A Moment of Weakness
The workshop’s back storage shed. A wooden building like this could never be properly soundproofed.
Yet neither the Saintess nor the blacksmith cared in the slightest.
All that mattered was the violent collision of their sexes.
The thick shaft that threatened to tear her narrow passage as it drove ever deeper, and the way she slammed her hips up and down atop those powerful loins.
The pent-up lust they had both been holding back was now exploding out of them in raw, flesh-slapping frenzy.
Nothing else filled their minds.
“Ahng! Ahnng! Grahn! Grahn!”
“Hngh!”
In answer to the Saintess crying out his name, Grahn gripped Ceres’s waist even harder and thrust his hips upward with all his strength, perfectly timed to her rhythm.
The Saintess’s hands wandered greedily over the blacksmith. His shoulders, arms, chest, neck. Her restless fingers even tugged and twisted at the dwarf’s small nipples, but her burning body refused to be satisfied by such things alone.
“Mmm… mm… mmm—”
She seized his bearded face and crushed her lips to his. Their tongues immediately tangled, reflexive and desperate. Ceres’s saliva tasted sweet, and Grahn devoured every inch of her mouth.
Her bouncing ass and thighs slapped endlessly against him. Sweat flew in every direction, yet far from tiring, Grahn only grew stronger, empowered by the Saintess’s mysterious Authority. He crushed her against him with even greater force.
They had already coupled several times before, but today was different.
The way he held her like he might break her, the brutal rhythm of that massive cock plunging in and out of her pussy—it was rougher than anything she had imagined during those long nights yearning for Dain.
“Aaaahng!”
A sharp jolt of pleasure pierced straight through her body. She clung to Grahn’s thick neck, trembling violently as climax overtook her, yet the blacksmith showed no sign of stopping. He gripped her ass and kept driving into her cunt with relentless hunger.
Her body, once pure and sacred, now craved the brutal satisfaction only this half-dwarf could provide. The curse that had begun with the Mayor and Hans had taken root far deeper than she realized.
“Khh… ooooh… ugh, ngh.”
The sounds spilling from her were no longer recognizable as moans. They were obscene, shameless.
Slap! Slap!
Her juices flowed so heavily it sounded like she was wetting herself. The wet, sticky noises filled the shed as the cock sliding through her slippery insides suddenly swelled even larger.
“Hngh! Ceres!”
Without even giving her time to ride out her climax, the thick shaft slammed back and forth with savage speed. Then it erupted.
Thick, white semen gushed into her. Ceres’s womb could not contain it all. The excess spilled out from where their bodies were joined, oozing down in heavy, sticky strands.
Her lower belly felt bloated with the foreign heat, yet the Saintess, lost in ecstasy she had waited so long to feel, only prayed that this overwhelming pleasure would never end.
And Grahn was exactly the kind of man who could fulfill that wish.
When he finally pulled his heavy cock out with a wet schlorp, Ceres’s trembling body collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. She lay limp in his arms, unable to hold herself upright. Thick globs of his cum dripped steadily from her gaping pussy onto the floor.
It had been an enormous load, but ever since her Authority had been restored, the same Reinforcement the Mayor and Hans had once felt now flowed into Grahn as well. Even after such a massive release, the moment he held her soft, pale skin against him, his cock rose again, rock-hard and ready as if he had never come at all.
Half-naked and drenched in sweat, Grahn tore off the rest of his clothes, then roughly stripped Ceres as well. He lifted her into the air as if she weighed nothing.
“…G-Grahn…?”
Without answering, he carried her to a wooden crate in the corner of the shed. A thick hide had been laid over the planks. He set her down carefully, then spread her legs wide and aimed his still-rigid cock at her pussy, which had yet to close after their first round.
“Nngh…”
A faint shaft of light leaked in through the vent, casting deep shadows across Grahn’s massive frame. Even as a mere silhouette, the cock that had just ravaged her looked incomparably thicker and longer than Dain’s.
A shiver ran down her spine.
This was not the first time she had climaxed with him. When that powerful waist had slammed into her and the lust that had built up for days finally exploded, she had nearly cried out to the gods in rapture.
For several days, there had been no progress with Dain. That was why she had impulsively allowed this. But now, after reaching climax once, and without Zarco’s coercion forcing her hand, the thought of accepting him again made something twist painfully inside her chest.
If she didn’t refuse him now, could she still call this a mistake?
Grahn’s swollen, flushed glans pressed against her reddened folds. The moment he pushed inside the entrance that had only just begun to tighten again, Ceres’s thighs twitched violently.
“…Hngh, mmm.”
Despite what her mind wanted, a coquettish moan slipped out. As if in response, the blacksmith’s large hands gripped her pelvis, preparing to drive in deep.
