It's the Sister's Duty to Give Her Little Sister Sex Education, That's Common Sense
Come to think of it, it had been ages since I'd last used a bathtub. After starting my job, the tiny studio apartment I rented—chosen for its short commute—only had a shower stall, no tub. And I wasn't the type to hit up public bathhouses either. My only memories were from childhood weekends, when I'd hold my dad's hand, splashing between the hot and cold pools with neighborhood kids I didn't know, scrubbing each other's backs, then devouring a bowl of jjajangmyeon on the way out.
That all changed after puberty hit. I started feeling ashamed about being naked around others and threw a fit, refusing to go. Back then, I didn't notice, but looking back now with some distance, I realized Dad must have been pretty hurt. Yeah, I need to get back. Once I'm home, maybe I'll take Mom and Dad to the bathhouse first thing. A job? I can find another one. In a world where everyone has a phone, if someone goes incommunicado, they'll assume the worst—an accident. They'll process my resignation quick, and with my parents as my only next of kin, my stuff will probably go to them anyway...
I wasn't usually the crying type, but tears started streaming down my cheeks before I knew it. Guess I got lost in thought. This new body must be more emotionally sensitive. I reached to wipe my eyes but froze—my arms were still bound. Instead, I dunked my face in the water, held my breath, submerged for a bit, then straightened up. No one would notice the tears that way.
I shook my head to fling off the water, but my soaked, tangled hair clung everywhere, blinding me.
"Glub glub."
"Hee hee. Saintess, were you dozing off for a second?"
Iris emerged from her tub with a splash, gently sweeping my hair back and wiping the water from my face with her hands. Thanks to her, I could open my eyes without getting caught crying. I still felt wary of her, but since I didn't think she was a bad person, I played along with a white lie.
"Yeah, I guess I'm still a bit tired."
"Raising the dead against the natural order must come with a heavy price. I hope you never have to use Resurrection again, Saintess. It might even have shortened your lifespan."
"You're right."
It wasn't a skill to spam, that was for sure. Even in the game, casting Resurrection mid-battle carried risks—not just the debuff, but reviving a dead party member meant the whole group had to compensate. You'd need extra DPS to make up for the lost firepower, and the healer's mana management got brutal. Skimp on AoE heals or big single-target bursts to conserve mana with efficient small ticks, and the healer loses DPS time too. The revived player dealt with weakness debuffs, messed-up skill cooldowns, and botched buffs until they recovered.
But that wasn't what she meant. Iris was surely worried about Ivy's lifespan. My own life? It'd just be a vague pity for her—"Oh, some stranger's life got cut short, poor thing." Still, it wasn't bad that she cared about the character I'd created. I wanted Ivy to live happily once I returned to reality too.
But Iris didn't return to her tub. Instead, she asked abruptly,
"So, who were you thinking of?"
"Huh?"
Her sudden question made me turn to look. She was teasing me with a playful smile.
"Brother Hamill?"
"No way, why would I like that monster?"
"Brother Hamill would be heartbroken if he heard that."
"I was in agony in the interrogation room, and he didn't even feel sorry. Amazing how someone without a shred of conscience can have a heart at all."
I was holding off judgment on Iris since she seemed friendly with Hanbyeol, but Hamill? I had a grudge. His sheer size was intimidating enough, and his stiff personality plus that awful first impression made it impossible to like him.
Iris nodded in understanding and slipped into my tub. It had felt spacious alone, but with two of us, it was cramped. Neither of us was huge, though, so it was just uncomfortable. I shifted to give her space, and in a flash, she pulled me between her thighs.
My seat vanished, and I ended up leaning back against her, practically reclining. She pressed her knees together to cradle me. As I started sliding down, her thighs narrowed, pushing me back up. They slid along my back, reaching my hips and clamping tight. Only then could I steady myself in the water that had reached my lips.
Iris pulled me close without hesitation, pressing me against her body. Naturally, my legs fell to either side of her gathered thighs—like straddling a horse. Memories of the interrogation room flashed back, sending a chill through me, but the soft pair of cushions against my back calmed my nerves. Feeling sheepish about my jitters, I asked Iris,
"Um... this is my first time in a place like this, so... do people usually bathe together like this?"
They say guys bond in bathhouses, but girls only go together if they're already close. I was hinting I wanted distance, but Iris didn't bat an eye.
"Close friends do. But aside from that, there's something I need to teach you, Saintess."
"Eh?"
In one swift motion, Iris spread her thighs wide, extending her legs. Mine spread even wider atop hers. I tried to stand and protest in panic, but my legs—splayed nearly 180 degrees—had no strength to push down.
Even in this embarrassing spot, I noted how flexible my body was.
"W-what are you doing? ...Ah!"
Iris's hands gently cupped and kneaded my breasts. Warm. Tender. Why? She'd forcibly restrained me, locked my legs in place—yet it felt affectionate. Was my body overriding my mind? Knowing it could get dangerous, I thrashed to escape.
But a mere priest escaping an inquisitor's grasp? Impossible. Iris effortlessly crossed her hands, pressing me tight against her without breaking a sweat.
"Who were you thinking of?"
Still on that? No way I'd tell the truth. I turned my head away and clamped my mouth shut.
But Iris was persistent.
"You have to say it. Who was it?"
"Why does it matter who I was thinking of? Ahh!"
Her devoted caress of my breasts paused as she pinched a perked nipple between her fingertips. My involuntary cry echoed through the bathhouse.
"What if someone hears? Let go!"
"It's important for you, Saintess. Could someone from that adventurer guild you stayed with have stolen your heart?"
"Absolutely not! Aahn..."
"Then why were you loving your bed so much all alone?"
"You saw? Hnngh!"
