World of Women: Zero - Chapter 3

I sat crosslegged on the bed, the velvet duvet cool against my bare skin. The room was quiet except for the distant sound of wind rattling the windowpanes. It gave me time to think. I needed to process the absolute insanity that had become my existence. I should have been dead. I was supposed to be a charred, electrified corpse. I remembered the heat, the pain, and the smell of my own burning flesh. Yet, here I was, in a body that felt like mine but wasn’t, in a world that made no sense.

The women here were gorgeous. There was no denying it. Even the maid who hated my guts had a body that could stop traffic. Magic also appeared to be real. The maid had used something she called a healing rune on me, and earlier, she had mentioned something about a lightning bolt. Something about my electrocution and this guy’s lightning bolt had caused me to end up in his body, although we had the same names. It was also possible I had reincarnated, but I had no memories from this world, and everything I knew came from that world.

In this world, I was treated like a girl. It was to the point that everyone thought I was a woman and treated me as one. That maid went so far as to claim my penis was a female abnormality. It seemed like women’s capacity to gaslight existed on every world. There was no way I’d believe her. I knew my own body to know I had a penis, and I didn’t believe there was a world where a penis was anything but a penis. It was obvious she was lying, but the question came as to what end?

Who were they trying to fool, me, or everyone else? I shook my head. There was still so much about this world that didn’t make any sense. Unfortunately, after the maid brought the food, she had taken off and not returned, so I couldn’t ask any more questions. This world was a mystery.

On the other hand, I could remember that world vividly. The hate was still there, bubbling under the surface. The memory of my sister’s lies, my mother’s betrayal, the judge’s smirk. It all tasted like ash in my mouth. They had painted me as a monster. They had killed me for crimes I didn’t commit. I remembered that world, and my final promise. I promised I’d be unrestrained. I’ve be the very monster they painted me. I’d fuck every beautiful woman until she couldn’t walk straight. That was my promise.

That was several hours ago, and the sun was setting now. All I had done was sit around and think about my situation. The world had even thrown a beautiful woman at me. She had taken off her clothing and entered the bathtub. Did I push her down and have my way with her? No, I acted like a complete virgin. I was an embarrassment to myself, too flustered and too timid to act upon my baser instincts. I wouldn’t let myself hesitate again.

Just then, a knock came at the door. It was hesitant and soft. I looked up at the door, my expression growing increasingly darker.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open. The maid who had fled my bathtub entered. She stepped inside my room, carrying a silver tray. She had recovered her maid outfit, the black and white fabric hugging her curves in ways that should be illegal. Her eyes landed on me, and she jumped, nearly dropping her tray.

Well, I was completely naked. I had discarded the robe some time ago. I had my own reason for this, and I was watching for it that moment. I wanted to see how she would react. I wanted to see if the disgust was real or just an act.

“Oh!” The girl looked away in embaressment, her face flushed a deep shade of red. “M-Mistress Christan! You are… you are not dressed!”

She bustled into the room, trying to look anywhere but at me. She set the tray down on a small table near the bed. The smell of roasted meat and fresh bread filled my nose, making my stomach growl. I watched her closely. She moved to the wall and began to light the lanterns, one by one. The room brightened, casting long shadows against the wallpaper.

“Why haven’t you dressed yourself?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly as she made the room brighter. “You will catch a cold. The dampness from the storm is still in the air.”

“No one gave me clothes,” I replied, leaning back on my elbows and stretching my legs out. “Besides, I like to sleep in the nude.”

“Since when?” She looked at me, but her eyes fell on my crotch, and she blushed again and looked away.

However, her eyes didn’t’ seem to be able to avoid it. As she moved around the room like a busy body, her eyes kept flickering that way. I was watching her carefully, so I could see that there was curiosity and interest, but not fear or horror. It wasn’t the way someone would gawk at some kind of deformity.

“Since now, maid.” I replied.

Her eyes finally went to my face, a complicated expression on them. “Do you really not remember me?”

“You’re the maid who gave me the bath?”

Her expression looked slightly hurt, and the suddenly reached out and grabbed my hands. “I’ve been your maid a lot longer than that. I’m Clara. Do you remember Clara?”

How did women do that? It was like she could make her eyes twice to the size and covered in dew. I couldn’t help but look away this time, my face feeling hot. I also felt a bit bad.

No! She’s just a woman! It’s manipulation. Don’t let her fool you into thinking she’s anything but a duplicitous bitch!

“O-of course, I remember,” I replied, hoping she’s stop looking at me so intently.

I didn’t lie to make her feel better! I merely felt the less she knew, the better off I’d be. Yet, she was still looking at me, and she was even leaning in. My eyes flickered down, and I could see down the top of her shirt. Her boobs were small, but they were right there. Wait, what was with that bra? Wasn’t it a bit naughty?

“Clothes!” The maid called Clara suddenly jumped like she had been goosed, and I lost sight of the view as she raced over to the wardrobe, pulling out a fresh set of undergarments and a dress before laying them on the bed. “I found these in the closet. They should fit.”

“I said I sleep nude.” I frowned as she plopped a dress next to me.

