The Baptism (3)
The first insertion I had ever experienced in my life. The very first emotion that surged through me was pain. A razor-sharp agony, like needles stabbing repeatedly into my flesh, made my teeth clench on their own. “Ngh… haaup.”
The pain did not stop there. It spread, swelling wider and deeper with every heartbeat. No matter how much natural lubrication my body produced, this was a virgin’s form. The passage was inherently narrow, making it nearly impossible to accept something of that size. The sensation of a massive spire forcibly prying me open and shoving inward felt like a blade stabbing wildly through my organs. Even breathing became a struggle. It hurt too much—far too much. I curled my toes and endured.
“Haagh… ngh.” I panted like a beast, sucking in air and forcing it out again. If only I could have had a moment to rest. But Cardinal Mavlof showed no consideration for my limits. He had no reason to. Grind. Crunch. His enormous cock continued its relentless advance. The invasive fullness of it forcing its way inside made my hips twist involuntarily. In response, a disgusting, pathetic groan slipped from the Cardinal’s mouth.
“Hngh. Such incredible tightness.”
Tightness? From me? Fucking hell! I’m a man! A man!
“You… son of a… b-bitch—!” I wanted to snap back, but my body allowed no such luxury. Even now, the cock burrowing deep into my core kept fracturing my thoughts. At last his pubic bone pressed flush against my perineum. He had driven himself to the hilt.
“Agh… ugh… ngh!” My mouth opened and closed uselessly while my limbs shook violently. Cold sweat poured down like rain. The earlier torment now seemed almost merciful—there had been at least a trace of sexual pleasure then. But not anymore. There was only pain. Nothing but pain.
I clenched my fist so hard my nails bit into my palm and drew blood. This was torture. It wasn’t sex; it was nothing more than sadistic abuse. How much resistance could a modern person possibly have against something like this?
With my defiance beginning to crumble, I begged. “It hurts… Please, stop.”
Even at the sound of my tear-choked voice, Cardinal Mavlof remained unmoved. “You must endure, Your Grace. This is the baptism.”
Endure. Persevere. His resolute, almost pious reply left me speechless. Why? Why the hell should I?
A thick curse was rising in my throat when—“Heuk!”
A churning sensation like my guts were being rearranged throbbed through my lower belly. Mavlof had begun to move his hips, starting a steady, thrusting rhythm.
Splash. Splash. Every wet sound brought fresh waves of shame and agony. The stress was so intense it felt as if my brain might boil inside my skull.
“You endure far better than your appearance suggests, as expected of the next Saintess. The other girls could do nothing but scream.”
Comparing me to the other nuns while raping me? I could not contain my horror at the appalling line. Was this bastard truly a man of the cloth?
“It would have been better if you had cried more.”
I didn’t ask about your fucking fetishes, you piece of shit. Who would give you the reaction you wanted? I would remain as unresponsive as stone. That was the only meager resistance left to me.
I bore his piston-like thrusts in silence, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how wretched I felt. I would not cry. After some time, the Cardinal’s interest clearly began to wane.
“Hmm. This is growing rather dull…”
He paused mid-thrust and muttered something under his breath. A strange foreboding prickled across my skin. Then he moved again.
“Ahk—!”
A scorching pleasure like liquid fire flared through my lower abdomen. Why?
From that moment on, every thrust tore a ragged gasp from my throat. It was impossible. “Haang… haaung.”
No. Those sounds could not be coming from me.
“Heuk… hiik… ahng, ahng!”
Hot, sweet breaths spilled out as a heavy heat rose from my groin all the way to my belly. It was painful—yet somehow, maddeningly electric. And of course, Cardinal Mavlof delighted in the change.
“Yes, that’s it. How wonderful it is when you cry out like that.”
Slap. He released my waist and struck my buttocks hard. Spanking. The sharp sound made me duck my head lower, ashamed of the way my body was secretly responding even through the pain.
He slapped my ass several more times before his hands wandered to my breasts. The way he kneaded them made my skin crawl with revulsion, as though cockroaches were swarming across my flesh. Violation. This was absolute, merciless violation.
Before long I could no longer offer even token resistance. I began to accept the pleasure.
“Don’t… touch— haaung.”
The sweet, syrupy moan that left me was unrecognizable as my own. I could not believe what was happening. I was actually feeling pleasure from being penetrated?
“You tell me not to touch, yet your body is clearly enjoying itself, isn’t it?”
No! I tried to deny it, but the pleasure gnawed away at my mind, bit by bit. For the first time, I understood how the original protagonist’s spirit had been broken. The realization that I could even comprehend such a thing filled me with miserable self-loathing.