Just die. Since I couldn't go alone, I'd drag Iris down to hide my shame. I tried headbutting her, but she dodged easily and stopped kneading.
"Hmmm. Headbutting like that would just hurt you, Saintess."
"Ah, aaak!"
She yanked my head back to her shoulder, split my hair into two braids, and tied them over her shoulders. Now, head forced back, I was helpless to her hands. Iris resumed her slow enjoyment.
"Aaaaahhhn, aaahhaaaang."
My moans filled the bathhouse. One of her hands, still kneading my breast, began tickling down my belly, lower, lower.
"Even if no one's around at this hour, Saintess... if you sound that good, someone might hear."
"T-then stop! You!"
"Tell me who you were thinking of, and I'll stop. It was a man, wasn't it?"
My mind screamed no to her hands, but my heated body craved the pleasure. Guilt over Hanbyeol twisted inside—whether I confessed or not, I'd already sinned in thought. My conflicted heart sealed my lips again.
"As expected... won't work. Your lewd body craves a man. I'll make sure you can't even think of seeking one."
No, I'm not gay to begin with. Swallowing the unspeakable truth, I tried to clamp my legs to block her hand descending past my lower belly. But Iris's thighs held firm—no give at all.
"Saintess. A woman's body feels better with a woman. Understand? Rub and soothe it here, and here, like this. We who serve the Father mustn't harm our bodies, even in pleasure. That's why He made us this way."
My body heated up, breath quickening; her words barely registered. Still, she murmured softly in my ear.
Yeah, maybe better than fantasizing about Hanbyeol? Even if it scarred my pride and dignity, at least I wouldn't betray her? Rationalization or true insight? No clue. Resistance was futile; I endured her touch.
"No need for penetration. Stimulating your sensitive spots and precious places like this is enough for you to... like that."
"Ahhng, ah, a-ahhh..."
My mind went white, body twitching; those words didn't reach me. This easily aroused body climaxed so fast under someone I disliked. Terrifying, how broken I'd get in her hands. Exciting, too—how far she'd take me. The clash sharpened my senses, making my clit feel every pinch and rub post-climax, no dulling from afterglow.
"Already came, huh? It's fine. Night hasn't even fallen yet."
Iris gently lifted my limp, spasming body from the water. She whispered to me, barely able to control myself,
"Now you know it bone-deep, Saintess. No need for penetration to chase pleasure. Save that for someone you truly love. Got it?"
"Y-yes... yeees..."
I answered without really hearing, still trembling. Maybe that herbal scent was an aphrodisiac. I couldn't believe she'd ravished me like this.
As she lifted me, my blurry vision caught the bathwater turned clear pink. I knew from high school chem class that reagents change color on reaction—probably something from my body mixing with the herbs. But pink? So embarrassing.
Noticing my dazed stare at the tub, Iris swept my wet hair back tenderly.
"You're exhausted, Saintess—no way I'd make you clean that up. Don't worry. I'll handle it."
"Ah, ah."
Not why I'd looked, but whatever—saves me the trouble. As she cast Purify on my shivering body, wiped me down, and spoke softly,
"Bound like that, it's hard to handle alone. Whenever it builds up, tell me. I'll help you release it. Ivy was like a sister to me, and you're ignorant of this world. Ignorance isn't a sin—no need for shame. It's natural for a big sister to help her little one, and fellow priests of the same god to aid each other."
Is it? Not like we're grinding genitals together—just helping with masturbation. Maybe that's fine here? A form of sex ed? Different world, different culture, I thought suddenly. Devout religious folk strut with exposed breasts and asses, and no one bats an eye. In taverns, no one ogles fat priests' scantily clad slaves—they're too busy chatting, eating, drinking.
Even dazed and exhausted, I could make that much sense. I nodded and slumped into her arms. Of course, I had no intention of asking her for help again. I'd just frame this as a sister helping her tenant little sis, not rape.
I didn't resist as she unbound, dressed, and rebound me. She was putting in effort for "her" little sister, after all. A bit of respect for someone valuing my character.
Finishing our long bath, we exited the public bathhouse to find Hamill waiting, arms crossed, face impassive. Despite my fatigue, I glared openly to show my discomfort. Had he heard my loud moans from inside? His unreadable expression unnerved me.
Ignoring it, Hamill said,
"The Gae Saeng Guild requested our cooperation. They need a priest trained in Purify for periodic culls of the possessed trees."
"We can send performing priests who need experience," Iris replied for us.
But Hamill continued,
"The lord also posted a named request on their guild board. To atone for past sins, they must keep culling city monsters. So their guildmaster Onyx requested the Saintess's help."
"We refuse."
Iris answered without asking me. Hamill nodded and turned to leave, but I grumbled,
"I'm going."
"Saintess?"
Her call brimmed with worry and question. I felt the need to convince them.
"Like I said before, this world is the game I used to play. I don't know if someone based it here or if the game world turned real, but I know exactly how the mobs behave. If I don't go and others do, won't the sacrifices be huge?"
As priests, you won't ignore civilian deaths. My plea—wanting out of these bonds, needing to regroup with the users—landed well.
"I see. Then I'll accompany you."
Iris accepted readily; Hamill just raised one eyebrow, no objection.
"Rest today, then. Tomorrow, we meet Onyx. Take it easy."
That was it; Hamill strode off. Iris gave me a worried look.
"Are you sure? I heard you nearly died fighting those possessed trees."
"Just doing what needs doing."
My black history, her concern. I turned away, embarrassed, and heard a low chuckle. Did I seem shy? Whatever. No matter what I did, she'd see me as her little sister—or an alien in her sister's skin. At least her goodwill felt genuine still. For now.