The Night of the Monsters - Chapter 12 (M)

As the searing heat spread, Giselle instinctively arched her back, trying to twist away, but Hugo tightened his hold around her. His grip was firm yet unyielding, pulling her closer as though dismissing her resistance as nothing more than an inconvenience.

Hugo’s thick fingers pushed the damp fabric aside, slipping past to part her sensitive folds with a rough, intrusive motion.

“Ahh… stop… please, Hugo… I don’t want this…!” Giselle’s voice cracked with desperation, her protests mingling with involuntary gasps as her body betrayed her pleas.

Tears spilled from Giselle’s eyes as fluid gushed from below, her body trembling uncontrollably. The quiet space, once filled only with her ragged breaths, was soon overtaken by the wet, lewd sounds echoing with every movement.

Hugo continued to toy with her body unabated, his actions deliberate and domineering. Meanwhile, Ian stood off to the side, his fists clenching and unclenching as he wrestled with his thoughts. Should he join in and push Giselle further in this moment, or step back as he had originally intended, giving her some reprieve?

“Ah… hng… ahh!” Giselle’s cries broke through the air, laced with a mix of shame and involuntary pleasure, pulling Ian further into his internal conflict.

But when Giselle’s sweet, breathy moans reached Ian’s ears, they stirred something deep within him, making it impossible for him to remain still any longer.

“Giselle.”

Through her hazy, clouded thoughts, Ian’s voice cut through, steady and familiar. Giselle’s teary eyes flickered with a faint glimmer of hope. If it was Ian—the one who always tempered Hugo’s excesses, the one who had often shielded her—surely he would step in to stop this.

With that fragile hope clinging to her heart, she lifted her tear-streaked face to meet his gaze, the wet trails on her cheeks shining faintly in the dim light.

Ian’s soft smile deepened as he leaned closer, his movements deliberate. His warm tongue traced the tear-streaked path along Giselle’s cheek, licking away the salty trails with an unsettling tenderness. Her body froze, as if struck by lightning, her breath hitching sharply.

“I-Ian…” she stammered, her voice trembling, barely above a whisper.

“Giselle,” he murmured, his tone low and honeyed. “It’s as if your entire body is made of sugar. Your voice, your scent… even your tears taste sweet.”

“Hah!” A sharp gasp escaped her lips as his words, laced with both affection and temptation, sent a shiver coursing through her.

As Ian finished speaking, his hand slipped between Giselle’s parted legs with deliberate intent. While Hugo had only been teasing near her entrance, Ian’s touch was far more assertive. Her overly sensitive body, already slick from the earlier stimulation, responded instantly.

His fingers moved deftly, alternating between rubbing her clitoris, stroking her folds, and spreading her entrance wide.

Squish, squish. The sound of fluid echoed, sharp and lewd, piercing through the haze of her mind and reaching her ears.

The thought that she needed to resist—needed to push them away—briefly flickered through her mind. But that resolve was quickly swallowed by the creeping wave of familiar pleasure that spread through her body. Any lingering shame or reluctance dissolved as her senses succumbed entirely to the sensations overwhelming her.

As the brothers’ fingers plunged in and out of her entrance, Giselle’s walls grew softer, wetter, and more pliant with every motion. Hugo pressed his lower body tightly against hers, his warm breath intentionally brushing against her ear. The sensation sent a shiver down her neck, draining her strength and leaving her even less able to resist.

“Aah… ah…!”

Balanced on her tiptoes, her hands clawed at the arm wrapped around her waist as moans spilled uncontrollably from her lips. Her cries grew louder, her voice trembling with urgency as she neared her peak. Her vision blurred, and a sudden pressure built in her core—a mix of overwhelming pleasure and the sensation of impending release.

Just a little more… just a little—

But just as Giselle instinctively closed her eyes, bracing herself for the climax that was moments away, the hands working her so mercilessly withdrew all at once.

“Hah… w-what…?”

Her eyes fluttered open in confusion, her body trembling from the abrupt loss of sensation.

The entrance to her core twitched, left throbbing and needy from the abrupt halt just before her climax. The sensation of emptiness, as if something should still be there, lingered, and her clitoris pulsed insistently in frustration. Giselle, panting softly as she tried to steady her ragged breaths, blinked rapidly to clear her hazy vision.

From between her parted, trembling lips, a broken, questioning voice emerged.

“W-why… why did you stop…?”

