Depraved Noble: Forced To Live The Debaucherous Life Of An Evil Noble!

'It's so much... I-I can't believe it keeps coming.' She thought, her mind scrambling for focus as her body trembled under the intensity of the moment.

"Thwap!♡~ Schlurp!♡~ Squish!♡~ Sploosh!♡~"

Her tongue swirled in her mouth, tasting the heat and saltiness of him, trying to make sense of it all.

But then, an idea sparked—childish, almost absurd—but one that grounded her amidst the overwhelming sensation.

'Ice cream.' She told herself, her mind conjuring the image of a soft, melting scoop she had heard about but never tasted. She imagined its texture, smooth and rich, the way it would coat her tongue and melt slowly. The thought of the sweetness softened the edge of her embarrassment, giving her a way to focus and push through.

"Slosh!♡~ Splish!♡~ Glug!♡~ Squelch!♡~"

Her lips tightened around him as she swallowed again, imagining each thick wave as another bite of that imagined treat. She moaned softly, her tongue working to catch every drop, her hand stroking him at the base to coax out the last of his release.

"Splat!♡~ Plop!♡~ Thwap!♡~ Gloop!♡~"

Even as more spilled from her mouth, dripping down her chin and staining her dress, she kept going, determined to savor every ounce.

Cassius's groans deepened, his fingers threading tightly into her hair as his hips jerked involuntarily. "Damn, Isabelle." He rasped, his voice raw and unsteady. "I wasn't expecting you to swallow it all into your mouth."

The praise sent a flush of pride through her, and she redoubled her efforts, swallowing around him again, her throat working tirelessly.

"Schlurp!♡~ Splurt!♡~ Drip!♡~ Sploosh!♡~"

She didn't stop until the last shudder wracked his body, and even then, she lingered, her tongue dragging along his length to ensure she hadn't missed a single drop.

When she finally pulled back, her lips released him with a soft, wet pop.

Pop~

Her chest heaved as she caught her breath, her tongue darting out to lick at the corners of her mouth, cleaning away the remnants of his release. Her cheeks were stained pink, her lips swollen and glistening, her chin and hands still sticky with what she hadn't been able to manage.

Cassius stared down at her, his crimson eyes dark with satisfaction as he took in the sight of her. Her messy, flustered state was almost too much to bear—her trembling hands, the glimmer of devotion in her gaze as she looked up at him.

He chuckled low, his eyes narrowing with both amusement and astonishment as his thumb brushed a streak of cum from Isabelle's chin, lingering on her swollen lips.

"Perfect..." He murmured, though his tone betrayed a rare surprise. "I didn't think you could handle so much, yet not a single drop wasted." He tilted her face up, studying her flushed cheeks and trembling lashes, his smirk returning, sharper now.

"You've surprised me, Isabelle." He said, as he looked into her sparkling eyes with a mix of teasing and approval. "I'll admit, I didn't think you had it in you—but now, I'll expect nothing less...I guess this is what they meant when they said the Holyfield maids are top tier in every aspect."

Isabelle swallowed hard, her lips parting as she struggled to find her voice. "I-I just wanted to do well for you, Young Master." She said softly, her face burning as she glanced away. "I...I imagined it was something sweet, like ice cream. It made it easier to...s-so it wasn't too hard..." She trailed off, embarrassed by her admission.

Cassius smirked, his thumb tracing her lower lip as his other hand stroked lazily through her dishevelled hair. "Ice cream, hmm?" He asked, amusement lacing his tone. "Perhaps I'll have to bring you some to compare, though I suspect it won't be nearly as satisfying as this."

Her pale ears flamed brighter, but she couldn't suppress the small, bashful smile that tugged at her lips.

Despite the mess, despite the overwhelming nature of the act, she felt a flicker of pride at having pleased him.

And while her young master caressed her face to her joy, her gaze drifted to the ornate mirror mounted on the wall to the side, which made her jump for a second because of how she looked.

Her messy hair clung to her damp forehead, stray strands falling loose from her braid. Her cheeks were flushed a deep pink, a mixture of exertion and embarrassment, and her lips—shiny, swollen, and slightly parted—bore the unmistakable evidence of her actions.

Her collar had slipped, revealing more of her slender neck than she would ever dare to show, and there was a faint sheen of sweat glistening on her skin.

The sight made her stomach twist. She looked nothing like the poised, proper maid she prided herself on being. This image was raw, undone, and wholly unbecoming.

To cover herself up, her hands flew to her face as if to shield herself, panic rising in her chest. "Oh no!" She whispered, her voice trembling. "This is—this is so improper. I look so...unseemly."

Cassius caught the shift in her expression immediately. His sharp eyes followed her gaze to the mirror, and his smirk faded into something softer.

"What's wrong, Isabelle?" He asked, his tone low and curious, though he already knew why she was acting in such a way.

She quickly turned back to him, shaking her head frantically as she scrambled to kneel properly again, her hands fumbling to smooth her hair.

"I-I'm so sorry, Young Master." She stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I must look horrid right now—disgraceful even. Please allow me a moment to groom myself. I shouldn't be seen like this in front of you—"

But before Isabelle could even finish her words, Cassius moved swiftly, leaning down to scoop her up in one fluid motion to her shock.

