Pitiful Salvation
The emptiness right after ejaculation crashed over me.
The dopamine that had exploded just moments ago ebbed away like the receding tide.
In its place came the bitter Sage Time and the cold air of the chapel prickling my skin.
But the nun sprawled beneath me hadn't stopped yet.
"Haa, haa... Brother."
She clutched at my cock, still bowed low, as if begging for it.
Her eyes, dammed up and now burst open, held no reason left.
Without hesitation, she parted her lips and swallowed the shaft whole, traces of my cum still clinging to it.
The warm, wet pressure started up again.
As if trying to forcibly revive my deadened senses.
She pushed me deep into her throat, rolling her tongue around.
Forgetting her station entirely, she buried her face between my thighs, panting. A strange pity stirred in me at the sight.
Think of it as volunteer work.
What she needed now wasn't God's word—it was hot flesh to fill the void inside her.
I didn't resist. Instead, I gently gripped her head, stroking it like petting a pet.
With the zookeeper's mindset toward a starving beast, I willingly offered my body to her.
Blood flowed back in, and my cock stiffened rigidly once more.
The nun roughly stripped off her cumbersome habit.
The black fabric crumpled to the floor.
Only the black veil atop her head remained as proof of what she was.
Her lewd body—never shown to anyone but the Lord—lay bare before my eyes.
Collarbones rising over pale skin.
Firm thighs honed by constant prayer and penance.
She laid me down on the floor and straddled me.
The veil brushed my face, carrying the faint scent of incense.
"Ah... haaah...!"
She grabbed my cock herself and pushed it deep inside her.
A depth the cold tip of the cross could never reach.
She rocked her hips back and forth, up and down, devouring my body.
It was less lovemaking and more desperate masturbation, using me as her tool.
Every time my shaft scraped every corner of her inner walls, her upper body arched like a bow.
The black veil shook, slapping against her pale breasts.
She squeezed her tits hard with both hands, letting out slutty moans.
"Brother, aaah! I feel it. Hotter than the Lord!"
Her walls clenched rhythmically around my cock.
The elasticity born of abstinence shook the threads of my reason once more.
I grabbed her hips to hold her steady and thrust up hard from below.
The sacred prayer room had become a den of depravity, filled only with the bitch's screams and heavy friction sounds.
Climax hit.
I poured everything deep inside her.
Hot spurts gushed out, filling her inner walls.
"Aaaahhng!"
The nun shrieked like a beast, trembling violently.
Fingers that had been kneading her breasts left white marks.
Her eyes rolled back, whites showing.
Post-nut emptiness invaded my brain in an instant.
I lay limp on the floor, staring blankly at the cross on the ceiling.
But she, astride me, didn't stop.
"Ah, ah... aaang! Haa, haa..."
As if trying to shove my softening cock—even spent from the afterglow—deeper inside,
she kept shaking her hips, eyes unfocused, staring into space.
My energy was already drained dry.
But her walls still craved more.
A hunger spanning centuries.
Not something a couple of loads could satisfy.
Her pitiful writhing, tormented by unquenched thirst, squeezing my empty shell.
Even in the depths of Sage Time, an indescribable pity welled up as I watched.
A woman who'd devoted her life to the Lord, now mortgaging her soul to a lowly piece of meat.
I couldn't wipe the tears streaming down her wet cheeks.
I just silently surrendered my body until she filled her own hunger.
That was the last service I could offer her.
[Ending simulation.]
Reality's air seeped into the Neuro Pod.
It still smelled like the chapel.
I lay there for a long while, eyes closed.
[Simultaneous spike in cortisol and oxytocin detected. Sage's hormone pattern shows a highly irregular residual curve compared to previous sessions.]
"Irregular?"
My voice came out hoarse.
It'd been a while since Sage Time lingered this long.
[The emptiness that should follow sacrilege-induced arousal has been elevated by other emotional values. Sage defined the target as pitiable while converting her shame into pleasure energy. You've framed your own depravity as salvation.]
I chuckled at the ceiling.
"Salvation? What the hell did I save, and how?"
[Continuing sex after ejaculation normally causes disgust. But Sage volunteered to satisfy her lust, not your own. This is a manifestation of the savior fantasy.]
"I'd never seen a woman that starved before. Thought she was fucking crazy."
I spat it out like scolding myself.
But I couldn't hide the faint tremor in every word.
The incense scent still lingered at the tip of my nose even after the sim ended.
The nun's trembling clung to my fingertips, scraping at my real skin.
