Chapter 326: A Blindfolded Mother

But just because Mika had finished with Fiona did not mean his work was over.

Far from it.

He glanced around the room at the remaining five sisters, all still trembling on their beds, cheeks flushed with the lingering heat of the aphrodisiac.

Without hesitation, he moved to the nearest one—a younger sister named Teresa, whose wide eyes betrayed a storm of nerves.

Earlier, when the treatment had only been discussed, Teresa had been quietly eager, almost curious.

But now, after witnessing Fiona—strict, composed, unshakable Fiona—reduced to a writhing, begging, lust-drunk creature who had clawed at her own robe and sucked desperately on Mika’s fingers, Teresa was terrified.

She feared that the moment his touch reached her, she too would transform into some shameless, lust-filled succubus, utterly consumed by desire.

Mika sat gently at her bedside, offering the same reassuring smile he had given Fiona.

"It’s all right." He said softly. "Same as before. I’ll keep it respectful. Just breathe."

Teresa swallowed hard, nodding shakily as she parted her legs beneath the robe.

The moment his gloved fingers slipped inside her, however, thought itself vanished.

Pleasure—raw, overwhelming, taboo—crashed through her like a tidal wave.

Her shook violently; a sharp cry tore from her throat as the first explosive release sprayed forth, just as spectacularly as Fiona’s.

"I-I’m coming—! I’m coming—!"

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

She tried to fight it, tried to cling to modesty and piety, but her body betrayed her utterly. Her face, once tight with fear, melted into an expression of pure, helpless ecstasy.

One climax blurred into the next, each more intense than the last, until finally—after what felt like an eternity of squirting, gasping, and trembling—she fainted, slumping back against the pillows, the curse fully expelled.

Mika didn’t pause.

He moved methodically to the next sister, then the next, and the next.

One by one, he treated them all with the same calm precision, drawing out torrent after torrent of liquid release.

The center of the room quickly became a shallow, glistening pool—reflective, almost comically excessive, as though someone had emptied bucket after bucket of water across the floor.

Behind the glass, the teasing had begun in earnest.

One of her friends nudged Cecilia with an elbow, grinning evily.

"Lucky girl, Cecilia. You knew exactly what you were getting, didn’t you?"

Another laughed under her breath. "If we’d known he was this skilled, we would’ve fought you for him years ago."

A third sighed dramatically. "Seriously, how do you even pick men this perfectly? Teach us your ways."

Cecilia’s face went scarlet.

"S-Stop it!" She stammered, clutching her clipboard like a shield. "It’s not like that! I didn’t—I mean—he’s just—he’s very capable, that’s all! It’s medical! Stop making it weird!"

The teasing only grew louder, a chorus of giggles and whispers.

Meanwhile, Fauna stood a little apart from the group, her expression dreamy but intensely flustered.

Her eyes were locked on Mika—on the confident, steady movements of his hands, the way he controlled every reaction with effortless mastery.

For so long, no matter how old he grew, no matter what he accomplished, in Fauna’s heart he had remained that tiny, sweet boy calling "Fauna!" in the softest, most innocent voice.

That image had been unshakable.

But now...now it was gone.

All she could see was the man in front of her—tall, composed, impossibly skilled, commanding the most intimate responses from devout women with nothing more than his fingers.

Her little boy was nowhere to be found.

In his place stood a grown man. A splendid one.

A complicated heat bloomed in her chest—pride, unease, and something she refused to name.

And yet, strangely, a part of her felt...relieved.

Watching him work, watching every woman react the same way—helpless, overwhelmed, undone—she realized something important.

Mika wasn’t just good. He was masterful.

He had techniques, accuracy, experience no one could fake.

Any woman under his touch would feel the same unbearable ecstasy.

It wasn’t personal. It wasn’t about her specifically.

That night they had shared...the way she had squirted again and again under his fingers...it hadn’t meant she saw him wrongly.

It hadn’t meant her feelings were twisted or unnatural.

It had simply meant she was a woman and he was extraordinarily, undeniably good at what he did.

She felt as though a great weight had lifted.

As if she had narrowly escaped some terrible self-condemnation.

But doubt still gnawed at her. Her mind felt too tangled to trust itself fully.

She needed confirmation.

Quietly, she stepped away from the group and beckoned to Cecilia.

"Cecilia." She called softly. "Could I speak with you for a moment? In private?"

Cecilia glanced over, concern immediate.

"Of course, Lady Fauna." She followed her to a quieter corner of the observation room. "What is it? Are you all right? I imagine this must be...awkward for you. Seeing your own son do something like this."

"If it were me, I’d be mortified."

But Fauna shook her head slowly.

"No, no...I’ve moved past the awkwardness. I see it for what it is—a medical procedure. Nothing more. That’s not why I called you."

Cecilia tilted her head. "Then...?"

