagerly explaining the latest trends with condescension. But this time, their tone was genuinely surprised.
“Oh my, she really hasn’t heard of it.”
“Who would have thought someone wouldn’t know?”
“Being a count’s daughter must make you feel too secure, doesn’t it?”
They often used subtle jabs to remind Rackley of their differences in status, and today was no exception.
“Well, the Countess has been away for her health, so it makes sense she wouldn’t know,” Irina interjected.
The young ladies nodded in understanding at that.
“Rackley, if you plan to get married, you must take the Lady Class. Not knowing about it… that’s a problem.”
Their laughter rippled through the room, carrying the same teasing undertone as usual. But this time, there was something different—something more suggestive in their amusement.
Socializing with these mischievous noblewomen was always exhausting. But since she often gained useful information from these interactions, Rackley forced a smile, suppressing a sigh. She turned to Irina for help.
“It’s a bride training class.”
Irina’s eyes curved as she smiled playfully.
“A secret bride training class… taught by a gigolo.”
At those words, Rackley’s cheeks flushed red.
She knew what a gigolo was.
As Irina explained further, the other young ladies joined in.
“They expect noblewomen to remain pure before marriage, but men don’t follow the same rule.”
“Before marriage, they flit from one woman to another, and after marriage, they take mistresses and visit courtesans.”
“Innocent wives who sit at home waiting for their husbands can never compete with courtesans trained in every possible art. Eventually, the husbands grow distant, preferring to stay away from home altogether.”
“A miserable marriage is one thing, but even the position of the lady of the house can come under threat.”
Scandals she had only ever heard through gossip now spilled freely from their lips.
Infidelity was condemned in society—but only when it occurred between nobles. When a nobleman took a lover of lower status, it was considered as insignificant as hiring another servant.
“Threatened as the lady of the house?”
Having managed the Count’s household affairs, Rackley felt that the latter was a greater danger than an unhappy marriage.
Irina chuckled, her voice dripping with amusement as she elaborated.
“A noble wife is supposed to bear the family’s heir, but what if she’s denied the chance because her husband spends all his nights with his mistress? As she ages, she’s pushed aside… then, one day, her husband brings home an illegitimate child. If she’s given birth to a son, she might still hold her place, but if she only has daughters, and the illegitimate child is a boy… well, you can imagine the trouble.”
“But illegitimate children aren’t recognized,” someone pointed out.
No matter how common mistresses were, society still looked down upon illegitimate children.
“That’s only when there’s a legitimate heir. If there isn’t one, noble families often adopt an illegitimate child as a distant relative’s son. And if the husband later brings his mistress into the mansion, the wife is completely sidelined.”
At the time, Rackley had no knowledge of Edward’s existence.
“Without an heir, a noblewoman can’t solidify her position. But if the husband avoids her entirely, she never even gets the chance to produce an heir.”
There were many cases where a suddenly revealed illegitimate child disrupted succession. Even in families that appeared harmonious on the surface, there were noblewomen spending their nights alone, victims of one-sided love. This wasn’t just the plot of a cheap romance novel—it was reality.
“That’s why they secretly take lessons before marriage.”
“To capture their husband’s attention on the wedding night, noblewomen hire gigolos for special training before marriage. That’s the Lady Class.”
Rackley couldn’t hide her shock.
The other ladies burst into laughter at her expression.
Their voices turned lilting and teasing.
“It’s a class to learn how to please your husband, so he doesn’t stray to other women.”
“And even if your husband isn’t satisfying, you’ll also learn how to please yourself.”
“How to use your own body.”
Rackley wasn’t naïve enough to misunderstand their meaning.
However, until then, she had always assumed that she would inherit the Count’s household and marry a second or third son from another noble family. She had never considered this issue seriously before.
“B-but aren’t noblewomen supposed to prove their purity on their wedding night? The sheets need to be stained with virgin blood… If they take this class, then…?”
“Oh, Rackley. Didn’t your mother tell you?”
“That’s why a trusted maid always assists the bride the morning after. If necessary, she discreetly pricks a hidden part of the body to stain the sheets or even uses animal blood.”
This was something Rackley had never even thought about.
The young ladies turned back to their own discussion.
“If that trick is discovered, it’s disastrous. Some men use the lack of blood as an excuse to claim their wife isn’t a virgin and demand compensation from her family.”
“And how would they even verify a woman’s virginity? They claim to test it with parrot blood, but even that isn’t foolproof.”
“Since there’s no absolute way to prove it, most families just pay the compensation out of shame.”
“There are ways to take the lessons while remaining a virgin.”
Now, the conversation shifted to bragging about which gigolo each of them had received lessons from.
Irina leaned in close and whispered into Rackley’s ear—not that it was much of a whisper since everyone present could hear.
“If you ever need it, let me know. I can introduce you to a very discreet and talented ‘instructor.’”
“N-no, I’m fine,” Rackley stammered.
“Oh, right. You’re the prim and proper Count’s daughter.”
The young ladies giggled again.
Rackley turned her gaze elsewhere, trying to cool her burning face. That’s when she locked eyes with Abigail Perd.
Abigail was the second daughter of Viscount Perd and had once approached Rackley to offer unsolicited advice.
“Don’t get too close to Irina Solmon and her circle.”
Irina disliked Abigail, calling her a poor noblewoman. Since Abigail was in a different social circle from Irina, Rackley had assumed she was only speaking out of resentment.
“Rackley, it’s your turn,” Irina called.
“Oh, right. Yes.”
The card game resumed, but in the end, Rackley lost.
* * *
Recalling the stories she had heard from the young noblewomen, Rackley looked at the man before her.
Gigolo.
