In addition to the feeling of fullness, there was also a sense of loss. She experienced a loss because she was being penetrated by a man—by her own penis. The heat it emitted was tempered, but it didn't alter the fact that he was inside her or the sensation it produced.

From her watchful eyes, which were fixed on Zain, not allowing any of his actions to go unnoticed, tears began to well up. Thick and abundant, they blurred her vision and trickled down the sides of her face. She had never been this way before; she didn't cry so freely. It was ingrained in her when she was a child.

After the fall of her village and the deaths of her father, mother, and sister, she rose to the position of hero. Despite her personal losses, she endeavored to maintain the image of a composed and confident hero, never displaying emotions unbecoming of a hero.

This all changed when she swapped bodies. She remained the same person in mind, with no noticeable changes. She held a grudge against demons. She still harbored heroic ambitions to slay the Demon Queen and save the world from her clutches. But whenever she tried to suppress her emotions and maintain composure, she failed. She didn't just fail; her emotions were much stronger. When the urge to cry arose, she wept. If the urge to punch Zain's face and chest came (however slight it may be), she acted on it.

Each time this happened, Zain was involved. His presence was not necessary, but when he was there, she became more emotional. 'Why him? Why can't I remain calm in his presence? Or even when I'm alone? It's always about him; it's always him.'

Zain pulled back. When the head of his penis was nearly out and resting against the entrance, he stopped. He waited for a brief moment—less than a second—before reinserting it. He didn't maintain the slow entry he had made the first time; instead, he thrust in with one powerful motion.

It didn't hurt. It slid in as effortlessly as the first time; her walls were moist, which prevented friction. Even if she weren't wet, there wouldn't be any pain. This body of hers was made for this. She would be pleased, regardless of her condition.

He pulled and thrust again. Harder and harder, faster and faster, until it arrived.

Leila came first. It felt different—the sensation, the pleasure, everything. This time was different from any other time she had come before. Her mind became foggy, and her thoughts turned incoherent. Her eyes rolled back, disappearing into her head.

Her back arched upward, and she moaned unabashedly.

Zain followed right after.

‘What happened?' Leila pondered, her thoughts rearranging themselves.

Time had passed, and she noticed. It wasn't much, as she was still having sex, but she wasn't on the bed. Zain was still thrusting into her, and she was standing, bent over. He held onto her arms, using them to angle his thrusts and penetrate deeper.

"Mmm..."

The foreplay he initiated made her moan, just like every other time he had done this to her. Her moans—she couldn't suppress them. They came and escaped as if it were natural. She accepted this—or tried to, considering his approach.

Now, it was unusual. Whether he pulled back or thrust forward, a moan escaped. She also came more frequently. She couldn't remember every time she had climaxed, but judging by the intense pleasure she felt and the soaked bed and floor, it was more than she had ever desired.

‘Did I do this? Am I really…?' Her mind wandered.

Zain thrust, and her mind turned foggy.

…

"You should pay more attention. I'm doing this for you. I want you to feel everything I'm doing.”

The fog clouding her mind lifted as she listened to his command. The intense sensations, dulled by the fog, returned with full force, and there was no escaping them this time. Her mind did not lose focus and would not, not for the next hour.

She glared at Zain, who held her by her ass. She had her arms wrapped around his neck, and her back was pressed against the wooden door of the room. He thrust it in with great force, a wicked grin, unfitting of a hero, etched on his face.

She couldn't afford to falter here. Her mind's defense, the fog, as she called it, could no longer protect her. To persevere and resist the temptation, she couldn't break, no matter what it took. Ignited with determination, she prepared herself for what was to come: intense pleasure she had never experienced before.

And her assumption was correct. Zain did not take it easy on her. Was he trying to break her?

She came again, and she felt every surge. Each time it passed from one nerve to the other, it jolted her mind, as if each nerve it touched was an orgasm of its own, triggering an electric surge. It overwhelmed her, hitting her harder than she had expected.

Her eyes didn't roll back, and her mind wasn't numb. She could form coherent thoughts, and every slight, ever-so-slight sensation that she would have ignored jolted her. Moans, endless and repetitive, echoed again and again.

When her moans ceased, her heart raced. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. She was still in Zain's arms, leaning against his chest for support in her exhausted state. If pressing against him caused his penis to penetrate her more or if she was enveloped in his embrace; she didn’t care. Her eyes were getting harder to keep open. She could sense how much her body urged her to close her eyes and fall asleep—she felt safe with Zain.

Two, three, four, ten. How many times did Zain penetrate her? And how many times did she come? She didn't remember. The sensations from his hammer striking deep inside consumed most of her attention. His penis moving in and out was ingrained in her.

Her thoughts were sluggish. Her thoughts were difficult to organize coherently. But the command did not quit. She could feel the texture of his penis. The shaft featured prominent veins that rubbed against her moist walls. She was keenly aware of its head hitting the entrance to her cervix.

“S…op. "T…ch," she tried to speak, her words slurred to obscurity. Like her mind, words failed to form. Speaking was the only thing she could do, but it didn't work. She couldn't move herself to leave his embrace or to indicate through body language to lessen the intensity. And if she did, would he listen?

To Zain, this was his passion, or at least the one he pursued, and he pressured her into it. He wouldn't stop unless her life was at risk, but it wasn't. Her mind was troubled, but would he prevent her from breaking? She didn't think so. It would be more beneficial to break her. She would be in love with him and even ask to be intimate.

"You… t break.” Zain's words fell on her ears. They were like her own, but she couldn't understand the words. She did make out the words, 'You break.' Was it true? Did he become tired of her resistance and decide to break her? Would she lose her heroic identity and live as a succubus, feeding off the man she loved from now on?

Through her weary eyes, tears dripped onto her swollen, red cheeks, which was different from the last time she cried. This would be the last time she was herself. More tears fell.

“Why… crying? You'll... to yourself."

Zain thrust once more, and this time it would be the final one.

Her eyes lost focus and closed. Her mind, overwhelmed by her body's sensations, stopped and lost consciousness. Her mind, beliefs, and personality were all about to undergo a familiar change that occurred not long ago. However, it didn't happen. Her ideology did not change to accommodate her body and Zain. There were numerous interconnected cracks that formed, but they held together.

"As I said, 'you wouldn't break.' I didn't say you wouldn't be close," he said, striding to the bed. He laid her down, crawled on top, and pinned her to the bed. "Didn't I keep the promise I made? My dear, Leila?"

His question went unanswered for a brief moment.

“You did. You mostly kept her from breaking. But you broke her once. She isn't the same, but," Leila's eyes opened, "you should learn how to respect a woman's purity, shouldn't you?"

"You know how I feel when I see her? She's—"

“She's what? Adorable; your lover; I guess you could say that," she answered. "Now that I'm here, why did you call for me? I'm sure she can satisfy you without me."

There was no resemblance to Leila. She didn't try to resist Zain. She allowed him to pin her and didn't seem upset about it, as if it were natural. Her eyes didn't reflect hatred, but rather love, as they met Zain's. Nor did she turn away in embarrassment. She spoke in a gentle and teasing manner; her lightheartedness was evident.

"I missed you," Zain said. His tone was similar to the way he would speak to Leila. However, it was stronger and more affectionate. "It's—"

“If you missed me so much, don't tell me; show me,” she said, examining his penis and licking her lips. "Oh, how cute! You agreed to use a condom for once. Take it off. It will get in the way."