The Sleeping Flower (2)
That night, after Dain had departed,
the mayor of the Hero's Village found sleep impossible.
‘Sigh… What if Zarco really does come attacking?’
The mayor was a reasonably competent man.
For over thirty years he had managed the village without any major incidents, and he genuinely cared for the place.
As mayor, he could not abandon the village, yet the thought of Zarco—who had suddenly turned into a demon—launching an assault kept circling in his mind.
Consumed by worry, he kicked off his blankets, rose from bed, and decided to take a night walk.
The Hero’s Village, now stripped of its women, felt hollow.
The population had always been small and the proportion of women never particularly high, but now the entire settlement seemed steeped in an unnatural silence.
‘Sigh… My knees ache too. Maybe I should just say I’ll head to the rear lines.’
Step. Step.
As he shuffled slowly around the house, the mayor’s gaze fell upon the chapel behind his home, its silhouette framed beautifully by the moon.
Though his faith was shallow, he entered the building, desperately hoping that prayer might ease his anxiety.
Inside the chapel, the first thing the mayor saw was Ceres, lying peacefully in the center of the cleared pews.
‘The Saintess cursed… Sigh. I hope this doesn’t lead to any bad rumors about me.’
He had been overjoyed when both the Hero and the Saintess appeared during his term, yet he had never wished for an outcome like this.
He too had believed the Hero would be Dain, and he had been thrown into confusion when Zarco was chosen instead.
The greatest blame for the appearance of a fake Hero lay with the kingdom, but all he could think about was how to deflect any criticism that might come his way.
After offering a fervent prayer for the preservation of his reputation, the mayor opened his eyes and approached Ceres, who lay sleeping with serene beauty in the center of the chapel.
‘…A curse of eternal slumber, was it…’
Before departing, Gerta had given him a rough explanation of Ceres’s condition.
It meant she would remain in a constant state of sleep.
As long as the curse persisted, she would neither age nor fall ill, nor would she require food.
She would simply sleep forever, until the curse was lifted.
At first, his feelings had been nothing more than pity for a village child he had watched grow up since birth.
The mayor gently stroked Ceres’s forehead and hair, then, almost unconsciously, brushed his fingers across her cheek—skin so impossibly soft it was hard to believe she was cursed.
The smooth, elastic texture of a woman in her early twenties felt utterly different from his own.
When he placed a finger beneath her nose, he felt the faint warmth of her breath. Then, beyond his own control, his fingertip touched those pink lips.
‘…So soft. So moist…’
It had been over ten years since his wife passed away.
He was already an old man well advanced in years, yet as he touched the defenseless Saintess, his breathing gradually grew ragged.
‘…I wonder if the inside of her lips feels the same.’
The mayor’s wrinkled finger slowly slipped between Ceres’s lips.
Past the plump softness, it traced the saliva pooled inside her mouth, toyed with her tongue, then withdrew—drawing with it a long, glistening strand of drool.
His breathing grew even harsher.
The old man, face slightly flushed, glanced around the empty chapel, then carefully brought the finger that had been inside the Saintess’s mouth to his own lips.
‘…Mmm. Mm…’
It was sweet.
How long had it been since he last tasted a woman’s saliva?
And not just any woman—this belonged to the Saintess, Ceres, who was young enough to be his granddaughter.
Slurp. Slurp.
He sucked obscenely on his own finger, savoring the taste, then looked down at Ceres once more.
Inside the old man’s heart, a lust for the female body—something he had believed long dead—had taken root once again.
“…Haa… Haa…”
A wheezing sound escaped his nose and mouth.
The mayor inched closer to the Saintess’s lips, the same lips his finger had just invaded, and covered them with his own wrinkled mouth.
“Mmm… Nn…”
Ceres’s lips, tongue, teeth.
He licked, sucked, and tasted every place his tongue could reach.
Grasping the sleeping Saintess’s chin, he pried her mouth open and poured his own saliva inside.
At that moment, every last trace of responsibility as mayor and the faint guilt he felt toward a girl he had watched since childhood vanished completely from his mind.
After staring for a long while at Ceres’s face with her mouth still agape, the mayor quickly moved to the main door and checked outside.
It was quiet.
The kingdom’s officers who had left the Saintess in the village after the unprecedented incident of a fake Hero turning into a demon had only instructed him to prepare for any possible emergency.
The precise guidelines had been left to the mayor himself to decide.
He had evacuated the women, armed the men, and stationed two guards in shifts at the village’s lone watchtower day and night.
At this late hour, the only people awake in the village were himself and the two men in the watchtower.
After confirming the two silhouettes atop the tower through the window, the mayor turned back toward Ceres.
A lewd, twisted smile had formed on his face.
Below Ceres’s lips, now glistening with his saliva, lay enormous breasts that not even her loose clothing could fully conceal.
“…Hoo… Just a little…”
His trembling hand slowly reached for the Saintess’s chest.
Just a touch. A very light touch.
The moment his fingertips brushed against her, Ceres’s breast moved with supple elasticity, and that sensation traveled straight into his fingers.
‘Ooooh, this… this is…’
Breasts of the highest quality, the likes of which he had never held before.
After watching them jiggle with every slight contact, it didn’t take long before he was squeezing them with both hands.