[Simulation direction optimized toward discovering Sage's perversions. Confirmed that the target's misfortune can be substituted as perversion.]
"Haa. Thought it'd feel right after a few tries. What a rabbit hole."
Not full-blown salvation, but I genuinely wanted to help.
Maybe just to confirm my humanity was still alive.
"Time for a shower."
Sage Time was supposed to suck.
So why did my chest burn hot in one corner?
I grabbed a book and stepped out without thinking.
I needed cold air.
The alley in the downtown past midnight was quiet.
In the convenience store corner, drunks squatted, wasted.
When do they go home?
What keeps them pinned there?
Questioning others' lives is exhausting.
I cleansed my lungs with cold air and returned to my room, collapsing onto the bed.
[Starting simulation.]
Whirr—
Pixels crumbled, revealing a strangely familiar space.
The emergency stairs of an old commercial building.
Under the dim emergency light, a girl huddled, relying only on a thin hoodie.
Spotting me, she curled tighter into the corner.
But her eyes held a hunger deeper than fear.
Savior fantasy? Me?
I recalled pinning her slender wrist against the wall.
Hiking up her skirt by force to reveal creamy thighs.
When I shoved in roughly,
would her scream be agony?
Or a long-suppressed moan?
Just a simple virtual scenario the sim allowed.
But the thought flashing through my mind was blatant violation, not salvation.
Self-disgust surged.
There was no shadow of the salvation Eden mentioned anywhere in my imagination.
Sneering inwardly, I took a step toward the girl.
Salvation or violation—I'd find out firsthand.
I looked her over carefully.
A barely adult face, hair matted and unwashed for days, braided down beside it.
A sour sweat stench and musty odor hit my nose.
Proof she'd spent more than a day or two on the streets.
"I don't know what pissed you off enough to run out here, but go wash up first. Then do whatever—run away again or not."
Even as I said it, it sounded pathetic.
The mismatched offer made me chuckle at my own absurdity.
Instead of answering, she buried her face deeper between her knees.
Bony fingers clenched the ripped knees of her jeans.
If not for the smell, I'd have walked past.
I pulled a few ten-thousand-won bills from my wallet.
"Here."
I held them out to her face.
She eyed me warily but didn't take them.
I pressed the money into her hand.
"No strings. Use it for a bath at least."
As I stepped back after handing it over, her bony hand grabbed my sleeve.
Trembling fingers clung weakly.
"......Don't go."
Her voice was barely audible, but the desperation rang clear.
I led her to my place.
Cold night air settled on her staggering back.
She followed like a shadow, never letting go of my sleeve.
Opening the door brought a wave of cozy warmth.
At the threshold, she fiddled with her shoe tips, hesitating.
I handed her a towel and a baggy t-shirt, pointing to the bathroom.
"Go on in. Takes a bit for the hot water."
Head bowed, she slipped inside.
Soon, rough water sounds echoed through the narrow living room.
Shhh—
White steam leaked from the door crack.
The deep musty stink washed away on soap scent.
Salvation, huh.
Eden might be right.
Just listening to the water, my vile fantasies rinsed clean.
I'd only given her a basin of warm water.
The peace of mind from that cheap kindness.
Was this the savior fantasy?
The shower ran long, then cut off abruptly.
But the door stayed shut even after time passed.
I hadn't dragged her in for dirty reasons, so whatever.
Still, sour grapes from suspicion repaid with kindness stung.
Then the delivery arrived.
I laid out jjajangmyeon and tangsuyuk.
Hadn't seen a table this full of food in ages.
The cramped living room filled with rich sauce smells.
Click.
The bathroom door opened.
Drawn by the scent, the girl peeked out cautiously.
Must've taken time re-braiding her hair neatly.
I'd preemptively pegged her as ungrateful.
Stripped of street grime, her beauty hit sharper than expected.
Smooth forehead peeking through braids, cheeks flushed apricot from steam.
Big eyes still anxious, but her youthful features were doll-like.
She couldn't tear her gaze from the food on the table.
A loud gulp echoed in the silence.
"Eat."
At my word, she snatched the chopsticks.
Then shoveled jjajangmyeon into her mouth greedily.
Cheeks bulging as she chewed noodles, her hand darted desperately for tangsuyuk.
Sauce smearing her lips as she wolfed down the bowl—it evoked pity like a stray pup by the roadside.
"You not eating?"
Only after her belly filled a bit did she notice my gaze.
Her jjajang-smeared mouth made me smile despite myself.