Obsession: Albedo’s Desire

The white shirt parted, revealing bare skin. In Nazarick, muscular male demons often flaunted their physiques, a sight the maids were accustomed to. But the man lying before them was different—a human. Compared to the chiseled Sebas or the demons, his frame seemed modest. Yet, stripped bare, he was surprisingly toned. His chest showed defined muscles, his abs sharply cut, not an ounce of excess flesh. A beautifully balanced body.

"How's a guy's skin this flawless?" the Black Maid muttered, her tone sharp.

The White and Gold Maids nodded in agreement. They didn't know that Solution occasionally dissolved his entire body, only for him to be fully restored, leaving his skin as smooth as a newborn's. It hadn't even been a week since his last "bath." The Solution bath had the same effect.

"His skin's so pale, his nipples are pink," the White Maid said, cautiously reaching for his chest. The smoothness surprised her, the firmness even more so. A man's body was this solid?

"They're smaller than ours," the Gold Maid said, bolder. "Oh, they're hardening!"

She touched where the White Maid hesitated, pinching a nipple to test its size, rolling it under her finger. The sensation shifted, reminding her of her own body's response. Her hand pressed her ample chest to calm her racing pulse.

"You two, that's not the main event," the Black Maid said, her role to rein in their tangents. Her own fingers traced the man's abs, savoring the ripple of muscle beneath. They slid downward, brushing his navel, then met the edge of his black slacks.

Someone swallowed hard. Without glancing back, the Black Maid unbuckled his belt. Hesitation would derail her resolve. Momentum was key. The belt came off easily, the clasp undone, the zipper lowered. She gripped the waistband and slowly pulled the slacks down, careful not to wake him. Past his thighs, it was effortless. True to Nazarick's maids, she smoothed the slacks and hung them neatly.

His shirt splayed open, his lower half in just loose boxers—unlike women's, they didn't cling. Still, a noticeable bulge was evident.

"Looking right away… I need a second," the White Maid said, hesitant.

"How about a little touch first?" the Gold Maid suggested, reaching for the bulge. She'd never seen one in person but had studied "special books." Unfazed by the fabric's folds, she felt it—soft, not yet hard.

"It's not up yet, so… soft?" she said.

"Really," the White Maid agreed.

"Ready to move on?" the Black Maid asked.

They laughed awkwardly, stepping aside. The bulge seemed slightly larger now, but not enough to complicate things. Removing the boxers was easier than the slacks. His lower half lay bare before the three maids, their cheeks flushing faintly. Their first time seeing a man's anatomy up close.

At the base of his thighs, a raw, fleshy rod, with soft, rounded sacs beneath. Poked earlier, it had swelled slightly but wasn't fully erect. The special books always showed towering erections—surely this would follow.

"Should we… touch it?" the White Maid asked.

"We have to verify if the books are true," the Black Maid said.

"That means making it… stand, right?" the Gold Maid added.

She took the lead again, resting the soft organ in her palm, feeling its warmth and give. Gently, she began stroking, recalling the "Maid's Devotion" series—25 volumes of vivid detail. The books depicted maids serving their masters in countless ways, including how to rouse a small organ to its full potential. They'd never done this but had imagined it, trained their minds.

The Gold Maid steadied her excitement, moving her fingers as practiced in her mind. Like with the nipple, the organ grew hotter, thicker, harder. Once easily gripped, it now strained against her fingers' circle, its fleshy give paired with unyielding strength.

"Oh…" a trembling voice escaped.

The drooping organ began to rise—literally standing, thicker and harder, pulsing in her hand. The shaft stretched evenly from its base, reddening at the tip, where a sharp ridge met a rounded head with a tightly closed slit. They knew from the books it released fluids—urine or semen.

But knowledge paled against reality. The erect organ was menacing, almost violent, making their knees buckle. Imagining it entering their bodies was unthinkable, despite their studies.

"It's… huge," the White Maid whispered, drawn to grip it. The Gold Maid's hand lingered, and together they held its impressive length, stroking in unison after climbing onto the bed.

The single bed was cramped, even by Nazarick's standards. With the two maids at his lower half, the Black Maid had no room. Pouting slightly, she turned away, lifting her skirt to straddle his abdomen, careful not to press her weight. Balancing was tricky; her left hand braced the bed by his face, her right untying the scarf covering his eyes.

