The atmosphere in the dairy's private chamber was thick with the acrid scent of sweat, spilled seed, and the sharp, metallic tang of an impending domestic explosion. Lyra, still catching her breath while her body hummed with the aftershocks of a pleasure she hadn't felt in decades, felt the cold splash of reality as her daughter's voice cut through the room. The transition from a submissive, moaning creature to a defensive mother was instantaneous and jarring.
"What are you saying..?" Lyra's voice was hurried, tripping over itself as she scrambled to pull a piece of fabric over her naked, glowing skin. Her eyes darted toward the door, then back to Diana, her expression shifting into one of practiced, frantic innocence. "You are talking like I'm the one who did this? I didn't do anything; it was him! It was him who forcefully mated with me!"