He frantically undid the buttons, pulled down her clothes, and kneaded the pale, bare breasts.
He could not resist the swollen pink areolas.
Sluuurp. Sluuurp.
He sucked on her nipples, rolled them with his tongue, but Ceres’s expression remained peaceful, her breathing calm.
“Ooh… Ceres…”
Though the Saintess never opened her eyes, her nipples stiffened into hard peaks under the old man’s touch.
The organ that had been fueling his lust began, for the first time in years, to regain its function.
Feeling the reaction between his legs, the old man hurriedly pulled down his pants.
The veteran’s member stood rigidly erect.
‘H-How long has it been…?’
With Ceres’s breasts exposed and his own manhood bared, the two of them alone in the chapel, the old man naturally lifted the Saintess’s skirt and began sliding her underwear down past her hips.
When he buried his face between her thighs, the raised skirt fell back over his head.
Sparse platinum pubic hair, the same color as her head, grew there.
Below it, a plump, inviting slit came into view, and the old man’s wrinkled hand reached out.
He spread the outer lips apart, revealing the pink interior.
Slurp. Slurp.
He had tasted many women’s pussies before, but this was the first time he had encountered a flavor so sweet, without the slightest hint of sourness.
He sucked and licked inside the hole, then spread the covered clitoris and swirled his tongue around it.
The Saintess’s firm thighs, which had been framing his face, began to tremble slightly.
The moment he pushed one finger, then two, inside, they were squeezed tightly.
Squish. Squish.
As he stirred the slick passage with his fingers, the Saintess’s love juices soon gushed out in abundance.
When he withdrew his fingers, transparent fluid overflowed from her sex, dripping down.
By now the old man’s cock had swollen fully, as if returned to the prime of his youth.
He pulled himself from between her legs, lifted her clothes back up, and buried even his final remnants of guilt beneath a wave of curiosity.
‘Ceres… How old are you this year? Twenty? Twenty-one?’
The Saintess’s pussy, which he had just sucked and fingered, glistened wetly.
‘…Is she still a virgin, I wonder?’
Her insides had been so tight and elastic, gripping even his tongue and fingers, that it was hard to tell.
But when he thought of the usual Ceres, he wanted to believe she was still pure.
And the mere thought that he might be the one to take the Saintess’s virginity made the old man’s breathing grow heavier and heavier.
‘C-Ceres.’
The mayor spread her pale thighs wide, climbed onto her bed, and pressed his hips firmly against her.
The moment his wrinkled glans slid along the cleft of her slit, Ceres’s waist twitched.
His own hips moved reflexively.
Sluuuuurk—
Whether it was her love juices or his own saliva, her passage clenched tightly around him, yet there was no resistance.
His cock sank all the way to the root.
“Ooh… Oooooh, Ceres.”
The sensation of a woman’s body after so many years made the old man’s bent back tremble violently.
He couldn’t tell if she was truly asleep, but her firm inner walls seemed to move and squeeze around him.
Yet perhaps because his partner in pleasure was the Saintess, the old man’s face soon twisted into a frown.
Inside the Saintess’s vagina there was indeed supreme pleasure, but it did not feel like the first time a man had entered her.
‘She’s… not a virgin?’
There was no sense of breaking through a tight barrier.
‘Who was it? Dain? Was it Dain?’
The Saintess. The greatest beauty in the village. The lovely twenty-year-old Ceres’s virginity.
The fleeting hope that he might claim her first time vanished in an instant.
The old man began to thrust roughly into the Saintess, his member still buried inside her.
“Damn it, Ceres! You’re the Saintess… yet you gave yourself to someone?!”
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
His knees and waist had ached for years, yet the mayor ravaging the Saintess showed no sign of his age.
“You loose slut! Can’t even live up to that pretty face—who did you spread your legs for?! Was it Dain? Or Zarco?!”
He gripped the soft, cushiony waist of the Saintess as the old man’s scrawny thighs slammed repeatedly against her ass and crotch.
Slap! Slap!
“Uuuugh!”
The female body he was embracing for the first time in ages brought an orgasm rushing upon him far too quickly.
When he yanked his twitching cock out of Ceres, thick, yellowish semen poured from between her pink folds.
“Haa… Haa…”
Seeing the Saintess with her breasts exposed, legs spread, and his own cum dripping from her pussy, the lust that had consumed his mind began to subside just a little.
“…Huh? H-Huh?”
The pain in his knees and waist had vanished as if it had never existed.
His once-bent back had straightened, and his field of vision felt higher.
‘No treatment ever worked before…’
The mayor did not know that the Saintess’s Authority had returned to normal.
He did not know that her touch provided not only healing but also purification and a mild reinforcement effect.
Still, the intuition he had honed over decades told him that his body’s sudden recovery had something to do with having just taken the Saintess.
“Hehehe…”
As he kneaded Ceres’s breasts, he felt blood rushing back into the member he had just spent.
“Thank you, Ceres. Thank you so much.”
His body felt a little better, and with it, his heart seemed to grow younger.
Since he had no intention of ending this night after a single ejaculation, the old man once again moved between the Saintess’s spread legs and pressed his wrinkled cock against her mound.
Ceres was still asleep, but her face had grown flushed, and between her slightly parted lips came breaths that were now noticeably heavier.