If they claimed the lower half, she'd take the upper. They'd brought him here for his body, but his beauty intrigued her too. Sighing, she gazed at his face—handsome, almost ethereal. His cheek was cool and soft under her touch. She poked his proud nose and traced his glossy red lips, pausing before slipping a finger inside. Withdrawing, she sucked her finger, coating it with saliva, then returned, parting his lips to rub her spit on his tongue, repeating the perverse act, reveling in the thrill of control.

Yet, it was more—her body knew it was an expression of wanting to merge with him. Her hand slid under her skirt, touching the softest part through thin fabric. Wet, she thought, glancing back to confirm the others were distracted. Her fingers moved, a soft moan escaping as she pleasured herself, lost in his face.

The White and Gold Maids didn't stroke forever. Their books taught more than handwork—servicing meant ejaculation, with many methods. Beginners stopped at hands; Nazarick's maids aimed higher. The "Maid's Devotion" series always included one act.

"Does it taste weird?" the White Maid asked.

"A bit sweaty, but fine," the Gold Maid said. "No bad smell."

Holding the base, the White Maid angled it upward as the Gold Maid licked the tip, then the shaft, coating it with saliva. The White Maid followed, their tongues mapping its contours—more intricate than a mere rod. They licked, stroked, and licked again, making it slick.

"Oh!" they gasped as a clear drop appeared at the slit. They'd only licked the shaft, not the head. The Gold Maid touched the drop, noting its sticky thread. She tasted it—fine. The White Maid went further, kissing the head, her tongue working the slit meticulously. The books claimed these fluids were good for beauty—semen most of all, but pre-cum too. Her lips parted wider, taking in the head, then a third of the shaft, sucking as she pulled back, repeating until she managed half.

"Phew," she gasped, the wet shaft steaming with heat.

"My turn," the Gold Maid said, diving in.

Oral service—fellatio—was essential. They alternated, unbothered by sharing saliva, too engrossed to notice. But the breaks between their turns slowed progress. The books didn't mention it, but they sensed it delayed the climax.

"Volume 11, remember?" the White Maid said.

The Gold Maid froze. "You mean…"

"They finished fast, right?" she pressed.

"Yeah, but…" the Gold Maid hesitated.

Volume 11, "You and My Master♡", featured two maids teaming up, just like them, using hands, mouths, and… breasts.

"If you're shy, I'll do it alone," the White Maid said.

"I'm fine," the Gold Maid said. "We've seen each other before."

"Together, then?"

"…Okay."

They untied their ribbon ties, the rustle of fabric echoing. Skirts and aprons stayed on, but they bared their chests, covering their nipples shyly. The Black Maid sat atop, so they climbed the bed sideways, upper bodies only.

"It's hot even against my chest," the White Maid said, pressing her breasts around the shaft.

"Really," the Gold Maid agreed, doing the same.

Their large breasts, typical of Herohero's creations, couldn't fully envelop it. They kissed the exposed tip, rubbing their breasts up and down, their nipples brushing, sparking pleasure. They licked and sucked the head, slurping pre-cum, the wet sounds growing lewd.

The books' ultimate move—double paizuri—always worked fast. The shaft, nestled in four breasts, pulsed, nearing its limit.

"Ah!" the White Maid gasped.

"We did it!" the Gold Maid cheered.

Hot semen erupted, splattering the White Maid's face, sparing her hair. Drunk on the musky scent or the act's thrill, she licked her lips clean. The Gold Maid lapped up the rest, swallowing.

"Not delicious, but not bad," she said.

"I want more," the White Maid said. "It's supposed to make you prettier."

They scooped and swallowed the semen, eyeing the wilting shaft. The books warned it could soften post-climax.

"You done?" the Black Maid asked, turning. They'd forgotten her.

Her face was flushed crimson. "You okay?" the White Maid asked.

"I'm fine," she snapped. "You two are the ones with your breasts out."

"They're not seen," the White Maid stammered. "He's still asleep."

"Next is mine," the Black Maid declared firmly.

The shaft had softened, but she knew the books' tricks—stroking, licking. "Semen came after the breasts," she noted.

"Wasn't it 'sperma'?" the White Maid said.

"Same thing," the Gold Maid clarified.

