While Others Raid, the Priestess Endures Darkness, Stickiness, and Heat Alone
It was dark, sticky, and hot. While everyone else was out raiding, I was the only one stuck like this. I kept casting Purify as soon as my mana regenerated, trying to neutralize whatever toxic sludge this was, but I had no idea how this damn skill even worked. I should have looked it up back when it wouldn't wash away my body odor. Was it melting my clothes? The goo was creeping over my shoulders, down my breasts, across my belly, and even to my hips, sliding stickily along my skin. Was it digesting my flesh too, like some kind of acid? The game description hadn't been this extreme, but now that it was real, I feared it wouldn't stick to the script. Was this thing really trying to trap and dissolve me? Like some kind of pitcher plant?
"Hngh..."
Terror washed over me, and tears spilled out before I knew it. This wasn't why I'd saved Hanbyeol. If I'd known I'd end up like this, would I have left her to her fate?
"...Hic, hngh, no... that's not it..."
It wasn't some good Samaritan complex, or a divine revelation, or hypocrisy. My body hadn't been possessed or moving on autopilot. People just save other people—there's no deeper reason. I'm an ordinary person. Weak in the face of suffering right in front of me, lazily putting things off, crumbling easily to immediate pleasures, then regretting it later with a "Shouldn't have pulled an all-nighter gaming, shouldn't have scarfed that midnight snack." And yet, if someone stumbles toward traffic, I reach out without thinking. If someone praises it as righteous, I blush but secretly pat myself on the back at night. That's me. Plus, Hanbyeol was still just a kid. I couldn't let her end up like this.
Yeah, that was it. No time machine to rewind, no point regretting what I'd done. But that didn't make the pain any better. What would it feel like to melt away? Some predators numb their prey first, but this sticky fluid made every touch on my skin feel hypersensitive. Even after Purify, it showed no sign of weakening, and the threshold for my bound limbs returned, making the coiling vines even more vivid.
"Don't... knead my breasts..."
Amid it all, the vines around both breasts tightened and released in circling motions, now sharper than ever. My mind was filled with fear and horror, but my traitorous, oversensitive body welcomed the sensations as pure ecstasy, trembling in delight.
"Ah, aaah..."
A moan escaped me unbidden. At some point, the thick vine rubbing between my thighs had sped up. Too smooth for a possessed thing, it was slathered in the swamp's mucus and my own shameful secretions, grinding front and back through my panties. Or maybe those had melted away already, and it was rubbing directly against my slit.
"Aahngh, ah, aa...?"
Suddenly, the vine pulled away from my lower belly, and I realized with a shock that I'd been shaking my hips. It was like a whisper in my ear: You're enjoying this too, aren't you? My face burned. While others were breaking bones and spilling blood fighting the tree, here I was, some woman wiggling her hips for her own pleasure.
"N-no... I'm not that kind of slut... let me go... ahngh!"
But no release came. Instead, the vine gripping my breast squeezed harder, like a reprimand. Stronger than that Parasite Guy's brutal grasp, yet compared to him, it hurt less—felt good, even. It should hurt, should feel awful...
"Let go, please... let me go."
I begged in a gasping voice, and for a moment it loosened—as if teasing—before alternating squeezes on each breast, like milking a cow in some cartoon. No milk in these tits, but the thought made me thrash in fear. The vines held my limbs fast, of course. Another coiled up my thighs, gripping from ass to pelvis, forcing my legs apart.
"Ah, no... don't..."
Truth be told, I'd seen bondage and tentacle stuff before. More than "seen," really—I'd sought it out when same-genre fatigue hit. Helplessly bound, writhing against uncontrollable pleasure, drowning in ecstasy... it was hot to watch. The unseen narrator using tools solely for the woman's bliss appealed too—no dude ass in sight. But I'd never wanted to be the star. Sure, I'd wondered how good it felt, but getting this fate over a fleeting curiosity was too much.
"Aahngh!"
The vine rubbed my pussy again, this time bumpy. The varying pressure intensified every jolt, power flooding my hips. Bound as I was, they just arched uselessly. Pleasure dragged on, my face slackening, drool spilling from my gaping mouth before I even noticed.
"N-no! I won't lose to some lowbie mob like... hngh..."
