Chapter 22: My Reasons

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NOTE: This is rose. While Japan-Parpaldia talks continue in the background, we will no longer be covering them, so we will conclude the meeting arc between them with an air of uncertainty. For this chapter and Chapter 23, we will be focusing on an entirely different but still Parpaldia-related topic. However, we will have to bring out the trigger warnings.

WARNING: Self-harm, mutilation, sexual depictions, upsetting themes.

Discord: discord.gg/p7NJppEjza

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As celebrations wrap up in the imperial capital Esthirant on the last day of Proclamation Day, the citizens of the empire return to their abode for the night. The imperial family was no stranger. Long after the sun had set and establishments vacated, certain machinations in the empire continued to run its course. One of them was not a machine–rather a woman–whose own designs for Parpaldia had taken an exciting turn. The following story will be told in her perspective.

Cent. Calendar 20/07/1639, Imperial Palace, Esthirant, Parpaldia, 21:30

The moon's smile was unfair. High up in the heavens far outside the folly reach and desires of humankind, its bright, unhindered smile relentlessly shined down on us inferiors. We continue to deceive each other, upend what's been built, and destroy everything that serves to build us up. As such, for as long as mankind continues to practice and embrace its inferiority, it will remain inferior, and the moon will also continue to mock us with its perpetual grin. It will always mock us, for we will always be nothing more than glorified apes with glorified sticks mired in glorified squabbles.

On the night when the moon smiled down on me–this ordinary, fleeting Sivsly night–I am once more subject to the auspices of man's petty desires. Beaten, humiliated, and made inferior. In a world of men and monsters, my kind will always be subject to the sidelines, belittled and crushed under the perceived supremacy of one over the other.

I laid bare on the divine comforts of a well-made mattress, carrying with me the shame and discomfort I felt from the cold air tickling every pore on my exposed body. The blankets on which I lay were the only fabrics that I felt on my sensitive skin. Leather binds and the itchy fibers of rope keep an authoritarian grip over the freedom with which I could move my limbs; every tuck from my resistive spirit met with a painful reprimand from the coarseness of the binds. Laid bare like a dead pig for the slaughter and humiliated beyond my humanity, it felt as if I was even more reduced, for I couldn't even utter words, just simple sounds.

"Ngh..."

"Ahh..."

Just as I watched the moon look at me with its mocking smile from beyond the glass window, my eyes turned towards the beast of a man before me, his lording figure towering in between my legs. His large, manly hands, which reeked of sweat and lust, were left to their own devices as they were made to roam the sprawling hills and valleys of my hips and chest. His playful forelimbs danced around my nipples, hardened and stimulated beyond my control, before they made their move, squeezing them so hard that they hurt me more than they gave me bliss. Tears either of joy or pain–I don't really care anymore–blurred my perspective of the man, but for some reason, it felt as if his eyes had turned my way.

Finally, I thought as my heart skipped a beat. I felt a surge of gratification that gripped my chest more than when his manhood would violently stabbed against my womb. Did he finally notice me–

Slap!

He took his big, manly hands away from my breasts and had them descend upon my left cheek. On top of the stinging pain on the skin, the slap was so forceful that it almost felt like my jaw was going to be dislocated.

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