They licked tentatively, but the Black Maid dove in, her eager mouth quickly reviving it. She directed them to keep stroking, her hand slipping back under her skirt, removing her panties and tucking them away.

"I'm… putting it in," she said.

"What!?" they gasped.

The books' maids all took their masters inside—where was clear. "It's too big!" the White Maid protested.

"It'll tear you!" the Gold Maid added.

"I've taken two fingers," the Black Maid said, blushing. "This chance won't come again. And… I'm really wet."

They exchanged looks as the man groaned in his sleep. "Yes… Pes… thank you… potion's in the jacket's outer pocket…"

They missed the loosened ropes, his wet middle finger, the scarf merely draped over his eyes.

"Is that okay?" the White Maid asked.

"It's fine," the Black Maid said. "Pestonya will be pleased we used him well."

She pulled a potion from his enchanted jacket, a pink ribbon falling unnoticed. Straddling him, she lowered herself, her skirt hiding their connection. "I can't see," she said. "Guide it."

Lifting her skirt, they saw the shaft against her buttocks. "A bit back… there," the Gold Maid said.

"Here?" the Black Maid asked.

"Your… entrance," the White Maid said, adjusting the shaft.

The skirt fell, hiding them again. She lowered further, wincing. "It's in," she gasped, hands on his abdomen, breathing through the pain.

"Potion?" the White Maid offered.

"Yeah… it's bleeding," she said, drinking the high-grade potion meant for near-death recovery. Her face brightened, pain gone. "I can feel it inside."

"What's it like?" the Gold Maid asked.

"Good yet?" the White Maid added.

"Not yet… but I'm not alone," she said, smiling at him.

"Alone? We're here!" the Gold Maid said.

"Ainz-sama stayed too!" the White Maid added.

"No, I mean… something missing is filled," she said, moving her hips. "Like we've become one."

Her gentle expression turned strained, then pleasured. The bed creaked rhythmically, her breasts swaying under her dress, moans singing out. "No… feels good… it's in me… I feel it!"

She leaned forward, hands on his chest, hips relentless. The potion's over-healing fueled her. The others watched, entranced by her lustful display.

"Don't look!" she cried.

"Sorry, I was curious," the Gold Maid said.

"No shame," the White Maid said. "The books' maids loved being watched."

"I'm different!" she gasped, hips unstoppable, driven by pleasure or instinct.

They lifted her skirt, revealing her flawless buttocks and the shaft moving in and out, slick with fluids and faint blood. Her moans filled the room, the sight of their union mesmerizing. They touched themselves, breasts brushing, lost in the moment.

"Please… finish! Inside me!" she begged, sensing her climax. The heat within surged, overwhelming. "I'm… coming!"

Her hips convulsed, and as they lifted her, the shaft slipped out, revealing a gaping entrance leaking white fluid.

They cleaned up meticulously, dressing neatly. Duty called—work outweighed indulgence. "Forgot my handkerchief," the Black Maid said. "Go ahead."

Alone, she leaned to the man's ear. "I let you touch me and gave you sex, so don't tell anyone."

He opened one eye. "I was asleep the whole time."

"Good. Stay here," she said. "Report to Pestonya later."

"Understood."

She kissed his cheek, whispered her name, and left, cheeks flushed but unseen, humming happily.

He yawned, stretched, and drifted back to sleep.

Hours later, he woke refreshed, as if after a week's meditation. The clock showed early afternoon—no day had passed. Nazarick's enchanted bed ensured deep sleep. He planned his next moves: Albedo's orders meant E-Rantel in a week, so he'd leave in four days, giving him three to delve into Nazarick's ancient library, permitted by Ainz. He smirked, chanting Ainz's praises in his head, recalling Albedo's ninth hymn.

His stomach growled—he hadn't eaten since last night's meal before Albedo's chambers. First, he'd report to Pestonya.

"…Help me," a voice said.

A young, feminine voice, close by. He slid off the bed, finding a girl on the floor before a large mirror. Her red-gold hair reached her waist, her delicate face like art, a metallic eyepatch over her left eye. Her maid outfit differed from the others—likely a Pleiades sister, Solution's kin.

A camouflage scarf lay beside her, replaced by a white lace ribbon with intricate embroidery around her neck.

"What's wrong?" he asked, startled.

"Too loud," she muttered, eyeing him.