There was no fucking way I was going to wear a dress. I wasn’t some cross-dressing fruitcake. I’d rather keep walking around naked than wear such a thing.

“No!” Clara suddenly cried out, causing me to jump slightly. “You mustn’t do that! You have to cover it up at all times!”

Her eyes shot to my crotch and then quickly looked away again.

“Why?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Why… why…” She looked like she was trying come up with an answer. “Ah! Because it will get cold hanging out there.”

“Geh!” I put my hand over it instinctively.

It wasn’t that cold! It might not be as full as it had been in the hot bath, but she didn’t need to give me such a proud look either.

Clara didn’t seem to notice my ugly expression though, as she had already returned to the table, where she lifted the lid off the steaming food, poured something that looked like tea from a kettle, and set up my silverwear like I was a child.

“Please, eat. Lady Thorn wishes for you to regain your strength. After earlier’s injury, you must be weak. Tcht… and don’t leave stuff on the floor.”

Her eyes had landed on the robe on the other side of the room. I watched as she moved. The way her hips swayed under the skirt. The way her apron strings tightened around her waist when she bent over. She was young. Maybe my age. Well, not my current age, but perhaps the age I was when I fried. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a tight bun, but a few loose strands framed her face. Her skin was smooth, pale. She was undeniably beautiful. I was still watching when she bent over to pick up the robe I had discarded.

Her skirt rode up just enough. I caught a flash of lace. Not the sensible white cotton I expected. It was black. Scandalous. A thong that disappeared between two impossibly round ass cheeks. My expression intensified. I hadn’t been mistaken. The lacy bra she had was mixed with these scandalous panties. What was a maid doing walking around in such naughty underwear? Was she trying to tease me? Was this some kind of trap?

That second thought caused the anger deep inside to flared up hot and fast. I remembered the way my sister used to dress. She would barely wear anything. She was such a fucking tease. She knew it turned me on, yet she kept doing it knowing I wouldn’t do shit. It had turned me on so much I had even jacked off into her panties once. This was part of the evidence they used to convict me. It turned out she had been playing the long game. Every time I peaked, she documented it, ready to use it all against me. I even suspected the man who ended up raping my mother had been one her boyfriends.

Was Clara doing the same? Was she mocking me? Was she trying to get me caught? Was she trying to force my hand. I felt a familiar stirring between my legs. The blood rushed south. My cock swelled, lifting off my stomach. However, my eyes were bloodshot. It was a feeling somewhere between anger and arousal. Clara turned around, and her eyes locked onto it. She gasped, taking a step back and clutching her apron. She looked panicked, but her eyes were locked on it.

“Please,” she stammered, her eyes darting around the room like she was looking for an escape route. “You must… you must eat. Stay warm.”

She was backing away for the door, her eyes still locked on it. Was she going to go tell the police? Was I going to get arrested?

“Stop.” My voice was eerily calm.

She froze, her hand reaching for the doorknob behind her, but she didn’t move another inch.

“Remove your robes.”

Her eyes went wide. “M-mistress?”

“You heard me. Take it off.”

I didn’t know where the boldness came from. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline from the lightning strike. Maybe it was the memory of my sister. Maybe it was Seraphina’s disdain earlier. It might even be the sheer, overwhelming frustration of being a virgin in a house full of hotties. Whatever it was, I was done playing nice. I had made a promise. If I was going to be labeled a monster, I’d earn it!

Clara hesitated. She looked at the door, then back at me. Her hands trembled as they moved to the tie at her neck.

With a quick tug, the robe fell open. She shrugged it off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet.

My breath hitched. The lingerie was even better than I imagined. Black lace cups pushed her breasts up, creating a deep, inviting cleavage. Her stomach was flat and toned. The thong left little to the imagination, highlighting the curve of her hips and the mound of her sex. She was fucking stunning. Even the lingerie models I used to jack off to couldn’t compare to this beauty.

I found myself getting up from my bed. I walked toward her. My cock throbbed with every step, bobbing in the air. I felt like a predator stalking its prey. I wanted to grab her. I wanted to throw her on the bed and ravage her. I wanted to hear her scream my name.

However, there was another emotion, fear. If I did this, if I crossed this line, would they kill me? Would they drag me back to that electric chair? I had no idea what the rules were in this world. Was this a trap? Would she scream rape? Would the guards burst in and drag me away?

I stopped in front of her. I was close enough to smell her scent of lavender and vanilla. She was shaking as she looked at me. I stood there, conflicted. The darkness in me urged me to push her down. Yet, it wasn’t in my nature. Even now, even after everything… I couldn’t be that guy. I felt disappointment. I had my answer.

Clara was looking down, her eyes fixed on my cock. It was fully hard now, pointing straight at her. She let out a small, whimpering sound.

“It is awake,” she whispered. “I… must…”

I sighed. I was about to turn away, but then she did something I never expected. She dropped to her knees and grabbed it.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I cried out.

“I must milk it!” she yelled, her voice filled with a strange determination. “For your own sake, I’ll milk it!”

“Whoa!” I jerked back, but her grip was surprisingly firm.