A man who sells his body, charm, and talent.
Servants often met those from other noble households in shops or dress boutiques. That was how they came to know the latest gossip—like a noblewoman bringing a gigolo into her home or being caught by her husband while indulging in pleasure under the pretense of illness.
Rackley, too, had once overheard servants talking about gigolos while passing through the corridors.
And now, looking at the man before her, she immediately understood what Irina’s ‘gift’ was.
“I sent a little surprise to the villa just for you. Make sure to learn well.”
“Irina’s gift? This man?”
Lady Class.
This man was undoubtedly someone prepared for that lesson.
As if reading her mind, the man moved away from the window and approached her.
Though there were more than ten steps between them, it felt as though he had closed the distance with just a single stride.
The exposed curve of his firm chest beneath his slightly open white shirt, the intense gaze locked onto her, the strands of black hair falling forward—everything about him was wild.
His eyes gleamed with a predatory intensity, as if he might pounce on her at any moment, push her against the wall, and sink his teeth into her neck, leaving a mark.
Like a beast of prey.
“Ugh!”
The fiery heat that had ignited between her legs spread through her entire body in an instant. Like ink dropped into water, the warmth diffused rapidly, followed by an intense, concentrated sensation.
A place that had only ever been used for release and had never been entered before was now sending signals.
Rackley grasped the fabric that had slipped along the curve of her body, clutching it tightly as she pressed a hand against her chest, releasing a shallow breath. Her mind felt hazy, and her body strange.
Even the faintest brush of fabric against her sensitized skin sent a tingling sensation coursing through her.
She vaguely thought that if she grabbed her breast and shook it, it might help.
But there was something more pressing than that.
Her pussy kept tightening. It twitched, tightening and loosening on its own. She hadn’t wanted to, but her body was responding, and her thoughts were drifting obscenely.
The man was watching her.
His burning gaze traced over the soft curves of her breasts, licking down to her stomach before settling on the faintly visible hollow triangle below. The thin muslin dress, dampened by the melted ice, clung to her skin, revealing the contours of her body.
“Haah.”
Rackley no longer had the presence of mind to check her own appearance.
Like a dam bursting, an uncontrollable desire consumed her thoughts, keeping her gaze locked onto the man.
She had no idea what kind of expression she was making as she looked at him.
He began to move.
His eyes gleamed in the darkness as he took slow, deliberate steps forward. A predator. His movements carried the effortless confidence of a creature at the top of the food chain.
Despite technically being in a subordinate position, he showed no hesitation. His hand slid into her hair, fingers threading through the strands as he caressed her cheek, then let her hair cascade over her chest.
She couldn’t resist him.
The back of his hand barely grazed the swell of her breast as he moved, yet even that brief touch sent a shiver of pleasure through her, making her inhale sharply without realizing it.
“Not bad. It’s fine.”
His thumb pressed firmly against Rackley’s plump lips, parting them slightly.
A fleeting touch.
He had reached out without permission, yet only one thought filled Rackley’s mind.
Something she absolutely had to protect.
“You can’t put it in.”
“What?”
Oh god, what did I just say?
It was already out of her hands.
Rackley often humored Irina and the other noblewomen, indulging them even when she knew better, simply because she considered them among her few friends. But at her core, she was a sharp and resolute woman—someone capable of managing a count’s household. She was not the type to blindly obey others without question.
And yet, rejecting this man never even crossed her mind.
She felt no urge to escape this situation.
An abandoned wife. An heir brought in from outside. A mistress. These weren’t just stories about other people.
They had all happened within her own family. These things had already shaped her life, and once she married, they would become her problems too.
Lady Class was one way to prepare for what could very well happen again.
The man gazed at her steadily, as if asking what exactly she meant.
Rackley licked her dry lips and clarified her words.
“You—You can’t put it in.”
“While you’re here?”
His tone made it clear what he meant: You came all the way to this villa for lessons, and now you’re saying that?
Rackley averted her gaze.
“For my husband…”
“Are you married?”
“No, but… I will be. I want to save my first night.”
As she shook her head lightly, her wavy red hair swayed elegantly over her pale chest.
The man fell silent for a moment before asking, as if he couldn’t believe it—
“You’re a virgin?”
Rackley’s face turned crimson.
Of course she was! She wasn’t even married yet!
The way he asked made it feel like an interrogation, as if he was questioning why she was still untouched. Her face, already flushed, burned even hotter.
“I… I heard there are plenty of other ways… without putting it in.”
“You came all the way to this villa just to say that?”
Was it because the lessons varied depending on the gigolo? She had been told there were ways to take the class without full intercourse, yet he had asked so bluntly.
It was embarrassing, humiliating even, yet the way he spoke sent a shiver down the back of her neck.
Rackley bit her lip. Now that the Count’s household had an heir—Edward—she would have to marry and become part of another noble family.
She had no idea how her stepmother, Rowinda, would react, but one thing was certain—the Count would not be someone who looked after her or lent her his strength once she was married.
The only person who could protect her was herself.
Right now, securing an heir and earning her future husband’s love felt like the only way to ensure her survival. And for that, she needed this lesson.
“They say a virgin’s blood on the first night can be faked.”
Should she change her answer? Should she allow it?
Her breath grew shallow, her thoughts clouded by heat, turning bold and reckless.
As she wavered, caught in the intoxicating thrill of breaking a forbidden rule, the man spoke first.
“Fine. I’ll protect your virginity.”
“Ah!”
Gripping the back of her head, he crushed his lips against hers in a rough, consuming kiss.
His heat, his body pressed against hers, his lips parting hers—he invaded the untouched depths of her mouth, claiming a place no one had ever reached before.
Her first kiss.