But my uncontrollable female moans crushed my spirit further, stoking my arousal. My overheated brain, syncing with my body, rationalized: It's not a person, just a tree—so if I enjoy it, it's basically masturbation, right? Right? My high mental strength and rationality concluded that enjoying this while praying Hanbyeol hurry up and kill the possessed tree was optimal. It even flashed back to me masturbating with the mana vibrator while rope-bound—third-person view of my character, ass pressed down, grinding her slit on the pink stone. Half-closed eyes, gaping mouth leaking unconscious moans, nipples straining against fabric, body convulsing... Compared to that, this was better. Vines massaged my breasts, slime coated me. Clothes? Melted or not, vines now caressed my skin smoothly, moving with my hips. In this superior pleasure storm, I forgot the raid outside, lost in the moment. My body, unsatisfied even after four orgasms the night before, finally felt fulfilled. Was it the immobility? The forced pleasure? Who knew. Climax hit; I forgot to breathe, convulsing as the vine teased my clit and rubbed my entrance. Breast-kneading continued; rigid with tension, I shuddered violently.
How much time passed? Gulping air, regaining wits, I saw the vine probing my lower entrance with its blunt tip—testing. Can't let me have all the fun, huh? Teasing insertion was tentacle cliché. Virginity? No big loss—Daesik's possession had saved me from Onyx anyway.
"Yeah, put it in. I'm ready."
Whether considerate or taunting, it drummed softly over my lower belly and perineum, growing bolder. Vines already coiled everywhere slithered like snakes—waist to legs, ass to spine, neck to arms—reviving post-climax dullness. Back at my pussy, it rubbed my clit.
"Aahngh..."
Sensitized anew, my body—honest slut now—twitched lower belly muscles, womb ready for seed. It'll feel amazing. Just masturbation; my character getting fucked, me just sharing sensations. Shield up, I anticipated bliss.
And... nothing. Massaging vines, kissing pussy—all stopped. Restraints loosened as I tensed in frustrated anticipation.
"Ah, ah...?"
Tree roots collapsed limply, light flooding in. Only then did I notice the slime filling the space wasn't murky green swamp muck—emerald glow, purified. The ruined root prison formed a bathtub; arm vines draped slackly, dropping my limbs. Legs weak, I flopped into the emerald goo, staring vacantly at the sky.
Hanbyeol succeeded. I should rejoice, but regret stung—climax denied.
Someone shook my shoulder.
"Sis, sis! Snap out of it!"
The unfamiliar term hit; I blinked focus back. Hanbyeol loomed, eyes brimming.
"Ah... Hanbyeol, the raid...?"
"Burned it all. Wanted to start with the root prison, but fire or axe risked hurting you..."
"Mngh... good job..."
Exhaustion choked words. Sadness ebbed; blinking sent tears streaming. Hanbyeol sniffled instead.
"Hic... sis, because of me again..."
"H-hey, hug too tight and your clothes'll melt. This stuff eats fabric."
"Clothes matter now?!"
She crushed me in embrace; arms awkwardly spread, I avoided reciprocating. Goo dripped stickily—hers would melt too, leaving her naked.
"They do... can't go home naked."
"Oh, right."
Hanbyeol glanced around guiltily. Daesik's men looted remnants shamelessly nude. Mana stones, twigs—raid drops, good crafting mats.
Some spotted us, grinning, approaching.
"Boss lady! You okay?!"
"Knew you had it! ...Ahem."
They neared, then turned away slyly. Obvious why—my slime-drenched body looked erotic. Even innocent Hanbyeol knew, unfurling her cloak to shield me.
"Don't look. Or I'll burn your eyes out."
"Got it. Won't peek. Little mage, not bad."
"Yeah. Since you carried, grab us clothes? Go back like this, guards nab us. Boss lady too."
"Hmm."
Hanbyeol menaced them.
"Touch one finger to sis, you know what happens?"
"Boss warned us—don't touch her. We'd never."
"Yeah, any creep tries, we'll break their limbs."
Assurances given, Hanbyeol eyed them suspiciously, then nodded, turning to me—face blooming sweetly. I flinched; different person?
"Sis needs clothes too. Dress this time?"
"No, too much. Plain priestess robes, please."
"Bummer. Why'd everything melt but stockings—torn but intact?"
"Yeah, yours. Lucky."
Nude but stockings? Erotic, but beats full bare. Then Hanbyeol flushed beet-red. Wrong words?
"H-Hanbyeol? Did I say something...?"
"N-no! Nothing! Be right back!"
Cloaked, she dashed to town. Meanwhile, men honorably avoided touching, sorting loot—sneaking peeks, then averting in fear of repercussions. Not innocents. Bathtub remnants barely covered breasts; I crossed arms modestly. Nipples hidden? Good enough. Lingering frustration cooled; fatigue screamed for bed.