She started to yank on it. Hard. Up and down. Like she was trying to pull a weed out of the ground.

“Ow! Stop!” I tried to push her hands away. “What are you doing?”

“It needs to be milked!” she cried out, tears streaming down her face. She kept pulling, her movements jerky and frantic. “I must get the milk out!”

“You’re going to rip it off! Let go!” I cried.

The pair of us were stumbling around the room, Clara desperately clinging to my cock, while I was trying to get her fingers pried off. How had things ended up this way! I was supposed to push her down, and now she was sexually assaulting me! I only finally managed to free me cock after several painful minutes. As soon as she lost her grip, she collapsed to the ground, sobbing into her hands.

“I cannot even do this right,” she wailed. “I am a failure as a mo… as a maid. Lady Thorn entrusted me with your penis, and I cannot even soothe the beast.”

I stared at her, my cock throbbing in pain and frustration. Her tears were authentic. I realized that I could tell. Having a sociopath for a sister had apparently allowed me to tell when someone was being honest. As crazy as it all was, she was genuinely upset. I couldn’t help but feel strangely bad.

“Listen,” I sighed, running a hand through my damp hair. “That’s not how you do it!”

“Huh?” She whipped the tears from her eyes, looking up at me with puffy red face. “It’s not?”

“How do I explain this… you called it milk, right?” I wasn’t sure what I was trying to accomplish, I just wanted her to stop crying. “If a baby nurses, does it use its hands?”

She blinked, confused. “No…”

“Exactly, what does a baby use?”

“Ah!” Her eyes widened. “The mouth!”

She didn’t even give me a second before she jumped at me. I tried to push her off, but no sooner had her warm, wet mouth engulfed the head of my cock, then my mind short circuited.

“Oh, fuck.”

My head fell back. My eyes rolled into my skull. It felt way better than my hand. Better than anything I had ever felt. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive tip, exploring, tasting. She was clumsy, unsure of herself, but the enthusiasm was there. Her lips slid down the shaft, stretching around my girth. She gagged slightly, but she didn’t stop. She was determined. Her hand came up to cradle my balls, gently massaging them.

“Fuck,” I groaned, my hips bucking involuntarily. “That’s it… just like that.”

She hummed in response, the vibrations sending shivers down my spine. She started to bob her head, taking more and more of me into her mouth with each pass. The sight of her, this beautiful maid on her knees, her lips stretched wide around my cock, was almost too much to bear. I could feel the pressure building, a tight coil in my stomach. She had started this, but I was damned if I wasn’t going to finish it.

My hand moved to the back of her head, my fingers tangling in her hair. I guided her movements, setting a faster pace. She looked up at me, her eyes watering, but she didn’t resist. She just kept sucking, her tongue lapping at the underside of my shaft. I was losing control. The pleasure was overwhelming. However, that’s when the image of my sister’s mocking smile flashed in my mind. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger. My hands began to tighten in her hair. My hips started to snap forward, driving my cock deeper into her throat.

“Take it,” I growled, the words coming out harsher than I intended. “Take all of it.”

I wasn’t thinking anymore. I was just feeling. The need to dominate, to claim, to unleash all the frustration and anger onto this willing mouth. She gagged again, her hands pushing against my thighs, but I didn’t let up. I held her head in place, fucking her face with a brutal rhythm. The wet, obscene sounds of her choking on my dick filled the room.

“That’s it,” I grunted, my voice ragged. “Choke on it. You want the milk? Then fucking work for it.”

Tears streamed down her face, smudging her mascara. Saliva dripped from her chin, coating my balls. But she didn’t fight me. She just took it, her eyes locked on mine, a look of surrender and submission that only fueled my fire. I could feel my orgasm approaching. That familiar tightening in my balls. I was going to cum.

“I’m gonna cum,” I warned her, my voice strained. “I’m gonna fucking cum down your throat.”

She moaned around my cock, the vibrations pushing me over the edge. I exploded. My cock pulsed, shooting jet after jet of hot cum directly into her waiting mouth. I held her head there, forcing her to swallow every last drop. She choked and sputtered, but she did her best to keep up, her throat working to milk me dry.

When I finally finished, I released her hair. She fell back, coughing and gasping for air. A thin strand of cum connected her lips to my still-hard cock. I looked down at her, my chest heaving. Her face was a mess of tears, spit, and my seed. I stood there for a long moment, panting, my chest heaving. The euphoria faded, replaced by a creeping guilt. I had just face fucked this woman. I had treated her like a piece of meat. Just like they said I would.

I looked down at her. She was still kneeling there, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes were watery, her makeup smeared. But she was smiling. A genuine, happy smile.

“I am so happy you have been milked,” she croaked softly, smiling up at me. “Thank you.”

I felt my face heat up.

I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, no problem. You’re welcome.”

What the hell was going on? I raped her face, and she’s thanking me! She picked up her robe and covered herself, but the smile didn’t leave her face. Instead, she grabbed me and kissed my forehead.

“If you ever get hard again, just let me know, and I’ll milk it again. Any time you want… I’ll milk it!” She declared.

I nodded dumbly. What kind of world had I just been reborn into?