Every night after the first, the Emperor calls for her. Without fail. His summons arrives as the palace grows quiet and the night settles over the harem complex.
Sometimes, he takes her with a fervor that leaves her breathless, hips hitting against hers until the early hours, as if he's determined to mark her inside and out.
Sometimes it's brutal, almost like an animal...
Other nights, it's brief—one act, then silence, as he wraps himself around her and drifts into an exhausted sleep. Either way, morning never comes without her still in his bed.
Most of the time she found herself drenched in bodily fluids, either hers or emperor's or the mixture, nobody knows...
Since she wanted to get a child as soon as possible, she never bothered to clean her vagina after getting filled and let it be.
So the fluid slowly came out of her hole, and the emperor also found it pleasing to the eyes, as if he was seeing a painting he drew.
It was not just her front hole that got filled, her back hole also gets a good pounding, most of the time in doggy style, on all fours.
Her delicate pink butthole have become a bloomed flower, when for the first time, Joana got a taste of the emperor's cock in her butthole, she screamed like hell, since like her first time in her pussy, he didn't show any mercy from the start and started fucking her hard in her butthole, heavy hardcore pounding...
The entire mansion heard her singing...
But Joana enjoyed it too, not including the first few minutes of her pounding.
When he was finished, and pulled out from her, he could see a dark and deep hole.
Yes, her butthole was stretched enough that it didn't even need her ass cheeks to spread.
That night, who knew what got into him, when he saw this deep and dark hole, he pushed his fist inside, and guess what happened?
His fist entered easily, at least the starting part, but as soon as he pushed it inside, the hole got stretched to the limits and the mansion once again heard Joana's singing in the middle of the night...
Although the emperor didn't push his first again, he made sure to fuck it daily.
This turned her closed hole into a flower; its inner pink skin came out, and it resembled a bloomed flower.
Every night she gets filled in both her holes...
She's not permitted to slip away before dawn. No, he makes sure of that. The Emperor likes knowing that when she finally leaves, it will be with the whole palace awake to witness it. She walks back to her chambers under the weight of their gazes—servants whispering behind their hands, concubines exchanging sharp glances. The knowledge of what she's done, what he's done to her, settles in the air like perfume.
They also gaze at her ass when she walks, as if they can see through the dress, imagining the leakage from her holes. And it was truly embarrassing for Joana, perhaps, in some twisted way, that is part of the emperor's pleasure.
Roslin tries to be happy for her. She says all the right words and wears a smile that's just a little too forced. But Joana can see it—how much it grates at her that this is happening to her friend, how much she doesn't want to find herself in the same position. Consort Myranda, ever sharp-tongued, jests about the Emperor's size, though Joana knows for a fact that she's never once been summoned to his bed. The others? Their happiness for her is laced with something else—jealousy, resentment, the bitterness of being overlooked.
Not that it matters. Joana can't bring herself to care. She doesn't have the luxury of thinking about them, not when every night belongs to him, not when she barely has the energy to think beyond the next summons.
And yet…
After five nights of this, a summons arrives—not from the Emperor, but from the Gracious Mother.
Joana is weaving with Roslin when the servant delivers the message. A simple request, spoken softly, but it makes her heart lurch all the same. The Gracious Mother does not call people to her chambers out of kindness. There is always a reason. Always an expectation.
She barely speaks as she follows the servant through the winding halls of the harem, her pulse quickening with every step.
What does she want? A message from the Emperor? Another set of instructions? Surely, she wouldn't summon Joana just for a casual conversation. No, this is something important.
The Mother's private chambers are as grand as expected—heavy silks, gilded furniture, the lingering scent of rare incense curling in the air. The woman herself is seated on a cushioned divan, resplendent in a red dress embroidered with gold thread. Her black hair is twisted into an elaborate bun, but unlike many of the other noblewomen, she wears no veil. She doesn't need to.
Joana kneels before her, head bowed, and takes the Mother's hand in hers, pressing a respectful kiss to the back of it.
"Mother," she murmurs, keeping her voice soft and measured. "I'm honored to have been called by Her Gracious Highness."
The Mother smiles, slow and knowing. "Joana," she says, voice warm yet unreadable. "How happy I am to see you. Have you been well? Eating? Exercising?"
It's an innocent question on the surface, but Joana isn't naive. It's never just small talk with someone like her.
"I'm very well," she replies, careful not to show hesitation. "Thank you for your concern."
The Mother hums in approval, idly adjusting the thick gold bracelets stacked on her wrists. Joana's gaze flickers over them—so much wealth, even in an intimate setting. But then again, why wouldn't she be adorned in riches? She is the Emperor's mother, the most powerful woman in the empire.
"Lady Desmera has informed me of some wonderful news," the Mother continues, watching Joana closely. "She is expecting a child by my son. The arrival of a grandchild is always a great joy."
Joana keeps her expression neutral, though her mind races.
Is this a test? A warning? Or merely an observation?