Scoop~

A startled gasp escaped her lips as he cradled her against his chest, her small frame pressed close to his broad, unyielding one. The effortless way he held her in a princess carry left her breathless as she fidgeted in his arms.

"Y-Young Master!" She exclaimed, her voice higher-pitched than usual, her hands fluttering uncertainly as though she didn't know where to put them. "What are you doing—"

Before she could utter another word, Cassius cut her off with a calm but firm tone. "Quiet, Isabelle." He said, his crimson eyes glinting with subtle amusement. "You're making too much fuss over nothing...Just relax."

Relax? How could she relax when her young master was carrying her like a child? She opened her mouth to protest further, but before the words could form, he settled back into the chair with her on his lap, holding her securely as though she belonged there.

"P-Please, Young Master." She stammered, her voice trembling with a mix of embarrassment and confusion. "You really shouldn't-"

Her words trailed off abruptly as he reached for her face, his fingers brushing against her forehead. Isabelle froze, her breath stopping as she realised what he was doing.

He wasn't just holding her; he was grooming her.

Cassius's movements were uncharacteristically gentle, his touch precise as he smoothed back the stray strands of her hair that had fallen loose. His hands worked with care, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him to be tending to her. Isabelle blinked, her thoughts racing.

'He's... fixing my hair?' She thought incredulously. 'Why is he doing this? Shouldn't he leave such things to me? He's my master, not my—' Her internal objections faltered as her gaze drifted to his face.

There was an intensity in his expression, a quiet focus that stole her breath. His sharp eyes were entirely locked on the task at hand, his lips pressed into a line of quiet concentration. He didn't say a word as he worked, and the silence felt oddly soothing.

She wanted to speak, to tell him he shouldn't trouble himself with something so trivial, but the words caught in her throat. The careful way he tucked her hair back into place, the light graze of his fingers against her skin—it all made her chest tighten in a way she couldn't explain.

'Has anyone ever done this for me before?' She wondered, her heart aching faintly at the thought. She couldn't remember a time when someone had tended to her so gently, so thoroughly.

Cassius moved on to her collar, adjusting it with practiced ease until it sat perfectly against her neck. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin there, sending a shiver down her spine, but he didn't seem to notice.

Next, he retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully dabbed at her forehead, wiping away the faint sheen of sweat that had gathered there.

"You really are a mess." He said softly, though his tone lacked its usual teasing edge. Instead, there was a faint warmth in his voice that made her wiggle in his embrace like a little girl who was in the presence of her first love.

Her lips parted as if to protest, but she stopped herself again, unwilling to break the quiet rhythm of his ministrations. She lowered her gaze instead, letting him continue, her heart pounding as a strange sense of contentment washed over her.

Finally, he turned his attention to her lips.

Isabelle's breath caught as he leaned in closer, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he focused on cleaning away the remnants of his release. His hand moved with the same careful precision, the cloth brushing against her swollen lips in slow, deliberate strokes.

"There we are..." He murmured at last, pulling back to admire his work. He folded the handkerchief neatly and tucked it away, his gaze softening as it lingered on her face. "All tidy now."

Isabelle blinked, her heart stuttering at the quiet pride in his voice. She touched her face instinctively, still feeling the warmth of his fingers against her skin.

"Young Master..." She whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "You didn't have to...I could have done it myself."

Cassius smirked, though it was gentler than usual.

"Perhaps." He said, his tone light. "But I wanted to. Someone has to take care of you when you forget to take care of yourself."

Her words caught in her throat, and she looked down, her hands clutching her skirt tightly. "I...I must look so improper." She murmured, her voice barely audible. "Messy and...even unseemly for a maid."

Cassius let out a soft chuckle, tilting her chin up with his fingers. His crimson eyes gleamed with mischief as he said, "Unseemly?...Isabelle, you could be dragged through a storm, covered in mud, and still manage to look beautiful as a flower."

Her eyes went wide, and she blinked up at him, caught off guard by the teasing lilt in his voice. "Young Master, I—"

He interrupted her, shaking his head with false seriousness. "No, no, it's true, Isabelle. There's no amount of mess in the world that could ruin that face of yours." He leaned in slightly, his smirk softening. "So, stop worrying about it, alright?...Messy or not, you'll always be beautiful in my eyes."

Isabelle's chest swelled with warmth at Cassius's words, the sincerity laced within his teasing making her heart flutter.

No one had ever called her beautiful so casually yet so genuinely. She could feel her lips curling into a smile, a soft, bashful expression overtaking her face as a rare sense of joy blossomed within her.

But that joy carried a hint of mischief, a cheeky thought creeping into her mind that she couldn't entirely suppress.

Her hands fidgeted in her lap as she hesitated, glancing up at him with a coy, almost shy expression. "Y-Young Master." She began hesitantly, her voice small but steady. "What you said...Do you really mean it? That no mess could ever ruin my beauty?"

Cassius arched a brow, his smirk widening as he caught the slight nervous tremor in her voice. "Of course, Isabelle. I never say things I don't mean."

Her blush deepened, and she bit her lip before quickly blurting out, "Even if—if instead of my mouth, your...y-your fluids had ended up on my face instead and made a complete mess?"