Training the Saintess (1)
I get the hardest boner watching heroines fall from grace. Anyone can see she's pure. Noble. But when that face of righteous justice clouds over with a wicked smile, I can't hold back the erection. The ecstasy hits when she submits to the enemy she hated, her nemesis, her rival—groveling at his feet. The tags I search on Hitomi are Mind Control, Corruption, Moral Degeneration, Netorare, Slave… And for a pervert like me, opportunity knocked.
One day, an unfamiliar app appeared on my phone. Bad Ending Collector.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I tapped it open. A welcome message popped up.
Welcome to the Bad Ending Collector.
You can possess villains in creative works and alter the story's flow.
Collect bad endings and strengthen your abilities!
Simple explanation. Below it, a note:
* Note: If you fail to collect a bad ending, you cannot retry.
In other words, one shot per chance. [Proceed?] Two buttons: [Yes] / [No].
Old wisdom says: If a suspicious app installs on your phone, delete it immediately. A timeless adage from the Joseon era. Tapping [Yes] probably means getting bled dry by microtransactions. But I smashed it anyway.
A chibi succubus character popped up, spun around the screen, winked, and floated a speech bubble.
I'm Succumea, your guide.
Tap here to select a creative work for your Bad Ending Challenge.
(She points to the [+] button.)
* Note: Once started, you can't return until completion.
I hit the [+]. A list scrolled down. Midway, a familiar title: Stigmata's Children.
Tap. Succumea asked:
[Proceed to connect?]
[Yes] / [No]
I chose [Yes]. Succumea smiled and spoke aloud, not in a bubble.
"Then please, grant the world a perfect bad ending."
Her sultry voice wrapped around me. Vision drowned in light.
I awoke on a massive bed in a grand room. Opulent furniture screamed wealth. Did I really enter a story? Unbelieving, I scanned around and spotted a hand mirror on the table. It reflected a refined blond white youth.
"This is me? Ugh…!"
My head throbbed. Info flooded in violently, embedding in my brain. Here, my name was Michael. Michael Bloodichevka.
"Fucking hell…"
This was real. I rose, approached the window, and drew back the curtains. Sunlight poured in with a view: lush trees, winding paths, ending at a colossal structure. Pointed cross atop a domed roof, broad main hall like a giant's shoulders. A famed Western cathedral lookalike—the main stage of Stigmata's Children: St. Joanna Monastery Academy.
Michael Bloodichevka: one of the villains. Twelfth Apostle, demon with Bloodsucking Authority. Basically a vampire. Some "pureblood" lore let him handle sunlight and move by day. Disguised as an apprentice priest, he infiltrated the academy. When the protagonist grew threatening, he revealed himself and attacked. His ace: bloodsucking hypnosis for total domination. He planned to brainwash the main heroine, have her lure and kill the protagonist. But he failed, got counter-killed gruesomely.
"So… my goal is to make Michael's plan succeed."
I muttered while changing. Maids in skimpy outfits attended me—priestesses he'd enslaved with his power. "Roommates" in name, puppets in truth, obeying blindly. They stripped my pajamas and dressed me in uniform without a word.
"These sluts are hot…"
I eyed the dead-eyed beauties. All busty stunners in thin, revealing maid outfits. I groped one girl's tit; she flushed but showed no disgust. School time sucked—I'd have blown a load otherwise. Tempted to skip and fuck wildly, but one chance only. No recklessness.
"Too bad… gotta go."
I rolled her nipple teasingly as I grumbled.
Anna Rashov. Reincarnation of Saintess Joanna, main heroine of Stigmata's Children. Crimson hair like roses, heterochromatic eyes, intellectual beauty. Sharp-minded beauty. Top student, saintess magic prodigy. Class rep multiple times. She tried mentoring the transfer-in protagonist, but they clashed. Evolved to love-hate, then lovers by ending. Post-awakening, she's protagonist-level strong—but Michael's arc is way earlier. Crushing her now? Easy.
I'd follow the script to brainwash her: send enslaved priestess to lure her isolated, ambush and suck before she reacts.
"Ah…!"
She jolted as fangs pierced her nape from behind, whipping around to face me trembling.
"What are you… Ah…"
Momentarily. As sucking began, self faded from her eyes, darkening like the others.
Enough. I pulled away. "Tch, metallic…"
Scraped my fangs with front teeth. Anna stood blankly, staring into void. Michael jumps to next phase—but not me. Fuck a girl then skip? Lame.
I ordered a brainwashed girl to stand watch, turned to Anna.
"Suck."
I dropped pants, revealing my throbbing cock—hard since the bite. She knelt, mouth agape, swallowed it whole. Sucked mechanically: lips gliding, slurping like candy. Her innocence showed—blushing at protagonist's light touches in canon.
"Enough. On all fours, ass up."
I shoved her off. She prone on dirt, hips high toward me. Skirt flipped, plain white panties exposed. I approached, stroked her mound. Repeatedly—panties dampened, fingers slick.
Ready. Yanked panties down. Sticky thread stretched from crotch to fabric, snapped. Glistening pussy revealed.
Slid hand between thighs, spread lips, teased hidden clit.
"Ah…♥"
She flushed, hot sigh escaping. Dazed face like sweet dream. Love juices trickled down thighs. Time.
Aimed at sopping slit, thrust deep.
"Ugh… Ack…"
Her face twisted in pain. Tight as hell—not from lack of wetness. Blood trickled from parted folds. Virgin blood.
Anna Rashov was no virgin. Saintess Joanna's reincarnation lost purity early this life. That's the point. Deflowered heroine loses value. Stolen mid-story by villain? Irredeemable fall—perfect bad end.
"Command: Feel all sensations as pleasure. Until I say stop."
Her pained look tugged me—I'd show mercy. Suggestion sank in; expression shifted wildly. Bewildered by new ecstasy, shy smile mixed delight and confusion. Hips lewdly bucked at my pistoning cock, drooling nectar.
Main heroine quality. Top trophy of any world. Only gripe: a bit loose inside. But visuals, tightness—prime.
"Ah… Aah…♥"
Drool trailed from gaping lips with sweet moans. I whispered in her engrossed ear.
"Anna. You're no virgin anymore."
Her lax smile drooped, face hardening. Brainwashing was surface-level—breakable anytime. Michael's downfall. I'd exploit it.
"But no worries. I took it—the man you love most. Holding you. Giving this pleasure. You love him more than anyone. Whoever was before? Erased. Only him now."
Suggestions poured as I whispered. She resisted at first, grimacing. But deep thrusts grinding walls eroded her will.
Finally.
"Hrngut…♥"
Squirt. Pussy clenched, shoulders and hips shuddering, eyes rolled back. Climax. My cue—I flooded her depths.
Her face crumpled further into utter depravity. No trace of any heroine.
"Master Michael…♥"
The brainwashed saintess's reincarnation trembled, murmuring lewdly.