The instant his thick cock filled her slippery, cum-smeared channel, every last trace of doubt about whether this was a mistake vanished.
“Ugh!”
With one powerful thrust, a mixture of her juices and his semen squirted out around his shaft.
“Ahng, hng…!”
“You’re incredible, Ceres.”
“…Y-yes…?”
“Even right after you came, you’re squeezing me so tightly it feels like you’re trying to wring me dry.”
“Nngh—don’t say such weird things—ahng!”
Grahn’s body surged with power. The Saintess’s Authority flowed into him through their union, turning raw lust into overwhelming strength. His hips moved with tireless, savage precision.
Slap! Slap!
Even for Grahn, this was an unmatched, supreme body. The way her slick inner walls clenched and rippled around him made it impossible to stop. Every time he gripped her hips and drove upward, Ceres’s entire body writhed, expressing her pleasure without restraint.
The crushing pressure of her cunt, the folds that seemed to suck him in, the way her heavy breasts bounced—his mouth found her nipple on instinct. The smooth, sweat-slicked skin of her underarms, the soft folds at her sides when she moved. The sense of conquest that came from pleasuring the beautiful Saintess mixed with the terrifying realization that he would never be able to forget this body.
Deep inside the quiet, rarely visited blacksmith’s forge at the outpost, the sounds of violent, flesh-smacking sex continued without pause.
By the time their ragged breathing finally calmed and they clumsily dressed themselves again, the air inside the shed was still thick with heat. Neither of them spoke.
…Still… this was… a mistake. A mistake.
She had given in to impulse. Because her desires had gone unsatisfied. Because of the marks carved into her body. Every circuit in her mind desperately searched for excuses for what she had done. They were shallow, cowardly thoughts.
Yet there was one thing she refused to think about—that her infidelity might be because of Dain’s impotence.
“…G-Grahn.”
“Yeah. Ahem.”
“Um… well…”
When he saw Ceres hesitating, Grahn spoke first.
“…You want to say it was a mistake, don’t you?”
“…”
“You and Dain… you’re both precious friends to me. I have no intention of coming between you two.”
“…Me too, Grahn. You’re… you’re a precious friend to me as well.”
A long sigh escaped the blacksmith. He scratched his head irritably, clearly struggling with what to say next, before finally looking straight at her.
“Damn it. I’ll just be honest.”
“I need someone to relieve me too. Whether that’s you or someone else.”
“Y-yes…”
“So I’ll ask you plainly right here. Would it be all right if I brought another woman?”
“…Ah…”
It was Grahn’s conscience speaking. His true feelings.
He didn’t want to destroy the relationship between the Hero and the Saintess, but at the same time, he didn’t want to lose the chance to hold Ceres again. Still, if she told him no, if she said this was the end, the blacksmith was prepared to stop, no matter how much it pained him.
Seeing him say that he needed someone—anyone—made Ceres feel an overwhelming wave of guilt, as if this were all her fault.
All I need is Dain.
Being Dain’s woman makes me happy.
That was what she had truly believed, even this morning. Even though they hadn’t been able to truly connect at night for so long.
Her feelings for Dain had not changed.
But—
That thick cock of Grahn’s. The pleasure so intense it had made her lose her mind for a moment. The thought of never feeling it again left her throat frozen.
No. Get a hold of yourself. You are… you are…
The blacksmith waited patiently for the Saintess, who seemed unable to give the obvious answer.
It was betrayal. It was greed. Doing this behind Dain’s back, relying on Grahn’s patience. The image of Ceres the woman, stripped of her Saintess title, was exactly that.
“…Hic… sob.”
“C-Ceres?”
Drip. Drip.
When tears began falling from her eyes without warning, a flustered Grahn quickly knelt in front of her and lifted her face.
“I’m sorry, Ceres. I didn’t mean to pressure you.”
“I know… It’s just… it’s me who…”
“You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay.”
His rough, calloused hand gently enveloped hers.
“…What should I do, Grahn? I… I shouldn’t be like this.”
“…”
“I’ve become strange.”
“…I’m sorry. Forget everything I said.”
“No, Grahn.”
She wiped her tears away.
She didn’t want to lose either of them. Not Dain, not Grahn. It was the kind of story that would make anyone laugh in disbelief, but she felt that if it was Grahn—the dwarf—he might understand her.
“I know it’s wrong, but… still…”
“…”
“Just until Dain gets better… until there’s no more problem…”
It was humiliating. She felt ashamed of herself for losing to lust. Yet Grahn listened with complete seriousness.
“…Could you… stay with me like this… just for a while…?”
Feeling her hand tremble in his grasp, the blacksmith said nothing. He simply wrapped his thick arms around her shoulders.
There was no one she could tell. No one who could understand.
The only person who could—the Saintess’s one and only confidant—had a chest that was hard, rough, and yet incredibly warm.
