The Clit Flick Massage Therapy
"Ah, this is called a clit flick massage. It's a special massage technique that requires very advanced skills. As proof, don't you feel your body all languid and good right now?"
That absurd sophistry from the priest's mouth embedded itself with unnatural clarity into Seriel's mind, slackened by the afterglow of her clit orgasm. Advanced technique... special massage... Those plausible words deceived the saintess's reason, seeping into the cracks crumbling under hypnosis. She couldn't deny his question about whether her body felt languid and good. The short but intense pleasure from moments ago had drained all strength from her body, and her mind buzzed blankly, refusing to turn actively.
'This... really the eff... ect... of a massage...?' Seriel barely lifted her face from the pillow.
"Ah...♥"
Her face wet with tears and sweat, her eyes slightly unfocused and dreamy. She kept mulling over the priest's words.
"Clit... flick... massage...?"
The fact that those vulgar, lewd words had come from her own mouth made the saintess's cheeks flush hot again. In the world...! As the church's saintess, to utter such lascivious words...! Seriel's ears turned bright red, but even so, she pressed on, asking him for confirmation as if seeking answers.
"Is there... such a massage...? I've... never heard of it...."
The saintess's voice trembled weakly, as if she could hardly believe it. Like someone who desperately wanted to trust his words, rationalizing this shameful, obscene situation under the name of "massage." Only then could she accept this corrupting pleasure without guilt. The priest's sophistry was the sweetest absolution for her, just beginning to awaken to pleasure.
Seriel slumped back onto the sofa. Her completely limp body craved more massage, exuding thick, sweet female pheromones as it awaited his touch. The clitoris that had taken the flick moments ago still throbbed hotly, as if burned, aching for the next stimulation.
"Yes... my body has no strength at all... and my head... feels blank.... Is this really... the effect of a massage...? Father...?"
The saintess now fully recognized him as an expert proficient in this special massage. His mystical massage was nothing but an advanced technique beyond her ignorant understanding in such matters. With half-lidded eyes, she eagerly awaited his next massage, his next sophistry, to quell the confusion she felt.
To such a Seriel, Han Jin-seong gladly gave her the answer she wanted to hear.
"Of course, Saintess. A real massage is one that makes the recipient feel good. The clit flick massage follows the same principle. Trust me."
A real massage is one that makes the recipient feel good. The words were so simple and clear that they pierced the pleasure-hazed saintess's mind like a ray of light.
'Yes... it felt good...'
So good her mind went hazy... So yes, this was... a massage. It was a massage. Just as the priest said, it was simply a massage. One that felt refreshing... and just a bit good....
Han Jin-seong's absurd nonsense transformed into perfect logic, sweeping away the faint shame and guilt that had held her back. Seriel nodded slowly and deeply to his plea to believe him.
"...Yes, Father. I believe you."
Her voice mumbled into the pillow, but it carried unwavering conviction now. Saintess Seriel had fallen completely. No—she had walked straight into that ridiculous falsehood of her own accord.
To her, the clit flick massage was no longer an obscene act. It was just one type of very special massage that soothed a tired body and made her feel a little good.
After affirming her belief, Seriel took an even bolder action, as if to prove it. Still lying prone, she slightly lifted her hips and swayed her ass side to side.
The thin saintess robe brushed over her panties, stirring lewd sensations again, but she didn't stop. It was like... a cat wagging its tail, waiting for its master's touch.
"...Then, Father... if it's such a good massage... it should be fine to receive it... over and over, right...?"
Seriel glanced up at him sideways. Her dreamy, unfocused eyes seemed innocently questioning, but deep within burned a lewd desire for stronger stimulation and pleasure. Her words were, in fact, a blatant demand to make her feel even better.
"I still don't feel all the fatigue gone.... Especially... that spot from earlier... it keeps throbbing, like it needs more massage...."
Forgetting her shame, Seriel brazenly lied. It throbbed not from fatigue. The saintess was now ready to accept any sophistry he spouted, any way he massaged her.
She buried her face in the pillow again, anxiously awaiting his next special massage.
'This...'
Han Jin-seong blinked at the saintess for a moment. Did she have a high-grade mental defense skill, or was the hypnosis only lightly draped over her borderline state? He'd been gradually advancing with one ridiculous claim after another... but even to him, this was progressing too fast.
'Hmm...'
He guessed that the vulgar, lewd bitch nature dormant deep within the saintess shell was awakening now, triggered by the situation. The hypnosis had merely nudged it along like seasoning.
'As expected, saintesses being erotic is a cliché.'
Good was good, so he decided to play with her to her heart's content as she wished.
"Very well, Saintess. But first... let's blindfold you."
Han Jin-seong used a scrap of cloth he carried to cover and tie her eyes.
"When receiving a massage, you must wear a blindfold. That way, your other senses sharpen, letting you feel it even better."
Blocking sight heightens other senses and maximizes massage effects—a plausible logic that hit her perfectly. Having resolved to believe anything the priest said, she had no reason to refuse.
"Ah...! Yes, Father... I understand. If it makes the massage feel even better... of course...."
The soft cloth's sensation blocking her vision. As darkness fell, her hearing and touch sharpened terrifyingly. The room's faint air currents, the priest's small breaths, the rustle of fabric on the sofa—all came at her overwhelmingly.
"Aah...♥"
Anxiety mixed with fear of the unknown ahead, and beyond that, intense anticipation squeezed her heart. Seriel blinked over the blindfold. In the pitch black where nothing was visible, the saintess became a completely defenseless being, waiting only for the man's touch.
The shame and helplessness of the situation felt ecstatically thrilling, making her lower belly tingle.
Who in the world could do this to her, the saintess? Knead her sensual body freely under the pretext of massage, flick her clitoris, and blindfold her to heighten her powerlessness. With a single command, she could make this priest vanish from her sight forever. The church would drag him in for interrogation and fabricate guilt if needed to dispose of him.
Yet here she was, under a man she could erase from the world with one word, handled so helplessly—it felt...
'The best...♥'
Not being able to see made her even bolder. No need to worry about her ruined expression or how he looked at her. She could focus solely on his touch, his voice, and her body's reactions.
With sight blocked, the sensations from the flicked spot felt even more vivid. The lingering heat, every tiny stimulation from her wet panties clinging—each spread as electric pleasure.
"Eung...♥"
Seriel waited in the darkness, brimming with anticipation for what massage would come. Would the priest's fingers fly toward her clitoris again? Or massage some unexpected spot in an unimaginable way?
"......♥"
In the darkness, she unconsciously lifted her ass a bit higher. Her imagination, amplified by the blindness, was already soaking her lower body again.
The pure saintess Seriel of the church was now fully prepared, blindfolded, to receive the feel-good massage the priest would bestow with her entire body.