No Need to Hold Back
"You don't have to hold back," they say. "It's etiquette toward the person giving the massage."
"Through the moans coming from the saintess's mouth, the masseuse can think, Ah, I'm doing a good job—and feel more at ease, fully immersed in the task."
Those words from the priest's mouth were utter nonsense from the saintess's perspective. But the logic felt so damn plausible that, even setting aside whether the sensations she was feeling were truly from fatigue, she couldn't shake the sense that she shouldn't suppress her moans.
Still, as the saintess, she couldn't let such indecent sounds escape. So she just let out a small sigh and buried her face deep in the pillow.
His hands returned to her lower back, relentlessly digging into the dip just above her ass. They traced circles with pressure, pressing firmly. It was clearly meant to loosen muscles, but to her, it felt less like unknotting tension and more like caressing, probing, and awakening some hidden erogenous zone.
"Hah... Ungh...! Ah, ahn...!"
In the end, the moans Seriel had been holding back burst from her lips. She no longer had time to worry about maintaining her saintess's dignity. Thanks to the priest's words, she could rationalize it: these were just natural reactions to the massage.
Though the sounds were far too sweetly lascivious for mere massage moans, she was too lost in it to notice.
The priest's hands were persistent. They slid along the boundary where her ass cheeks began, gliding over the thin saintess robes. Not touching her ass directly, but circling so close it drove her mad with longing.
Unconsciously, Seriel lifted her hips slightly, then lowered them, repeating the motion. An instinctive female gesture begging for deeper, more blatant touch.
"P-Priest...! Hngh...! Th-There... it's... ah, so... refreshing... hnngh...!"
The lewd hymn spilling out with her claim of "refreshing" didn't match at all. The saintess now seemed to have forgotten her shame, letting moans flow freely. Or perhaps her embarrassment had peaked, turning into bold recklessness.
She twisted her waist and twitched her ass in response to every touch. Beneath the saintess robes, her white lace panties were already soaked from the juices seeping from her pussy, the damp sensation spreading.
Judging that she'd sunk deep enough into pleasure, Han Jin-seong moved to the next phase.
"Saintess. This area's loosened up nicely now. Shall I move on to the next spot that's prone to fatigue... and knead your ass? Oh, purely as part of the massage, of course. No misunderstandings. Everyone gets their ass done during a massage."
His voice, like poison soaked in cotton, flowed softly into her eardrums, gradually numbing her reason.
Ass—the crude, obscene ring of that word. The moment it came from the priest's mouth wrapped in the polite packaging of "part of the massage," the saintess couldn't doubt it.
It made sense. Of course everyone got their ass massaged during one.
Even as his fingers teasingly brushed the exquisitely sensitive boundary right next to her ass crack, urging her on.
"Eek...♥!"
Seriel swallowed a near-scream of a moan, face buried in the pillow. Her nerves stood on end. She felt another hot gush♥ from her already soaked lower half.
The electric thrill transmitted through just that single layer of thin saintess cloth was maddeningly good.
'Is a massage... supposed to feel... this good...?'
Seriel couldn't refuse the priest's suggestion. This was all just to relieve fatigue, after all. The moans were embarrassing but inevitable during a massage. And getting your ass kneaded? Everyone did that.
"Hoo... haa..."
The saintess fell silent for a moment, breathing raggedly. Not a refusal, not a rejecting signal—just acquiescent quiet.
Finally, with a trembling voice squeezed out, she spoke, head too ashamed to lift, mumbling into the pillow.
"...M-Misunderstanding? Isn't this... a sacred... relief effort... you're performing... for me, Priest...?"
Sacred relief effort. Seriel shuddered at how slutty those words sounded coming from her own mouth. How could kneading her ass be a sacred relief effort?
But the faint hypnosis smothered any such doubts.
"...If it... truly helps... relieve fatigue... then... I'm fine with it... I'll leave everything... to you, Priest..."
The saintess bit her lower lip for a split second. Something felt off. Allowing a man to touch her body for a massage, the weirdly refreshing pleasure spreading with every knead of her back, her easy agreement to ass kneading. Suddenly, everything felt alien.
Like her body wasn't her own.
But—"Yes, Saintess. As I said again, it's purely to relieve bodily fatigue... so no need to think of it strangely. During a massage, touching the ass or even breasts is all just an extension of it. Understood?"
"...Yes."
Seriel felt a persistent daze from the priest's voice but chalked it up to the massage easing her fatigue.
"Haa..."