Fauna hesitated, cheeks warming before finally saying,

"You know I’ve been working on some psychological research—family dynamics, perception, responses to intimacy under certain conditions..."

Cecilia nodded. "Yes, you mentioned it before."

Fauna took a slow breath. "I have a hypothetical question. It might sound strange, even inappropriate, but it’s purely academic. For the research."

Cecilia straightened slightly, professional curiosity piqued. "Go ahead."

Fauna’s voice dropped lower.

"Imagine a woman—a mother or a sister—is lying in a bed like these, blindfolded. She can’t see anything."

"Then...a man enters the room. Her son, or her brother. And he gives her the exact same treatment Mika is giving right now."

"The same touch. The same...intensity."

Cecilia’s eyes shimmered slightly, a flush creeping up her neck at the taboo implication, but she remained composed.

Fauna continued, gaze fixed on the floor.

"How do you think her body would react? Would she...respond the same way? Would she feel the same pleasure, the same ecstasy, even if it was a family member? Or would something in her know, and stop it?"

Cecilia opened her mouth, closed it, then exhaled slowly. She glanced back at the treatment room—Mika still working calmly, another sister mid-climax—before turning back to Fauna.

"To answer honestly, Lady Fauna..." She lowered her voice. "If the woman is blindfolded, if she truly cannot see or know who is touching her—then yes. Her body would react the same. It doesn’t matter who the hands belong to. A woman’s body responds to stimulation, to skill, to sensation."

"And if we were to consider Mika’s touch itself..."

She glanced at Mika.

"...then it would be extraordinary."

"Any woman would feel that fire, that overwhelming pleasure. She would climax. She would ejaculate. She would lose control. The body doesn’t care about relation. It only knows what it feels."

Fauna’s eyes lit with fragile hope.

"So...you’re saying that even if it were a family member, the reaction could still be the same? That it’s...possible? Normal?"

"Yes. Completely possible." Cecilia nodded firmly. "The body doesn’t distinguish like the mind does. Not in those circumstances."

Fauna let out a soft, relieved breath, shoulders relaxing.

"I see...thank you. That helps more than you know."

But just as Fauna was feeling relieved, Cecilia quickly added, her voice lowering as if to soften the blow.

"But...it is completely different if the blindfold is off."

Fauna froze mid-breath, the fragile relief evaporating from her face. She turned slowly toward Cecilia, eyes wide and uncertain.

"What...exactly do you mean by that?"

Cecilia sighed, folding her hands in front of her as she chose her words with care.

"If there was no blindfold." She began. "The woman in question would know—immediately—that it was her son, her brother, a close family member. And the moment that realization hit, everything would change."

"She would panic. Her emotions would spiral into shock, guilt, horror. All of that mental turmoil would override any physical sensation. Her body simply wouldn’t respond the way I described earlier."

Fauna’s brows drew together. "But...the stimulation is the same, isn’t it? Physically, it’s identical."

Cecilia shook her head gravely.

"No, Lady Fauna. Pleasure systems in the body don’t work in isolation. They’re deeply tied to perception. A woman’s arousal responds to someone she sees as a potential partner—an actual man, in the romantic and sexual sense."

"When the person touching her is a family member she consciously recognizes, none of those pathways activate. She won’t get wet. She won’t feel that fire. She won’t climax. Her body would shut down completely."

Fauna’s lips parted in disbelief before desperately asking,

"Come on...surely she’d react a little, at least? It’s still physical touch. It’s still—"

"She probably wouldn’t react at all, not even a little bit."

Cecilia interrupted gently but firmly.

"Think of it like this: imagine a woman lying next to someone she finds completely unattractive—someone she cannot, in any way, see as a man or a partner."

"No matter how skilled the touch, no matter how technically perfect the stimulation, nothing happens. She stays dry. She feels nothing pleasurable."

"Or imagine a being from an entirely different species—someone who, in their own kind, might be considered breathtakingly handsome, but to her is utterly alien and unappealing. The body simply doesn’t respond."

Cecilia met Fauna’s gaze steadily.

"The same principle applies here. When a woman looks at her son or brother and knows it’s him, her biology recognizes family. It’s wired into us—craving genetic variation, avoiding inbreeding and the body refuses to treat a relative as a mate."

"She would become like a statue: tense, dry, unresponsive. It’s not just cultural taboo; it’s biological."

"For a mother or sister to knowingly feel sexual pleasure from a family member’s touch...it’s honestly mostly impossible, Lady Fauna."

The words struck Fauna like lightning.

Only moments ago, she had felt a rush of relief—comforted by the idea that her body had reacted purely because it didn’t know, because it was blind biology, separate from her heart and mind.

She had convinced herself she still saw Mika only as her little boy.

Now, that comfort shattered and she didn’t know what to do.