“You said you didn’t want it, Master,” Hugo replied, his tone deceptively gentle, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “I thought you were just saying it, but… you cried so much. My bad.”

He smirked slightly, his feigned apology thick with teasing, while Giselle’s flushed and disoriented face reflected her bewilderment.

Hugo, who had so easily admitted fault, nonchalantly brought his fingers—slick with her essence—to his lips, sucking on them without hesitation. Giselle barely had a moment to process the shameless act before Ian added his voice to the mix.

“I’m sorry, too. I think we might’ve gone a bit too far,” Ian said, his tone calm yet unreadable.

“N-no, it’s fine…” Giselle stammered, trying to compose herself. “Really, I—ah.”

“But if you’re planning to go outside, Master, maybe you should do more than just change your clothes. You might want to clean yourself up a bit, too,” Ian said, his gaze flicking pointedly downward toward her lower body.

Following his line of sight, Giselle noticed the slick sheen of her fluids trailing down her thighs and dripping along her calves to her ankles. Her cheeks burned hotter, though her already flushed face masked any further embarrassment.

A dull ache pulsed in her lower abdomen. She had been so close to reaching the peak of relief, only to have it snatched away. Her thighs squeezed together involuntarily as the lingering tension made itself known. That she could even feel such a yearning thought startled her.

“Giselle?” Ian’s gentle voice cut through her startled thoughts, grounding her for a moment.

“I… I think I’d just like to rest today…” Giselle murmured, her voice barely audible.

“Oh, then shall I prepare a bath for you?” Ian offered with a calm smile.

“No, it’s fine. I can do it myself,” she replied hastily.

Giselle wanted nothing more than to escape the suffocating presence of the brothers. Pulling her clothes tightly around herself, she stumbled as she began to walk away, her retreating figure seeming smaller than ever. It was clear to Ian what was going through her mind, but instead of stopping her, he added one final remark.

“Giselle, unlike the forest, there are bathrooms in each room here. Even if you say you can handle it on your own, call if you need help.”

“…Alright,” she answered softly, her voice carrying back as she hurried out of their view.

Ascending the stairs she had been carried down earlier, Giselle made her way back to the room where she had woken up. She didn’t look back once, her steps unsteady but quick, as if trying to escape some invisible pursuer.

When she finally pushed the door open and entered, the unfamiliarity of the room hit her again, leaving her feeling awkward and out of place. The strange surroundings felt oppressive, and before she realized it, tears welled up in her eyes at the sudden longing to return to the forest.

Maybe cold water will cool me down, she thought. Ian had mentioned the bathroom in her room, so she began to glance around, searching for it. That was when she noticed something she hadn’t earlier: the room was lined with mirrors.

Mirrors covered not just the walls but even parts of the ceiling. She hadn’t registered them before, still dazed from sleep, but now their presence was jarring and inexplicable. Why would anyone decorate a room like this? she wondered, but the question was fleeting.

Her priority was to calm her body and her thoughts. She quickly peeled off her clothes, letting them fall carelessly to the floor like a discarded shell, and opened the door leading to the bathroom.

The small space inside was unlike anything she had known. The walls and floor were made of polished stone rather than wood, and there was a fixed bathtub with various objects around it whose purposes she couldn’t discern.

In the forest, her baths had been simple affairs—she would heat water over a fire, then place the tub outside in the summer or indoors during the winter. This room, by contrast, was strange and intimidating.

Looking around hesitantly, Giselle bit her lip in frustration.

She had no idea where to begin.

How did one light the fixture on the ceiling? Where did the water come from without a well or spring? What were all these unfamiliar items for? Ian’s earlier comment now made perfect sense—he had known she would struggle. Giselle realized it too, but she couldn’t bear the thought of going back downstairs to ask for help.

…Just like last night.

Her hands fell limply to her sides as the same self-defeating thought resurfaced. I can’t do anything on my own. The words echoed in her mind, a chain of negativity binding her tighter.

Years of solitude had stripped her of many memories, and she could no longer recall how she had managed to survive before taking in Hugo and Ian.

Shivering slightly, Giselle backed away from the bathroom and climbed onto the bed. The mirrors around the room reflected her solitary figure from every angle, amplifying her discomfort. She pulled the blanket over herself and curled into a tight ball, her trembling body seeking warmth and solace.

Everything felt wrong. Everything was strange. She couldn’t pinpoint what was off, but the unease weighed heavily on her, leaving her lost and uncertain.

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