She exhaled slowly, signaling she was ready—that it was okay for the priest to touch her intimate, shameful parts.
Slowly... almost unconsciously, she lifted her ass slightly. An instinctive motion to more easily, more deeply accept his touch.
Swish—squish—♥
"Haaangh...♥!"
Finally. The hands she'd been waiting for landed on her firm, plump ass cheeks.
The moment both hands enveloped the soft, abundant flesh, Seriel could only gulp.
The heat of his palms gripping her bare ass—unshielded by cloth—and their firm grip delivered ecstasy and humiliation in equal measure.
The priest's touch was surprisingly delicate. Gentle, so she wouldn't startle, purely like a massage. Yet it savored and indulged the ass flesh itself, even as it seemed to loosen knots—an obscene motion.
Once round and full, once deep. Kneading the saintess's ripe, juicy ass like overripe fruit, reveling in its pillowy softness.
"How's that, Saintess? Does it feel refreshing when I press like this?"
To Han Jin-seong's whispering question, Seriel clamped her mouth shut as if holding back... then burst out, unable to contain it.
"Hnngh...♥ Re-Refreshing... ahn♥ P-Priesst...♥ So, so... good... ahn♥!"
Her voice, already melted by pleasure, couldn't even pronounce "refreshing" properly. And "good"? Not refreshing, but good.
Her words bypassed her brain's filter, spilling pure truth.
Shame burned her; she mashed her face harder into the pillow. But in contrast, her ass wiggled lewdly, eager for more of his touch, craving to feel it better.
Every sensation of her ass flesh kneaded, squished, and swelling back in his grip felt too damn good. Warmth bloomed from her lower belly, surging up to seep into her head.
"Th-There... ungh...♥ A bit more... harder... hnngh...♥ Press harder...! The fatigue... it's all bunched up there... haa...♥!"
Seriel was now openly demanding it. Beneath her saintess shell, the instincts of a bitch in heat stirred.
Fatigue bunched up? A blatant lie. It was lust piled high.
But that was fine. It was all just a massage. The pleasure, the slutty moans, the ass kneading— all okay because it was a massage.
With every touch, she felt the sopping wetness of her panties between her ass cheeks. Now she craved more than this massage—for his hands to delve into that crack, to caress the forbidden zone she shouldn't want touched.
But... 'That's not... a massage...'
Seriel felt a pang of regret at the thought, then flushed crimson, startling herself.
'What depraved fantasy was that?!' Like a pubescent girl ashamed of her dirty thoughts.
From between the legs of the saintess—propped up slightly off the sofa, ass raised—Han Jin-seong's hand approached.
The instant Seriel sensed something off and tried to call the priest—
Snap!
A sharp, precise impact utterly unlike the gentle kneading. Past the ass crack, over her soaked panties, targeting the most sensitive spot protruding lewdly: her clit.
A playful, sadistic flick dead-on.
That short, intense stimulus blanked her mind white.
"Kyaaaah—ngh♥♥!!"
Pssshhh—
From her mouth erupted an unmistakably feminine, lewd cry no longer deniable.
Saintess dignity, piety—all flew away. Seriel convulsed on the sofa from the sudden clit orgasm, body shuddering. Her ass lifted against her will.
A vulgar, pathetic sight like a bitch electrocuted.
Her legs quivered uncontrollably; she couldn't clamp them shut even if she tried. Gush—♥ Like the last dam of reason breaking, hot pussy juice squirted out like a fountain, soaking the saintess robes and sofa sheets.
Her mind burned pure white. Pleasure, shame, bewilderment swirled, making her vision spin.
'Wh-What... Priest... how did you... touch me there...'
Collapsing limply onto the sofa, Seriel could barely breathe.
This was worlds apart from the back and ass massage moments ago. No excusing it as massage—this was blatant sexual harassment.
Yet toward the priest who'd crossed that line, Seriel felt not just shock but a nagging sense that maybe she'd made a mistake.
Why would a priest suddenly flick a woman's— a saintess's—most sensitive spot during a massage, unless provoked?
"P-Priest...! Wh-What... was th-that... haa, hng...♥!"
Her protesting voice broke weakly, dissolving into aroused moans.
Seriel covered her face with both hands. She didn't want anyone seeing her slutty, ruined expression.
The flicked clit now throbbed hypersensitive, every brush of fabric turning to pleasure, pulsing with lewd sensation on its own.
Then, into her ears flowed Han Jin-seong's calm, brazen voice, as if asking what's the problem?
"Ah, this is called a clit flick massage."