I bit my lip until it bled and trembled. “Ugh— Saintess! You’re gripping me even tighter than before!”
Give a live fucking broadcast, why don’t you, you bastard.
He gradually increased his pace. It was almost impressive how that obese body could still thrust with such force. “Hauk… heuk. Huk… hiik.”
I was barely breathing. The weight of Mavlof’s massive frame behind every thrust was more than a frail girl’s body could easily withstand. Each plunge flattened my ass and stretched my entrance wide. The skin of my groin burned red from constant friction.
He claimed me faster, harder. “Huuuugh… haaung.”
I could no longer hold back my moans. The pain was steadily twisting into pleasure. That truth filled me with utter despair.
Why? Why was my body enjoying this? Even if he had cast some kind of arousal magic, shouldn’t I be able to resist? To feel sexual excitement while in this much pain and humiliation—the contradiction tore my heart to shreds.
Whether he sensed my inner turmoil or not, Mavlof gripped my thighs and drove even deeper. “Hauk!”
Spurt. His cock erupted, pumping thick semen as though it could no longer hold back. I had reached my limit as well. My body convulsed violently, as if struck by lightning. An overwhelming climax—far greater than anything I had known as a man—crashed over me in waves.
“Haaat… haaaa… ahk!”
For a moment I forgot how to breathe entirely. My toes curled tight and my upper body twisted and shuddered. The orgasm was thick, dense, and devastatingly sweet.
Having finished, the Cardinal withdrew. A vulgar, wet sound accompanied the removal of that stake-like cock, and my body twitched helplessly. “Heughk…”
My hips felt dislocated; the raised position of my ass refused to lower. Something warm trickled from my groin. It had to be the mixture of that pig’s cum and the virgin blood from my torn hymen.
“Heuugh… ughk.”
I pressed my cheek to the cold floor, panting hotly. Since he had pulled out, was it finally over? The thought brought a fragile thread of relief.
“Lick it clean, next Saintess.”
At some point Mavlof had moved in front of me and thrust his soiled member toward my face. It was smeared with blood, love juices, and semen. When I laboriously lifted my head, I saw him wearing a sleazy, satisfied smile.
Lick it? Fine. But I’ve always been the type to bite candy rather than lick it.
A venomous resolve bloomed in my chest. I would teach him exactly what it felt like to have his cock torn off.
The moment he pushed it against my lips, I bit down with every ounce of strength I possessed. Crunch. Grind.
“Guh— guhuk! You feral bitch!”
Slap. The blow landed hard across my face, but I refused to let go. In the end, I severed his member completely. Even in this weak girl’s body, my jaw strength had been sufficient.
I spat at the bloody ruin of his groin and sneered. “Ptooey. That proud dick of yours won’t be useful anymore, will it? Good.”
Does it hurt? Want to roll around on the ground in agony?
Contrary to my expectations, Mavlof’s expression barely changed. In a low, composed voice he addressed the priest standing behind me.
“The baptism ceremony is concluded, yet it appears her qualifications as Saintess are somewhat… lacking. Priest Ronin.”
To speak so calmly after having his cock bitten off—was that even human? An eerie fear crawled up my spine at the man’s unnatural composure.
Priest Ronin bowed politely. “I shall correct her behavior.”
“Yes. See that no such unfortunate incident occurs again.”
Mavlof glanced down at his ruined groin and began to chant. It must have been the incantation for a holy spell. A brilliant light flared, and the organ I had severed regrew as though it had never been damaged.
“…Ah.”
I cursed my own stupidity. Showing open hostility had been a mistake. I should have pretended to submit and waited for a better chance. The regret came too late. The trauma of the rape must have shattered my ability to think clearly.
His cold, indifferent gaze settled on me once more.
“First, I believe punishment is in order for the next Saintess who acted so willfully.”
Punishment. My heart plummeted.
“Fortunately, we have plenty of suitable disciplinary tools nearby.”
He gestured lazily at the men surrounding us, his voice dripping with amusement.
“Next Saintess—no. Since the baptism is now complete, I shall address you properly as Saintess. I have one question for you.”
“…What is it?”
“Do you enjoy being gang-raped?”
What kind of insane bastard enjoyed that? When I shook my head, he gave a greasy, unpleasant smile.
“What a shame.”
He spoke slowly, savoring each word.
“It is, after all, the punishment our Saintess must receive.”
…This wasn’t the end?
The men around us gathered in twos and threes. They seized my arms and legs. Some even began to lick me. Gooseflesh rippled across my skin.
“Ah… ah…”
“Then I hope you have a most enjoyable evening, Saintess.”
I fell into despair.